Tomorrow is not looking nice.
A Level 5 warning for “disruptive rain”:
And then winds so bad just down the coast that the SA Weather Service described them as “Damaging winds… and winds“:
I’m now really looking forward to summer and the warm sunshine and sun.
I’m been an incredibly blowy day in Cape Town and the Western Cape. Sustained 60kph winds with gusts into the mid-80s. The Fire Danger Index was red for most everywhere, and that forecast has proven to be wholly accurate, with fires… well… most everywhere, as well.
I did see one guy “in the know” describe it as “a shit show”. Who am I to argue?
Of particular personal interest above, that one bottom right, which – although a long way from our little place at the Southern Tip – is threatening to head that way. [UPDATE: I’ve just heard that they’ve got it contained.] And also the big one right in the middle, just north-east of Paarl, which has been burning for 8 days now, right around the area where we stayed just before Christmas, including the Bains Kloof Pass, and has consumed an immense amount of land, and sadly, a good number of buildings.
I was trying to glue some stuff to some other stuff earlier, using volatile glue for gluing purposes, and some meths for cleaning purposes. Obviously, I tried to work outside: a well-ventilated area being important, but being on my own, and having no-one to hold the wood, the wind was actually ventilating too much, and playing havoc with my efforts. And so I had to go inside into my office. This was much better, because not only was everything not being blown around, but I was also suddenly joined by an army of helpful pixies who sang and danced as the work got done.
Wonderful stuff. And I really enjoyed the nap that inevitably followed, even if it was on the floor.
Anyway, the pixies might not have helped the firefighters, but the early arrival of the first rain in over two months might give them a hand. I’m back in my car park for the first time this year, and it’s actually rather wet. Ironically, they’re sprinkling water on the grass on the playing fields opposite me.
What’s coming from the sky is not exactly a deluge, but it’s certainly better than nothing, and it’s very welcome. Everywhere is… was… dirty and dusty. Cape Town needed a wash.
As I write, it’s raining heavily, the wind is still blowing and the sun is setting. Trash chickens being blown around in the bizarre sulphureous light, and… is that… is that another pixie?!?
It’s time to head home. Back to the hustle and bustle of Cape Town, the city just 6000 miles from civilisation…
It’s been a good break down in Agulhas. I could have been a bit less lazy, but sometimes a pre-nap nap is just what you need before your nap.
And the weather could have been better: several bouts of heavy rain throughout the week, and today – when the sun is shining and the skies are blue – a gale force wind. Not a metaphorical gale, either. This is actually fully 60kph and up from the east, and that actually puts it into Admiral Beaufort’s Force 8 category: quite literally a gale.
Doors have to be hooked back, the beagle’s ears are flapping wildly, the dirt roads are drifting into the sky and a plastic chair has escaped to the far side of the garden. It’s actually quite nice if you can get out of the it, temperature-wise at least. But it’s omnipresent: noisy, constant and wearing.
The tailwind should make for a quick and economical trip home, at least.
Yachting:
While offshore and trans-oceanic racers clearly have no choice but to face the conditions at sea, high winds can also be associated with large waves on inshore courses. Since inshore craft are often smaller than their long-range cousins, races may be delayed or abandoned completely should the race organisers feel that conditions could pose a risk to the safety of the crews or officials.
Aerobatics:
The Red Bull Air Race™ pilots are all very experienced in their field. However, the maneuverability of their aircraft depends on the use of a light airframe, and this can easily be affected by adverse wind conditions. The Red Bull Air Race™ tour around the world is timed to try to avoid well-known local seasonal meteorological “hotspots”. However, if the safety of pilots or spectators is ever called into question, the race will be halted, postponed or completely abandoned.
Jenga:
When played outside, excessive wind can result in the tower being unstable and premature tumbling may occur. If this happens, Rule 8.6(a) allows for the event to either be postponed or moved to a suitable indoor location, provided all competitors are in agreement.
Archery:
Generally only an issue in very high winds, especially those from lateral or semi-lateral directions, driftage of arrows between bow and target could result in potential injury to those in the vicinity. In these instances, competition is suspended until conditions improve. A 4 hour suspension is allowed for by the World Archery Federation, provided that failing light does not then become an additional hazard because of the delay.
Lawn Bowls:
A “howling northwester” (also known as a “stiff breeze”) is usually the only category of wind which can result in cancellation of a game of lawn bowls. Should these be the prevailing conditions, an announcement should be made not earlier than 1 hour and 3 minutes before play is due to commence (when a game has been arranged for 6 weeks or more). While the safety of competitors is unlikely to be compromised by a bit of a blow, the game “is meant to be fun” and clearly, attempting to roll some heavy balls in a mildly gusty Force 5
while nursing a massive hangoverfalls outside that descriptor.
Competitors should note that there is no internal appeals system within the informal lawn bowls organisation, and any photos of administrators passed out drunk at a party a few hours before the official start time which were shared on social media platforms should be overlooked.
It was entirely the “howling northwester” that was to blame.
Badminton (Outdoor):
You’re taking the piss, right? Completely unmanageable.
[avoids all of the jokes about blowing cocks all over the place]
How was your Sunday morning?
We’ve dealt with the folly of “Spring Day” in South Africa before. The vernal equinox in the Southern Hemisphere is the 23rd September, and not a moment (or 22 days) before.
But despite the fact that it’s definitely not Spring, it is just around the corner. The mornings are getting lighter, the evenings too, and stuff in the garden is beginning to bud and flower.
And so, also coming soon is the biannual Cape Town whinge switch. That moment of the year when the complaining about the cold changes to moaning about the wind. And thus, I was reminded of this piece from last year, which is amongst the most overly dramatic things I’ve ever read about the infamous “Cape Doctor”. Or anything else, actually.
A pal was visiting from New York when Cape Town was at Peak Wind, and one day she came into my flat from out of The Wind, looking all startled and like she had just been in a war, and said “I don’t know how you live like this.” Me neither, friend. I wake up sometimes at night and think, “This cannot go on.” I wake up and think “This is too loud for nature.”
“Peak Wind” is not a phrase any local person would use. This is the language of someone trying to make a hurricane out of a simple evening gale.
“Like she had just been in a war”. Wow. Was she dead or missing a limb or something?
No.
Yes, I’ve lived in Vredehoek. Yes, I’ve witnessed garden furniture flying off the deck, but no, I’ve never thought:
I bet you the wind kills people every day.
Or:
The wind robs us of our life force, so that all we can do is be angry and text each other about how much we hate it. The wind, the wind, the wind.
Honestly, love. Get a grip.
It’s been a chilly couple of weeks, and it’s been discussed widely on social media. That’s winter in Cape Town. A succession of cold fronts that (usually, anyway) bring wind and rain. Now, as we approach spring, we’re allowed to complain about the wind. It is sometimes annoying.
But should you be tempted to:
…send each other texts that say things like “This wind is destroying my quality of life” and “I can’t handle the wind” and “Let me tell you the wind.”
(That last one doesn’t even make sense.)
Or if you ask questions about the wind like:
Why it makes us all want to just pitch ourselves off the roof?
or:
Why it makes us lose our entire personalities?
Then you’re overstating its effects rather too much.
I don’t know if the author is still in Cape Town, but having gone through another summer complete with the South Easter blowing, I’m guessing that she’s either jumped off a roof or lost her personality.
That latter one would probably only have taken a gentle breeze, to be honest.