Hermanus & Cape Agulhas, South Africa
It was not until 10pm last night that we finally set sail from Cape Town. It had been an epic changeover: on the 8th, with the ship due to berth, the harbour was closed with a dangerous, gusting south-easter whipping the bay into whitecaps. There was no escaping it: the ship could not dock as planned. Out beyond the breakwater she rode out gusts of hurricane strength, well over 60 knots. Those on board waited and watched the mountain “tablecloth” pouring its dramatic cloud down off the summit like a steaming cauldron. Those in town were blown off their feet at times, thwarted from riding to the peak. On the night of the 8th, the wind dropped, the ship sneaked in, and the 9th dawned calm and still, allowing those on board to make their flights home, and the rest of us a perfect day to take the cable car up Table Mountain. We walked the tabletop rock pathways, past rock hyrax on precarious crags, and marvelled at the panorama from the sheer sandstone cliffs, 3,000’ above the bay. Along the cliff rim, alpine swifts rushed past like daredevil jets, feeding on the insect-laden updrafts.
At dawn this morning we sailed into Hermanus, a former fishing village now famous for the right whales which come here in the southern winter to calve. At first light the mad and the brave went off by Zodiac to try and swim with great white sharks. The rest of us took a coach out to Fernkloof, an internationally famous nature reserve in the hills behind the town. The vigorous trekked to a high rock bluff overlooking the bay, the moderate took a lower path to marvel at the plants and birds unique to this corner of Africa, and the sensible relaxed in the shade, serenaded by white-eyes, bou-bou shrikes and Cape weaver-birds. The vegetation here is of a type unknown in any other corner of the world. Although taxed by arid sandy soils and baked in summer heat, the Cape Floral Kingdom boasts a unique botanical bonanza called Fynbos. Here the huge showy blossoms of Protea flourish, the national flower of South Africa, pollinated by the exotic, long-tailed Sugarbird. It was our special treat to see them at close quarters, both plant and bird isolated for millions of years, survivors from a Gondwanan garden of Eden.
On our return to the jetty we were relieved to see our shaken shipmates safely back from their shark adventure; they had seen their shark, as we could tell by the wide eyes and eager accounts. We could see why the great white thrives here as we sailed further east, for all afternoon we saw floating, surfacing and porpoising southern fur seals, their favoured prey. We also saw Bryde’s whale, a smaller blue shark, and hundreds of cormorants and diving terns, all testament to the rich fish stocks here where cold Antarctic waters meet the warm current from East Africa. And this evening our adventure started in earnest, for we passed Cape Agulhas, southern tip of Africa, and gateway to the Indian Ocean.
It was not until 10pm last night that we finally set sail from Cape Town. It had been an epic changeover: on the 8th, with the ship due to berth, the harbour was closed with a dangerous, gusting south-easter whipping the bay into whitecaps. There was no escaping it: the ship could not dock as planned. Out beyond the breakwater she rode out gusts of hurricane strength, well over 60 knots. Those on board waited and watched the mountain “tablecloth” pouring its dramatic cloud down off the summit like a steaming cauldron. Those in town were blown off their feet at times, thwarted from riding to the peak. On the night of the 8th, the wind dropped, the ship sneaked in, and the 9th dawned calm and still, allowing those on board to make their flights home, and the rest of us a perfect day to take the cable car up Table Mountain. We walked the tabletop rock pathways, past rock hyrax on precarious crags, and marvelled at the panorama from the sheer sandstone cliffs, 3,000’ above the bay. Along the cliff rim, alpine swifts rushed past like daredevil jets, feeding on the insect-laden updrafts.
At dawn this morning we sailed into Hermanus, a former fishing village now famous for the right whales which come here in the southern winter to calve. At first light the mad and the brave went off by Zodiac to try and swim with great white sharks. The rest of us took a coach out to Fernkloof, an internationally famous nature reserve in the hills behind the town. The vigorous trekked to a high rock bluff overlooking the bay, the moderate took a lower path to marvel at the plants and birds unique to this corner of Africa, and the sensible relaxed in the shade, serenaded by white-eyes, bou-bou shrikes and Cape weaver-birds. The vegetation here is of a type unknown in any other corner of the world. Although taxed by arid sandy soils and baked in summer heat, the Cape Floral Kingdom boasts a unique botanical bonanza called Fynbos. Here the huge showy blossoms of Protea flourish, the national flower of South Africa, pollinated by the exotic, long-tailed Sugarbird. It was our special treat to see them at close quarters, both plant and bird isolated for millions of years, survivors from a Gondwanan garden of Eden.
On our return to the jetty we were relieved to see our shaken shipmates safely back from their shark adventure; they had seen their shark, as we could tell by the wide eyes and eager accounts. We could see why the great white thrives here as we sailed further east, for all afternoon we saw floating, surfacing and porpoising southern fur seals, their favoured prey. We also saw Bryde’s whale, a smaller blue shark, and hundreds of cormorants and diving terns, all testament to the rich fish stocks here where cold Antarctic waters meet the warm current from East Africa. And this evening our adventure started in earnest, for we passed Cape Agulhas, southern tip of Africa, and gateway to the Indian Ocean.
