HOUT BAY: LLANDUDNO March 19, 20 2012

As we were on the final leg of this trip, I got to do a couple of things that I really wanted to do – and a couple I didn’t do. This wasn’t a ‘Bucket List” as such, but just a recognition that there were things I probably wouldn’t do again, people I probably wouldn’t see again and some really good animal friends who I certainly wouldn’t see again. They are all getting on the darlings and it is so sad. 

 

Molly

Molly, who is in this picture was a foundling dog, abandoned  as a tiny puppy in a cardboard box. She is a cross Ridgeback and developed a severe problem with ingrowing hair making its way to her spine when she was just a pup. The family went to endless trouble and spent thousands on her surgery – it was so risky only one surgeon in SAfrica would try it. She has lived a good and full life since then and is a lovely dog. So sad that we have to lose these loving friends.

I went for a last walk on the mountain. The day was a bit bleak and I wondered if it would rain, but wanted to get along the path as far as I could. I made it to the big boulder above the house – the one where the dogs thought they saw a snake all those years ago. As I walked I recalled the time I’d marched along singing at the top of my voice songs that defiantly challenged prostate cancer to do anything to me. That was part of my affirmation, getting fit, changing my lifestyle. And it seemed to work. I did wonder at times what anyone else would have thought if they had heard me, but it was unusual to see anyone on the path in the early morning – apart from my brothers. I was sad that I hadn’t made it up the steep path towards Muizenberg. I really wanted to sit where the boys and I sat so often just gazing at the scene.

As I walked back down the path a fine mist came in – what we used to call a guti in Zimbabwe back in the day.  I guess it is really just low cloud on the mountain. Cooling, refreshing, chilling if you’re in it for too long. It all took me back to a bit I wrote one day when I saw a cloud coming towards me on the mountain as I descended from my eyrie with my boys  – that thought is here - WITHOUT HOPE . The guti blew by but as I was getting towards the end of the path and just after I had examined some paw marks in the now damp sand I heard a sound behind me. I whipped around, ready for anything, but it was just two fit lads on their morning run. Gave me a bit of a fright though.

Down to Dalebrook for a swim in what was by now a sunny morning. The water was clear, there were schools of little fish in the pool - and also brother Pad. Good to see him. The shower still hadn’t been fixed, so I went home salty and sticky again.

We had planned on taking Lola and Rick out for a fine lunch at Boschendal in the winelands, but their housemaid had called in sick and they couldn’t leave their guesthouse for too long. We agreed that we’d review the situation later in the day and find somewhere closer to have a meal. Since our social calendar was almost running on empty, I finally got a chance to get over to Hout Bay to see what had been happening over there since we left.

The Sentinel on the left and Hout Bay on the right

Hout Bay was, in it’s day, a quiet bucolic community. Large properties with plenty of room for horses for the city employed commuters; small cottages on the mountainside above the harbour for the  fishermen. All that changed after the elections in 1995 when Mandela came to power. Some bright con man in the Transkei – Mandela’s homeland – had the bright idea of selling land in Hout Bay to eager buyers for a song. Thousands of “plots” were sold and in due course thousands of people turned up, ready to start building on their land, which of course was not theirs at all. This created a number of significant problems and everyone wondered how it would all turn out. Not as badly as everyone thought. Enough land was set aside to cater for the ‘sales’ and the basics of power, water and sewage lines were supplied as soon as possible. The resultant “suburb” consisted initially of some pretty awful looking  home made shacks, made from whatever came to hand.

Many of the shacks are still there, an unsightly scrap heap of dwellings, but some progress has been made with the building of small, simple houses and the trees have grown over the years, screening off the worst of the sights. Just why Safrican authorities will not licence the building of timber dwellings, the standard construction in so many countries is beyond me. They still insist on brick (or concrete building blocks) and mortar. The village itself had changed a good deal – and not for the best. It seemed to have grown without any central planning guidance with strange roads winding through a mixture of residential and commercial properties in various states of repair. The beachfront is now dominated by blocks of living units, many of them of unattractive design. From being a pleasant little place to live in, it is now an ugly suburb. 

Chapmans Peak Drive

The Sentinel

So we didn’t stop there and went on along the magnificent drive of Chapman’s Peak. We used to think this could match a drive along the Corniche in the South of France or the Amalfi Coast in Italy, but, having driven those roads, we understand the difference now. The views from Chapman’s Peak are magnificent and The Sentinel still stands proud and splendid, but there is no life around, apart from the tourists with their cameras. The European coastal roads are difficult to drive. Narrow and crowded with cars, motor scooters, people everywhere there are small villages; shops; restaurants and cafes. But on Chapman’s Peak there is only the sea view and the mountains. Beautiful but sterile.

 

Long Beach from Chapman's Peak Drive - with Kommetjie in the backgrtound

 We popped in to see Judy at Kalk Bay on the way back to The Stables. There was a fair bit of coming and going in and around their house – Arcadia – in the aftermath of the wedding. Steve’s office and the downstairs lounge room looked like a vintner’s storeroom, filled with  surplus wine – Steve was never going to take a chance of the well running dry, but it will take some months before the leftovers are consumed. Kate and her Steve were still busy with their friends, so many of whom had travelled from overseas for the big day.

Noordhoek Village Square

Back at The Stables Lola and Rick had decided on a venue for lunch and were happy to leave the premises for a few hours in the charge of the gardener, Oscar. Back we went over the Ou Kaapse Weg to Noordhoek (North Corner) to a restaurant nestled in the corner of the square of shops in this village, which reminded us of Hout Bay in the old days. The Foodbarn as a name for a classy restaurant didn’t make much of an impact on us, demonstrating yet again that judging a book by its cover is never the best plan. Although it was a hot day again, the restaurant was cool – thick walls, high ceilings and thatch have a combined effect of keeping temperatures down, especially with a gently sea breeze blowing through.

 

Not sure why everyone looks so glum - Rab, Lola and Rick

Light rose wine

The staff were first class, friendly and knowledgeable and the food was really excellent. We chose to have the three course meal  (all for R220/A$27.50) and although making the right choice was not easy from the dishes available, we all felt we had made the best individual choice for ourselves. It was magnificent and the memory of my crispy duck livers will remain with me for some time. The meal washed down with a lovely light chilled rose wine, so light pink it was almost apricot in colour. A truly memorable meal with two such good friends. 

What a finish to the meal - this was my choice

Out of Hout Bay

We drove back through Hout Bay again, back up the avenue of oaks leading to Constantia Nek and The Stables. So many happy memories of that road.

LLANDUDNO Tuesday March 20 2012

I got up in good time for a final swim, reckoning there would not be much time the next day, what with packing and getting ready to go It was a bit of a bleak morning and there was a surprising amount of traffic. The going was slow as work had started on the road again and I crept along to the pool. Passing St James I thought the water level looked a little low in the pool there and sure enough, Dalebrook was empty. Those workers I had praised for keeping the pools looking so good were at work again – turns out they drain and paint the pool every other Tuesday. I toyed with the idea of getting along to Muizenberg beach for a swim in the surf, but there were no waves and the effort didn’t seem to be worthwhile, so with one last look at False Bay I turned for home, stopping off at Arcadia to drop off a disc of the wedding pictures we had taken.

We took it easy most of the day, getting some pre-packing done, chatting, sorting pictures etc and then went for a drive past the city and out along the coast to Llandudno, a charming spot when we were first married. We used to go there for a swim and there was one cottage down by the water with a few others scattered around the very steep hillside. Contemplating buying a plot and building our first home there we decided against that course of action on the grounds that there was no public transport and that we would need two cars – something we felt we might never achieve. There is still very little public transport, but very few of the wealthy owners of the impressive houses on their stilts would be concerned about the lack of cars. Large four wheel vehicles abound and the problem is more likely to be related to where to park the fleet of family cars.

Bakoven - not much like an oven!

We diverted from the  main drive to explore the development in Bakoven (named for a large rocky outcrop which looks like a baker’s oven)  where we had stayed for three glorious months on one of my transfers back to Cape Town from Durban in 1976. I had been requested to move at short notice and agreed to do so on condition that we were provided with a house until we could find one to buy. Rental properties were difficult to find at that time, so we were very fortunate that the only one I could get hold of happened to have a waterfront situation in a small bay not far out of town. I’m not sure that my employers believed me absolutely, but…..they needed me there. Bakoven has been developed too – at least most of it has, with massive houses crammed shoulder to shoulder onto the small plots – but strangely enough the house we occupied seems to be unchanged, apart from the high fence which has been erected around it. It went on the market soon after we moved out – for what seemed to us then as the incredible price of R65,000. Mind you at that time the Rand was stronger than the US dollar.

It was a glorious day and the views on that side of the Peninsula were great. We passed at the site of a memorable shipwreck. Two ships were being towed to the Far East for scrapping in 1977 when they broke loose from their tow in a massive storm. Both came ashore and were wedged firmly in the rocks. Matt was fascinated  by the site. They couldn’t remove one of the wrecks – the Antipolis  which was cut down to the water level and is a favourite spot for easy dives. The second one – the Romelia sank in deeper water and is also a popular dive site.   We passed a fleet of old motor cycles with their side-cars on some kind of rally – interesting to see so many of them.

 

Two boats diving on the Romelia wreck - Lion's Head in the background

We popped into Cavendish for another taste of their marvellous pizza, although we were wary about ordering one each so split the toppings and shared one. Had a nap in the afternoon and also made a few notes because I had agreed to speak at the prostate cancer support group I had run when we lived in Cape Town. That went off pretty well. There was quite a crowd and although they had invited me to say a few words, of course that was difficult for me. Some say I can talk under water. There were a few old stalwarts from my time there, but most of the people were men I had not met previously.

I would liked to have stayed a little longer, since there were many questions and I would have liked to chat to some of the old hands, but we had to move on for a last meal with Sue and Mike. Delicious meal, Italian style, to celebrate the wonderful trip we had together in 2008 –  details of which may well feature in a future blog! Sad to say good-bye to Coke, their black giant poodle.

Coke

He spends most of his days lying under a magnolia tree in their garden, but struggled to his feet to greet us and farewell us. We’ll not see him again, sadly.