Cape Town Fog

Unlike Sandberg's dainty fog that “comes in on little cat feet”, Cape Town fog rushes in assertively on lion's paws, sometimes totally obliterating Table Mountain … and even the boats next to us. We've not experienced such dense fog as this since we were sailing in northern Maine and maritime Canada where the “pea soup” fog can become nearly claustrophobic. We've seen fog banks move toward us and have been totally enveloped in a matter of minutes and then clear just as quickly.

Here in Cape Town, the fog that rolls in off the Atlantic is sudden, heavy and wet. At night, we pop our heads out of the cockpit and it's totally silent, all sound seemingly gobbled up by the mist. We half expect Sam Spade to step out of a film noir flick with his London Fog collar flipped up and disappear down the dock.  Lights are hazy and distorted, creating an eerie, other-worldly atmosphere.

The flat top of Table Mountain seems to attract heavy fog. Cape Towners call it the tablecloth. When a warm air mass meets the base of the mountain, it is forced upward by the rising topography and cools quickly. Moisture condenses and forms what is known as an orographic cloud, the heavy fog and mist we see. The fog swirls and billows as it climbs over the mountaintop, hence the term “tablecloth”.

In native African legend, Table Mountain is sacred and often seen as covered in clouds. It was known as “Mountain of the sea” to native people and “Veiled in clouds” to the Khoi and San people. One more modern legend has it that Captain Jan van Hunks, a Dutch pirate and sea captain settled here in the 1700s and frequently liked to smoke his pipe on the slopes of Table Mountain. One day when van Hunks went to his favorite smoking place, a man dressed in black was sitting in his spot. The two men subsequently entered into a smoking contest and so much smoke was emitted from the two, that the entire mountaintop was enveloped. The man in black was the devil and whenever the tablecloth is in place, Van Hunks and the devil are engaging in another smoking contest.

The tablecloth and fog do make for vivid photography at times. I ran across two photos that were absolutely superb and I wanted to share them with you. One is by Aneila Loubser entitled Fog in Cape Town.

Another is a photo taken by Brendon Wainwright,  Table Mountain from Lions Head.

For more Cape Town fog pix, the Life of Mike blogsite is excellent.

Celebrating a Circumnavigation pt. 2

West Coast National Park

Our short getaway wasn't quite finished. After a lovely B&B breakfast at the Oystercatcher, we headed out, but we weren't in a big hurry. We wanted to explore a bit more of Shelley Point first and then dawdle down the coast on the way back to Cape Town. It turns out Shelly Point has lots of wildlife. We'd seen a “watch out for wildlife” sign, but on our arrival hadn't seen a thing. We drove through the winding roads of this exclusive community on the way out and saw all sorts of critters … tortoises, lots of birds and even a fleeting glimpse of a mongoose.

We had noted a lighthouse on the point and drove closer to get a better look. The Stompneusbaai Light isn't really a lighthouse at all, but rather a leading light. Evidently, the developer of the Shelly Point Estates was a lighthouse enthusiast and built the “lighthouse” to suit his fancy.

We took a washboard,gravel road from St. Helena Bay to Paternoster, shaking a few fillings lose en route. There were a few farms along this route, some abandoned. Tumbleweeds blew across the road, reminding us of eastern Colorado. There were odd rock formations here and there, and the land looked parched and barren. We were intrigued by the number of raptors sitting on fence posts and utility poles on the look-out for lunch.

Paternoster is a pleasant, touristy little town that sits out in the Atlantic just north of Cape Columbine. We drove through, admiring the white-washed cottages and sweeping expanse of the busy beach. It wasn't time for lunch and the gas station was out of gas. We headed towards Saldanha Bay in hopes of finding some petrol there.

We'd stopped at Saldanha Bay with Nine of Cups on our last departure from South Africa to fix a furler problem. It definitely looks different from the sea. Driving through this mineral export town, the red dust of iron ore seemed to cover everything. We found gas, filled up and headed south on the coast road for Langebaan Lagoon and West Coast National Park. A very good decision.

Again, we were off-season for the spectacular aspects of the park … wildflowers. August and September are the prime months. I nicked a photo from the national park site to give you a glimpse of the flower extravaganza in season. Wow!

We weren't deterred, however. The views of Langebaan Lagoon were spectacular from our vantage point as we watched pale pink greater flamingos swinging their heads back and forth, filtering the water for food.

Not far away, wild ostriches stomped around the dry bush, looking as if they had some place important to go, but clueless as how to get there. We stopped for several more crossing the road in front of us. Obviously, there was a meeting somewhere.

There were several lookout points along the road providing gorgeous vistas of the lagoon and informational kiosks about the park, its history and its inhabitants.

We stopped briefly at the Geelbek House Restaurant and Visitor's Center. This picturesque Cape Dutch building, now a national monument, was originally built in 1744 and was the original homestead of the Geelbekkenfontein farm, named after the yellow-billed ducks that live in the area.

The highlight of our day was a bird blind in a marshy area at the foot of the Langebaan Lagoon. Accessible by a boardwalk, the hide was perfect for viewing African spoonbills, sacred ibis, ducks, dabchicks, coots … just us and so many birds. They were oblivious to us and I just kept snapping pix. Bird photography heaven.

The day was waning and it was time to head back to Kaapstad (Cape Town).  No regrets … the overnight getaway was a perfect celebration and going home to Cups was a great ending to the day.

Taking Time to Smell the Fynbos

Kirstenbosch National Botanical Garden

Our current compromise between travel/play and boat chores is a half day on the boat and half day doing something fun. That's not to say that boat chores aren't fun … they're a blast … like watching varnish dry. Exploring Cape Town, even though we've been here before, is much more preferable in my mind, however, and thus, the usual compromise. One such morning compromise was spent at Kirstenbosch National Botanical Garden.

Located on the eastern slopes of Table Mountain, the gardens encompass 1,320 acres of cultivated gardens and nature reserve. Morning is a wonderful time to go. There are splendid walks throughout the different areas of the garden, but we headed for the elevated walkway first, aka the Boomslang, Afrikaans for tree snake. Walking through the tree canopy is always such a thrill, getting a bird's-eye-view of treetops and the gardens below. Surprisingly, a spotted eagle owl was perched in one of the trees, preening.

Again, since it was autumn, many of the flowers were not in bloom. Those that were, however, provided a riot of color. The Cape Floral Kingdom is the smallest and richest of six floral kingdoms in the world. Fynbos, the name given to the heath and shrub-type plants that grow here, are well adapted to the poor soil and varied rainfall. There are some ~9000 species of plants occurring in the area, around 6200 of which are endemic, i.e. occurring nowhere else in the world.

We wandered along well-trod paths and walkways and trails. Birds were singing varied songs and taking advantage of the flowers that were in bloom. Butterflies flitted from bloom to bloom. Though we observed several bird species, my favorites were the double-collared sunbird, the orange-breasted sunbird and the little swee waxbill.

We passed through a lovely sculpture garden, but were disappointed that none of the sculptures were named, nor were the artists' names visible anywhere. The most we could find out was that “ the Mambo stone sculptures follow the Shona tradition” and that the sales office was in the Visitor's Center.

We heard children laughing and giggling in a forested area and found a leafy path to investigate. Here was the Van Riebeek's Hedge, an almond tree boundary planted in 1660 by the newly founded Cape Colony to mark and protect the settlement from the locals. Now overgrown, the huge, gnarled roots of the trees provide a natural jungle gym for kids to climb and play on.

As the day grew hotter, we sought out the shaded Camphor and Ficus avenues. The Kirstenbosch area, originally part of the 17th century Dutch East India Company settlement, was later used as a timber resource, then a farm and later procured by Cecil John Rhodes. Think Rhodesia and Rhodes Scholarship. It was he who planted the camphor trees that still line the avenue. He deeded this area to South Africa when he died in 1902 with the proviso that it be protected from urban development. In 1913, it became the Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens.

We checked our watches … my half day at the gardens was up and Nine of Cups needed attention. On our way out, we noted a mileage signpost … New York – 12258 km and Missouri - 13759 km. The other signpost choices were well-known world cities like London, Sydney and Edinburgh. New York, we understood, but the state of Missouri? Really? No offense to Missourians, we used to live in Missouri, but we wondered who the heck chose it for the signpost. Another unsolved mystery.