Due to Yvonne’s mild incapacities following yesterday’s exertions, we had a later start than planned, for a day of rest and sightseeing around Cape Town’s beaches. With the sun shining and no breeze, we popped our cozzies in the car along with a picnic and rug.
As we wound through the residential area heading towards the coast road we could not help notice how all the homes here are highly fortify with electric fencing, 24/7 security with armed response signs on all the houses, high walled boundaries and barred side gates. Glenn commented as we drove through, it was an urban canyon and to think, last night we slept with the doors unlocked, two windows open and forgot to set the armed response alarm.
With the name Llandudno, we just had to visit this small village set on a hillside with grand design homes in layered roads around the beautiful cove it surrounds. The cold sand here was fine and golden and we enjoyed a barefoot saunter along the beach towards a group of boulders and sat amongst them to shield us from the ocean sea mists. We sat back on a rock and noticed a photographer with a young lady rather scantily clad posing seductively on the sand and the water's edge in the cold surf. Obviously, Glenn and all the other men on the beach were transfixed and as she left, he wondered where and what she was going to change into. Hopefully a big, baggy fleece in a heated room somewhere.
With the entertainment gone, both of us were left to watch dog walkers improving their one armed ball throwing technique, surfers improving their patience waiting for the right wave and a handful of sunbathers improving their risks of melanoma.
With Glenn’s body clock confirming it was now lunch time, we headed off the beach, driving a short distance around the coast to Sandy Bay to find a quick spot on the rocks by the car, to lay out the picnic and enjoy the warm sun as we ate. As we finished, Glenn’s body clock now confirmed it was power nap time and as the rocks were too lumpy and rough we decided to stroll to the beach. At this point, Yvonne thought we were walking to Houts Bay, as this was our next destination. However, as we came to the beach signboard by the sandy path down to the beach, she noticed it was Sandy Bay and with a faint recollection of reading somewhere this was a nudist/gay beach, she spotted on the signboard clearly stated ‘no nudity on the paths’. Not willing to publicly bare all or indeed to see others baring all, Yvonne dismissed the idea of visiting here. Grumpily, Glenn marched back to the car (we’ll put that down to needing a nap) and we sped off winding our way back up to the coast road. Another short drive we arrived at Houts Bay and while having lovely sand, it was in between the road and a busy port. Glenn managed his power nap through the noise and woke to find Yvonne getting chilled by the sea breeze, who elected we drive back to a warmer beach in a cove or bay. We drove back along the coast road and finally arrived at Camps Bay beach, the beach where our accommodation is. With its palm lined beach and rows of restaurants and shops on the Riviera-like strip, we parked up and settled on the nearest bit of beach to enjoy the last of the sun’s warmth.
It was a busy place. Latecomer families arriving at the end of the day to enjoy playing in the sand with executive dads making an effort to join in but getting bored and playing beach tennis with mutually bored dads. Nans, grandmas and grandkids with a selection of toys surrounding them. The obligatory dog walkers, still practising their one armed throwing and the youngsters, boys throwing rugby balls as hard as they could to each other whilst the girls sunbathed and chatted.
A chill wind picked up and along with the rest of the beach goers we shook off our towels and headed home.
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| A touch smarter than the Welsh Llandudno |
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| A surfer catches a different kind of back side on is way in |
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| Camps bay |
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| Tonight's sunset |
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