penguin sanctuary called Boulders, and Kirstenboch Gardens on the way back.
Entering the park, we passed lots of animals, including eland, grysbok, Cape mountain zebras, and—surprisingly—ostriches everywhere. I didn’t spot any baboons but I wasn’t too concerned about them. With Wendy and Tilda on Baboon Patrol, I knew I didn’t have to worry about monkeys sneaking up on me.
Rose asked David about the ostriches.
“Oh my, yes,” he said. “There are lots of them, dear. They even sell the eggs as souvenirs in the gift shop. The shop has painted ones as well as plain. Some of the painted ones have been made into decorative objects and lamps.”
“Gotta have one of those,” Jay said , “maybe two.”
The bus stopped at the visitor’s center.
“This will be quite a long visit, ladies and gentlemen,” David said. “We will be here for two hours to give you all time for a good look around. You may visit the lighthouse, have lunch, shop for gifts in the curio shop, and still have plenty of time to take all the pictures you want. Before we begin our visit, however, we want to take a group photo in front of the official Cape of Good Hope sign.”
George groaned and said, “Do we have to?”
David looked annoyed, and that feeling was reflected in the frosty tone of his reply. “I will ask that you do, please, everyone, as a personal favor to me and to your host company. It will only take a few moments. Then you may take the funicular up to the old 1860 lighthouse for the splendid view.” He looked at his watch. “It’s just eleven. We’re right on schedule. A lovely lunch, included in your tour, will be served in the Two Oceans Restaurant at twelve. There are tables reserved for us. We’ll have an hour for our lunch and shopping and then at one o’clock we will meet back at the bus to leave for Simon’s Town. Now if you’ll just follow me, we’ll pop down that path just over there, take a group photo, and then I’ll release you to explore on your own.”
Most of us didn’t waste any time getting off the bus or heading down the path, though some made a pit stop at the restroom. In a few minutes, we were all being lined up in front of the sign for the group shot.
“Right then, everyone. There,” David pointed out, “gather round the sign, please. Now, is everyone here?”
He looked at his list.
“Dennis isn’t,” said Rose.
“Well, where is he?” asked Mabel, exasperated. “He’s always wandering off.”
“We’ll wait a few minutes more,” David said. “He may still be in the loo.”
A few moments’ delay didn’t matter at all, for I could have stood there watching for hours. I was awestruck by the power of the waves at this most southwestern point of Africa. Monster waves constantly crashed onto gigantic granite rocks, sending plumes of sea spray twenty feet into the air. One powerful wave was followed immediately by another. Thousands of seabirds wheeled overhead, their circling cries muffled by the roar of the churning waves. An occasional fishy whiff from a colony of seals near the base of the cliff mingled with the sea-salt scent on the breeze.
As I stood on the sand, gazing out over the turbulent water, the sea seemed to stretch to infinity. Indeed, there was nothing to be seen beyond the rocks and the breakers but the undulant motion of the gleaming ocean until it met that brilliant blue sky at the horizon.
I couldn’t believe I was actually standing at the Cape of Good Hope. I thought back to my seventh-grade geography teacher in my little school back in the red-clay hills of Mississippi, and how she had longed to visit Africa. I wished she could be there with me.
The ferocious power of that water was unbelievable. Seeing its force on such a clear day, in good weather, it was easy to imagine why explorer Bartolomeu Dias named it Cabo Tormentoso, or Cape of Storms, when his ship brought the first Europeans there in 1488. Dias made it around the cape and sailed as far
Entering the park, we passed lots of animals, including eland, grysbok, Cape mountain zebras, and—surprisingly—ostriches everywhere. I didn’t spot any baboons but I wasn’t too concerned about them. With Wendy and Tilda on Baboon Patrol, I knew I didn’t have to worry about monkeys sneaking up on me.
Rose asked David about the ostriches.
“Oh my, yes,” he said. “There are lots of them, dear. They even sell the eggs as souvenirs in the gift shop. The shop has painted ones as well as plain. Some of the painted ones have been made into decorative objects and lamps.”
“Gotta have one of those,” Jay said , “maybe two.”
The bus stopped at the visitor’s center.
“This will be quite a long visit, ladies and gentlemen,” David said. “We will be here for two hours to give you all time for a good look around. You may visit the lighthouse, have lunch, shop for gifts in the curio shop, and still have plenty of time to take all the pictures you want. Before we begin our visit, however, we want to take a group photo in front of the official Cape of Good Hope sign.”
George groaned and said, “Do we have to?”
David looked annoyed, and that feeling was reflected in the frosty tone of his reply. “I will ask that you do, please, everyone, as a personal favor to me and to your host company. It will only take a few moments. Then you may take the funicular up to the old 1860 lighthouse for the splendid view.” He looked at his watch. “It’s just eleven. We’re right on schedule. A lovely lunch, included in your tour, will be served in the Two Oceans Restaurant at twelve. There are tables reserved for us. We’ll have an hour for our lunch and shopping and then at one o’clock we will meet back at the bus to leave for Simon’s Town. Now if you’ll just follow me, we’ll pop down that path just over there, take a group photo, and then I’ll release you to explore on your own.”
Most of us didn’t waste any time getting off the bus or heading down the path, though some made a pit stop at the restroom. In a few minutes, we were all being lined up in front of the sign for the group shot.
“Right then, everyone. There,” David pointed out, “gather round the sign, please. Now, is everyone here?”
He looked at his list.
“Dennis isn’t,” said Rose.
“Well, where is he?” asked Mabel, exasperated. “He’s always wandering off.”
“We’ll wait a few minutes more,” David said. “He may still be in the loo.”
A few moments’ delay didn’t matter at all, for I could have stood there watching for hours. I was awestruck by the power of the waves at this most southwestern point of Africa. Monster waves constantly crashed onto gigantic granite rocks, sending plumes of sea spray twenty feet into the air. One powerful wave was followed immediately by another. Thousands of seabirds wheeled overhead, their circling cries muffled by the roar of the churning waves. An occasional fishy whiff from a colony of seals near the base of the cliff mingled with the sea-salt scent on the breeze.
As I stood on the sand, gazing out over the turbulent water, the sea seemed to stretch to infinity. Indeed, there was nothing to be seen beyond the rocks and the breakers but the undulant motion of the gleaming ocean until it met that brilliant blue sky at the horizon.
I couldn’t believe I was actually standing at the Cape of Good Hope. I thought back to my seventh-grade geography teacher in my little school back in the red-clay hills of Mississippi, and how she had longed to visit Africa. I wished she could be there with me.
The ferocious power of that water was unbelievable. Seeing its force on such a clear day, in good weather, it was easy to imagine why explorer Bartolomeu Dias named it Cabo Tormentoso, or Cape of Storms, when his ship brought the first Europeans there in 1488. Dias made it around the cape and sailed as far
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