A Saturday drive down the coast and up Chapman’s Peak
Saturday got off to a rotten start, quite frankly.
It was my only real day – my only good-weather day — to look around Cape Town, a city I’ve grown to love over the past few months. But I was so exhausted after a long, hard week of presentations and consulting that I decided to sleep in. Until 9:30 or so.
So at 8:10 a.m., my phone rang. It was Wireless G, the hotel’s internet service provider, calling to… well, I don’t quite know what they were calling for. To get revenge for my helping the hotel desk crew troubleshoot Wireless G’s crappy-ass service Tuesday night, I guess.
No, actually, they were calling to inform me the two time-sensitive passwords I had bought from them on Tuesday night were now operative. It’s only taken them three-and-a-half days to fix the problem.
So the guy wanted me to get out of bed, long on with each password and see if they worked.
He was lucky I’m trying to be on good behavior while I’m a guest in this country. If I were in the U.S., I would have directed him to perform actions that are, in fact, anatomically impossible.
(And speaking of my beleaguered internet access — remember that praise I laid upon Boingo the other day? Well, never mind. Turns out, those jokers charged me twenty-five freakin’ dollars a day for access to Wireless G’s system in Cape Town! Please remind me to never say anything good, ever again, about an internet service provider.)
So bleary-eyed, I dragged myself out of bed, washed down some breakfast, grabbed my car keys and, undecided as yet where to go for the day, headed out to the Audi. Only to find the neighborhood birds had left me a little gift.
Yes. Apparently the birds, too, are on the payroll at Wireless G.
I was horrified. Horrified! I’m going to tool around the Western Cape in a very sexy blue-grey Audi… with bird shit all over it? I don’t think so. Yet, I have no clue where to go in this city to get your car washed.
I drove in the general direction of the waterfront. That’s a huge tourist area. My thought was that someone over there might offer car washes.
And I was right. This parking deck caters to shoppers at the Waterfront area. The sign says:
I know what you’re thinking. And frankly, yes, that would have made for some very interesting photos here in the blog. But no, “Exotic” was simply the name of the place.
They said the de-pooping operation would take about 45 minutes. So I grabbed my camera and walked around the waterfront.
I’ve not written much lately about Table Mountain, which stands guard over downtown Cape Town. I waxed poetic about it several times during my last trip. (Click, if you wish, for a larger view.)
The Saturday morning charters were about to leave their berths. As I walked from quay to quay, boat captains eyed me and my camera and invited me to join their voyages.
Perhaps a boat trip would be nice. The only time I’ve been out on a boat here, though, turned into a case study in wind-driven motion-sickness. Perhaps next time.
Shoppers were everywhere. I couldn’t believe folks got up this early to hit the mall.
The waterfront’s various sidewalk eateries were going booming brunch business.
I should take a moment and mention that the sun was out, the skies were partly cloudy and the temperatures were somewhere around 65 degrees Fahrenheit. You couldn’t ask for a better day. Especially after the cold, windy rainy days Cape Town has suffered through nearly every day this week.
I pulled up data that informed me Cape Town typically gets eight days of rainfall throughout the month of October. I was there eight days. We got rain five of those days.
So much for the data.
The layover gave me time to explore this huge toy store I stumbled across on Friday evening.
It was about the size of a typical Toys-R-Us. It was attached to a huge parking deck, across the street from the waterfront mall. I resisted the temptation to buy some action figures. I did pick up a little something for Elizabeth, though.
I’ve shot these four statues before, but I was looking to kill some time.
These are the country’s four Nobel Peace Prize recipients…
…including the Great Man himself, Nelson Mandela.
I walked back to the deck to find my Audi squeaky-clean. The total bill: Only 45 Rand — or $6.05.
Embarrassed by how cheaply they did this disgusting work, I tipped them another 50 Rand. Which seemed to delight the manager.
Leaving the waterfront, I drove past the newly-renovated soccer stadium at Green Point. It’s looking nearly ready for play.
And it makes a great picture. Until you pull back just a tad. The barbed wire looks awfully intimidating.
The stadium is located just to the west of downtown, not far from the Waterfront area.
So here was my new plan for the day: I’ll head down the M6 — Victoria Drive — along the west coast of the peninsula and take a closer look at some of the seaside communities between Cape Town and the Hout Bay area I’ve grown to love so much. I’ve driven through these towns but I’ve not really stopped to check them out.
My first waterside stop was Three Anchor Bay, in Cape Town proper. The beach was a little dirty — probably because of all the storms that have wracked the area recently.
Enormous high-rise condos and hotels mar the landscape, blocking the view of Table Mountain, Signal Hill and Lions Head — the latter of which you can see, peering through here.
Oh, my God. Herbie’s really showing his age these days.
My next stop was a slightly more upscale area — Sea Point.
Sea Point features a huge sea wall, nice parking and beaches that appear to be slightly better-kept than Three-Anchor Bay, a few blocks to the north.
That big mound you’re seeing there at the bottom is seaweed that’s washed up by the bad weather. I suspect they come collect it from time to time.
Also at Sea Point is a large swimming pool — a slice of which you see at left. The pool is filled with seawater, I’m told.
Makes sense, given a) the Atlantic Ocean here is incredibly cold all year ’round, and b) it pounds into the rocks with incredible force. If you put the kiddies into the surf here, they’d be beaten to hell in no time.
The trees facing the parking lot caught my attention. Perhaps this tilt is because of the constant sea breeze or perhaps they intentionally trim them like this. But all the trees lean so far to the right that you might mistake them for the Fox News anchor desk.
Meanwhile, across the street, the tall pines lean to the left. Clearly, they love Al Gore and his whole outlook on Global Warming.
This next photo is a great demonstration of why I love Cape Town. I climbed back into the Audi, drove south a few blocks and then the road bends into a sharp left.
When I came out from behind the tall buildings there, here’s the sight that greeted me:
That’s Lion’s Head. I drove two blocks with this thing in front of me before I had to turn to the right to pick up Victoria Drive.
Just stunning.
The next little community on my list is Clifton.
Why is it called Clifton? Because it consists of cliffs.
The side of the mountain comes so close to the waterfront that there is barely room here for homes and a highway. So everything is pretty much elbow-to-elbow, not unlike economy class on a jet airliner.
There was nowhere to stop and take photos, so I didn’t. I took these as I drove through.Which is a neat trick, given the narrowness of the road.
In this next shot, in fact, you can see a huge double-decker tour bus coming down the other lane. And it, I and those parked cars you see on the right all arrived at the same place at the same time.
Yeah. This is a nerve-wracking drive, at times.
Many of the homes here, I’m told, have elevators in them. The homes go simply go up too far to make climbing stairs a viable option.
I’m also told the homes here are incredibly pricey — not surprisingly.
At this point, a small — and thankfully brief — rainstorm came up. Plus, it was growing dangerously close to lunch time. The primal urge I have for fish n’ chips kicked in and drew me directly to Hout Bay.
So I left off at Clifton — No. 5 on our map — and jumped way down to No. 6, near the bottom. After I did the Hout thing and the nearby mountain, I headed back north again and filled in the middle part of our map. So please bear with me.
A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about the guys who stand at intersections and sell handcrafted goods and souvenirs. Or, worse yet, some of them beg for money. Seems like they’re everywhere in this country.
As I drove into Hout Bay, I found a roadside vendor who seemed just a little more upscale than the rest of them.
Hey. A little light retail action never hurt anyone.
By the time I got to Hout Bay, the sun was out again. And the marina there looked a hell of a lot better drenched in sun than it did drenched with rain, the weekend before.
I love the water and I love ships. And I love scenery. So is there any question why I’m repeatedly drawn back to incredibly gorgeous Hout Bay?
This particular ship, moored to the wharf, caught my attention. It’s called the Highlander. So obviously, it’s one-of-a-kind. After all, there can be only one Highlander (that’s a joke for all you movie buffs out there).
What about it caught my attention? This sign posted for the benefit of all deckhands:
No spitting? Why?
Not only that, but the captain of this boat really, really likes his sailors clean.
The scenery of Hout Bay is gorgeous and the fish n’ chips are wonderful. But that’s not the only reason to visit Hout Bay, of course. Hout Bay is home of the lovely and incredibly talented Soap Girls.
I wrote extensively of the famous Hout Bay Soap Girls last week. But last week, I chatted with them in a cold, driving rain. Today, I knew I could take pictures of these young ladies in their natural element: Surrounded by an adoring crowd.
Mie (left) and Mille (right) DeBray sing in more languages than you can even name. They talk and joke in unison — in harmony, even. They’re just astounding.
And people love them.
The girls are incredibly kind to one and all, whether or the visitors buy soap. And that’s a shame, given the girls sell the soap to benefit a variety of local charities.
So naturally, I couldn’t drive back into the area without saying hello and without buying a few more bars of decorative soaps. Sharon, Elizabeth and I will be the cleanest people in Virginia Beach.
And, of course, I had to get the one thing I didn’t get last week: A photo of me with the girls.
Now, I can die happy. And that’s only a slight exaggeration.
Read more about the soon-(I hope)-to-be-world-famous Soap Girls here. Or, check out their own web page here.
Only at Hout Bay can two teenage cuties tear your eyes away from the incredible natural scenery surrounding the area. Here, a mountain across the way wore a thin veil of clouds around its peak.
And note the ominous shadow covering half of this mountain. Also note the rain in the valley beyond.
This next shot is of Chapman’s Peak, to the south of Hout Bay. The road to the peak has been closed for months but recently reopened, allowing access to some very, very scenic photo ops.
Naturally, that was my next destination: No. 7 on our map.
The road to Chapman’s Peak is a toll road. The cost to drive across is only R26 — $3.49, by my count. But these folks take their toll roads very seriously. They don’t want you to pay unless you’re driving all the way across.
If you’re only going to the top to take pictures of the incredibly lovely Hout Bay — like I was doing — then they’ll charge you no fee at all. Just present the ticket they give you when you drive back down and they’ll wave you through.
And for no cost at all, it’s worth the ten or fifteen minute drive to the top. The view is unbelievable. Click on this one for a larger view:
The mountain formation you see at left is called the Sentinel — possibly because it appears poised ready to protect the bay. The marina area, in that photo, is roughly in front of the small, pointy mountain in the center.
In this picture, you can see why the mountain road has been closed for the better part of the past two years. See all those rocks, perched high over my poor little Audi? They don’t always stay up there.
It’s taken engineers years to find ways of keeping the rocks off the road. And from crushing people driving on the road.
And, at times, the rocks seem to defy common sense. Why are these big ol’ suckers sitting there? Did someone, in a perverse fit, place them there intentionally? That what these look like.
Road engineers have pushed back the worst of the landslide-prone areas, binding rocks and dirt so they won’t suddenly tear free from the steep mountain walls and play dodgeball with the traffic below.
There are a number of lookout points all along the road where one might stop and take pictures. Naturally, I stopped at all of them and I took way too many photos to post here. Simply because I could.
Here, for example, is the Sentinel from three different angles. From high up Chapman’s Peak…
…from about midway down…
…and from the beach, across the bay from the wharf area.
In this view of Chapman’s Peak, you can see the new road construction running across the left. Pity such a scar is necessary.
A local resort, Flora Bay, uses a mountain leopard as its logo. As a promotional device, they’ve mounted a bronze leoplard on a giant rock on the bay itself.
You can’t really tell it here, but that statue is a good four or five feet tall.
Here, waves cascade into Hout Bay. Way across the waterfront at the left of this photo — is the wharf area I’ve shot so often.
I shot a lot more of Hout Bay. I love this little town so much. But I think I’ve made my point, so let’s move on…
So I had driven all the way to Hout Bay, scaled Chapman’s Peak and then backtracked my way back down to Hout Bay again. Next, I would work my way back up the coast to a few of the towns I had missed.
Just over the first mountain from Hout Bay is Llandudno — and no, I have no idea how to pronounce that. In fact, I’ve never even driven through Llandudno. It’s off the highway just a bit and tour buses aren’t allowed there.
Next trip, I’ll have to pull over and check the place out. It’s No. 8 on our map.
Llandudno is a picturesque little village located just off Victoria Drive. The granite outcropping you see here on the right are called the Sunset Rocks.
The real claim to fame for this place, though, is this: Out past the Sunset Rocks is one of South Africa’s only nude beaches. You’d be amazed at how many people suggested I go out there.
Heh. As if.
Sadly, I didn’t take any photos at all of this place Saturday. Instead, these are pictures left over from my drive the previous Sunday, when the weather was so bad. As you can probably tell.
After I left Llandudno, I traveled through two or three miles where there were no towns at all. Along the right side of the road, however, are the series of mountains that branch off the back of Table Mountain. This range is known as the Twelve Apostles.
Here, you can see the Atlantic, the Apostles and the thin ribbon of road cut in the slope. I tell you, my friends, a more scenic drive doesn’t exist anywhere.
Y’know Audi really ought to be paying me big money for this.
Anyway, here’s where I am, in that picture. Heading back north again at point No. 9.
Across Koeël Bay, you can see Lion’s Head, keeping watch over the entire Cape Town metro area.
The Atlantic crashes into the rocks below with thunderous noise and creating all the foam you’re seeing in these pictures.
There are a few places to pull over and enjoy the sights, including this popular picnic spot.
A company had rented out a large chunk of this area Saturday. As I snapped this picture, I was hearing Michael Jackson’s “Billie Jean,” piped in over a very loud sound system.
I stopped again a little further around the bend, where I found locals selling homemade crafts to the steady stream of tourists that pass through.
Note to Sharon: Please clear off the wall over the sofa. I’m bringing home a zebra.
Not really. In fact, I didn’t even have the guts to ask what a dead zebra goes for these days. Besides, I can just see me at customs in Dulles in two weeks:
Officer: Anything to declare?
Me: Not really. Except a dead zebra.
Officer: Excuse me?
Me: A dead zebra skin. Wanna see?
Officer: (into a walkie-talkie) Code Three. We have another one here.
Me: (waving my hand mysteriously) These aren’t the zebra skins you’re looking for. You can go about your business.
Officer: Better tell Guantanamo to stand by…
So no zebra skin. This time.
Not far past the Apostles I came to the next village — an upscale little place called Bakoven, where condos and apartments stairstep up the side of the mountain, creating another very thin thread-the-needle stretch of highway.
Off to the left is an incredible view of the Atlantic. Not that you can see it from the road. And good luck finding a place to park here. Even if you drive an upscale Audi.
Just around the bend is Camp’s Bay, the beach where the rich and famous frequent, I’m told. It’s No. 11 on our map.
Now, this place, I’ll have to stop and stroll around.
Here, I’m looking back South toward the mountains around which I just drove. The Atlantic is off to my right.
This is looking in the same direction, but further down the strip. Behind the trees to the right is Camps Bay beach. The left side of the strip is populated with a number of trendy shops and eateries.
Now, I’m turning and shooting north, up the strip. That’s Lion’s Head, towering above. Downtown Cape Town is just on the other side of that mountain — about three miles away, as the seagull flies.
Check out this real estate office. Check out the scenery behind it.
Wouldn’t you just love to be an agent here? Talk about homes selling themselves…
The beach here is incredibly wide and soft and covered with brilliantly white sand.
There is a small clump of people in this picture, just to the upper left of the man carrying the red ice chest. Those are four girls. They were wearing what appeared to be the uniform of the day in Camps Bay: White bikinis.
Thin white bikinis. Thin white bikinis that have opacity issues when they get wet.
These white bikini-clad girls paraded around Camps Bay as if nothing was amiss. And I didn’t have the heart to take photos of them. I guess that really does make me a wuss.
The folks at Camps Bay have set up a tidal pool where the kiddies can enjoy the frigid water without being smacked silly by the powerful waves you see breaking against the seawall in the distance.
And, like so many of these nice beaches, huge granite boulders dot the landscape, giving folks a little privacy to do their sunbathing or whatever. Mostly whatever.
I climbed back into the Audi and resumed my trip north. As you can see, I had just about returned to Clifton, where I had left off earlier that morning.
My next stop was at Maiden’s Cove, overlooking Camps Bay — No. 12 on the map. I wanted you to see how the entire Camps Bay beachfront community sits, sheltered by the Apostles.
I climbed back in the car and rounded the bend to find myself back in Clifton. From there, it was a short hop back into downtown Cape Town.
I posted a picture the other day of the skyline of Cape Town. It might have given you the impression there are only two or three skyscrapers there. While it’s nowhere near the size of Johannesburg, Cape Town is still quite a large city. Here, I’m heading southeast on Western Blvd., toward my hotel.
I rested up for a few minutes and then drove back over to the waterfront for dinner. The sun had just set but was still illuminating the undersides of the white, fluffy clouds.
There was still a bustle of activity. Seems like there are an unlimited number of tourists to populate this very, very nice tourist area.
The last rays of sun illuminated the slight table cloth covering Table Mountain (click this one for a larger view).
It was the perfect end to a perfect day.
Man, I love this town.
I returned to my favorite restaurant — the waterfront Spur, where the manager and many of the waitresses know me by name. I found myself amused by this ad for their rib special.
Stuffed with steak and chips, I returned to my hotel to discover this red face in the mirror. Despite the precautions I had taken, I had become sunburned over the course of the day.
I brought two hats with me to South Africa. But I wore neither. Sigh.
And then, the real highlight of my day: I called Sharon and Elizabeth via the internet. Which, thankfully, was working Saturday. We thought we’d share with you another family portrait:
So Sunday, I flew back to Johannesburg. I was delighted to find the airport in Cape Town had finally opened its new terminal. Just the week before, I was told.
Compared to the facility here where I had flown out of back in September, this place was a palace! Very, very nice. A little disorganized at the moment. But that’ll come.
I missed breakfast in Cape Town and then drove directly to the airport. I hoped to check in early and then eat a leisurely lunch. However, I found very, very long lines at the South African Air counter. After an hour of waiting — and feeling my carbohydrate level dropping dangerously low — I finally checked my bags and received my boarding pass… only to discover I was flying business class.
Um… So does this mean I could have waited in the shorter express lines? The woman at the counter smiled sadly and nodded.
They really need three lines, y’know. One for economy class, one for business class. And one for dumbass Americans who don’t read their itineraries closely enough.
I managed to raise my blood-sugar levels in the nick of time, at this fine little establishment.
I had a chicken Caesar salad and a strawberry cheesecake. Yummy. Then I sailed through security — why can’t American airports be this easy to navigate? — and found the new waiting areas to be just as nice as the terminal building itself.
All sorts of interesting shops dotted the corridors. This place seemed better than most of the malls I’ve been in. Had I known, I’d have come to the airport much, much earlier.
Now, you’re looking at those sparking new stainless steel seats and you’re thinking, Gee, Chuckie, wouldn’t those be uncomfortable?
And my reply to you would be: You’re damn right they’re uncomfortable. Whoever thought of metal chairs ought to be freakin’ shot.
Hey, not every anecdote I tell here is going to have a happy, twist ending.
Even Zakumi, the leopard mascot of next year’s soccer World Cup is laughing.
That’s why I’m standing up, you fool. Those seats are murder on your butt!
Soon, it was time to board a 737 to Johannesburg. Time to again leave behind what has to be one of the most gorgeous cities on the planet. Sigh.
I’m in the same hotel on the north side of Jo’burg — the Garden Court Milpark — where I spent 38 days going back to Sept. 30. This time, however, I’m in a much more comfortable room. It has a king-sized bed and an easy chair…
…and it’s on the sixth floor, meaning I’ll have a nice view of early-morning Johannesburg each day.
Most importantly, though, it’s a non-smoking room. I’m wondering how many of my respiratory woes over the past month-and-a-half are due to my being a newly-diagnosed asthma sufferer stuck in a smoking room.
The fine folks at Budget rent-a-car gave me another white Mercedes to drive for the next two weeks. Oh, it’s a fine car. But it’s no Audi.
And do you see this little blue bag? Do you know what’s in it?
Yep. It’s a GPS navigation device.
Now, I neither want nor need a GPS unit. After 38 days in this city, I know my way around this little section of Johannesburg pretty well by now.
I’m afraid my clients are wasting their money on this. I shot a picture of it and zipped it back into the blue bag. I don’t intend to pull it out again.
I’ll be at Media Park this week and next, teaching and coaching and evangelizing. I’ll miss Thanksgiving at home. But I’ll leave for home on Nov. 30, my 62nd consecutive day here in South Africa.
I’ll be in Virginia Beach Dec. 1.