The steps the dock hands built for us to get off/on the boat at the marina in Hout Bay. They lashed it together and to the finger pier so it wouldn't fall over when stepped on. We just climb over the life lines and step down onto the box, then down on the lower step and then the dock. Not something we'd want to do when inebriated.
The view from our salon door, looking back at the big fishing boats rafted up behind us. They are pretty close and it was a tight turn to get into our dock position, but Jason did a fine job and the marina manager was impressed we didn't crash into the dock as so many others had done trying to fit into this space.
Looking across to the walkway to get out of the marina.
Looking down the dock at Hout Bay Marina. Our section is pretty new, but there are some really old pieces of wood on the walkways elsewhere here.
The line we caught on the propeller as we came around the Cape of Good Hope. It's still all twisted up on the prop. Jason got in with two wetsuits on to cut this off once we were safely docked in the marina. A local loaned him a full wetsuit to wear for the task.
Ah, basking in the sun. Several locals have trained seals to jump out of the water for fish pieces and they have them come onto the dock and pet them while folks take pictures. Then they pass the hat for donations to pay for food.
Clouds blowing in over the beach at Hout Bay. Clouds here are fun to watch as they form right in front of your eyes, much like stage smoke.
This old boatshed is another historic building attracting tourists at the mall . The original owner would only sell the building if the buyer gave him the same amount of corrugated tin along with the sales price so he could build himself another building. The buyer knew it was an expensive deal, but he agreed and moved this building to this site and put it back together.
We walked around the shanty town to get to a feed store where Jason wanted to buy some lanolin. He thinks the stuff may prevent barnacles from growing on the prop, so we walked about 6 km to find the place. It was the only place I've seen mung beans since I got here, so I snapped some of them up. They also had arnica gel, a substance good for rubbing into bruises or sore muscles to help them heal faster. We found lots of goodies at this farm store.
When we finally went in to Cape Town to clear out of South Africa, we took the bus in and had to walk a long way to the port. We then had to trek almost the entire length of the port to go to the Harbour Masters office on the 11th floor of the Port Control tower, much like an airport control tower, except the vessels are ships instead of airplanes. Still, they run it like FAA, keeping watch over all the movements of the ships. While walking along, we passed these gigantic spools of cables, probably meant to be submarine cables of some sort, but were awed by the size of the cable and spools.
The Security Guard in the Port Control tower had to wake up when we walked in. She tried to call the Harbour Master's office, but claimed there was no answer. She was pretty useless. Luckily, a woman pilot walked in and we asked her for help. She told the security guard what the correct number was to dial on the weekends and she talked to a Port Control person she knew and explained our predicament. She took us up to the 11th floor and turned us over to her friend for help. We all had to be breathalyzed just to get into the elevator as nobody under the influence is allowed in the building.
The Port Control lady scolded Immigration for sending us her way as they know the Harbour Master doesn't work weekends and she couldn't provide the letter. She called the Harbour Master at home and explained the issue. He sent her an email with an example of the letter we needed and she printed out a copy for us after changing the ship name and date to suit YOLO. Without her help, we would've just left the county without clearing out as so many do; they can't tolerate the hassle and problems with trying to get to Cape Town. Still, Immigrations tried to tell me he needed 'the original, not this copy' of the letter. I told him it was the original and when he noticed the colored stamps, he agreed to accept it. It had been printed in black and white and he was looking for the colored letterhead of an original. We persevered and got our clearance from Immigration and moved twenty feet to the Customs window to get the final bit of paper we needed. Nobody was there.
The security guy lounging in a chair in the area pointed at the number to call if they weren't available; he wouldn't let us use his phone and I wasn't going to use my few rand left on mine, so he pointed to a radio and said we could call them on the radio. We got a garbled response that another man interpreted to say they'd be there in ten minutes. We waited and were rewarded with exit papers. Another yacht was clearing out on this Sunday, too, as the RCYC told them that as of Feb. 1, the rules would change and they'd be better off to clear out before then. God help those who follow and don't have a clue what the new rules are!
We returned to Hout Bay on the bus. The next morning, there was a school of jellyfish pulsing by the boat. This one isn't really hanging onto that thing in the water; it is a partial reflection of a bit of metal from the boat above it.
These jellyfish were anywhere from four inches to two feet in length.