Hiking Silvermine, Muizenberg and Kalk Bay 1

Leucospermum conocarpodendron - Pincushion - Kreupelhout

Erica hirtiflora - Table Mountain Hairy Heath

Watsonia tabularis - Table Mountain Watsonia

Syncarpha vestita - Cape Snow - Witsewejaartjie

Leucospermum conocarpodendron - Pincushion - Kreupelhout

I was a keen hiker in my youth - Wolf Cubs, Boy Scouts, family camping holidays and all that stuff. But more than that, I was genuinely fond of dragging my body up and down mountains or along deserted beaches, swimming across muddy river mouths or cooling off in clear mountain pools after a hard day's hiking. Then came marriage and kids and, well ... some passions one shares with one's family and some one doesn't. That's OK - I don't enjoy fleamarkets, or soapies, or shopping. To each his own. But the result has been that 20 years down the line I can count of two hands the number of hikes I have done since the day Widor's toccata shattered the peace of St Giles Presbyterian Church.

That was until 2 weeks ago.

A year or two ago I ran into an old school mate at the gym. It seemed we were in the same situation. I am 175 cm tall and weigh around 85kg (varies between 80 and 90 depending on the scale and my degree of depression), which gives me a body mass index of around 28. For those not in the know, this puts me in the "overweight" category, but not quite into the "obese" category. My friend is an inch or two shorter than me - maybe 170cm - and weighed 115kg at the time. That gave him a BMI of nearly 40. I don't know what category that is, but it is the anthropomorphic equivalent of XXXL and is not very complimentary. Clearly we both needed help. We started playing squash - once a week initially, now up to twice a week. He has lost 5kg and my game has improved. I look forward to those games, although I could do without the stiff muscles and sore joints for the few days afterwards. Sometimes we are joined by another fellow, also in his forty-mumbles with a similar physique and guilty conscience. Ja, well, no, fine.

Then 2 weeks ago BMI-40 asked me whether I like hiking. "Sure," I said, "used to do a lot of it, just haven't done much in ... um ...twenty years or so." Turned out he has started a hiking group which walks every Saturday morning, starting at 6.30 from his house in Muizenberg. "Great", I said, "I'll be there". Which I was. Left herself and the princesses sleeping and slipped out as the sun was coming up over False Bay. Beautiful morning. Drove north along Boyes Drive, down Old Boyes and found the house easily. We waited a few minutes for the rest of the party to materialise. Before long we had assembled two actors, a lawyer, a doctor and a collection of adolescent boys of various ages. Apparel ranged from "sensible" (running shoes, tennis socks, shorts, T shirt, shades, sunhat or peak) to "stylish" (brandname sports shoes, brandname socks, multicoloured brandname 3/4's, brandname T shirt, no shades or headwear) to "frankly inappropriate" (looked like office wear).

We set off at a good pace. The sun was up, there was the slightest of south easters and in all other respects it was a gorgeous day. From False Bay Station we headed up to Main Road and then past the junior school and up to Boyes Drive. The incline got rapidly steeper and the going heavier so the short respite of level walking on Boyes Drive as we traversed left was very welcome to those of us over forty and probably to a few of those not over forty as well. Then it was back to 30 degrees as we tackled the main slope up to the contour path and up Peck's Valley, between Muizenberg Mountain (507m) and the first of the Kalk Bay Mountain peaks (422m).

The young bucks sped ahead leaving those with varying amounts of grey hair to bring up the rear, which we did slowly, methodically, with dignity and rather quietly, not having too much breath to spare. Fortunately there were stunning wild flowers and stupendous views every few minutes which gave a good excuse for a rest and a photograph. As we climbed, the view over False Bay unfolded in a way which I can only describe as breath-taking - not that we had much breath to take. The morning sun reflected off the bay, the ranks of waves far below looking like ripples on a great pond (which I guess in truth they are), the faraway blue-grey Hangklip (454m), Buffelstalberg (844m), Rooielsberg (626m), Bloousteenberge (860 and 885m), Koeelberg (1269m), Hottentots' Hollandberge (459 - 1590m as one moves north east), Helderberg (1137m), Stellenboschberg (1384m) and Jonkershoekberge (1494m), majestic and serene. This really is a magnificent part of the world we live in!

About halfway up we were passed by a young man in smart black pants, dress shoes and a leather jacket. He looked, as BMI-40 remarked, like he was just coming back from a night of clubbing. He branched off to the left and headed towards Kalk Bay Mountain. Various theories were propounded as to the nature of his business on the mountain, most of them involving some connection with the underworld and none of them based on anything more than conjecture and imagination, but it diverted our minds from the pain in our thighs and calves for a while.

At the top of the valley one comes to a rather ugly military radio installation, presumably connected to the Navy base above Lakeside, and a T junction. Left to the Silvermine River ravine or right to the Steenberg peaks. We went left. The road follows a side ravine, a tributary of the Silvermine River and one descends from around 400m at the top to 280m where there is a waterfall. Well, there would be a waterfall if there were any water. Right now there is just a dry outcrop with a good view. We joined the main ravine and followed it all the way down to Noordhoek and the head of the Clovelly Valley, stopping once or twice for water or sandwiches. We went through one particularly bad patch of alien invasion - thick stands of Port Jackson Acacia. Just as we were muttering about the authorities "needing to do something about it", we noticed a "Working for Water" team of labourers a little way down the path, with bush saws and herbicide spray-cans, doing their work. They certainly have a challenging task.

We passed the environmental education center, on the site of the old farmhouses Groot Silvermyn and Klein Silvermyn, contemplated but decided against a swim in a pool, shaded by some rather wind battered oak trees, and finally stopped for a breather at an old ruin. The walls were thick and of stone and mortar. While we sat and munched and sipped, a lone hiker appeared walking up the valley. He could not have been under 70 and may well have been in his 80's. We exchanged pleasantries and I asked him whether he knew how old the building was and what it was. He said he thought it was a farmhouse dating back to the "early 1800's" - must do some research.

Now began the most hazardous part of the journey - the path goes right through the Clovelly Golf Course. In fact, I suspect one is not supposed to use it but there is no alternative route apart from bundu-bashing. One has to be on guard against stray golf balls. Some of the golfers were friendly, others distinctly unfriendly. So in fact one has to be on guard against well-aimed golf balls as well! I can see their point, but I do have a moral problem with an elitist sports club having monopoly of a piece of one of our national monuments, even if it is a relatively little piece - surely we can share it? And I don't care if Raymond Ackerman got there first. The Khoisan got there before he did.

We survived the 4 irons and the drivers and made our way through the leafy, flowery suburb of Clovelly proper, to the bottom of the path which runs over the Neck between Trappieskop (240m) and Cave Peak (445m). A lady was standing on her verandah and we greeted her. "Watch out for the cobras!" she said. "You're not serious!" returned my companion. "Oh yes," she said, "I see them often, crossing my driveway. You must stamp on the path as you go - they sense the vibrations and will keep out of the way!" Well, thanks for that! We didn't see any, but we certainly watched our step and we didn't have a problem with slackers. The path is short and sharp, so to speak. As one goes up, the view behind of the Fish Hoek valley, Kommetjie and Noordhoek unfolds, and then one comes over the rise and Kalk Bay, False Bay and the faraway Hottentots Holland mountains lie before one. Then it is a short downhill to Kalk Bay, where we were picked up and taken back to Muizenberg. All in all, a very enjoyable hike. Took us about 5 hours, but with lots of time to relax on the way.

The following Saturday it was much the same start - 6.30 straight up Peck's Valley to the T junction. Little less wind and a hotter day, but it was still pleasant that early. Again we turned left towards the Silvermine River Ravine but this time instead of joining the ravine we doubled back on a road which lead east around a lowish peak (271m) and towards False Bay. After a kilometer or so we turned right, south on a path which led us over a neck (480m) between Klein Tuinkop (492m) and Kalkbaaiberg (516m) into Kleintuinkloof and the Amphitheatre.

The Amphitheatre lies at an altitude of about 440m. There is a sandy clearing in the middle of a natural "amphitheatre" - of course the actors amongst us started fantasising about having live shows up here. We went 20m or so further up the valley to a spot shaded by some young yellowood trees and had our sandwiches and juice.

Then it was the long downhill through Echo Valley to Kalk Bay. Past the sinkhole and earth bridge (can't say I noticed either), and down the valley through Kroon se Bos / the Amazon Forest. The Parks Board or someone has been doing some serious work here with well constructed wooden board walks in many places and even a picnic spot with benches amongst the trees - quite beautiful. Past Red Lichen Rocks and Cavern Rocks (Hungry Harry's) - can't say I remember these either. Down a thousand steps past Wandering Will's Weary Wait (Weary Willy's) and down into Kalk Bay where we came out above the harbour. We walked down to Daleside Tidal Pool and thankfully plunged our hot and tired bodies into the cold water. After the swim we purchased train tickets back to Muizenberg but were told the train would only be coming in around 30 minutes so opted to get some ice creams in the meantime. It took the teenagers nearly half and hour to choose their ice creams at the Ice Hut but we made it back in time and caught the train. Then a short trip through to False Bay station and another week's hike was over.

Could get used to this.

Kirstenbosch

here I sit among the ancient cycads,

reading your ancient book under a mighty yellowood,

stories of men and women long departed.

the sun climbs steadily to its zenith,

the shadows shorten, the birdsong lessens,

the day grows hotter and heavier.

i know my father loved this place

and i expect his father before him too,

this place of silence, beauty, tranquil peace.

did they expect to see you here?

did they listen for your voice in the windsong?

or look for your image in the flowers?

did they come here to escape the madness?

the unforgiving schedule, the inflexible timelines?

to flee the tyranny of others' needs and expectations?

did they come here with their soul-mates,

seeking to re-ingite their love-fires?

looking for a private spot to say a word or plant a kiss?

did they come to marvel at your handiwork?

your breadth of vision, your eye for detail?

your use of colour, light and shade, your symphony?

or did they simply come to be?

to sit and be?

and not be bothered

by the time

or the budget

or the next meeting's preparation

but just to be and to enjoy being

being human,

being healthy,

being alive?