Blown away
High winds give Natalija Mason an unforgettable sunset experience on Table Mountain
TABLE Mountain will be imprinted on my memory forever. Back in South Africa after studying and working overseas for several years, I was determined to fulfil a few bucket-list dreams — and a holiday in Cape Town was top of the list.
Thanks to a bit of research, we found the sunset excursion up the cable car is half the normal price and includes dinner in the restaurant. How clever our friends were to discover this and book online.
We drove up towards Table Mountain in the shimmer of a heatwave with not a cloud in the sky. A parking space opened up for us and we walked to the cableway. Because we already had e-tickets, we were ushered straight into the lift. I must confess we felt rather special and somewhat smug as we bypassed the regular ticket queue.
A few minutes’ wait and we were in the cable car, gliding up the side of the mountain. My ears were full of the babble of enthusiastic voices, speaking languages from all over the world. We gently revolved as we went, giving us all a splendid, 360° view of the Fairest Cape in all the world.
We disembarked and set off to explore. We could not get enough of the views. We walked all the paths flat, drinking in the information provided at the various lookout points and hoping to see some dassies. Cape Town lay below us like a living map, quivering in the heat. From our vantage point high above the city, we basked in cooler climes, which made a nice change.
As we explored, however, the wind started to blow, gently at first and then with serious intent. Our elderly friends headed for shelter at the restaurant and to order our food. We carried on, relishing the whole scene and nearly jumped out of our skins when a siren sounded to tell visitors not to venture too far as, with the wind rising, the cable car might have to go down early. Our tummies were rumbling anyway so we decided to head back and tuck in. Everyone else had the same idea, so we had to wait for a table. Once settled though, what a treat it was to enjoy our dinner amidst the excited buzz as we watched the golden orb of the sun dipping towards the horizon.
Then the siren went off again — and again. An official arrived to warn everyone to start making for the cable car as they were worried about the velocity of the wind.
Our friends were not to be hurried by any old wind. They hadn’t finished their meal — never mind the bottle of wine! The restaurant started to empty. We started on dessert. Clouds started scudding past the windows like ghostly wraiths.
It was so weird; so exciting. It looked as if a lacy tablecloth was being thrown over the mountain by a giant, unseen hand. There was nothing for it. I could no longer do justice to the magnificent lemonmeringue pie. I had to stuff it down my throat in double-quick time so I could rush out to film this truly spectacular happening.
An official came bustling along to round up the stragglers — us. One of our party needed the loo, which now had to be unlocked. The official cupped his hands and, in his best bellow against the wind, shouted a warning down to the cable car attendant to “wag vir hierdie ou man, hy moet gaan pis”.
We dissolved into uncontrolled fits of laughter. Buffeted by the equally uncontrollable wind, we wondered if it would pluck us off the mountain before we even reached the gondola.
Finally, we were all packed into the last cable car. Filled with a sense of adventure, we swung out over the void.
It was the most breathtaking ride of all. On the one side was the spectacular sunset. On the other, sliding over the rim of the mountain, was the tablecloth. Like a waterfall, it poured over the edge, a solid mass of white, moving at incredible speed, like a froth of beer down a thirsty gullet.
How lucky we were to have been up close and personal to such a spectacle. — © Natalija Mason