The Cape, The Caves and the Garden Route (Oh My)

If Cape Town had a job, she’d be a supermodel.  Honestly, I can’t imagine a more geographically blessed spot in all the whole wide world.  Vancouver, maybe?  Too much rain, too cold, too expensive.  Sydney, maybe?  Don’t know, never been, but their opera house sure looks fancy.  Rio, maybe?  Can’t shake visions of the Olympic sewage issues…

Yeah, yeah…photo borrowed from internet…

Sitting on a peninsula beneath imposing Table Mountain with countless stunning beaches, vineyards and a world class botanical garden just a stone’s throw away, Cape Town is crazy gorgeous.  Like, should-be-married-to-an-ageing-rock-star gorgeous.  Robben Island, the notorious former prison home of Nelson Mandela, shimmers in Table Bay and the bustling Victoria & Alfred Waterfront is alive with tourists and buskers and hipsters and families and ethical coffee houses and craft breweries.  There are miles of oceanfront promenades, lots of green space, runners and bikers and surfers galore.  I was reaching for the real estate mags within a day of our arrival.

It was really fun to be with Andrew and gang in the comfort of a home (theirs), while playing tourist, hiking, eating good sushi (at last!), visiting the waterfront and just hanging out and drinking from Jen and Andrew’s amazing wine collection…AH-MAZE-ING.

From our lovely flat (above Andrew & Jen’s), we could watch the slowly rotating cable cars climb to the top of Table Mountain when the wind allowed.  And man oh man, was it windy!   Tree-bending, window-rattling, bone-clanging windy.  They call it “The Cape Doctor” because it blows in and pushes all the pollution and cloud cover away, leaving a shiny, clean Cape Town in it’s wake.   Incredible to behold.   I’m amazed that Cape Town is still standing.

Last time we were in Cape Town (2003 BC – before children), Andrew led us up a treacherous climb to the top of Table Mountain, far away from the tourist crowds.  (Note:  Andrew is an accomplished climber.  We are really good at, well, watching TV and sometimes hiking).   I still have nightmares about it.

This time, he and Jen led us all safely to the summit of Lion’s Head, the Cape Town equivalent of the Grouse Grind.   It’s like a stroll in the park for them – in fact, they summited Lion’s Head 52 times last year with a 2 year old in a backpack.   Amazingly fit, they can do it in well under an hour.   I think the Newlands broke records for taking the longest time ever.   And while it wasn’t exactly treacherous, it still had my recent-onset vertigo rearing it’s ugly head and my knees quaking.  The kids loved the adventure of it all – the chains and ladders and bolted handholds.  And I have to admit that the 360 degree view from the summit was worth every step.

It was so easy to fill our days in Cape Town.  Aside from a few intense homework sessions, we did the tourist thing, rode the hop-on-hop-off bus and came home to Jen’s delicious dinners every night.   Spoiled rotten.

We had wheels, so we poked around the Cape a fair bit.   There’s just so much to see and do.  We loved watching the surfers at Muizenberg and got a bit freaked out by all the shark flags and warnings and ‘SharkWatchers’ kiosks.  We kept trying to keep all the shark flag colours straight.   Basically, red is bad.  Get out of the water.  Or get a bigger boat.

Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens was amazing and made me lonesome for my good friend, Kirsten, back home.   (Hope you got our postcard, Kirrie!).   We drove the famous Chapman’s Peak Drive and I got my haircut (not sure which was more exciting).  And no trip to Cape Town is complete without a visit to the Cape of Good Hope (the most south-western point of the entire continent) where we had to take the token cheesy photo by the sign.

We all spent a day at Boulders Beach and swam with a couple of the more intrepid penguins from the colony there.   The kids love that they’re called “jackass penguins”.   And yes, the 9-year-old jokes got old fast (What did one penguin say to the other?  You’re such a jackass.  Oh, bwahahaha).   But it was a thrill to watch them and the water was so, so clear but cold.

After a week or so, we decided to give Andrew, Jen and Susara their lives back and headed off towards Plettenberg Bay on the Garden Route.  Most of our time was spent bodysurfing and watching the kite surfers.  Henry managed to get so crazy sunburnt that I was actually too afraid of parent-shaming to let him out in public until he toned down to a less alarming shade of red.

We stumbled upon a great little seaside restaurant one night at Knysna Heads.  It’s a terrific spot –  two towering sandstone cliffs marking the entrance into the Knysna Lagoon from the pounding Indian Ocean.   It’s quite mind-boggling and has been called the most treacherous harbour entry in the world.  But back to dinner….

It was one of those serendipitous things.   We were hungry and there it was…this perfect little seaside restaurant, with no wait and loads of outdoor tables.   The kids played in the tidal pools while we waited for our food and watched the sunset.  And for once, it was as good as it sounds.   Happy kids, beautiful setting, delicious meal.  Mike still maintains that it was his best dinner (fresh kingklip) of the trip so far.   That the kids were busy beachcombing (and gave us an hour’s peace) had nothing to do with it, I’m sure.

We also spent some time at the amazing Knysna Elephant Park.   I’m tired, so I’m cribbing directly from their website:

The Knysna Elephant Park (est. 1994) was the first facility in South Africa to house and care for orphaned African elephants. Over the last twenty years, the park has cared for and raised more than forty elephants. These animals include relocated animals, orphaned calves, elephants rescued from culls and ex-circus animals. Some have become part of the resident herd, others have moved onto other reserves and facilities in the Western and Eastern Cape, depending on their personalities, bonds with other animals and welfare needs.

The present KEP herd numbers nine – the largest domesticated matriarchal herd in the country. Our style of management offers guests the opportunity to get up close and personal with our elephants, on elephant terms. Responsible and educational interactions allow guests to appreciate the awe-inspiring presence of these animals, but still give the elephants the space and freedom to choose where they want to move, what they want to eat and who they want to interact with. 

We were really impressed with this place and thrilled at the chance to feed and touch and interact with the elephants (no riding!).   Amazing beasts.

After about 5 days, we said goodbye to the Garden Route at Plettenberg Bay and looped back around towards Cape Town.   We stopped in the very Dutch town of Oudtschoorn for a couple of nights to visit the enormous Cango Caves and to break up the driving.

At the caves, and against our better judgement, we opted for the ‘Adventure Tour’.  This particular spelunking debacle requires that guests not be too ‘cuddly’.    Well, turns out that claustrophobics ought to steer far, far away from this little oddball expedition.   It also turns out that Mike and I are, apparently, quite cuddly.

The caves themselves have some staggeringly huge amphitheatres, but the Adventure Tour took us into more…ummm.. compact areas.   Meaning, I got stuck.  Once I stopped hyperventilating, I managed to wiggle free from the Devil’s Chimney, but I think Mike’s ordeal was even more harrowing.   The kids were no help.   After a few uncomfortably tight squeezes, Mike (at the tail end) would call out “Tom/Henry/Lucy, how’s it look?”.   The echo-y response was never very encouraging.   “Uhhh…yeah, Dad, I don’t think you’re gonna fit through this one”.   Great…no way forward and no way back.   Our guide told an extremely ill-timed story about one of his guests getting stuck.   FOR ELEVEN HOURS.   A rescue team with doctor eventually had to slither in and inject her with a bunch of muscle relaxants before she could be freed.

But fear not.  We made it, eventually being reborn as we slipped headfirst through the birth canal-like Letterbox .   Gah.

After the caves, we managed a bit of levity at the Cango Ostrich Farm.  Because who doesn’t want to go to an ostrich farm?  We fed them, learned about their odd behaviours and got an “ostrich massage” by holding a bucket of feed on our heads.   BANG BANG BANG.  They’re amazingly strong and fast and can twist their necks completely around, à la The Exorcist.  It was a ridiculous hour.   With free coffee.   What more does a girl need?  Oh, how about a souvenir ostrich egg to haul around the world?  Yep, got that too.

 

Before we knew it,  we were cruising along Route 62 (South Africa’s version of the iconic US Route 66).   We had to make the obligatory stop at Ronnie’s Sex Shop, a tourist mecca in the middle of nowhere with a catchy, but entirely misleading name.   We popped in to sign the wall, along with a bajillion other scrawled John Henry’s.

Then it was back into the car, zooming towards Cape Town in order to catch Susara’s 3rd birthday celebration.   We’d introduced her to the classic Toopy & Binoo series (you’re welcome, Andrew and Jen) and between the “I-want-to-stick-a-fork-in-my-ear” Toopy theme song and all the wine that we drank, I’m pretty sure we owe them something big.   Like really enormous.  Like a vineyard or something.

And that was that.   The next morning marked the end of our two-month-long African adventure and we headed to the airport to catch our flight to Abu Dhabi.   We were really sad to say goodbye to our friends (see the theme developing here?) and to beautiful, complicated Cape Town, but excited at the prospect of our next leg.

[Actually, that was a really anti-climatic last paragraph.   I’m displeased.  Stand by – I’ll sort it out later, but for now I’m going to bed.]

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