It’s winter, they say
The gas heater glares cold eyed from the corner of the lounge, its stomach empty of last winter’s fuel. Its comforting warmth remains unlit; the chilly air has yet to come. A pile of fluffy throws lie nearby to keep out a suggestion of cold air later in the evening, and there is nothing quite like a synthetic fabric for instant warmth. With the winter solstice now behind us, we are told the cold fronts are on the way.
Promises of rain fail to materialise here in Kommetjie – I put that down to our being at the most southwesterly point of the Peninsula and lack of steep cliffs to create sufficient updraft – but there is one almost failsafe way to bring rainclouds scurrying in our direction, and that is to set out for a walk along the boardwalk to Slangkop lighthouse. As dark clouds draped Chapmans Peak and Karbonkelberg across the bay, an unwelcome brightness towards the horizon hinted that we might once more be bypassed, and so it was on with the boots, beanies and rainproof jackets. Clutching cameras and binoculars on the off chance of a seabird sighting, we braved the near gale and set a good pace down to the path. Of course, it was deserted, only a man and his dog in the far distance, and I must say this is my favourite time to be on this popular stretch of coastline – wild and windy with the untidy waves surging up the rocks and pockets of foam flying past like exploded candyfloss.
It wasn’t quite high tide, but over the weekend, with tomorrow being full moon, we will be getting high seas – the path will be overrun with millions of sea lice escaping the tide and kelp that has been ripped from the seabed will be piled spaghetti-like across the rocks. The blustery wind from the north is unlike that of the southeaster – not as cold, and somehow less annoying in that it has lulls for you to recover your balance. Also no dust and pollen coming off the sea! Manes of spray edged the wave crests – gone with the wind. The lighthouse, that beacon of guidance for shipping, was on – a great relief to see that it is being maintained after some hiccups during loadshedding – flashed its identifying pattern of four even flashes then a pause. More than 40 years of living under its beam makes you very aware of its absence.
Success! We were out there for less than 15 minutes before the first drops fell and soon the pace increased to a jog as the rain began to sting my face with the force of the wind – the first time I had experienced that sensation although I have walked many times in gentle rain. Thoroughly soaked by the time we got home, I still had to stop for photos of the brilliant splashes of red that punctuate the verges and gardens of Kommetjie at this time – mass displays of aloes are quite breathtaking and worth a visit!
The rain continues to fall and the heater in the corner might be dragged a little closer this weekend, its belly filled with gas and a spark in its eye.
