One Whale Wallows

Weekenders line the cliffs and choke the paths in the Republic of Hermanus. Spring break and it's chock-a-block. Traffic jams, long queues and exhausted officials are the order of the next 10 days.

No matter where you were within a 1km radius of the Old Harbour, you’d hear the screech of a microphone from KFM, the radio station’s DJ stirring up the crowd to enjoy the activities, market stalls, fun and festivities. Faintly, the poor old Whale crier tried his best to call either the whales or the tourists to cast their gaze seawards. The endless stream of cars flowing into an already choked CBD proved that advertising works. All the beds were booked, as were all the tables in restaurants. For the next ten days, business will be booming in our favourite seaside village as musicians sing their hearts out to excited crowds of teenyboppers who have been let loose by weary, trusting parents. The cops will have their hands full, I know; I’ve been there and got the T-shirt.

15 years ago, my boy was “taken into custody” twice for being disorderly (can’t say the first word). In a state, I had to fetch him from the police station, where he and 50 other teenagers were holed up until the “responsible” parent fetched them. I still shudder at the thought. To add insult to injury, he made it into the morning papers too; the secret was out. Those were the days, my friend; we thought they’d never end. But they did. Those energetic, creative kids are now hardworking, conscientious, responsible adults, bringing up their babies and doing a jolly good job of it too.

We took a break and had a cappuccino at the Hermanus Morning Market, bought the nicest, plumpest, sweetest organic strawberries, a delicious gluten-free loaf of bread, and a bottle of sugar-free tomato sauce for our vegetarian meal this week. Tuesdays are pasta days in our kitchen. I must get myself hooked up to Snap Scan; that's how many of the stalls operate, as they don't have credit card facilities. The Potter lost out on a deal because I'd fallen in love with one of his platters; my Quinoa Pomegranate and Sumac Salad would've looked dazzling on it.

Wheels, Whales and Wine were what the weekend was all about. I loved the wheels. Vintage cars, motorbikes, and a tractor were on display, polished to a high gloss and parked on the lawns for us to admire. When the starter’s gun went off, I was ready to photograph some entries in this year’s rally. My favourites were the Granddads setting off with their grandchildren as navigators; memories must surely be made of this. We could hear the revs rising as the cars circled through the village, delighting the crowds.

In 1972, my Mum sported a very fast grey Volvo; seeing a similar one brought back memories of her revving up when she stopped to drop us off at the bus stop. I was all enormous feet, knees and pimples, and I didn’t fancy the attention she got as she gunned off from The Beehive, always trying to beat the traffic light on Main Road. Jody Schechter had nothing on my old lady; she was most indignant when a traffic officer pulled her over one day while she was driving us to Bikini Beach. She was only doing 100, she said. He says, “Yes, madam, you were doing miles per hour in a kilometre per hour zone!” What could she say? I was mortified and swore I’d hike to the beach in the future.

A festive breeze blew through the beautiful gardens at the Anglican Church; the orchid display was out of this world. As I wandered among these perfect blooms, I felt a calming sense of community pride and admiration for the growers' dedication. It's moments like these that truly light up Hermanus' vibrant community spirit.

Well worth a visit. Just being there amongst these perfect blossoms calms and lights the soul. I think my efforts have failed, and the two pathetic plants I whisper to and encourage to grow are destined for the bin. Taking photographs in the church hall was somewhat tricky. The old Oregon Pine floor creaked and groaned every time someone passed by, making the flowers quiver and shake; the light was poor, too.

 I did not use a flash, tripod, reflector, or any other aid, just my macro lens, a high ISO to speed things up, a large aperture (2.1), and the fastest shutter speed I could manage. I know some will scoff at this.

Community spirit pulses strongly in the veins of most people in Hermanus, and it is always evident when they’re showing off their town's best assets. Last weekend we were delighted to spend a few hours at the Fernkloof Indigenous Plant and Horticultural Show. The magnificent specimens on display were truly awe-inspiring. The collection of blooms is a mammoth undertaking, with groups instructed to gather very specific flowers from the area's mountains, valleys, and farms. Farmers freely donate wagonloads of Fynbos to the society for display and sale.

Tents and halls are manned by members and volunteers who eagerly enlighten visitors to one of nature's wonders, the fynbos, and, this year, discuss the fires and the importance of veld fires in the propagation and spread of new plants. The gardens are immaculate, and carpets of colourful spring flowers are everywhere. Families from all over the world were taking hikes and strolls on a fine spring day. The sugarbirds and sunbirds were feasting on the nectar in the pincushions lining the way into the mountains.

The refreshment tent was abuzz with friends and visitors enjoying homemade cakes, sandwiches and light meals. I indulged in a freshly baked scone with strawberry jam and whipped cream. Our server, a delightful young man, was taking time off from his studies to serve his community.

There is so much expertise, knowledge, and experience freely shared by so many highly qualified, clever people who delight in spending their valuable time teaching anyone willing to listen.

In life, there’s always a balance: on the one hand, we experience everything good, and, disappointingly, there’s a downside too. We witnessed one of the busiest days in Hermanus; parking was a nightmare, but most motorists found a space. It was seldom convenient, but with good grace, everyone respected and dealt with the extraordinary circumstances. Unless you were the inconsiderate driver of the Springbok Atlas Tours bus, that is.

To our dismay, he parked right in front of Mon Desir, one of the original fisherman’s cottages in Hermanus, now an annex to Misty Waves Hotel, completely blocking their view. Like a huge, beached whale, he sat there and refused to budge, ignoring the servers’ pleas. What we thought would be a pleasant drink on the veranda, watching a whale and being nostalgic about the old house, turned out to be frustrating.

Bus drivers have my sympathies; dispatching their clients to the most convenient location must be a priority, but blatantly disregarding both the no-parking red line and the businesses' request to move was shocking and disappointing. I’m sure the Municipality will learn from last weekend’s influx of tourists. They could consider a “drop and go” area where tourists can be dropped off and picked up by buses and taxis. A designated parking area for large vehicles should be created in a field where drivers can relax and enjoy their time in the village without causing a furore.

With a sigh of relief, we returned to our haven in Onrus to enjoy a languid luncheon, watch a game of cricket and rugby (the war was on - S.A. vs. Australia, and we were victorious), and later spend time with friends and family around our table.

For a detailed programme visit - www.hermanuswhalefestival.co.za