The Blithe Traveler

Comedy Gold

Comedy Gold: not the zip-line, which was a really fun way to spend the afternoon, but definitely not something you would send along to America's Funniest Home Videos. The funny bit happened after the zip line. Although I will point out the the act so named was described by an 11-year old boy, so your mileage may vary. 

Now, zip-lining. The Garden Route is for tourists. And they have things along the Garden Route for tourists to do. The world's highest bungee jump, for instance, is along the Garden Route off the Bloukrans Bridge. This apparently does not appeal to our youngsters yet, for which I am extremely grateful. As an oldster, I'm not sure launching myself off a bridge to free fall until a rubber band snaps me back up again is the best thing for my skeletal structure. 

As we were heading to what we fully expected to be our least engaging evening during the entire trip, with a random night booked at the frankly not all that compelling Port Elizabeth, we thought a bit of zip lining might be just the ticket. And it was.

We've done zip lining as a family before, in Ushuaia, although, as I searched back through this blog to link to it, I realized I never wrote about it. I wonder why? Perhaps there were no photos? Perhaps I was afraid of being sanctioned because I let my then 7-year old daughter slide through the trees? Whatever my reasons, there's no record of previous zip lining.

We chose this particular location, and as zip lining is quite the touristy thing to do there were quite a few options, because it was marketed as the Zip Lines Over the Waterfalls.

Alas, the "Waterfalls" are apparently not very active during the hot summer months. Ah, well, all enjoyed the afternoon slidding through the trees and across the not-quite-dry creek bed. 

And who is the dorkiest one of all? Oi. 

But, great fun. And off we headed to Port Elizabeth to spend our last night on the Garden Route. I have to say, I don't think Port Elizabeth has a lot going for it. It's a town on the ocean, so there are swimming beaches and given that it's South Africa, there are surfing beaches. But, all in all, I was pretty "meh" about the place. We were gearing up to turn left, head off the coast and venture inland, so it was more a point in the journey than a destination unto itself.

And, a random fact, I had one of the least appealing dinners I've ever eaten. It was a neighborhood joint, on the ocean, with a great view and a playground, so there was a lot going for it. Unfortunately, the food was not in the plus column. 

But, and here we finally get to the crux of today's post: there was a Bouncy Castle. And a four second video. Tom's idea of Comedy Gold. 

 

 

Tomorrow: We head inland, to Addo Elephant Park. Yeah, Animals! 

Tenikwa Wildlife Awareness Centre

They drive on the left in South Africa. But you knew that from the way they spell "Centre," didn't you? I did actually drive for a tiny few of the 3,000 kilometers we covered in our time there. In general, I am not the driver. Jeff and I have different driving styles, and my personal style, shall we say, grates. So, I only drive when Jeff needs a nap or is sick; basically when his eyes are closed. 

None of that is relevant to the activity I will describe forthwith, which was visiting what is essentially a wildlife sanctuary. Given that we had done a proper, drive-'til-you-drop safari in Tanzania a few months back, our objective in South Africa was not to head out into the bush to spy on wild animals.

We could have booked time in Kruger National Park, one of the largest parks in all of Africa, but, and I am not throwing shade here, one of the defining characteristics of Kruger is that it's well appointed: 

Kruger is the most accessible and best equipped of Africa’s great parks and makes an ideal venue for self-drive safaris, since it is well signposted, well maintained and even boasts restaurants and gas stations.

Self-drives are awesome, and you can see a ton of wildlife, but to safari without Rajab and the Unreliable Land Cruiser? Eh, not thrilling enough. So, our plan was to check out the "educational" opportunities presented to us in the numerous Sanctuaries across South Africa. 

Tenikwa specializes in medium sized cats, like leopards and cheetahs. They also take in a range of injured non-cat animals with the intention of rehabilitation and re-lease to the wild: penguins, various wounded flighted birds, turtles, etc.

The most interesting thing that they do are "Walks with Cheetahs." No kidding, you pay quite a bit and get to walk a cheetah around on a leash. They do not allow children under 16 to engage in this particular activity. Oh, I wonder why (<--please imagine this sentence is typed in Sarcasm Font). 

While they do not allow children to walk the cheetahs around on leashes, they do allow all manner of people to walk into the cheetah enclosures and photograph them up close. I believe they do discourage very young children, who are like to make sudden moves and look very appetizing, even to a well fed cheetah. Sleeping cheetah. 

Cheetah awoken by the clicks of a thousand cameras.  

Not really a thousand, of course. The groups are limited to around a dozen people, and the rangers seem well informed, chatting quite a bit about the plight of the cheetah in South Africa (farmers don't like them for the obvious reason that they find sheep easy prey). The animals we met in cages are here because they cannot be released to the wild for various reasons (some were bred in captivity, some were injured). 

There are a non-breeding pair of cheetah in this enclosure. We were taken in by a ranger, and a second ranger walked behind us, an extra pair of eyes to make sure the second cheetah did not sneak up on us. The cheetah, who goes for walks with tourists at dawn and dusk every day, did not really shift around much as we snapped away. 

Leopards on the other hand, leopards really don't want you in their space. 

 Photography from behind the fence, please. Note the sunburn. Ouch. 

It's a heartbreakingly small space for a leopard, although they do have a chance to climb. But, what's the alternative? This particular guy is not suited for life in the wild; it's not as though you can just toss a captive bred leopard out on the plains and hope for the best. 

 

This is a young Caracal, also known as a desert lynx. Horrifyingly, people actually cross bred these cats (and the Servals, which we'll see in a minute) with domestic cats to come up with "designer bred cats," with distinctive coat markings. Is there no end to human stupidity? Some days, I think not.  

The Serval; taken with a zoom lens. 

The Serval Hunters, zooming ever closer. 

There's one in every crowd. In this case, I believe they were a married couple. Maybe competing for the highest whisker count? The rangers were pretty clear up front, asking people to respect the cats and not try to creep too close. These people must have not understood "too close." 

I confess to feeling not great about the whole "let's check out the cats in their cages!" activity, but, again, the rangers did a great job talking about conservation efforts and their job as "ambassadors" for the cats. Particularly with farmers. The farmers and the cats are never going to get along terribly well, but the rangers are trying to ensure that both can survive. The children got a lot out of it, and we certainly didn't let them get too close. 

And, we finished with Meerkats! They are some of the cutest things on earth, aren't they? Wouldn't you love to have one of these little cuties as a pet? 

NO, OF COURSE NOT. Meerkats are wild animals and not meant to be pets. All of the meerkats at Tenikwa are there because some moron thought they would make a nice pet. Meerkats are incredibly social creatures who are hard wired to dig. Sounds like exactly the wrong thing to introduce to your backyard, but, again, some people are obsessed by The Cute, and don't put a gram of thought into what the long term implications are for introducing a wild animal to your household. 

Overall, Tenikwa was educational, although less so for Jeff and me, who are not the sort to be buying cheetah coats and adopting meerkats as pets, but certainly educational for the children. These sort of lessons are best learned early, and particularly as we will be "farmers" (on a small scale) in the US, it is important for them to hear the sorts of issues farmers face around the world: man and wildlife, in constant competition. 

PS: Tenikwa did have a gift shop: no Zebra Masks. 

Next: Zip Lining! 

Mohair Mill Shop

One of my (admittedly shallow) goals in traveling to South Africa was to leave with some carved wooden masks. We picked up a giraffe in Tanzania (Coke and a Smile), and my love for this thing was so complete, I felt the need to find it some friends. Specifically, I wanted a zebra, a warthog and some kind of big cat. I didn't do a lot of research prior to leaving for South Africa, but figured it would be easy enough to find this sort of no-brainer tourist tchotchke somewhere on the road. 

Hence, our stop at the Mohair Mill Shop in Plettenberg Bay. It had nothing to do with yarn. I was looking for a wooden mask. And found the yarn. Of course, the "Mohair" bit was a clue that there might be yarn. 

Yummy! Yarn tasting, I love that. 

 

This might have been my favorite part of the whole shop. 

And what exactly do they offer Grumpy Husbands, are you wondering?

A cushy seat. My husband, far more clever than this dude, was busy hunting down the elusive zebra mask, in an effort to limit our time spent on this shopping break. 

And, look! It's a basket of Hope! How could I not buy this yarn? Although if the only color options had been orange, black and puke green, I might have been able to pass. 

Luckily, there were some other choices. You could also buy pre-made scarves, which turned out to be the inspiration for our yarn purchase. And I do say "our" because Hope bought two black balls and I bought two of a different color. 

The plan was to knit something along these lines. Not that I need another scarf, mind you, but the wool called to me. And, If you are wondering, "Mohair? South Africa?" the angora goats first arrived in South Africa as a gift from Turkey. 

"The story of how Angora goats arrived on our shores and grew in numbers is truly amazing. In 1838 the Sultan of Turkey sent twelve neutered rams and one female to Port Elizabeth, halfway across the world. The rams were rendered infertile, as the Sultan wanted to protect his country’s powerful mohair empire. What he didn’t realise, though, was that the ewe on board was pregnant and gave birth to a kid ram en route to Africa, which was the start of the industry in South Africa. Today’s Karoo region produces the most mohair in the world – all thanks to the Sultan’s mistake and a pregnant ewe." Mohair South Africa

South Africa now produces 50% of the world's mohair. I had no idea. 

These cuties are what you call "display goats," or "hansies." A handsie is a goat that has been rejected by its mother at birth, and is bottle-fed by hand. They do have proper shade on the other side of their enclosure if this photo gave you pause. It was a super hot day, and why they chose to lie in the shade of the fence instead of by their shed, which had proper shade and some nice grass, I do not know. The Mill Folk will tell you it is because they enjoy human company. One might argue that they enjoy human food, but we did not hang around long enough to get an idea of exactly what they do and do not get fed. 

So what exactly did I buy? I let Tom chose the color. 

The boy knows me so well. In hindsight, I could have used a much larger needle and gotten a bigger weave in the fabric. But, I like it as is, so no worries. 

Also, no Zebra Mask. But, we were only a few days into our trip, so I wasn't terribly concerned. 

Next: Tenikwa Wildlife Awareness Centre

 

 

 

Robberg Nature Reserve

After leaving Swellendam, and spending the day on the beach, we had spent the night in George, a non-descript sort of town. Our next stop was meant to be Plettenberg Bay. We were on the "Garden Route," but, while the scenery was nice, but I wasn't getting the whole, "Oh, Garden Route, most beautiful part of South Africa!" The farming country we drove through from Cape Agulhas to Swellendam was quite a bit more striking in my mind, plus, the Garden Route is pretty darn touristy. So, George: meh. 

Jeff had done a bit of research and suggested that as our Plettenberg Activity, we should hike around the Robberg Nature Reserve. Trip Advisor, a key source of touring information for our lot, gave the place rave reviews, so off we went. I'll cut to the chase: the hike as all that and more, so if you are in decent physical shape and find yourself in this part of the world, I'd highly recommend it. 

If you look carefully at this photo, you can see it is actually located half way through the hiking (the YOU ARE HERE is at the point, which is the half way mark around the point). But it's a good perspective of the hike. We started at the Information "I" on the far left, hiked all the way to The Point, along the north side, and then back on the south. It took a bit over three hours, if Timekeeper Tom is remembering properly. 

The goal, as we could see it from the start, was to get to this sand bar; not the close sandy beach, but the farther away sandy bit with the rock out in the ocean. As we were hiking along the northern part of the point first, getting to the sandy bit would be toward the end of the hike. It is important, when hiking with children who may not find hiking to be their first activity of choice, to have a specific goal in mind. And a specific goal that engages them (sand!!) is best. At least, this would be my personal experience. 

The hiking wasn't the easiest, but easier if you had proper hiking shoes. Note: Hope brought sneakers with her on this trip but had lost them by this point. In our world, a child who loses something of value is required to purchase a replacement out of their pocket money. This is the second pair she is going to have to buy, so, seemingly, an ineffective sort of reparation. I'm taking advice on this one, if anyone has any. 

As we walked along, we could smell something quite foul. Seals! There are Cape Fur seal colonies all along the point, and it's to find them as you hike. Just follow your nose. 

We arrived at this point at exactly 2 o'clock in the afternoon. The sign suggests that if you arrive after 2pm, to please head directly to the beach area, as it will be too late to get around the point safely. We had also encountered a rather angry young man who told us that he had scouted around the point area for an hour and a half and couldn't work out how to get around it. He was heading back the way he came, in a rather foul mood. 

The children wanted to get to the beach ASAP, so they voted to head that way. Luckily, their small votes don't count as much as our big votes, so we headed onward to the point. 

Spectacular, and worth the hike. And, sadly, for Angry Young Man, painfully obvious where the trail lead: down. He had mentioned "hiking all up the mountain for an hour and a half," looking for the trail. He needed to look down. We were on the "seal" trail, which was rather well marked. If you look in the photo below, you can see a small trail marker on the rock to Jeff's right. 

You can see from these photos why the Park Service wants you off the rocks before it gets dark. There are also specific points on the trail where you are warned to watch for Rogue Waves. We didn't see any. 

There were moments I wished we had sturdier gear with us. But, as there were no rogue waves in sight, and the rock did not collapse, plunging my dear child into the surf, I suppose all is well. My Worry-Meter tends to run pretty high, so, these sorts of things leave my heart pounding a bit more than it probably should. This would be another reason for me not to ski with the children: they would never be allowed to leave the Bunny Slopes. 

Can you see the beach in the distance? They could, which was all that really mattered at this point. 

 The trail was well maintained, and even in parts had small stairs and a bit of board walk (!!) to help us up and down. The rope was appreciated on this bit of trail.  There's the beach again, enticingly off in the distance, ever closer. 

And, goal achieved. It was a pretty spectacular place. It was not completely deserted, as these photos might suggest, but it wasn't exactly what you would call "crowded," either. 

 And off they went, for a run down the sand dune. 

We hiked back to the car, and headed to a lovely B&B for the night. 

Next: Wool Shopping! 

 

 

Goodbye Swellendam

You have got to appreciate a town that has its own Stock Theft Unit.

The wee sheep are safe. 

Baaaa. 

Next: We Fry In the Sun, Because We Can, Plus Our Sunscreen Was Probably Insufficiently Applied

Oh, wait. Even I'm bored. Let's just add some Burned at the Beach photos and move on.

Look, there we are! We're the ones in bathing suits. It was hot and sunny. We applied sunscreen, and yet, somehow or another there was a major fail. 

 

The intensity of our sunscreen failure does not come across in this photo. We all felt personally that it was the fault of the sunscreen, which must have been out of code. I say this because a catastrophic application failure across all three of us seems unlikely. We bought new sunscreen. 

 

And drank some ginger beer. Which was good. We drank a lot of ginger beer in South Africa, all of it good. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Really Next: Heavens, I Hope Something More Engaging Than This

 

 

Ostrich, and Kudu, and an Eton Mess, Oh My

So the things we drove all over God's green earth to see in the wild in Tanzania are on the menu in South Africa. 

We can be a tough crowd to feed with one gluten intolerant (Jeff), two picky-ish eaters (Tom and me) and one adventuresome palate with a smallish sort of capacity (Hope). We ultimately decided on a mix and match of plates that gave everyone a taste of something unique, plus one "safe" dish, a South African Wiener Schnitzel. The Schnitzel was not the fan favorite of the evening, and, as the mom, I unfortunately ended up with most of it. 

The Ostrich dish was nice, the springbok a bit gamy and the Kudu was everyone's favorite. Took us right back to Tanzania, that kudu did (Lion Eating Kudu). The assumption we made was that these are all farm raised. We certainly saw enough ostrich and gazelle like creatures behind high fences to think that that was a reasonable assumption. 

Overall, the wines we drank were rather nice, too, although, frankly, I am not what you would call a connoisseur. If it's red, it's for me. If it's white, give me a blindfold and I'll drink it anyway. I did not choose this particular vintage, but would happily quaff it again. No false advertising here. 

And, dessert! This is a rare treat in our world. For the most part, we eschew post-meal sweets on principle. But, every once in a while there's something so unusual, or such a fan favorite, that we go for it. Have you ever had an Eton Mess? I'd never even heard of it, but it's a simple enough dish: meringue, whip some cream, add some ice cream if you wish, and a bit of fresh fruit.

Eton mess is a traditional English dessert consisting of a mixture of strawberries, pieces of meringue, and cream, which is traditionally served at Eton College's annual cricket game against the pupils of Harrow School. ... An Eton mess can be made with many other types of summer fruit, but strawberries are regarded as more traditional. A similar dessert is the Lancing mess, served throughout the year at Lancing College in West Sussex, England. Wiki

  

Outstanding! I'm going to add this to my spring/summer "when we have guest, dessert" rotation. Really easy (assuming you are the sort who can make meringue, and it so happens that I am that sort), and a really light desert for a hot summer night. 

Next: Stop, Stock Thief! 

 

Swellendam

After Cape Town and Stellenbosch, Swellendam is the third oldest settlement in South Africa. The town was founded by the Dutch East India Company in the year 1745. We weren't heading to the town to specifically research its cultural heritage, but rather, it was the beginning of our drive on the Garden Route. 

The "Garden Route," for any of you who have been to South Africa, or aspire to go, is a lovely drive that runs technically from Mossel Bay to near Port Elizabeth. It is meant to be a coastal sort of run, with lots of touristy fun things to do and lovely scenery to see. Swellendam was our gateway to Mossel Bay, and a lovely stop in its own right. 

That said, Jeff and I agreed that some of the most beautiful scenery we saw during our driving in South Africa was the farm land from Cape Agulhas to Swellendam. Jeff drove as much on dirt roads as he could manage, eschewing the most direct route in favor of scenic. 

 

The photos won't do it justice, but the drive was spectacular. Periodically, we'd spy the coast on our right. The farms were enormous, and the houses few and far between. 

And, the lighthouse, which, for the right price, is yours a week at a time. This is not where we were staying. 

 

We are not "150 people," even on a bad day, so on we drove. 

But where we were staying, the Gaikou Lodge, was beautiful enough to make my draw drop when we drove in.  Gaikou was one of those lucky finds. It wasn't "cheap," but it also wasn't incredibly high priced for what it turned out to be, which was a gorgeous place to hang out for a night. 

With a pool. And if you have kids, a pool trumps lighthouse any day of the week. 

Tomorrow: A Bit More About Swellendam Before We Hit the Garden Route Proper

Cape Agulhas

To be clear, yesterday's entire post was a set up for a single bad pun. Tragic, perhaps, but that's what comes of being the sort of person who had Hope surgically removed for her 40th birthday (1)

The day after Christmas, our "plan," if one can call such a loosely constructed thing an actual plan, was to drive from Cape Town to Swellendam to spend the night at one of the nicer lodges we booked. We netted about 3,000 kilometers (about 1800 miles) on this trip, so I was very conscious during the planning process to think about how much driving we were doing each day, and to balance shorter drives with longer stopping breaks.  The original drive for today was meant to be about two and a half hours. But, once we realized that the actual Southern-most point in all of Africa was just an hour each way out of our way, well, off we went. 

Cape Agulhas means the "Cape of Needles." It is so called because the sea off Cape Agulhas is notorious for winter storms and mammoth rogue waves, which can range up to 30 metres (100 ft) high. A large number of shipwrecks haunt the area: Arniston (1815), Cooranga (1964), Elise (1879), European (1877) Federal Lakes (1975), Geortyrder (1849), Gouritz (1981), and Gwendola (1968) are just a few of the vessels lost in the proximity of the Cape. 

The area was reasonably "crowded," but, as you can see from the photos, that doesn't mean so very much. It's not like the sort of press one finds say at Rockefeller Center during the tree lighting. But, there were other people around. Rather hilariously, I thought, we queued up to snap photos at the Actual Point Marker. 

Kind of cool. And then we went climbing out on the rocks a bit, hoping that the 100-foot waves were not in the mood to make an appearance that day. Looks good. 

 Wait, what's that?? 

Watch out! Oh, never mind. It's okay. 

The weather was spectacular, warm and sunny, and we decided it was time to climb the lighthouse. 

There is a small "Museum," but, really, it's about climbing to the top. The information was very clear and upfront: no children under 12 without an adult, the climbing is meant to be difficult, please, ladders only for the last bit, if you are claustrophobic, go home now. The signs lined the way to the first ladder, so they were pretty serious about communicating their message. 

Up we went, and it was a fairly vertical climb. We arrived on the last platform before the final ladder to the outside, and were stopped by a wee child and her dad who were coming down slowly, slowly, slowly. The tiny room got progressively more and more congested as more people came up, and we all stood waiting for the tiny girl to work her way down. Her dad was very patient with her (and it was a nice, polite crowd, too, as everyone could see the little girl was really doing her best). 

But, oddly enough, the dad turned to me once he was on the ground and said indignantly, "So, why don't they make that easier for the tourists, do you think?" Poor guy was really pretty irrate, although, honestly, unless he was completely illiterate, I didn't much think he had a leg to stand out. "Well, perhaps they have," was what I said, and certainly, they had put up enough signs. 

The view from the top was beautiful, and well worth the wait and climb. Oh, wait, that's not the view, that's me and Jeff. Ah, well, so you get us instead of the view. When I'm looking back at this in ten years, I'll be happy enough to see us instead of the view. 

In fact, we took our Christmas card photo up here. 

Despite the fact that it was the day after Christmas. The is a greatness to my lateness.(2)  I did send them out the following night, and assume most arrived before the New Year. Although, if you were a recipient this year, you may have noticed that I dated our trip to Egypt, June, 2014. These are the sorts of things that happen when you wait until past the very last minute to send out your Christmas cards. Mea Culpa. 

Next: Swellendam, So Very Pretty

_____________________________________________________________

(1) Technically, the child was born something like seven days short of the specific 40th anniversary of my birth, but there was a c-section and Hope was removed. There you have it: The Mother of All Puns. 

(2) A semi-quote from one of my all-time favorite movies: Four Weddings and A Funeral. 

Cape of Good Hope

I thought the Cape of Good Hope was the southern-most point of Africa. I thought wrong. It's not, but irrelevant, because it's a beautiful place to see, and who really cares if you see the exact southern-most point of a continent or not (note: as we drove to the actual southern-most point, Cape Agulhas, the following day apparently, we do)?

"When following the western side of the African coastline from the equator the Cape of Good Hope marks the point where a ship begins to travel more eastward than southward. Thus, the first modern rounding of the cape in 1488 by Portuguese explorer Bartolomeu Dias was a milestone in the attempts by the Portuguese to establish direct trade relations with the Far East." Wiki Cape of Good Hope

That sliver of beach? Dias Beach. The children were wild to get there once they saw it, so Jeff headed up a hiking path to a lighthouse, while the children and I headed down to check out access to the sand. 

Stairs. That counts as easy enough access in my book, so we headed down. 

Dias initially named the place Cape of Storms. The surf seemed pretty massive to me, but as it was a reasonably calm day, one can only imagine how wretched it gets for sailing during winter storms. How the name was changed exactly has been lost to historical record, but safe to say the Marketing People were all over Dias. I mean, Cape of Storms? Really, who's going to think that's a good brand image for a new sailing route? 

 Jeff joined us shortly. 

The children had time to just enjoy the sand. Not the most traditional Christmas afternoon, but at the end of the day, sun and shorts work just as well as snow and santa, if not better. 

And what is sand made for, if not leaping about and playing? 

Resting. Technically, I would argue I was gathering my strength for the climb back up those stairs, but the sand was soft and warm, so, there might have been actual snoring at some point. 

Then it was time to hike to the rocky point itself. The Cape is part of Table Mountain National Park, and so is designated a World Heritage Site by UNESCO for the richness of its plant life.  "Fynbos," a term meaning "fine bush" are the most common category of plant found here and many of the species are unique to the Cape peninsula.

And then there's the dassie. Not a plant at all, but the cutest little fur munchkin ever. Hello cute dassie! My, you look a wee bit angry today. 

Dassies are not at all shy, and are happy to ignore photographers no matter how closely one might maneuver one's camera lens to their fuzzy little mugs. That said, our photos were taken with a telephoto lens. I'm talking about the other paparazzi tourists getting in a little close. 

Ah, the noble dassie, keeping his distance. 

The view from the point was impressive. Again, I can't imagine what it must have been like for early sailors in small, wooden ships to attempt to travese this rocky coast. 

Then it was time to head back to round up some Christmas dinner.

This one is generally a delightful child, but if allowed to get too hungry, well, let's just say we'd be looking at the Cape of Bad Hope. 

Next: Cape Agulhas, The Real Southern-most Point in South Africa

 

 

Christmas With the Penguins

Again? It seems we did penguins for Christmas a few year back, didn't we? (Ushuaia: Bring In the Penguins)

To recall, we arrived in Cape Town late on Christmas Eve. We checked into our lodgings and discovered that there would be no brekkie in the morning. I'm not complaining, because, of course the staff deserve to have holiday time off, but, in this case, I had been led to believe by the booking agent that breakfast was a option. Wise and suspicious traveler that I am, and having given up the Magic of Santa decades ago, I had packed emergency Ramen noodles for the potentially hungry hordes. Yeah, me! 

Fed from the electric kettle and my emergency stores (Jeff carries his own gluten free emergency protein bars), we ventured out and were lucky enough to find an open grocery. We loaded up on cheese and crackers and headed off for a proper Christmas lunch with the penguins. Where 'proper' = 'crackers and cheese.' Plus grapes. That might only be in my head, come to think of it. 

This African penguin colony of around 3,000 strong, has grown from two breeding pairs who were settled on Boulders Beach in 1982. Set in the middle of a residential area, the penguins are easily observed at close range. 

There is a swimming beach, with a kind of high price tag for entry, which was extremely crowded. And there is a viewing platform where you can pay a fee and stand on a boardwalk and watch the colony. We were perched on the free walkway between the two, where you can see both the swimming beach and in the distance the large colony by the viewing platform.  

From the swimming beach, you can swim over to the next bit of the bay, where the penguins will periodically come to inspect you. You can see a wee penguin if you peer among the rocks. There is a small child, we hope not harassing the bird. 

And in the distance, the larger colony. You can just barely make out the viewing platform on the left hand side. Hot day, so those poor people were frying. We stopped by to check out the options, but the platform was jammed, and it didn't seem worth it to hang out on a boardwalk to try to get "closer" to the penguins. 

Mostly because, they were right there while we were eating our lunch. 

There is a fence between us and the penguins (of course, if you position the lens of your camera just so, the fence does not appear in the photos: there will be more on this later when we visit the big cat preserve), but this area is part of their nesting ground, so there were bunches of them just hanging out, posing for us. 

There was a bit of debate as to what to do next, though. Hope really wanted to spend the afternoon on the beach, while the grown ups wanted to mosey on down to the Cape of Good Hope. The grown ups won out, and we headed off, refreshed and stuffed full of crackers and cheese for a bracing hike. 

"Busy day, eh Fred?"

"Yep, unusal human patterns for a Wednesday."

Next: Cape of Good Hope