Tag Archives: walking

Cape Peninsula Day Tour – Baz Bus

Adventures, Cape Town, Travel, , , , ,

The bus was late picking me up. Not that it mattered; one of the joys of travelling has to be not watching the clock. With all 11 people safely picked up, we headed off over Kloof Neck. The advantage of a Baz Bus tour is that they pick up from backpackers. I’m not sure other tours would do that or, more specifically, that they’d be able to find the backpackers. The other advantage – apart from being, just generally, a great tour.

Through Camps Bay and around past the 12 Apostles Hotel, enjoying the beautiful Cape Town morning. We were lucky to get such good weather. Cape Town weather, while it is stunning when it is clear, can be unpredictable this time of year.

As we passed Llandudno, the tour guide was quick to name a few of the celebrities who are supposed to have houses there, from Tom Cruise to Elton John – the Beverley Hills of Cape Town, he called it.

Into the “small fishing village” of Hout Bay. I’m always amused when people call this affluent suburb a small fishing village. It does have a fishing harbour, however, which was the first stop. This tour has the option of taking a boat-trip to Seal Island at an extra cost of R60. I was seriously considering it but when no-one else showed any interest, decided just to wander around Hout Bay harbour instead.

Next was a quiet drive up towards the look-out point on Chapman’s Peak where we stopped for biscuits and juice, looking down on Hout Bay. This is a beautiful sight, especially on a calm, sunny day, and one that most people don’t often take the time to enjoy. Boats move lazily across the water. The mountain peak appears to be cut in half, with the huge jutting rock-face waiting eternally to tumble into the sea so far below. The strange and ridiculously expensive houses nestle in the fynbos. Everything is calm.

Chapman’s Peak Drive is spectacular on any given day, but is particularly breathtaking when it is crystal clear and when enjoyed in the company of those who are seeing it for the first time. A bit out shark-spotters and then across Kommetjie and Fish Hoek to the next stop, Boulders Beach.

Penguins make me happy. This has long and varied roots but is mostly because penguins are associated in my brain with people who make me happy. Until now, however, I had never seen the Cape Town penguins. When I lived in Cape Town as a child, the colony didn’t exist yet and later there was so much going going on that it somehow never happened. Today’s trip was partly an attempt to remedy that and I was in no way disappointed.

The penguins that live at Boulders Beach are African or Jackass Penguins – so called because they bray like donkeys. They also smell a lot like rotting fish and are a terrible nuisance to residents in the area because they have a particular fondness for dog-food and swimming pools. All this is tolerated, however, because they are both endangered and so darn cute. It was a little chilly on that side of the mountain, so some of the penguins were huddled in sandy hollows under dry dune-bushes. Others were waddling, two-by-two across the sand-dunes to their houses or towards the sea. We saw one abandoned egg in the undergrowth.

Further along the purpose-built wooden walkways, the beach opens out and penguins huddle together making a terrible racket. Some sit and sun themselves on rocks. Others nest with babies. Fluffy, brown, comical baby penguins. The guide tells me they are terribly grumpy at this stage of their development – because they are as yet unable to swim and so fish – but they are definitely particularly delightful to watch. African penguins are quite small and some of these young penguins were almost as big as their mothers but, still brown and fluffy, they huddled together in the sand.

Having dragged ourselves away from the penguins, we headed back to the bus and onward towards Cape Point nature reserve. This reserve is one I have visited but not for many years. It also differs significantly from many other South African reserves. Most nature areas in South Africa are grassland areas that focus on large mammals, up to and including the big 5. There are a few, however, that have a different flavour, from mangrove swamps to wild coastal areas. This is one of the ‘different’ ones. Although there are some large mammals here, the real joy and beauty of the reserve is the wide-open rolling hills of fynbos edged on all sides by the crashing Atlantic ocean.

This particular tour has a special option over most others – a 6km cycle through the Cape Point nature reserve. I must say, for the record, that I am rather unfit and the last time I cycled may actually have been in Gyeongju that Autumn day. It was still delightful. You cycle along the road, so the traffic can be a bit annoying, but the air is clear and crisp and the world stretches out in all directions with the grey of the Cape foliage. As we cycled, a couple of Bontebok gallopped up beside us and across the road. A little further along, two large male and one female ostriches stood about 10m away, peck-pecking at the ground. In between hill-tops the plains spread out. The joy of cycling, and why it is worth the tiredness, is that you are able to travel more slowly and be right there, close up to nature. There is no distance and no glass and metal and plastic between you and the world you are seeing.

Cold meat, salads and rolls for lunch, along with a good, long rest, followed the cycling, at a tourist and information centre looking out towards Da Gama’s cross. I wandered off to look around and found an ancient pine tree bent almost to the ground, as if constantly blown and buckled by the prevailing wind, even though this day was still and calm.

The guide informed us that he would normally head to Cape Point after lunch but the mist had come in, so we were going to try the Cape of Good Hope first. This Cape lay clear of mist, with the sunlight playing dazzling, dancing games across the kelp forests just below the water. There is a latitude and longitude sign here where all the tourists gather to take turns for a photograph – a picture to prove we were there. A busload (quite literally) of Chinese tourists scrambled for their turns. Even the group of backpackers I was with, far more the type to claim higher moral ground over ‘tourists’, indulged their desire for proof of existence. I wandered along the beach and drank in the smell of the sea and wondered how many days of flying it would take to reach the end (or bottom) of the world.

From the Cape of Good Hope we climbed up a ridiculously treacherous, steep and far-too-tough-for-unfit-people staircase path. From there we began the (much gentler) 40 minute uphill walk to Cape Point. Some part of me would have preferred to do the downhill walk, but there is something special, either way, about that walk between the two end-points of the Cape Peninsula. Looking down cliffs, looking out across false bay, looking out, south, towards the endless sea. We reached Cape Point parking area with much tiredness. I didn’t even go up the final path (another 20 minute walk) to stand on the actual South Western-most tip of Africa. I didn’t need to. Being there was enough. Instead, I spent some time not moving, enjoying the views and watching the strangely unexpected sight of an ostrich foraging on the edge of a cliff overlooking the Atlantic ocean.

And then it was done. The trip back to Cape Town was still beautiful – via Ou Kaapse, which is one of my favourite drives in the Western Cape, and then M3 past UCT and back to town. I was exhausted – it took me several days of stiffness to recover properly – but I’m glad I took the opportunity to visit Hout Bay and to see the penguins and to spend some time at the points that end the place that is my home.

Ou Kaapstad was van altyd af nog baie mooi vir my

Cape Town, ,
Ou Kaapstad was van altyd af nog baie mooi vir my
Capetonians are generally fiercely proud of their city.  They’re proud of the mountain and the beaches and the beauty and the quality of life. This has the (amusing) effect of perplexing many Joburgers. And yet, many Cape Town people spend very little time enjoying the amenities which make their city so attractive to people from across the world.
One of these is the Company’s Garden (also called Company Gardens). The garden was first planted by the Dutch who came to the Cape in the late 1600s, as a source of vegetables to restock their ships. After changing hands several times – along with the rest of the colony – the gardens were eventually opened to all and have been maintained, ever since, as a sanctuary of peace and greenery in the heart of Cape Town city bowl.
I was in town for a meeting early one morning, so I took a walk. I was 30 minutes early thanks to traffic – leaving the Southern Suburbs at 7:30am gets you to town around 8am, but leaving any later means sitting in traffic for ages. So an 8:30 meeting means having half an hour to kill in town. What a joy! My meeting was at the café at St George’s, so I was in the perfect spot, too.
The sun was out in town. It had been misty and chilly when I left Mowbray, but coming around the bend to Salt River, Lion’s Head rose before me in glorious sunshine. The sunshine followed me all that morning. Between the trees, the sun flickered and filtered down on the path beside the cathedral. Homeless people gathered their belongings from the benches along the Avenue and headed off to start their day. Business people and morning runners hurried past dawdling groups of school children.
I turned off the main path in the Gardens, and found another, quietly set among trees and flowers. The bougainvillea was flowering purple. The breeze rippled the South African flag on the steps of the National Library. Along the path, I came upon a pretty stone lantern. The lantern, said the information board, was “presented to Cape Town by “the Government of Japan as a token of appreciation of the kindness and hospitality shown to Japanese immigrants”, erected 1932.
I spent a few moments enjoying the peace and symmetry until a man with a leaf-blower came and chased me away. As I turned back onto the main path, the sun was just catching the orange stringy parts of a palm grove and turning them to flames of light.
Further along the path, I stopped to look at an old stone sundial and turned just as the sun lit up a Madonna statue off to one side. A small, grey squirrel scuttled ahead of me and then rushed off on a side path and up an old, old tree.
Rhodes’ statue, standing proud and tall, made me think of the words of a Klopjag song: “…maar Rhodes staan, sonder woorde, in die tuin en wys my waar die noorde le, en weet ek dis na jou wat ek verlang..” Ek verlang, elke keer as ek aan daardie woorde dink, na Stellenbosch dae en Stellenbosch vriende. Rhodes’ plaque, “your hinterland is there” perhaps as true now as ever, although I suppose the more correct expression now would refer the markets to the north.
At the top of the path, looking out across the rose garden, the cloud was lying on the mountain like a lazy table-cloth, resting half way across, instead of covering the whole thing. The mountain, as always, lay sharp and beautiful against a blue, blue sky.
As I walked back, towards my meeting and the day ahead, I stopped to take in the ‘wishing well’ lit up in the morning sun, a pool of light in the midst of shadow. The sprinklers came on as I neared the gate, shooting sprays of sparkling drops across the paths and creating gentle magic for anyone willing to watch.
By 8:30am, I was sitting in the café at St George’s sipping a cappuccino and enjoying the quiet and the sunlight on the old, old stone. My busy day of work was just beginning but already I’d spent time in beautiful gardens and smelled the roses, enjoyed the stunning mountain and wandered half-forgotten paths. Ou Kaapstad was van altyd af nog baie mooi vir my*.
*Credit to Klopjag, one of my favourite South African bands: title and quotes from N1 Roete

Capetonians are generally fiercely proud of their city.  They’re proud of the mountain and the beaches and the beauty and the quality of life. This has the (amusing) effect of perplexing many Joburgers. And yet, many Cape Town people spend very little time enjoying the amenities which make their city so attractive to people from across the world.

One of these is the Company’s Garden (also called Company Gardens). The garden was first planted by the Dutch who came to the Cape in the late 1600s, as a source of vegetables to restock their ships. After changing hands several times – along with the rest of the colony – the gardens were eventually opened to all and have been maintained, ever since, as a sanctuary of peace and greenery in the heart of Cape Town city bowl.

I was in town for a meeting one morning, so I took a walk. I was 30 minutes early thanks to traffic – leaving the Southern Suburbs at 7:30am gets you to town around 8am, but leaving any later means sitting in traffic for ages. So an 8:30 meeting means having half an hour to kill in town. What a joy! My meeting was at the café at St George’s, so I was in the perfect spot, too.

The sun was out in town. It had been misty and chilly when I left Mowbray, but coming around the bend to Salt River, Lion’s Head rose before me in glorious sunshine. The sunshine followed me all that morning. Between the trees, the sun flickered and filtered down on the path beside the cathedral. Homeless people gathered their belongings from the benches along the Avenue and headed off to start their day. Business people and morning runners hurried past dawdling groups of school children.

I turned off the main path in the Gardens, and found another, quietly set among trees and flowers. The bougainvillea was flowering purple. The breeze rippled the South African flag on the steps of the National Library. Along the path, I came upon a pretty stone lantern. The lantern, said the information board, was “presented to Cape Town by “the Government of Japan as a token of appreciation of the kindness and hospitality shown to Japanese immigrants”, erected 1932.

I spent a few moments enjoying the peace and symmetry until a man with a leaf-blower came and chased me away. As I turned back onto the main path, the sun was just catching the orange stringy parts of a palm grove and turning them to flames of light.

Further along the path, I stopped to look at an old stone sundial and turned just as the sun lit up a Madonna statue off to one side. A small, grey squirrel scuttled ahead of me and then rushed off on a side path and up an old, old tree.

Rhodes’ statue, standing proud and tall, made me think of the words of a Klopjag song: “…maar Rhodes staan, sonder woorde, in die tuin en wys my waar die noorde le, en weet ek dis na jou wat ek verlang..” Ek verlang, elke keer as ek aan daardie woorde dink, na Stellenbosch dae en Stellenbosch vriende. Rhodes’ plaque, “your hinterland is there” stands perhaps as true now as ever, although I suppose the more correct expression now would refer the markets to the north.

At the top of the path, looking out across the rose garden, the cloud was lying on the mountain like a lazy table-cloth, resting half way across, instead of covering the whole thing. The mountain, as always, lay sharp and beautiful against a blue, blue sky.

As I walked back, towards my meeting and the day ahead, I stopped to take in the ‘wishing well’ lit up in the morning sun, a pool of light in the midst of shadow. The sprinklers came on as I neared the gate, shooting sprays of sparkling drops across the paths and creating gentle magic for anyone willing to watch.

By 8:30am, I was sitting in the café at St George’s sipping a cappuccino and enjoying the quiet and the sunlight on the old, old stone. My busy day of work was just beginning but already I’d spent time in beautiful gardens and smelled the roses, enjoyed the stunning mountain and wandered half-forgotten paths. Ou Kaapstad was van altyd af nog baie mooi vir my*.

*Credit to Klopjag, one of my favourite South African bands: title and quotes from N1 Roete

An energetic Saturday

Daegu,

A plan to go picnicking under the cherry trees on Saturday had to be put off due to a dental emergency but the day still dawned sunny and relatively warm (or at least not freezing) and I wanted to take full advantage.

After a gentle start to the day, I headed off to Mangu Park. Mangu is one of the parks I haven’t seen yet. I’ve tried to find it before and been unsuccessful, as it turns out because I got off the bus too soon. This time, I had checked the bus route map properly and had a better idea of how long I’d need to wait. I took the 814 bus. It was around midday on a Saturday, so there were lots of people on the bus. After a couple of stops, I found a seat and watched the world from the window.

After a while, we reached the park. There are different types of parks in Daegu. Some of them, like National Debt Repayment Movement Park, are small parks set up for people to sit in pleasant surroundings (and listen to piped elevator music). Some are bigger parks with more serious walks and sporting activities like Duryu Park. Mangu Park is not a huge park. In fact, it’s a bit of an odd shape, stretching across a main road. Some of the space that it does have is taken up with trees and lawns sloping down hills and benches where people were peacefully sitting and chatting or reading. The rest is taken up by monuments of various sorts.

The most fascinating is the Daegu South Gate. This is, quite literally, the old South Gate of the city of Daegu or Yeongnamjeilgwan. Daegu was first fortified in 1590 (Joseon Dynasty). As usual in Korea’s history, the Japanese invaded within a few years (1592) and destroyed it all. The walls and gates were eventually rebuilt with stone in 1736 and stayed in place until 1906. In 1980, this gate was rebuilt and moved to Mangu Park, where it looks out across the Geumho River. The information board suggests that this structure is based on the original gate but is larger. I’m not sure how exaggerated the current structure is but it is certainly imposing. The two story wooden structure with typical Joseon roof, colours and designs, sits atop a stone (brick?) fortification. There is a tunnel under the middle of the ‘gate’. I walked into this tunnel and did a double-take when I looked up. On the ceiling, there was a fascinating, and huge, mural of two long, thin dragons twisting between clouds and other designs. Western dragons are a lot more solid than Eastern ones. These ones looked like snakes with dragons heads and spindly arms and legs. At the end of the little tunnel – it wasn’t even really a tunnel, just an opening under the gate – were two huge wooden doors and then a view down a hill to a river valley. I love the huge wooden doors. I think they may be my favourite part of traditional Korean architecture.

Beyond the gate, I wandered along paved paths. Along the edge of a path was a fence covered in golden-yellow forsythia flowers. An Asian spring seems like it should be all about cherry blossoms and they are around but so far the forsythias have been far more prominent, painting the spring with swathes of yellow flowers.

Across the bridge above the multiple lanes of fast, flowing traffic, there were more flowers. A few cherry trees proudly showed their spring glory. There was another plant, the name of which I haven’t quite figured out but whose beautiful, creamy-white flowers are some of my spring favourites. In the flower-beds, the city has recently planted flowering pansies in all sorts of beautiful colours – from yellow and deep red to bright purple and velvety dark blue. I considered walking down along the river, but decided to stay on the top of the hill and take a look at the monuments.

The first was a horse and rider statue dedicated (I think) to General Kwak Jaewoo who was apparently the first militia leader to successfully resist the Japanese during the 1592 invasion (although, I’m not sure how successfully given that they seem to have invaded anyway, but what do I know?). The horse and rider reminded me a little of the statues at Rhodes Memorial in Cape Town. There was also a monument-thingy on the back of a particularly scary-looking turtle. Often these turtles that hold up monuments are fascinating and quite pretty. This one wasn’t.

The main monument of the park on this side of the road, and the one that fascinated me the most, is an alter (read: a high tower rising from a hexogon-shaped structure with picture panels) holding memorial tablets for volunteer soldiers who died fighting the Japanese between 1592 and 1598. The monument is fairly modern and fancy. Part of me wonders if this is something that organically exists or if it is part of the ongoing attempt to build the pride of Korean children in their nation  (which, for the record, is spectacularly successful to the point of being a little scary). It was also bare and stark and the panels were beautiful. Whether it is a memorial that is visited by families and that matters to people or is simply a political project of nation-building, a monument remembering those who passed away in defence of their country hundreds of years ago is a little awe-inspiring.

I could have wandered the park for longer, but I had seen most of it and gotten some nice pics – and been reminded how much of a difference natural sunlight makes to pictures – so I found the bus-stop and headed home.

I didn’t stay home for long. A friend and I had made a tentative plan to go for a mini-hike just across the main road from the area where we live. I’d never tried walking on that side and for one reason or another, nor had she. From the road, it looked like it would be a short, simple walk but with just enough steep hills to make it a bit of a climb. It turned out that we had significantly underestimated how many paths there were and how far they twisted into the hills. It will probably be even lovelier when the trees are in full, summer leaf, but I liked it as it was. Because there were fewer leaves, it was possible to look out across the valleys. It felt free and out of the city, even though the city still sprawled below us. We walked along paths and around corners and took turns and twists and tried out some of the exercise equipment randomly scattered around the forest. Eventually, we found ourselves over the hill near the back of the Children’s centre, where we stopped and spent a little time going up and down the mini-obstacle course before climbing back up the hills, to the bizarre accompaniment of a helicopter flying over and playing the sound of a whistled tune. I realise this sounds odd. It was odd.

We walked for almost an hour and a half and did some climbing and got some exercise. I really enjoyed it. I’ve never been the hiking type. In fact, I’ve never really been an outdoorsy person, but it appears the lack of outdoors in Korea is rapidly driving me in that direction. That’s okay. So far it has been fun.

For now, I’m heading off to work, somewhat bitter that I’m working on Easter Monday when everyone in South Africa is mid-long weekend, but I’m simultaneously a little bit excited about the prospect of a Cherry Blossom festival next weekend, so there are definitely silver linings.