Cape Town - A monotone day. The Easter weekend all too often heralds the change of the seasons. After months of sunshine and perhaps baking temperatures, all of a sudden the wind starts to move around to the north-west, the clouds roll in, the mercury plummets and winter is on its way.
Such was the case this past week, with low, malevolent, grey clouds blotting out a weakening sun and turning the world into a colourless monotone. Mind you, even low grey clouds have silver linings, and not only did the change provide cooler conditions for a walk but there wasn’t any risk of your chocolate Easter eggs melting either.
So it was that I set out on a short trail up on to the Steenberg plateau, aiming to take in Steenberg Peak before completing a circuitous route back to the car. The weather was perfect for a walk, not too hot and with a slight breeze, just sufficient to dry the sweat from your brow and at the same time not overly chill.
The starting point is on Boyes Drive, and as with so many Cape walks it commenced with a slightly onerous ascent up a well-kept path of sandstone flags. As I gained altitude the Cape Flats were laid out before me, a sprawling mishmash of townships and high-rise buildings all washed of colour on account of the low cloud base.
One could pick out some recognisable landmarks, the various sports stadiums and of course, notable in their absence, the Athlone power station towers; even after almost three years I still half expect to see them when looking out over the city.
The urban sprawl, however, simply serves to reinforce my determination to climb, to escape for a while the noise and haste and immerse myself in a natural world of peace and quiet, an oasis of birdsong, breezes and rustling restios.
The Atlantic Rail steam locomotive passed below me on its way to Kalk Bay and points beyond, metalwork gleaming each time a ray of sunshine penetrated the cloud cover. There is something tremendously romantic about watching a steam train pass by, puffs of smoke rising into the grey skies and the whistle blowing as though the engine is excited at the prospect of unleashing its power in a headlong dash along the coast. The regular graffiti-daubed electric engines passing the other way seemed soulless by comparison, chattering along the rails with no sense of joy, no excitement. Can machines become worn down by the monotonous daily grind in the same way that people do?
As I climbed higher, my aching legs thankful for the excuse to stop and admire the activity along the rail lines, the colours began to change. Remarkably greener near the top, the mimetes and proteas no doubt sustained by morning mists were thriving, and some of the sugarbushes were only weeks away from presenting their glorious flowers to the world.
The clouds pressed lower still in the sky; it was going to rain, that was for certain, and I hoped that I would complete my ramble before things got too unpleasant. I had, however, packed my raincoat just in case. It pays to be prepared.
A little higher up, in a shallow dip out of the wind, sunbirds still played among the bushes and a few came out to say hello. A gloriously ostentatious orange-breasted male sat a while, his bright plumage incongruous in a landscape near bereft of other colour.
Swifts still circled in the leaden skies; perhaps they knew of the poor weather to the north and had delayed their migration, but they will be gone soon.
Seemingly oblivious to the dullness of the day a Cape grassbird sang joyously from her perch atop the low-growing proteas, a solo a cappella show performed for an audience of one. I felt blessed to be able to listen.
For what had started out as a rather uninspiring venture on a monotone day, and more of an excuse for some exercise than much else, things had turned out better than expected and I had been well entertained. In fact I shouldn’t really be surprised, as there is always something going on out there in the mountains if you will just pause a while, look and listen. Less than an hour’s moderate exertion will put you in a space of peace and tranquillity, the hubbub of urban life left behind on the flats below.
To me it is one of the great benefits of our city: you can escape it so easily when you want to.
I took a rather ill-advised short cut back to the car and ended up with more bashing through the bush than I might have, but that did add to my exercise quota for the day. This hike would be better done with two cars, with one left at the southern Silvermine parking to provide an easy way home and a simple escape should the weather turn unpleasant. - Sunday Argus