No Fixed Abode: Parky in Paternoster

Thu 9 June 2016 - Paternoster

We sadly left a very misty and overcast Cape Town but this will not be our memory of this city. CT has impressed us, no mean feat since we don’t ‘do’ cities, and we’d happily return here again - their outdoor lifestyle would suit us very well. We’ve seen scores of grey haired cyclists on their road racers and mountain bikes and many older hikers and runners, we’d fit in very well here. Shame the sailing is far too risky in these shark infested waters, strong currents and shipwrecked coastline.

Our drive took us north along the Western Cape coast and the mist seemed to follow us. Driving past endless plains of fynbos, the vegetated landscape and cultivars were many shades of green. This must look spectacular when in summer flower.

We turned off the main highway and headed west to the coast, noticing the warning road sign for potholes that were so familiar in the eastern side of the country. We were back on single carriageways and thinly tarred roads. How quickly we had become used to the CT roads with their fancy dual and 3 lane carriageways, along with the kerbs and pavements! Pothole signs also mean the return of the road workers and the red flag waving people at the start of the roadworks who Yvonne thoroughly enjoys frantically waving and smiling at and is happy to get a similar returned response. What a terribly boring job that must be, flag waving all day.

Paternoster was swathed in mist which meant we missed the essence of the character to this little fishing village. All the homes are regulated in style and colour; cottage style with gables that extend above the roofline and painted white with either wedgwood blue or pistachio green doors and window shutters. Think of the archetypal Greek village and here you have Paternoster, except today we were missing the blue sky and the houses were slightly lost in the mist so the whole place had a very ethereal feel about it.

Through the mist we were in search of a cafe and having found ourselves deep in a estate of holiday homes boarded up for the winter, we spotted a van where a lady had just parked up. Yvonne ran over and asked where we could find a nice cafe, to which she replied that most places would be locked up for overwintering but she suggested a place which we easily found. We stepped out of the car and realised it was chilly here, sufficiently chilly to wear our newly purchased puffer jackets with our shorts. Stepping inside we noticed they served lunches and following two portions of the most fabulous fish and chips with mugs of tea, we were ready to investigate the village.

Heading down to the expansive beach we noticed some fishermen busy sorting their catch and Glenn stood alongside to take some photos, to which one of the men yelled out he needed to pay R40 to take a photo and as Glenn laughed it off and walked away, this guy purposefully strode over and followed us for a while yelling at us to delete the photo. We quickened our pace and he eventually stopped and returned to work encouraged by his laughing colleagues.

The beach was deserted apart from seagulls and we wandered the length of it and returned to the main village winding our way through the streets lined with the cottages and their pretty coastal gardens. This was a summer village and in a way it was good to see it empty and peaceful.

We decided to head out to St Marthas, Glenn wanting to try the new car along unmade roads in readiness for Namibia and we arrived at this industrial town where fish factories abounded. The smell in the air made for a quick exit from the town only stopping on the way to investigate one of the many developments in prime locations in front of the sea and beach prepared with new roads, lighting and pavements, but, as yet, no houses. The land adjacent to it was a public place with sand dunes and vegetation and we noticed a sign by the boardwalk showing pictorially many banned activities and their associated fines which really made us laugh. Judging by the fines evidently it is twice as reprehensible here to let off fireworks than be in possession of knives, guns, an axe or drugs.

Leaving St Marthas we decided to head to our Airbnb in Paternoster to meet Peggy our host. Peggy greeted us by offering us a cup of tea and then proceeded to criticise many of her previous guest taking over her home and how it wasn’t viable for her to take one nighters, which we were, and it was a lot of effort for not much return. She clearly stated this was a spotlessly clean home and she wanted to be very particular who stayed. With a welcome like that it was difficult for us to brighten her mood and much of what we said was scorned upon in dramatic fashion. She also had all her doors and windows wide open even though it was very chilly and now dark, this is something many SA home owners do, so endeavouring to keep warm and out of the way we quickly retreated to our room wrapping ourselves up in a fleecy blanket. Yvonne popped out to see Peggy to bravely ask when she would be cooking her dinner and we could happily work around her to make our tea, to which Peggy then questioned for some considerable time what exactly did we mean by tea? Communicating with Peggy was exhausting, so we quickly prepared and consumed a couple of sandwiches with a glass of water and legged it back to our room which was so chilly we went to bed fully clothed.