A Walk with Friends in The Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens

We were lucky with the weather for our visit to the Kirstenbosch Gardens with Christina and Werner; the mountain tops cut sharp clear lines against the clean blue sky. Nor was it too hot, so chatting on the elevated walkway while standing in the sun looking up to the mountains and down the valleys to the plains was a pleasure and not too hot.

I have wondered why Table Mountain appears to be so flat when all the other mountains ranges we see are dramatically peaked. Seeing the ancient mountain from the other side while standing on the walkway I noticed that although the highest edge that looms over the bay appears as a flat line, the mountain slopes gently and then more steeply downwards on the eastern side. The fact it was once a valley floor with two much bigger mountains on either side of it, now eroded away, makes sense and was well explained on the information board.

There is no definite border between the indigenous trees within the gardens and the forest outside the gardens that grows further up the slopes, because many of the trees were here long before the gardens were established. Some of the plants here are prehistoric, like the cycad garden complete with a latecomer dinosaur. Cycads are rare so this garden is susceptible to thieves who have crept into the garden at night and stolen valuable plants. Cycads do not produce flowers, instead they are dioecious meaning the spores or cones (like conifers and pine trees) they produce can be either male or female.

The season is moving rapidly towards winter now and I was surprised to see so many plants including amaryllis, wild sweet pea, daisies, gardenia and agapanthus to name a few still in flower and the abundance of bees and birdsong was delightful.

After a couple of hours of gentle meandering and chatting we started feeling peckish. Having collected the picnic Christina had prepared from the car the hunt for a shady picnic spot beneath an oak tree was on.

 Picnic time at Kirstenbosch

We found our shady spot beneath a spreading oak tree, tossed the acorns away and laid the rugs. Setting out the picnic was as much a source of interest to a passing helmeted guinea fowl as it was to me. The colour and variety of food Christina had assembled made me feel quite spoiled and I enjoyed every minute. What was nice about the choice of nibbles and prepared dishes was that they extended the picnic; so, we could sit together and chat for a long time, dipping into raw vegetables and cheese and chive dip and later savouring cheesecake and ice cream from shiny teaspoons.

The management bans any form of alcohol and have been known to check the contents of drinks containers; I was quite glad because I wanted my senses to remain sharp so I could fully appreciate the day.

A large group of young adults came and sat on the other side of the ancient gardenia bush near us. One of them was having a birthday and a lot of noise was essential for their enjoyment. “Don’t worry,” I said, “as soon as they start eating, they’ll quieten down.” Well then they went quiet and suddenly a champagne cork popped. Our heads spun in their direction; did they know the rules? I think they did because by the time the garden detective arrived on his routine patrol to remind us to don our masks once we got up, while studying the lay of our picnic for any suspicious bottles, they had downed the drink and hidden the bottle.

Fortunately, they left after about an hour and peace returned with the arrival of a pair of Egyptian Geese with their brood of four very young goslings. Curiosity struck one of our party to see if they would eat grapes and we watched with amused awe as a grape passed down the parent’s neck disturbing its feathers as it went. Better for it than bread I thought. I wondered if it would pass out the other end intact, couldn’t be any worse than laying an egg!

All good things must come to an end; the shadows were stretching away over the grass and that refreshing chill that ensured a good night’s sleep had arrived so we packed up the remnants of our feast and adjourned to the warm interior of Zoonie’s saloon for a mug of tea (!) TEA, I thought, “Christina, would you like tea or wine?” I realised it was a silly question as soon as I’d said it and that happy, familiar sound of wine bottle pouring liquid into clinking glasses returned and Rob gave an excellent demonstration of how to dress an open, home-baked scone in preparation for a classic English Cream Tea.

 It’s a Bird’s Life

It’s also a labour of love for Walter Mengold and his loyal team to look after not only birds but monkeys, lemurs, servals cats and guinea pigs and it would be uncharacteristic of his ethos to turn away any sick or injured animal brought in on a daily basis since 1973. The park has run more on determination and a respect for bird and animal life than from the meagre income it makes.

There are now over 40 staff gently raking the enclosures, cleaning out the water gulleys and pools, feeding these beautiful creatures who cannot be returned to the wild because of their injuries but instead live a safe and protected life, judging by their lack of fear of humans and the many that breed happily and raise young in their microcosm of the natural world.

We visitors are also cared for with tasty refreshments in the café, a charming enchanted wood and play area for the children and clean red brick paths weaving through the enclosures, so we were actually in with the tame wildlife.

At one point a young ranger asked if we’d like to help feed the black capped squirrel monkeys, so five of us sat down on a small area of artificial grass and had the experience of gentle soft little monkeys running over our laps to pick up the dry food tossed by the ranger around us. Our only instruction was don’t touch the little creatures as they can quickly become agitated. I have always had a small fear of having monkeys running over me as I know they can become aggressive but these were so tiny, with soft cool hands and a light brief touch they posed no threat at all and were a delight to be with. One had twins clinging on to her.

Surprises for us were the beautiful serval cat pair and the rock hyrax which, although common in the mountainous region, had proved elusive to us.

The sanctuary is a delight and a good place for all ages of humans to learn about these amazing creatures who if not for the care of the humans who bring them in and the staff that tend their every need, would have lived unnecessarily short lives.

Homeward via Hout Bay

Hout meaning wooded, the first thing the Dutch colonialists did on arrival was chop down most of the trees for their own numerous uses and along with the urban development over the past fifty or so years there are now few indigenous trees left. Fire also ravages these hills on a frequent basis so the vegetation is mostly indigenous recovering low growth.

After the delightful World of Birds, we hopped back on to the red bus that was taking us along the blue route around Cape Town; a much longer three-and-a-half-hour journey, than the red route we had done before, if one didn’t hop off at all for just over twelve pounds each. On the map the route continued right to left along the ‘blue’ Hout Road at the bottom of the page past the Imizamo Yethu township where in non-covid times there are tours for the likes of us to introduce us to a ‘no holds barred’ view of township life, its cultural, colourful and creative side and the dark side of danger, violence and crime.

I would have liked to have joined such a tour but not only is the risk of disease great in these hopelessly overcrowded areas but, ignoring Covid, the danger from fires that start frequently are heightened even more because the firefighters cannot get their equipment along the narrow alleyways. There are many townships around Cape Town and the government drive to do something about them is slow to rarely existent.

People in townships live close to walled and fenced estates with guards on the gates and regularly patrolling the perimeters with dogs, day and night. Many indigenous men and women are employed in the security business as well as in roles as gardeners, council workers, nannies and in the myriad of jobs within the service industries; but still unemployment is very high. Many people come to Cape Town from other African countries escaping their own form of tyranny and poverty and put added pressure on the sparse infrastructure. The situation is complex and ever-changing in this country which is politically young but ancient in terms of the feudal land ownership system.

Our next stop from where we sat on the top at the front of our bus was for lunch at the beautiful Hout Bay, number 24 after the township and just off the bottom left corner of the map.

“Stand astride him he won’t hurt you!” The friendly guy was saying to me as I stroked the soggy neck of the tame fur seal. “What if he goes into reverse, I’ll end up in the drink,” I complained and made do with a carefully positioned cuddle, he was soaking wet after all, but a real opportunist who has gently fraternised with the naïve visitors like me for ten years, bringing in a meagre reward for his human minder. From what we have seen fur seals retain their anger and tempers for their own kind, at least that is what I thought as I stood next to him for a picture and I wasn’t disappointed.

There is a marina at Hout Bay which is not used much by-passing cruising yachts who are keen to get to Cape Town and all the things there are to do there. Instead, it is full with local yachts, many left there by owners who have had enough of the salty life, although there are a few liveaboards.

We had a delicious lunch in the Restaurant on the quay its interior attractively designed like the interior of a wooden ship with panels everywhere, brass fittings, portholes and a fine bust of Nelson before he lost his eye. Run by a man from March near Cambridge who, like all the other restaurant businesses, was keenly looking forward to the resumption of foreign visitor travel.

Young local lads on the beach were surfing using slabs of discarded polystyrene which were not ideal in the fresh breeze that was blowing, on second thoughts I think the wind was adding to their fun. A lovely stroll around the bay blew away any stray cobwebs before we resumed our bus stop journey past all the popular bays on the Atlantic coast between Hout and CT, including Llandudno.