The views to Rainier and Mount Stuart were spectacular and the wildflowers bloomed all around.
The stock door panel on a Discovery covers a lot of real estate but doesn’t offer much function beside a pocket and a subwoofer. I wanted to replace this with a panel that would expand the utility of the cargo space. Let’s be honest: my days of alpine climbing are mostly behind me and I spend more time car camping (also known to some as “overlanding”) these days than I do shivering on Mount Rainier.
By excluding homosexuals you are espousing the value that it is acceptable to discriminate against people based on their sexual orientation. What kind of value is that? A morally crooked one. I believe that homosexuality in no way detracts from or disqualifies a person from being able to live and embody the ideals of Scouting.
On my last visit to Sani Pass I had been a passenger and was now looking forward to driving the route. The road climbed steeply up to the head of a valley. Above us to the right were the cliffs known as the 12 Apostles. The road was narrow, only a car's width for much of the way, with nothing between the edge and a long drop off.
Wednesday we decided to take another two-pronged assault on Table Mountain. I would take the bus back to Kirstenbosch, hike up, and meet Jenna at the upper cable station after she had the morning to walk around town. The "tablecloth" was enveloping the mountain, a thick shroud of cloud that rolls in from the Atlantic and dissipates around the edges of the plateau. From the gardens I could see a thick blanket of cloud stretching out to the southeast, meaning a hike would be completely socked in. I made a quick change of plan and found the quickest way back to town.
I took a metered taxi from the garden down to the main road in Newlands, then hopped on a minibus taxi back to Cape Town's civic centre. The taxi ride had nearly the full complement of quotidian drama: I was wedged in between a large woman and the door, the barker hung out the door shouting, the driver casually wove through moving traffic, narrowly avoiding numerous collisions, playing his horn like jazz trumpeter. There was an entire language spoken by hoots.
Rejoining Jenna we adapted our plans. The mountain was not meant to happen on this trip. Instead we walked along High Level road to explore the Bo Kaap neighborhood. This area is characterised by brightly-painted houses lining the streets. The colourful palette of buildings is a relatively recent transformation of the neighborhood, but it has a longer history of being a home to Cape Malays. We learned some history of the quarter in the small museum and breathed deeply of the exotic aromas across the street in the Atlas spice trader's.
Jenna wanted to visit the District 6 museum, so we walked west with a break at a balcony cafe overlooking Long Street for a cup of rooibos. District 6 is an area of prime real estate just outside of downtown that had been populated by minority groups during apartheid. In the 1980s the government began a systematic relocation campaign to move its residents to far-flung suburbs and redevelop the area for whites. It was a sad period of local history and the museum is a beautiful tribute to the spirit of the community that had emerged organically in District 6 prior to relocation.
Jenna suggested we take a ride on the sightseeing bus as a way to orient ourselves to the area, and since a cheap all-day pass afforded hop-on/hop-off access it seemed convenient. We caught an early bus at the waterfront and had a breezy ride on the top deck. The fresh air blowing in off the Atlantic and the heady aromas of the South African earth and eucalyptus trees were refreshing. These were the smells accompanying my childhood in Zimbabwe (minus the ocean breeze).
At Kirstenbosch we disembarked to explore the expansive garden grounds. I was going to leave from there on foot to hike up Skeleton Gorge and meet Jenna at the top of the cable car on the other side of Table Mountain but owing to high winds the cable car was not running. We took a leisurely stroll through the gardens instead.
Being autumn, much of the foliage was out of season, but we found some spectacular plant life and stunning views all the same. We walked through the tree canopy boardwalk, camphor avenue, enchanted forest, and aloe grove. With our change in plan we settled on some lunch on the rolling lawn. I wandered off to get some wildlife shots with my longer lens while Jenna fended off an aggressive pack of guinea fowl that wanted to pinch her lunch. I got lucky and found the lone blooming protea plant in the park and was treated to a colorful show by hungry
sunbirds. The protea is my favorite South African flower as it is also the emblem of the national cricket team.
We resumed our bus tour and stepped off for a walk around Hout Bay. This had a grittier feel, there was a working maritime economy down here with less of the curated tourist vibe. We had a snack at a small seafood hut and walked around the marina. As the afternoon was progressing we returned to the waterfront and Jenna was drawn into the large hall filled with crafts, arts, and food vendors.
April 20, 2015. Mobility in Cape Town is a breeze. The modern MyCiti bus service is reliable and convenient so we have become savvy in the ways of transit. On our first full day in town we walked to the waterfront, bought bus cards, and rode the bus down the coast to the beaches at Clifton. This is quite the high rent district with gaudy, glass-fronted condos and villas reaching up the hill overlooking the water beneath Lion's Head. We spent a peaceful hour on the rather empty beach and decided to come back later in the week when temperatures would be higher and we had our full complement of beach kit.
Further south we hopped off in Camp's Bay, a trendy outlying community. Like beachfront towns everywhere it had all the predictable trappings (with a few local variations): sidewalk cafes serving bland, fried food; t-shirt shops; wandering hawkers peddling sunglasses and souvenirs; gaping tourists eating ice cream; and wealthy locals rolling past slowly in fancy cars. We met a lot of guys from Malawi selling their art that all looked suspiciously similar.
Camps Bay was a tranquil vibe and we had a bite of lunch at Cafe Caprice, listening to the conversations of the visitors and townies alike. The bus whisked us back into town and we jumped off at Sea Point to pick up groceries for dinner. I was delighted to find some familiar staples: chutney-flavoured potato crisps and Windhoek lager. Back at home we ate a candlelight dinner beneath the towering 4-metre ceilings of our main room.
What are those minor objects that are accessories to the passing moments in life? They don't stand out in memory because they serve a purpose to a higher need - you don't remember the light switch but you remember the light; you don't remember the faucet but you remember the water. Yet the fleeting seconds it takes to employ these fixtures constitute hours, or even days, over a lifetime.
There is something magical about London. I have always loved this city. With an 8-hour layover Jenna and I decided to pop into town for a bite to eat and to see my friend Nandi Simpson with whom I grew up in Zimbabwe. The lines at immigration were so short that my time savings going through the UK passport holders' line were less than a minute. Soon we were on the Underground watching the rooftops and walled-in back gardens zoom past.
At Knightsbridge we surfaced and walked ten minutes to Motcomb Street. Jenna, the Culinary Affairs Director for this trip, had researched a restaurant called Ottolenghi. All of my friends in London assured me that if we were going to eat anywhere, this might as well be it.
Our short stroll took a couple of detours, as I was distracted by the local automobile fauna. It was impossible to walk 20 metres without passing a Range Rover and other posh wheels that decorated the narrow streets, including Ferraris, a McLaren, and a Rolls Royce. I also stopped in Waitrose for my obligatory London provisions: Bassett's Licorice Allsorts, Cadbury Flake, and chocolate digestive biscuits.
Ottolenghi was packed with well-to-do Londoners in search of a delicious meal on Saturday afternoon. A Mediterranean restaurant, this satellite branch of the original was a more casual deli version where you could order items from the counter. Given the crush of people inside and the beautiful sun outside, Jenna took charge of ordering and we brought our bounty to a plaza bench to enjoy.
The food was delicious and well worth the 40-minute Tube ride. We sampled seared ahi tuna, lamb koftas, grilled eggplant with tahini, roasted red peppers with quinoa, roasted potatoes, roasted sweet potatoes, and a crunchy salad that included greenery from both land and sea. This explosion of fresh flavor was a much-welcomed change of pace from our snacks and airline meals.
The scene was tranquil, as families gathered at small tables at a French cafe and many languages wafted through the air. It was so inviting we moved into the cafe and enjoyed a satisfying cup of tea. Even here in the heart of an old London borough we were reminded of the long reach of Seattle's cultural influence. The defences of upscale Mayfair could not withstand the advances of Starbucks (perhaps only Bhutan can) and the cafe stereo played an old familiar by Pearl Jam.
Our walk continued down narrow lanes and we stepped into a tiny neighbourhood pub called The Nag's Head. At a cozy dark corner table we enjoyed a pint of bitter. Coming from the Northwest, awash in endless varieties of IPA where each tries to out-hop the rest, it was refreshing to drink a hand-pulled pint of room temperature bitter with nearly no carbonation. Note to the PNW: this is how it's done.
Ultimately Nandi was unable to join us, which was a shame, but we'll just have to plan a return visit and spend longer. Back in Heathrow we remarked how little the place resembled an airport. Terminal 3 was more like a luxury goods shopping mall. Not sorry to depart that scene, we boarded our flight for Johannesburg and I dreamt of narrow streets, delicious beer, and grilled vegetables.
The eve before a major trip is always filled with excitement and anxiety. Tomorrow Jenna and I depart for a 3-week trip to South Africa. A few minor details remain unresolved but all the important pieces are in place.
Our voyage will take us from Seattle through London to Cape Town where we will spend a week. Then up to Durban to meet a friend and take a short tour through Natal's Midlands before ascending the steep mountain road up Sani Pass into Lesotho. Back in Durban we rendezvous with the KwaZulu Natal Land Rover Club to head to Tembe Elephant Park where we have exclusive access over 4 days. Once more to Durban for toes in the sand, bunny chow in hand, and catching up with my relatives.
Tune in here for photos and accounts of our adventures. Next post will be about London, e.t.a. Sunday.