Travelling up from Cape Town in the south, or from Namibia
in the north, the atmosphere and scenery change almost imperceptibly.
First, the faint, salty tang of the ocean blown in on a light
sea breeze quickens the senses. A light, feathery north wind
promises rain and the angry, whipping southeaster spells continued
heat.
Then, the brightly-coloured fynbos and scrubby, knee-high bushes
clinging to a featureless landscape emanating a spirit of ancient,
unspoilt beauty tell you you've arrived.
Beautiful, white-breasted, cawing gulls wheel high on the sea
wind above thousands of gannets made featureless by their distinct,
yellow-painted faces. Flamingoes colour the sky pink and swift,
darting terns give the lie to the martial imperiousness of ever-aloof
penguins.
The West Coast is a cultural brio of museums, monuments, mission
stations and hauntingly beautiful coastal wild flower reserves
unravelling across green hills. Within the first two months
of the first good spring rains, wild flowers explode across
the landscape in brilliant profusion.
The solitary coast's scenic beauty is challenged only by rich
culinary experiences of plump mussels from the Bay, oysters,
calamari, crayfish and abalone in season or linefish pulled
from the Benguela Current's cold waters and fried to gold. All
are best enjoyed at a sunset fishbraai enlivened by a good wine
and the spontaneous, light-hearted banter of hard-working, hard-playing
locals.
Sapphire seas, icy waters and snow-white foam; shrieking gulls,
groaning lobster baskets and boats pulled up beyond the waterline.
It's said that on a clear West Coast day, you can live forever.
