West Coast Gliding

But then you cannot really eat if you haven’t worked up a proper appetite and with this in mind we head towards the beach to ready the kayaks for a sunset paddle. Stephan and I get assigned to a two man, sit-on kayak (also known as a pop-out) while Hannes and his partner squeeze into their sleek sit-in craft. We could not have ordered better conditions if we tried, paddling across a bay so placid you can see hovering seabirds reflected in the water’s surface.

Black oyster catchers, white-breasted cormorants and Hartlaub’s gulls perform low-altitude fly-pasts before slamming on their air brakes to perch on rocks from whence they cast inquisitive eyes in our direction. The rhythmic splash of oars and the warm afternoon sun follow us as we glide past the rocky point to play in between standing stones breaching from the ocean like towering, fossilized whales.

Squawks and beady eyes track our progress as we surf the rise and fall of the tide through narrow gullies and into placid pools where fronds of seaweed swirl in the ebb and flow of the current. We cruise and unwind, dancing upon the swells, sometimes pulling hard on the oars to slice across a threatening surge. And then we drift quietly while the sun paints the Atlantic shoreline in a million shades of amber and orange and purple.

Hannes was right about the appetite and we tuck into a seafood feast after an Old Brown Sherry Warmer-upper and several beer chasers. Fresh fish sets the tone before we graduate to crayfish al fresco and finally vetkoek and jam for dessert. Tall tales and sheer willpower keep me from surrendering to the call of the duvet, but the meal takes its toll and by midnight we’re all in attendance at Club Duvet.

Good thing I got some photographs during the previous evening, because the next day doesn’t so much dawn as drizzle its way in from the east. Despite the fact that the weather seems to be suffering from a bad hangover, we load up the kayaks and head along the coast towards Tietiesbaai. From here it is approximately two kilometres of paddling to the West Coast’s largest seal colony (situated within the waters of the Cape Columbine Marine Reserve).