Light ...
The Phyllisia, an unprepossessing wreck off Bobbejaanshoek since 1968, is not all that far from the dunes at Platboom. Reaching the end of the dunes, you walk north across sandy marshland past Potbank to the boulder-strewn coast skirting Bloubergstrand – under the ominous shadow of Groot Blouberg, to Gifkommetjie.
This particular stretch is home to myriad gulls, cormorants, Sacred Ibis, oyster catchers, hawks and crows. At low tide, the coast is more forgiving than at Blouberg and a short walk beneath Kommetjieberg takes you to the wreck. It's pretty pointless picking your way across the rocks of the two bays preceding Hoek van Bobbejaan so, at Blouberg, make sure you find the hiker's path leading through the marshes. Table Mountain National Park makes the walk a doddle with a path comprising boulders carefully positioned for walkers with short legs.
Cloud ...
If you're unfit, I'd strongly advise against doing what I did on Monday. Finding an old track leading inland at Bloubergstrand, I followed it, figuring it might skirt Rondeheuwel and drop me on the road leading down to Platboom. Well, it did and it didn't. About halfway up Rondeheuwel I looked back and reckoned Blouberg to be a long way back and the coast leading to Platboom both far off and a long way down.
So I forged on.
There's something about long, sandy gradients. They're hell on the legs and the track, which meanders up the hill, did become a drag. With insufficient variety in the fynbos and limited water, I had no idea where the trail would end. I walked up between Rondeheuwel and the hillock overlooking Platboom and sat down to consider the wisdom of spontaneity in the company of three grysbok. I'd added several kilometres to my walk and was on a path that could see me wandering the Smitswinkelvlakte till sunset.
As it turned out, I didn't needn't have worried. I left the buck, strolled over the hill and walked slap bang into Dias’s Cross and the road a kilometre up from Platboom.
Wind ...
The following day, a south-easter howled in off the sea but I was still able to spend most of my time mucking about in the dunes. They're a constant reminder of the ever-changing coast. Four or five years ago, when summer's wind started a cycle of three-month blows and winter delivered a series of heavy tides, the back of the dunes were blasted out and spread towards Potbank. On the other side of the point, beneath the lighthouse, the beach slid into the sea – leaving only rocks and exposure to the tides.
I sense change in the wind. The dunes are growing again and we might, in a couple of years, see the point's beaches raised a few metres.
