As Time Goes By!

I have a few hazy memories of my childhood in England (it gets further away every day!), but my sister can remember for both of us! Some things are as clear as day, I remember wearing a really scratchy dress one Christmas, I remember that the lounge was kept for 'special' occasions! I remember being in trouble more times than I could count and being sent to my bedroom. I remember my first day at school. I remember 'helping' dad on the allotment. I remember dancing round the Maypole (badly!) And I remember that mum had a very special clock that stood on the mantelpiece in the lounge. She called it a 'French Carriage Clock', and I can clearly remember her winding it once a week. One thing puzzled me about this though, as mum used to say that it was an 'eight day clock' but there were only seven days in a week! So what happened to the extra day?

Just like mum's clock (Pics thanks to Google)

She would insert the key into the special keyhole at the back of the clock after opening the little door, and carefully count the number of times she wound it. She always said that she must not over-wind it, or she would break the spring. One end of the key was to wind it and the other end was smaller and moved the hands. I loved to watch the movement of the wheels and cogs through the little windows, but woe betide me if I touched it!

The key.

Then she gently closed the door and put her ear to it to make sure that it was ticking as it was so quiet. This clock timed our lives week by week and was with mum and dad in every house they lived in. I don't remember it ever having it's original travelling case, but dad made a wooden box for it and that kept it safe during moving times. As the years passed and digital took over, it became more and more difficult to find someone to repair and clean it, and by the time mum gave it to Catherine, it was not working. Catherine managed to find a specialist clock man in Johannesburg who gave it the 'once-over' and it sat happily on their mantelpiece counting the hours and weeks for them. Then it got wet! Water leaked through the roof and down the chimney breast after one of Johannesburg's spectacular storms, and that was that! Then they moved to Dubai and the clock was packed up in storage...........until a month ago!

I could watch the wheels through the window!

Amazingly, Catherine found another specialist in Knysna and took the clock to him to see if he could help. He was pleased to see that it had been well looked after and that we hadn't lost the key! (Amazingly, because it was stored in Johannesburg, there was no rust in the workings!) He was also able to give some background. It turns out that it is an English Carriage Clock, not French at all, and was possibly made before the First World War. Certainly before World War 2. It will cost quite a lot to repair, but it is worth a lot more in sentimental value.

And hopefully it will continue to count the hours for them for many years to come.

Steam Tug Alwyn Vintcent.

Living close to the sea, as we do (she said grinning!), things nautical tend to mean a lot more to us than to landlubbers! I have mentioned the huge ore carriers that pull into Saldanha, we often see them as the head their way into or out of the harbour, and we cross our fingers that they pass our rocky shore without mishap.

I think my favourite vessels ever are tugs! They are gutsy and noble. They bully and snap at the towering iron ore carriers, bustling and shoving, heaving and holding, like a Daschund at the heels of a Great Dane. We have several stationed at Saldanha and we love to watch them at work. Now, these are modern tugs with all the technology necessary to help them in their daily tasks.

But have a look at this tug, pictured below.

Alwyn Vintcent in 2008 (Thanks to the official website for the photo.)

This is the (SteamTug) Alwyn Vintcent, the last remaining steam tug in South Africa, and as I write this, she has just completed her final journey.....................a 408 km road trip inland to Villiersdorp! At an estimated cost of R500 000, or R1200 a kilometer! And the mayor of Villiersdorp was so excited to welcome her that he is planning maritime public holidays in her honour.

By the Baai!

In my last rambling blog post, I mentioned that the coastline of our village follows 5 baais or bays, so I thought I would show you three of them. That's a bit Irish to begin with, especially as one of the baais isn't strictly speaking one of 'our' baais! And that's the only one that has sand instead of boulders! Still with me? The best way to see them is from the air, and I was lucky enough to find this 1993 photograph on Wikepedia. You can clearly see the baais, (I have written the names in for you), with the roads laid out ready for business!

I hope that you can read the names!

We live a stone's throw from Jacobsbaai, ( 'X' is where our house is, more or less!). Here is where the little boats tie up and from where others are launched. It is also the baai that gives our village it's name. In the middle of the baai is a small island that is home to many different varieties of bird life, so we call it.......guess what? Yes, Bird Island. It's also the main fishing baai, every evening we see the fishermen patiently sitting on the rocks or bobbing in their boats and waiting for a bite. A few evenings ago we watched one man haul his catch into the shallows, but instead of a stompneus (or whatever he was after), he had caught a sand shark, about 40 cms long. I was very pleased to see that he carefully removed the hook and sent it back into the water. So often we see dead ones that are caught and simply destroyed. Often along the edge of the water, we see blobs of dead jelly fish. Some are transparent and some are like strawberry jelly, but it seems to be a seasonal thing and then they wash up in their dozens. Occasionally we see a dead seal, usually after a storm, and then we have to disuade Alfie from rolling on it! Lovely!

Jacobsbaai with bobbing fishing boats.

Die Kaapse Klopse!

Talking of Public Holidays (well I was a while ago!), remember I mentioned 'Tweede Nuwejaar' or second New Year on January 2? That is the day that hosts one of the most unique and colourful events in Cape Town's year. The 'Kaapse Klopse' or 'Cape Minstrel Carnival' is rooted deep in Cape Town's history and is traditionally the day when brightly costumed troupes take to the streets to entertain the crowds and to compete against each other. The specially designed costumes are hand made from satin and silk and can cost up to R350 each! The brighter the better though, and prizes are awarded for costumes, choirs and bands. The member’s ages range from 5 years to 80 years, and while the older members usually make the music, the younger ones dance and sing. The leader of the troupe must be agile enough to walk and dance in front and keep the pace going for hours!

Thanks to Ricardo Kleine News 24

There she blows!

Every year between June and November I spend a goodly part of the day standing on the veranda and staring at the sea until the little squiggles start to dance in front of my eyes and everything looks green when I go back inside! The reason? Whales! The Southern Right to be precise, so called because they were the 'right' whale to hunt. They have a lot of blubber, they float when they are killed and they swim close to the shore, 'good' reasons to hunt this noble mammal almost to the point of extinction. When whaling began five centuries ago, there were an estimated 300 000 Southern Rights and by the end of the 19th Century, 99% had been killed. In 1940 they were finally given protection and today there are 10%-15% of that number. Although they are increasing at around 7% per year, they still face dangers like collisions with ships, entanglement in fishing nets, pollution and starving to death due to over fishing in the Atlantic.

A mother and calf

The house that isn't.........

One of the wonderful things about living at the coast is the fact that we can go for a drive and not be desperate to spend the day at the beach! We are extremely fortunate to be able to head off in any direction (away from the sea that is!) and go exploring along routes that take us through fynbos and farmlands, up hills and over mountains. One such route has become a favourite and if we have friends to stay for a few days, we always suggest an outing to see 'The house that isn't there'.

The first time we saw this was quite by chance. We wanted to go to Elandsbaai, north of us, via an inland route and then follow the more direct road home. So, off we set. The first little village we came to was Aurora (meaning Dawn Light), tucked against the Piketberg mountain range with a view almost to the sea. A tiny place, a few houses, a few Bed and Breakfast establishments, a small church, a cafe and a bottle store. And friendly people.

Buried Treasure!

Three times a week (more or less; less if we can think of an excuse - too wet, too windy, too hot, too cold) a friend and I walk. Briskly I might add, not the usual meandering that occurs when Rob and I walk with Alfie, but an hour long, brisk, arm-swinging, cardio work-out walk that makes me feel really good when I get home and can stop! We usually stick to the same route, along roads that eventually lead to a small group of houses up a fairly steep hill. (Extra cardio workout!) From there the sea view is amazing and the sea breeze always cools us, before we turn and head home again. On the way there is a track that veers away from the road into the grass and disappears into the fynbos, and every time we passed it we'd say 'next time we walk we must follow that and see where it goes.' Well, this morning we did.

Where the track begins......

The beginning

one of my kruiwas with indigenous lachenalias

Where to begin this? I have so many ideas and thoughts, that I really should have started years ago!! Never mind, I shall simply fast forward to present time with several posts that will keep you interested and looking forward to more!

When we first left The Big Smoke, fondly called Johannesburg, in 2006, our family and friends all said to us... "But what will you DO all day?" I must admit that I had the same thought, until, after a 2-day drive with a howling cat in the car, we breasted the hill and saw our future spread below us. White walled houses with an aquamarine sea spread to the horizon where it met and fused with a sky so blue it hurt our eyes. Then it didn't matter what we would do all day, we would make a new life and enjoy it to the full! We rented a little house while we re-planned and built our home on a piece of land a stone's throw from the sea, which we had bought a few years previously.