To the Cape

First the Atlantic and then the Indian Ocean opened up before us as we headed south from Cape Town on Thursday. We hugged the Atlantic side on a road high above the beaches and palms and resorts of Camps Bay and other seaside enclaves. At Constantia we cut inland—the green pasturelands were calling to us—and made our way to the oldest vineyard in South Africa, Groot Constantia, founded in 1658. Situated on a rise, the rows of vines march off to the south where you can see the Indian Ocean in the distance, and up hills toward the Atlantic coast. The manor house and winery are tall and Dutch with thatched roofs. We marveled at the trees (the 9th grade leaf project cannot be stopped; it can only be Africanized!), the vistas, the breeze, and the wine itself.

But oceans, and the Cape of Good Hope were beckoning. Through sun, clouds, wind, rain, and sun again we made our way south to the Cape Point Nature Preserve and the other-world that is the end of the African continent, the starting point of all colonial-era landings. Much of it is a treeless wonder of rocks, wildflowers and scrub known here as fynbos. And baboons. A large, grandaddy of a baboon greeted us at roadside as we entered the preserve, and at one point we had to stop our car and weave through an extended family of young and old. They are cute, annoying, and apparently a menace. They reportedly can open a car door and climb in.

At Cape Point we took a funicular (the new rescatura for trip duration) to the lighthouse, hiked to its peak, and watched below as birds dived, wind howled, and two oceans mingled together. It was a faraway land even as we stood on it, something out of Myst, and hard to believe we had made it.

But we had another hike to go, about a 30 minute trek down a narrow path along the spine of the very point, further out and further in, Drew would say, where only a few go. We're so glad Sara (and Drew in our minds) urged us on...away from the tour groups to just hear the waves and birds and wind. Out there we discovered another lighthouse, one built earlier in 1919, perched on a slab of rock over the waters. A plaque said its light flashed three times a minute at "1,000,000 candles power" visible for 63 km (that's 40 miles!) in all directions. I've never been anywhere where the ocean felt so immense, and we so small.