DAY 3 – Wednesday – 9/5/18 – Cape Peninsula Tour
Slept okay, though kind of fitfully — not quite sure what the trip was gonna be like or what it was gonna require of us. The room was very comfortable, though it was chock full of our luggage spread out everywhere. Got the wakeup call from the desk, followed quickly by Jean’s new phone alarm. It sounded like a chimey electronic version of “Smoke on the Water”. The hilarity of the music made getting up a mildly jolly experience.
The shower was fine, though there was no door on it, and no lip of any kind to keep the water off of the bathroom floor. It worked somehow. There was a waterproof hang tag with a little minute timer attached. It was challenging the bather to shower in less than three minutes due to the water crisis in Cape Town. (Though it was looking kind of out of date due to the rain they had experienced lately). I didn’t even try it. I knew I would be under two minutes. And I was.
Got to the restaurant on the second floor on time. Jean had discovered a custom egg station where they made anything from omelettes and fried eggs to Eggs Benedict and Eggs Florentine. WHOA!! It became a morning tradition for the four breakfasts we had there. The coffee was great, but it was dispensed individually from a machine that made all styles. One person at a time could use it, and though it went pretty fast, it often created a log jam of people trying to get their caffeine fix. As a matter of fact, it was kind of a factor in us almost being late to the orientation meeting. I was waiting on some pokey lady to finish up so I could get my last cup. I ended up carrying it to the meeting.
There was a youngish guy in the hall outside the meeting room that greeted us with a smile and “You were almost late. You’re the last ones to get here.” I was slightly chagrined at that. We slunk into the room and found chairs Louisa and Whanger had saved for us. It was already almost full, but there were about six other stragglers after us. We had been hoodwinked by the guy who then came in to introduce himself. I drank my coffee surreptitiously and put it under my chair after each sip. The guy introduced himself as our guide for the trip. His name was Laurence Marks, from Johannesburg. He had a great accent that sounded Australian or New Zealander, but I’m sure it was strictly South African. It was charming, of course. He told us he was married to an Afrikaans woman and had two children. Then he went through his resume.
Hoo boy! Was this guy qualified! He assured us that we had gotten the best guide there was to get. He had certifications for every travel guide specialty, had been in the army, trained safari guides and had many other occupations that made him the best choice. He had worked for Gate One for several years and done beaucoup trips for them. He then whittled all this information down to the fact that there were only fifteen guides in all of South Africa that were nearly similarly qualified. But they either lacked some specialty or were dead. That left two guides that fit the bill for super guide, and he was one of them. In retrospect, he wasn’t kidding in the least. He was everything he said and more. His knowledge about every place we went, the history involved and any other information was massive and he dispensed it entertainingly and frequently.
He gave us a list of dos and don’ts about everything we were going to encounter that made all kinds of sense. One that I liked the best was “Do not get out of your safari vehicles for any reason.” Well, DUH. He also extolled the virtues of the hosted family dinner and the optional wineland tour that was available on our free day in Cape Town. He then dissed the shark cage diving as something only an idiot would participate in. I don’t think he meant it was unsafe, but it wasn’t the golden winelands tour that he touted and was the best in the world. Louisa and I looked at each other with a small amount of alarm. I was becoming kind of flustered to be in the presence of somebody who was such a massive expert on everything we were going to encounter. My foot then strayed under my chair and I knocked over my coffee and it spread all over the carpet. I was afraid he was gonna see it and call me out but he didn’t. I made a mental note to tell somebody at the front desk about my faux pas (but eventually didn’t since nobody else had seen it).
Laurence then dismissed us to go get ready for our first tour. It was raining outside and he recommended raincoats, jackets and warm clothes since it was slightly chilly. Chilly for MOST, but not for me. Of course I put on shorts. He had given us a time to be out front for the bus, and we were the last to get on. Seats had been assigned, so Jean and I climbed in and drank in the stares of the others on the tour. We found our seats. They were uncomfortable as hell and set at a weird angle that aggravated Jean’s hip and back. Hooray. Our first experience on the tour: a rainy bus ride through winding mountainous roads that featured limited visibility due to the rain on the bus windows and the constant shifting positions to avoid cramps. The first hour or so we wound our way through Cape Town, passing the toniest real estate with stunning views of the mountains and ocean. The views were great, though Jean was in the window seat and I had to crane my neck to see anything. I was slightly bummed, wondering if the whole trip was going to be like that.
And then it quit raining. Laurence said, “We’re coming into Hout Bay – a nice little fishing village. We’ll get off the bus and you can use the restrooms. They’re very clean, though I’ve never been in the women’s. You can get a coffee or soft drink in the cafe, and there are souvenirs. You can’t get any of the items any cheaper, but there are also vendors outside lining the bay. You can haggle with them if you like. I wouldn’t advise getting that six-foot carved giraffe, though, because you don’t want to be carrying it around the whole trip. We’ll be here for 45 minutes, then back to the bus.” And he wasn’t kidding. This was the first of our timed stops, and they were always accurate to the minute.
Before we had gotten off the bus Laurence told us about a guy who has a trained seal that lives on the dock in the harbor. “He doesn’t mind if you take pictures of him with the seal, but if you do, I recommend you give him a few rand. He can become unfriendly if you don’t.” I heard him say all this, but obviously didn’t pay any attention, because as I was taking pictures of the harbor, all these poeple were marveling at this seal just sitting there. I got two good shots of him, and as I turned away, I saw this guy coming over to extract a tip from another tourist taking pictures. Missed me!
The souvenir shop had the cafe inside, and though the bathrooms were purportedly for customers only, every one of us lined up to use them. The stuff in the souvenir store was fine – standard souvenirs, but the African designs were striking. I wasn’t the slightest bit interested in getting anything, though, and after a few minutes began to get kind of anxious about how they were gonna sell it all, and where it was gonna go when somebody bought it. A hoarder’s daymare.
The vendors along the waterfront brought similar emotions, only worse. I then empathized with them all having too much stuff and a distinct need to sell it. Trying to sell art at Magic City Art Connection came to mind and brought on an involutary shudder. This feeling was present throughout the whole trip.
We got back on the bus on time – our group had no stragglers, and we were never again the last on the bus. The driver, Jacob, did a fantastic job piloting us on these narrow, winding mountain roads, and as we wound our way up to Chapman’s Peak, we realized it even more. How two vehicles could be on the road at any time was an amazement to me. Views from Chapman’s Peak (named for John Chapman, an English sailor, who in 1607 was sent ashore to find provisions for his ship that was stuck in Hout Bay) were stunning. The drive was hacked out of the face of the mountain between 1915 and 1922, and I believe I recall Laurence saying they used Italian engineers for the job because of their immense expertise in such things.
The descent from Chapman’s Peak led to Noordhoek (not to be confused with Ren Hoek), a small shoreline community of houses, many with sea views and several horse farms to supply the mounts for riding on the long sandy beach. Many artists live there, and it appeared idyllic.
Our next stop was at Boulders Beach in Simon’s Town to see the African penguin colony. The penguins (also known as Jackass Penguins because of their donkey-like bray) settled there in 1982 and grew a large colony from only two breeding pairs. There are now about 2200 penguins spread along the coast.
The bus parked in a cul de sac that overlooked the beach. We had to walk down some stairs to get to a sandy path of about 100 yards that led to a gaggle of vendors and people dressed in traditional African attire and singing traditional African songs. Laurence advised us to ignore the vendors so we could get right to the penguins. All well and good, but by this time Jean’s back had seized up on her and the trip to the penguins was slow and torturous for her. I wondered where that shortcut was that Shannon had told us about the night before.
There was a throng of people gawking at the penguins when we finally got down the boardwalk stairs that appeared after the sandy path. They were cute as hell, I’ll say that! After the trudge back, we were going to go straight to our included lunch at Seaforth Restaurant. Our menu was already picked out – sea bass – and we were allowed one drink: water, soft drink or beer (a tradition that became the standard with all of our included meals). The restaurant was very cool, overlooking the water and the sea bass was spectacular. This was probably the best meal we had on the whole trip.
When I went to the restroom, I took a photo that I call “Homage to Duchamp”. I also noticed that there was no running water in the sinks due to the drought. There was hand sanitizer instead, which was commonplace in all the bathrooms we visited.
Back on the bus! Next stop: The Cape of Good Hope.