That Red Bus! Part 2
Our tickets included a fish and chips lunch at Mariners Wharf, a well-known eatery with interesting seafaring artefacts to browse in the upper area. The outside of the building has taken a beating from last winter’s storms, with signage gone with the wind and bits of roof gone the same way, but inside is bustling with activity as patrons queued for the basic offering – a very generous portion of crisply battered fresh hake and perfectly cooked chips which went down a treat on the somewhat cool day. Having always been a loyal follower of the establishment on the other side of the harbour, it seems that I may be swayed to alternate in future. The only complaint was that there was really too much! We managed to stow our used packaging in the ample bins in time to head back to the bus stop – a stone’s throw away – to catch the next red bus for the journey back to the Waterfront. This was the leg I was looking forward to – one of my favourite drives in the world, the winding scenic route along the foot of the Twelve Apostles, round Lion’s Head and into the hub of Cape Town’s working harbour.
A smartly dressed young lady was at the bus stop, apparently there to ensure that everyone boarded or disembarked in an orderly manner and on the correct ticket! A nice touch, and another lady driver. After the steep climb to Suikerbossie (famous for being the nemesis of participants in the Cape Town Cycle Tour), we swept down the hill where a spectacular view of the elite residences of Llandudno welcomed us. The armco barrier usually blocks the view for ordinary motorists, and now we could take in the vista towards Sandy Bay, a regular hike for the group, and the wreck of the Bos 400, a French barge that found its final resting place in a lonely and fortunately well hidden bay in June 1994. It seems like yesterday. From the top deck, we could see down to the foot of the cliffs and see hitherto undiscovered (by us) sandy beaches and coves, mostly inaccessible from the road and therefore relatively pristine without the presence of man.
Towering above us on the right-hand side, the familiar peaks of the Twelve Apostles stood guard over this stretch of Peninsula coastline as they have since time immemorial. The deep gullies separating the peaks are home to some of the most spectacular trails – and also the most dangerous – taking very fit hikers up to the back table, where disas and proteas are king of this section of the Table Mountain National Park. Along the way, we passed the site of another famous shipwreck, the Antipolis, which broke free from its towline in yet another Cape storm and ended up on the rocks right outside the White House in 1977 (another day I remember like yesterday), while the other ship under tow broke free to settle on the rocks in Llandudno bay. The Cape of Storms is not for sissies, nor weak tow ropes apparently. The tale of these two shipwrecks makes for interesting reading and I will post on this in future.
The sun broke through in a small way as we wound through Camps Bay, Bantry Bay and Sea Point, where our vantage point again gave us a new view of Clifton’s famous four beaches and the luxury apartments clinging to the cliffs with barely a hand’s breadth between them. A most desirable place to live, except in summer! Approaching Green Point, we looked down on the Putt-Putt and miniature train, both of which have been operating there since Pa fell off the bus, bringing a sense of continuity to this fresh look at the haunts of my youth, and then we were in another of my favourite places, the V&A Waterfront. I say favourite, because I just love being in a harbour where vessels of all types come and go – the nautical is an integral part of me.
The bus stops at the Aquarium, and you are free to wander around for as long as you like as long as you are back for the last bus to Kirstenbosch. I have no idea what time that is, as we only planned an hour’s stay to avoid the Friday afternoon homeward-bound traffic to the Southern Suburbs. It was ample time to poke around in another new place (for me), the Red Shed, where beautiful stalls offer everything the well-heeled might desire, and even us simple folk. Next door is an indoor food market, and although we were unable to summon up an appetite for a snack, coffee was by this time on everyone’s wish list. The excellent Truth coffee fully satisfied that need, and after a pleasant park off in the now warm sunshine, we made our way back to the bus stop for the last leg to Kirstenbosch.
Our first driver was once again in charge, and she took us smoothly and expertly out of town and down the M3 so that we barely noticed the traffic and in fact thoroughly enjoyed whatever delays would make this marvellous outing last longer. We all agreed that it wouldn’t be too long before we would be on the Red Bus again!
