Fish Hoek, the South Pen’s most underrated town
Base yourself here and enjoy the best family location in Cape Town. You can swim in a warm sea and walk in the mountains without having to get in your car, writes MICHELLE HARDIE. Photographs by TEAGAN CUNNIFFE
So strong is the lure of Fish Hoek that Smudj, a six-year-old cat and exresident, doggedly hikes over the mountain back there from her new home in Glencairn whenever she gets a chance. Her ‘owners’ Carolyn Fulton and her husband Peter have retrieved Smudj from her favourite haunts no fewer than 13 times. The primal pull to a place of comfort is well documented in the animal world and we know humans share this, so it’s not surprising that Fish Hoek is awash with people who are fiercely protective of what others consider to be the ugly stepsister of the south, sandwiched between Kalk Bay and Simon’s Town. I’m eating delicious tom-yum soup at Shin Thai Asian Restaurant, getting the inside on the village from Carolyn who lived here for 17 years, and still immerses herself in the abundant outdoor life. ‘I feel like I’m falling in love with it all over again, just by talking about it,’ she says to Marjike Klaver who has joined us. Marjike, a relative newbie to Fish Hoek (five years), is an ex-Harfield resident and would never leave. ‘Fish Hoek has a rep for being for newly-weds and nearly deads – I am neither,’ she laughs. As I listen to their chat it’s clear that the beach is Fish Hoek’s main attraction. Enjoyed for its warm sea, locals spend idyllic hours wallowing in its waters or skimming its surface on any manner of water-sport vehicles from boogie boards, SUPs and surfskis to hobies, kayaks and canoes. Carolyn sails and surfskis in the bay. She’s had encounters with leaping seals and was once tailed by a shark, and tells me about surfskiers who drop into the water at Miller’s Point (five kilometres south) and race back to Fish Hoek beach, although she hasn’t done this yet. ‘It’s wild here,’ she enthuses, her eyes bright with excitement. ‘And on land too – violin spiders are prolific, lots of scorpions, porcupines, puff adders, cobras. I see francolins, small buck; oystercatchers on the rocks at the beach.’ What makes this valley so special is that it is surrounded by fantastic geography. ‘If you have time, hike up Elsie’s Peak,’ she encourages me. The mountain looms up to the south overlooking the bay and is a regular walk for her – invasive plants have been cleared to make way for the return of proteas, watsonias and gladioli; from here if you look east you’ll have marvellous views of Seal Island, the Hottentots Holland Mountains and Hangklip. Turn to the north for Kalk Bay and Muizenberg and the south for Glencairn and Simon’s Town. There’s also a walk to Peers Cave (Skildergat), where nine 12 000-year-old skeletons, one known as Fish Hoek Man, were discovered by Bertie Peers and his father in 1927. Bertie’s enthusiasm for outdoor pursuits ultimately cost him his life when he was bitten by a puff adder. There isn’t a bed to be had here. ‘You’re too late – sold out for your date’ comes up time and time again, so I’m lucky to get a night at The Cove – a heavenly location overlooking the beach. Carolyn tells me to get there early so I’m up at dawn and already on Jager’s Walk (‘the catwalk’) by 6.30am. There are locals on the footpath
that hugs the southern section of the seashore. How wonderful it must be to walk this every day before work, what peace for the soul. I come down off the path onto the flat sand, which stretches ahead for over a kilometre. The sea moves in and out, gently cleansing my feet; fat seagulls squabbling over a fish head don’t move out of my way; dogs greet each other and a tall man looks down at the sand, his metal detector blinking. There’s a young girl jogging and to my right a fully clothed man dunking himself in the sea. I get to the end and touch the abandoned railway sleepers tarnished from decades of salty seawater and abrasive sand. Walking back, I see the trek-fishermen boats ready to be launched; they’re hoping to net skipjack tuna or yellowtail today. And then I get nearer to early-morning swimmers walking towards the shoreline. Nonchalantly, they plunge into the sea. I’m too scared to swim – the shark exclusion net is not up yet! Instead I order a coffee at the beach cafe; it’s steaming hot and served with real cream. Fish Hoek is a mix of old traditions and 21st-century living. Family-run shops such as AP Jones and Wakefords are landmarks having survived for decades; and the Defenders of Fish Hoek have succeeded in keeping the village free of bottle stores – a condition of the 1818 grant of land which was sold off as plots from 1918, heralding the start of the town. It’s about 8am now and the beach is filling up. The shark-net swimmers have done their job – like dolphins they’re now playing in the waves in their wetsuits. I walk towards them and dive in.