Other People’s Behaviour

Leave a reply

You’ll not have seen this kind of writing from me, mainly because I rarely feel strongly about a topic as intangible as my beliefs to write about it.  And I’m obviously only an armchair psychologist (so apologies to the professionals). But I found myself reiterating my view of Other People’s Behaviour to a friend the other day (and some of you might already have heard me spout on about it) and I thought it might be worth a try to put it on paper. 

I have this theory.  It’s based on my experience over the years of either working with or socialising with people I’ve struggled to get on with.  And now because I’m retired and because other circumstances allowed me to find out who my true friends were and then allowed me to make new friends, I don’t have to associate with people I don’t want to.  On the back of those changes, I’ve become more aware of why I like some people a lot and why I consciously steer away from some others – hence the theory.

My theory often kicks in shortly after meeting new people.  With some people, there’s a gradually dawning realisation that I am not enjoying being in this person’s company.  We have little in common, they aren’t in the slightest bit interested in me and I find I am experiencing forbearance rather than pleasure.  I ask myself how I’m liking the conversation I’m not having because the person is doing virtually all the talking, not pausing for breath, almost exclusively about themselves or about things or people I have no knowledge of or interest in.

If there is a question asked about me, my answer provides them with an immediate opportunity to find a parallel in their own life and launch into another longwinded exposition of how much they have to say on the subject.  By them talking in this way, there’s no opportunity for it be a dialogue, so I examine my surroundings in some detail, wonder how long it is till dinner or till they leave, and try to make an excuse to break the flow (like getting another drink which by then is much needed). 

And once I come to this realisation, it’s a one-way street – there’s no going back.  The person you’re with becomes an unbearable bore and that’s not going to change.  They have no self-awareness, so they couldn’t appreciate that I am not happy ….. because they are happy, talking about themselves in front of a captive audience.  They find what they’re saying interesting so that must mean everybody else will too.

I remember on one such occasion, there were three of us sitting at a table, one of the other two doing all the talking, and the other one happy about it.  I was able to interject quite an animated view about some news item of fairly widely-held interest.  I got blank looks as I went on, no reaction whatsoever from either of them, letting me run out of steam, and the talker then simply turned to other guy and resumed his journey down his chosen path. 

But if it was just about people who like to do all the talking it wouldn’t be so bad.  They’re the obvious ones and some of them are quite good company in small doses.  Other behaviour is more insidious.  There are those who let me down, who promise something and then don’t follow through.  They either don’t apologise or don’t do it believably because a) they have nothing to apologise for, b) they are unaware they are letting me down, c) they have not considered the impact on me of letting me down, d) it’s not that important to them, e) something else came up that was more important to them which consumed their attention, f) or they just don’t care.  And they don’t attempt to provide any cover for what they now aren’t going to do.

Each time, there’s nothing tangible, their excuses are valid and I can see why they have acted the way they have.  The first few times, I give them the benefit of the doubt, I make allowances, I make alternative arrangements to cover the void they‘ve created, and I might even feel sorry for them that they have had to renege on the arrangement.  But after a few times I start expecting they won’t come through and find my reservations are all too often proven, and again it’s a one-way street …. I can’t unsee this pattern – these are people I can’t rely on.

And then there’s the person who, under the mask of friendship, makes smug, snide, offensive comments to me about me while smiling at me.  How do they it?  Simple – they have a sense of entitlement that makes them believe in the sincerity of their view, now expressed, aired for my own good, to help me understand something important that, obviously to them, I was missing.  Would I make a comment like that?  Absolutely not, not even if I was thinking it.  So why should I have to tolerate it from someone else?  Because they’re a family member or a friend?  Not enough of a reason.  The former are harder to avoid, admittedly, but not impossible, and the latter are easier once you realise what’s going on.  And why am I made to feel that I have a problem when clearly the problem is theirs which they need to pass on to me, unburdening themselves in so doing and feeling better about themselves?  I don’t want people like that in my life.

Then it can get a bit more sinister.  It strikes me that there is a fine line between a narcissist and a sociopath, and my experience is that someone who wasn’t like that when you first met them, over time may gradually change.  The change may not be noticeable until it is, but as the change progresses, you find it’s always you who makes allowances for them, it’s you who accommodates them, even makes excuses for their behaviour or tries to normalise its impact, never the other way round.   

It’s you who’s made to feel in the wrong, it’s you who feels you have to make things better, that the friendship or relationship depends on your behaviour not theirs.  If there’s any possibility that they are in the wrong, they never apologise …. because in their eyes they’ve done nothing wrong.  And don’t worry if they’ve hurt your feelings …. they don’t care how you’re feeling – there’s a complete lack of empathy for anybody else.  It may take a while to realise what’s happening, but when you do, once again it’s a one-way street.  Then it’s up to you what you do about it.

The key for me in dealing with all this was actually fairly straightforward.  It was based on the realisation that I have a personal spectrum of behaviour that I find normal and acceptable – of course it’s my definition of normal but it’s important to me because it represents my tolerance level.  Everyone has their own spectrum.  The spectrum of others will match mine or overlap quite a lot or only a little. It will be wider for the more tolerant among us and the wider it is the more one ends up accommodating the behaviour of others.

The friends that I have, I like a lot and I am very comfortable being with them (hopefully it’s reciprocated although maybe not after reading this).  I am lucky that my kids fall within the spectrum – not every parent can say that.  The limited work I still do brings me in contact with the most delightful people and I have found that this awareness of my spectrum allows me to spot, or at least relate to, problems in isolated instances where this might not be the case.  And it’s amazing these people stand out.

I can’t define my spectrum but I know when I’m in the company of someone who is inside it or outside it.  Particularly because I’m retired, I have the luxury now of not often having to accept behaviour outside my boundaries, not so much by calling people out as I hate confrontation, but more just having as little as possible to do with those people.  Life is a lot simpler.

That is what I mean by Other People’s Behaviour. 

And here’s the perfect T-Shirt for me.

A perfect week in Scotland

Leave a reply

I don’t know how these guys do it (Sabine’s brother Michi and sister-in-law Susanne).  Last year they came to Jersey and had wall to wall sunshine for a week.  They had mostly great weather skiing in February when it was truly terrible the week after when we went. Then they come to Scotland mid-April, not known for its sunshine, and had glorious weather then too.  Which, given that Sabine and I were playing host to them, was such a relief.  They have been so kind to us when we visit them that we really wanted to return the favour but didn’t think the weather was going to cooperate.  But it did.

Like pretty well anywhere, Scotland looks better when the sun shines.  In fact, Scotland looks absolutely beautiful when the sun shines but add to that the time of the year, Spring, and it was truly stunning.  Blue cloudless skies, warming temperatures, smiling faces, pink, white and yellow blossom everywhere, lambs in green fields, mountains, some with a little snow still on them, as the backdrop to shimmering lochs – the country showed itself off perfectly.

After the week in Jersey where it was very easy to fill each day with a great variety of novelties, I was worried there wouldn’t be enough for them to do.  But (and notwithstanding the help we got from the weather) Scotland came through for us.  Fortunately our guests are extremely easy – not fussy, not demanding and perfectly happy to do their own thing.  Even more fortunately, their interests and ours coincide a lot – wildlife and birding in particular (that includes photography opportunities for Michi), home cooking using the Thermomix, good wine, knitting (for the ladies anyway), and planning new holidays together. 

And finally, unfortunately for them, their English is excellent so the three Germans would talk in English for my benefit.  They would also speak partly in German and partly in English, again for my benefit so I could see how much German I could understand and with Sabine as my own personal interpreter, I didn’t miss much.

So what did we do?  It’s easiest is to describe the week day by day. Photos are by us unless otherwise attributed. And apologies for the late arrival of this story.

Saturday April 18th

Michi and Suanne arrived at about 8pm after driving to Zurich, Easyjet direct to Edinburgh, bus from the airport to Glasgow, Scotrail to Helensburgh where Sabine met them and drive them to Rhu.  What to give them for supper?  Something suitably Scottish?  Cullen Skink came out top of the list, particularly as we had tried it out on my son David and his family over Easter.  The Thermomix make it very easy.  Basic ingredients are smoked haddock, potatoes, onion, milk and water.  Actually, as we found out, Cullen Skink is misnamed – Cullen Stink would be more accurate as the smell permeated through the house for a day after.

It might not require renaming had it stuck to its origins as a beef broth.  Its name comes from Cullen, a town on the Murray Firth known for its fishing industry and skink which doesn’t refer to a lizard-like reptile but is a Scots word for a knuckle, shin, shank or hough of beef.  However, as haddock was far more plentiful and cheaper in Cullen, the locals substituted the fish for beef.  The etymological thinking is that “skink” derives from the Middle Dutch word “schenke” meaning shin, knuckle or leg.

Perhaps most importantly. Michi brought me 4 ramps for my trainset that had defeated my carpentry capabilities. They were needed at the start of the inclines I had built. I had supplied him with the measurements and he used his 3D printer at his dentistry practice to manufacture them. Oh joy, I could now get on with the next stage, laying cork for a railbed under the track.

Sunday April 19th

To get rid of the stiffness and lethargy that comes from travel, we took Ernie (the chihuahua that Sabine shares with her former partner Ian) for a walk.  Except it turned into a hike, a trek even as we turned right instead of left in the Ardenconnel Woods and headed up and up and up to the old reservoirs way above the house.  I think Sabine had always intended to do this, but the rest of us had only expected a mostly paved road gentle walk, so Susanne’s white trainers weren’t best suited for the job at hand.

Having passed two completely wrecked caravans

and a derelict workers’ building (basically in the middle of nowhere), the track ahead turned very muddy.  I knew the track off to the left got us to the same place, so I had to ask if we wanted to go the steep way or the wet way and the steep way was preferred.  Despite his very short legs, Ernie was very happy with our choice – he hates mud and water.  The views over Gareloch and the Clyde were spectacular.  We tried a slightly different route back, new to Sabine and me,  which made us feel like true pioneers.

We’d booked lunch at The Commodore in Helensburgh. Although it’s part of the Vintage Inn chain, we love it, especially for the Sunday Roast which is more British tradition than German but which we were sure that Michi and Susanne, being meat eaters, would enjoy.  And they came through with succulent roast beef for the ladies and a tender delicious lamb for us guys.  Of course we had to have the discussion about how could we eat lamb when you see these cute babies frolicking and playing with each other in the fields.

Monday April 20th

The day started well – a French nuclear submarine went by on a visit to Faslane.  Given that we hardly ever see British subs go past these days because they’re so often broken, it was quite a treat.

This was the day for a safari – in the form of a trip to the local RSPB reserves at Lochwinnoch, on the other side of the Clyde to us.  We would then go over to Largs on the west coast opposite Bute and back home by the coastal road where Sabine said there was a great Italian ice cream shop –  so great it might have been where ice cream was invented.

Lochwinnoch did us proud with enough birds to make it seem worthwhile.  By which I mean I saw 3 birds not already on my 2026 list (I know, I’m a bit of a geek) – a goosander, a little-ringed plover (very clear yellow eye ring to differentiate it from its larger brother, the ringed plover 😊) and a treecreeper. 

Photo courtesy of eBird

They had demolished the old building with a viewing tower and built a new open hide in its place.  We did a 2 mile round trip to a boardwalk as well – bless her, Sabine carried my telescope on her back which made me feel very guilty because we had no call to use it.

Sabine wanted to stop in the RSPB shop.  Susanne and she each bought a postcard and I bought a telescope.  Just a very small one that weighed nothing – I know realise it must have been because of the guilt I was feeling – but it’s weight or lack thereof was amazing and we were told one of the rangers loves it.

We then drove over to Largs and found a wonderful Italian deli for lunch.  Largs is a Scotrail terminus from Glasgow, except the trains arrive from the south, not the north east.  Being the train geek that I am, that seemed odd and on the way home, I checked and they do a sort of U-turn further down the coast and come back on themselves inland via Lochwinnoch where we’d just been.  I know yous all are happy I looked into it.

We also found the ice cream shop and it lived up to its reputation.  The building was very 1930s Art Deco, on the seafront.  Although the choice was limited, it was the middle of April and they did have tablet ice cream (crushed tablet imbedded in vanilla ice cream) which was all I needed to see.  Sabine had the same as me.

Tuesday April 21st

This was the Glasgow city day.  The weather showed no rain and even a bit of sunshine, with mid-teen temperatures.  Poor Sabine had to go to work and got the 9.30 train.  Michi and Susanne caught a train at mid-day, a little later than planned because Michi had found one of the record shops he wanted to visit (the better one of the two) was closed on Mondays and Tuesdays (of course it was).  And I got a train just before 4pm, giving me the opportunity to lay some more cork under the model railway tracks.

My attendance was entirely based around the reservation at The Ivy on Buchannan St that Sabine had made for a 5pm dinner.  I really like the place.  I arrived first, sat at the bar and asked the barman if he could do a Manhattan.  He nodded and asked if I wanted red, white or perfect, the latter being a mix of both kinds of Vermouth.  I asked for rye whiskey, not bourbon, and sat there sipping it till Michi and Susanne arrived, followed shortly after by Sabine.  Sabine had a Campari and soda, Susanne a bellini and Michi a Botanist G&T.  The meal was from the excellent Taste of Spring menu.  Scotrail did us proud on the way home – i.e. the train we wanted to catch wasn’t late or cancelled.

Wednesday April 22nd

Now the adventure starts and in the sunshine too – a night away at Kinloch House Hotel near Dunkeld involving a 90 minute drive via Stirling and Perth to the Hermitage on the A9 just outside the village, a walk in the Hermitage grounds, dinner at the hotel, a visit to the Scottish Wildlife Trust reserve at Loch of the Lowes (the “ow” pronounced like the “ou” in Loud), and finally a stop at House of Bruar on the way home.

Of course, Michi had an app that showed all the paths at the Hermitage and our location on them and so the German visitor was able to guide us relative locals around the extensive area.  The Hermitage folly overlooking the falls on a branch of the River Tay was closed for a wedding, but we were still able to get a good look from the side.  The paths were in good condition and we had a lovely walk.

But really the highlight, cleverly planned by Sabine who had read about it in Scottish Field, was the donuts and coffee sold from a converted horse trailer in the carpark.  The donuts (lightly coated with cinnamon and sugar) are cooked while you wait and the coffee was actually very good too.  The proprietor didn’t know he’d been featured in the magazine!

We then made our way to the hotel.  I’d stayed a couple of times before, and it hadn’t changed in the 15 years since I was last there.  However, when I was last there (with my sister), we weren’t the only guests.  I’d guessed that would be the case because when I’d phoned up en route to check I’d booked us in for dinner, they knew my name without me giving it. 

We had a lovely stay but it was a little weird – an up-market Scottish country hotel being greeted by a very welcoming middle-aged Eastern European lady all dressed in black, with no evidence at all of the owners who live in a house right next to the hotel, being told we were indeed the only guests, and then later having the dining room entirely to ourselves for both dinner and breakfast  The meals and the service were excellent though, as were the views from the garden we enjoyed sitting out in the afternoon sunshine, but I doubt we’ll be back any time soon.

Thursday April 23rd

Loch of the Lowes is well known in birding circles for its ospreys – it has a nest visible from the hides and a webcam (https://scottishwildlifetrust.org.uk/reserve/loch-of-the-lowes/) that allows you to see the birds up close and personal.  And there were no chicks for the last two years for several reasons, so there are high hopes this season will be more productive with the arrival and mating of the male form last year and a new female that had bred successfully elsewhere last year.

And the birds didn’t disappoint.  The female was on the nest, the male flew in and Michi was able to get some good photos.  The following day I saw on the webcam that the female had laid her first egg and the week after there were two eggs and as I write this there are three eggs, which is all there will be. 

(Update because I’ve taken so long to publish this – two eggs hatched, the second chick died of unknown causes after a few days, the other is thriving).

House of Bruar on the A9 north of Pitlochry was the last part of the trip.  It is a large retail undertaking using several interconnected buildings with a very obvious Scottish bias – all kinds of clothing (kilts etc, hunting shooting and fishing as well as everyday), pottery, artwork etc and produce (a wonderful food hall and a fresh fruit and veg stall outside) and all high quality.  They did well enough out of us so you might think about leaving your wallet in the car if you can’t trust yourself.

We took the scenic route back to Rhu via Loch Tay.  It’s one of my favourite drives in Scotland.  The weather was glorious and the scenery breathtaking.

The day wasn’t over, though.  We had tickets to listen to crime writers presenting their books with a seaside theme at the Commodore where we had had lunch on Sunday.  Michi and Susanne had said they’d be up for it and despite the busy day we’d had, it was good.  However, speaking personally, I didn’t find it that amazingly interesting and after 2 sessions listening to seven authors, it was obvious that 3 of us had had enough, 2 because of the English and the long day and me because of the long day and because I’m a bit of an ignoramus.

Poor Sabine would have happily stayed but went along with the majority, accepting in particular that the English with various accents (including a German author who spoke good English but with a German/Glaswegian lilt) would have been hard work for Michi and Susanne, which made me feel guilty all over again.  And to make it much worse, the final session that we then missed included Ann Cleeves, the author of the Shetland books, who I too would have liked to hear, but not necessarily the others.

Friday April 24th

Another glorious day weather-wise and Michi’s and Susanne’s last full day.  We had booked lunch at the Loch Fyne Oyster Bar and Restaurant.  We’d all held off ordering fish and chips all week in anticipation of this meal.  We were going to stop at the beautiful Arkinglass arboretum, but by the time we got ourselves sorted out in the morning, we couldn’t be bothered and headed straight for lunch.

By headed, I mean we drove up Gareloch past Faslane where the nuclear submarines are based, over the hill to Loch Long, a loch-side drive past the £100 million dock built for when the aircraft carriers need re-arming from the Glen Douglas arsenal (the HMS Prince of Wales was there over the first long weekend in May), up to Arrochar where we join the A82 and then over the Rest and Be Thankful Pass to Loch Fyne, about 25 miles in all.  On a clear day (which it was), the scenery is stunning.

(Sorry, can’t find where I got this photo but it’s of the ship on Loch Long)

The restaurant provided our visitors with their long-awaited fish and chips, with Sabine and I choosing scampi and chips.   

We then went to the great privately-run garden centre next to the restaurant before heading home a different way that took us along the side of Loch Lomond with views across to the Ben Lomond (3,196 feet).  The afternoon was spent restfully on the balcony in the sunshine, Michi working on his photographs and Susanne knitting.

Another year, another wonderful week showing off the world where Sabine and I spend a lot of our time.  I still can’t believe we had a repeat of the sunshine we had for their Jersey visit last year – it makes our role as hosts so much easier 😊

I wish I had that much self-confidence

1 Reply

Tofino was part of a trip to British Columbia we did recently, organised by Sabine, revisiting places where she used to live (Whistler, Victoria and Vancouver), and seeing old friends.   It was wonderful.

We did a birding boat trip from Tofino one morning that, honestly, was a huge disappointment and for me a bit of a disaster – more of that below.  We went back to Tofino again in the afternoon for a wander around the town (that took about 5 minutes), a look into the long house gallery of First Nations art that was beautiful but outside it was a hot day and we needed an iced coffee and something to eat.

We found this rustic place on the main street that had both and sat next to an interesting couple – this guy and his elderly, bike-riding father.  I say elderly because I think he was older than me, probably in his 80s.  They were having a wide-ranging conversation and until they got up to leave and said goodbye to each other, we didn’t know they were father and son.  Father got on his bike, son on his roller skates.

You can imagine my disappointment (the second of the day) ….. I looked but couldn’t find a shop that sold those maple-leaf budgie smugglers. So I won’t be parading down King Street in St Helier, not being in the slightest bit bothered by the spectacle I would be making of myself.

You might need to look Tofino up on a map – it’s a dead end on the west coast of Vancouver Island, about a third of the way up and in the middle of nowhere.  It’s very pretty, primarily a surfing paradise, full of mostly young, cool surfing dudes and dudesses.  It’s now a destination in its own right, though, with some very expensive resorts whose rack rates for rooms only at $880 per night confirm that the cost of living crisis is not affecting those who stay there.

We watched some of the surfers off the beach we stayed at.  There seems to be a lot of activity walking across the beach with the board under their arm, wading into the water till they can float the board, paddling out a certain distance and floating on their surfboards chatting to the other surfers while waiting for the perfect wave that doesn’t seem to come very often and hence not a lot of actual surfing.  The waves didn’t look very big but despite that, not that many made a good fist of getting up and riding them  when they did actually try, so maybe we were on a beginners beach.  Water temperature was around 10C, so full body wet suits were worn by all including hoods. 

Which precluded any thought that Sabine and I might want to join them in the water with or without wetsuits – we can get that cold in Jersey.  To put the water in perspective, there was open water between us and the north island of Japan, nearly 7,000 km to the west – i.e. the Pacific Ocean.

The day had started full of promise – sunshine, not too cold, and seemingly not too windy for a boat trip.  We left the hotel at 7am for the short drive to Tofino, found the Whale Centre building, signed our lives away, got suited up and escorted to the vessel for our 8am departure.  Some of our fellow passengers were all excited about seeing the tufted puffins and Jean Yvres, our captain, said they’d been seen round the island not that long ago and was keen to show them to us.

However he also told us that while he was ok with bird ID, he wasn’t an experienced birder and that there would be a 3 metre swell on the way out to the bird reserve on Cleland Island Ecological Reserve.  Some of the party (not us) were very keen to try to see the Tufted Puffins that are there.  He assured us it would be ok as he and the boat could handle that kind of sea.

Well, he was correct, right up to the point when he wasn’t.  We took the direct route that meant being on the open sea.  The sea had a completely random chop that reminded me of being on Georgian Bay, Ontario near the cottage – the waves coming at you haphazardly from all directions at the same time – but 10 times worse.  However, despite feeling like being on a roller (no pun intended) coaster, we did get to the island ok. 

Naively I was hoping that there would be a nice calm patch of water from where to look at the birds.  But No, calm water wasn’t on the menu that day; the boat was going up and down so much you couldn’t hold the binoculars or the camera still enough to be able to get a good view of the birds, let alone a photo.  Having said that, I couldn’t believe that one of sea lion photos actually in focus. 

And here is part of the photo blown up:

But with such choppy water, there wasn’t a cat in hell’s chance of seeing the beautiful Tufted Puffins on the sea (photo courtesy of Merlin, the birding app), even though they’re the size of a crow (bigger than our Atlantic Puffins).  They nest in burrows on the island when breeding but most of the year they’re at sea, like our puffins.

So far so good? At a crucial moment, while JY was paying more attention to the birds on the island than to what was happening on the water, the boat suddenly turned into the chop.  It hit a wave the wrong way and Sabine and I, sitting in the bow, were deluged.  The water even got into the floatation suits we were wearing.

And no, they’re not my ears

I had just been trying to photograph those sea lions.  The camera got soaked and didn’t want to work after the wave hit or in the days that followed.  The replay button turned it on and off and I could see the photographs on the SD card.  Back at the hotel, as a one-off, it allowed me to actually take a photo, but all the other buttons were either not working or not doing what they were meant to do.  We even bought a huge bag of rice and buried the camera in it for 3 days, following advice someone gave us.  So ….. for the sake of not disappointing some people who were always going to be disappointed that day, I need a new camera.

Back on the boat, JY got the message at that point, and immediately headed us for home through a much calmer inshore passage.  En route we actually saw some birds – rhinoceros auklets, harlequin ducks, pacific loons, black oystercatchers amongst them – and even a grey whale, and the piece de resistance was the most magnificent aerial display of six bald eagles close-up just as we were docking in Tofino at the end of the trip.  Two of them obligingly went and perched in a tree at the water’s edge but apologies for the picture quality of my phone as I may have mentioned that my camera wasn’t working.

The rest of our Tofino stay was relatively uneventful and extremely enjoyable.  We had a wonderful cocktail at the Wickaninnish Inn (all we could afford at their prices), and a magical walk through a rainforest on a raised boardwalk, comprising Western Red Cedars and Sitka Spruce (the same trees planted in abundance by the UK Forestry Commission), with the sun shining through the canopy and warblers singing in the tree tops (frustratingly not visible), and ferns of all kinds growing on the forest floor.

A Place in the Sun

2 Replies

It was Sabine’s idea.  She wanted to feel some sun before term kicked off.  Term actually had started the week we left but she arranged things so that her absence would be ok.  But she could only do Thursday to Wednesday.

Except that she thinks it was my idea to go somewhere warm.  Whatever.  It was certainly down to me to find somewhere.  Because her time away was only 6 days not 7, our package holiday options became a lot more limited, if not nil, especially as we wanted a direct flight from Glasgow.  As Pauline, a friend of my sister’s who’s in the travel business, pointed out when I asked for help.

On top of the 6 days, not 7 and the direct flight, I gave her other challenging criteria – temperatures of around 20C, a short haul(-ish) flight – i.e. not Dubai (too long a flight and I don’t like the place anyway) and half-board at an adults only hotel.  It came down to Tenerife or Lanzarote, flight with Jet2 and booking the hotel direct.

Pauline was wonderful, coming up with one hotel suggestion after another.  Her baseline was Royal-Hideaway Coreles in Tenerife, a hotel highly recommended to her by friends who’ve been there several times.  We looked at all the options she proposed and kept coming back to this one which while a little more expensive, looked brilliant.  And it was.

The flight out was long enough at nearly 5 hours.  We arrived at check-in less than an hour before take-off because in my head the flight was at 9.45am instead of 8.45am.  I don’t normally make such a rookie mistake and felt very stupid, a state of mind not helped by the check-in guy’s condescending attitude and unnecessary fear-inducing comments that stoked Sabine’s anxiety.  However, they took our suitcase and we got to the gate just as they started boarding, so what was his problem?

The row behind us was populated with a 30 year old mother from Glasgow and her two children (husband with a third child not sitting with her).  Her broad Glaswegian timbre had two tones – very loud and even louder.  She spoke to her children like that and she spoke to her friends further forward in the cabin like that so that we all could hear (who she told she’d had to take the kids out of school) ….. until, that is, she went to sleep, leaving her two kids with nothing to entertain them on the flight except their iPads and kicking the seat in front.  They were actually very polite in the way they responded to Sabine’s very sweetly articulated exhortations asking them to desist.

Ours was the last of seven Jet2 flights to arrive in Tenerife South that day, on top of Tui, Condor, Air Baltic, EasyJet etc.  We had European passports which gave us a fast track, smugly walking past all the Brits …… only to find just one immigration officer dealing with all the Europeans and all the people in wheelchairs and their families, while the Brits were speedily processed through the electronic gates made available for their sole use.  It took us ages to get through.

We had been told it wasn’t necessary to book a transfer from the airport as there were plenty of taxis but I did anyway, which was just as well because the queue for taxis was depressingly long.  Our driver had a life story I won’t tell you here but it was quite extraordinary and entertained us for the 20 minute ride to the hotel.  Before we arrived, he described it as looking like a cruise liner and he was right. 

About 6 years old, in two all-white buildings, one of which (on the left of the photo) was adults only, with all the rooms on 5 floors facing west over the Atlantic Ocean with great sunset views.

Sabine had never ever done a holiday like this – a fully catered hotel, in the sun, with no agenda or activity in mind.  The hotel was everything we’d hoped for and much more.  All the staff we met were very attentive and professional, nothing was too much trouble, and they all spoke good English. Our room was enormous with a large balcony. 

Attention to detail was evident everywhere – one example: in the roof top bar, a maintenance man was inspecting chairs and tables to see if they wobbled and using a screwdriver to fix any errant legs he found.

Sabine did a free yoga programme nearly every day with Jonny, the trainer who happened to be a German from Essen.  She even got me into an aqua gym session late one afternoon in the pool – what prats we must have looked, the only ones doing it, with Jonny leading, music blaring, Jonny talking over the music, stopping other people using the pool, being overheard by everyone on their sunbeds around the pool, in the pool bar or on their balconies above the pool, and if anyone wanted to watch seeing a couple of uncoordinated idiots trying and failing to mimic Jonny’s movements.  Not a pretty sight.

The breakfasts were superb.  We ate late (10-11), stuffed ourselves actually, so that lunch was unnecessary.  Seating was outside or inside and we always chose outside.  The morning and evening temperatures were mostly and deceptively chilly and we needed to dress warmly at both meal times, while it was pleasantly warm during the day, hitting 20C in the afternoon in the sun.

Our half-board was a very up-market trough (as I have called this kind of buffet dining experience since the first time I watched all the guests pushing and shoving to get at the food at a hotel in Mauritius).  We could sit inside or out, but went inside to the buffet (where everyone was perfectly civilised) and where you could choose a dish from a selection of six starters and six mains and watch it being prepared by a chef behind the counter.  On top of that there was a self-service salad bar and desserts to choose from.  We had three themed evenings – seafood, local and Mexican.  The starters, mains and desserts were always excellent.

Seating for the trough

The hotel boasted a two Michelin star restaurant and a one star, as well as a seafood restaurant, and an Italian restaurant.  However, you didn’t get a credit for not going to the trough, and as there were some excellent local restaurants in the village recommended by Pauline’s friends, we didn’t feel any overwhelming need to pay through the nose for tiny portions in the posh hotel restaurants.  In fact, because the buffet was so good, we only ate out once, at a wonderful seafood restaurant in the village called La Vieja where, as a main, we shared a huge seabass baked in a salt crust – heaven.

During most days, in between these two meal times, we did absolutely nothing.  We did go for a walk over some fairly unappealing scrubland by the coast to an overlook of a nudist beach on the first day. Fortunately I’d brought my binoculars, but they were a mixed blessing – after no more than a cursory sweep it was apparent that it was mixed and not every person’s physique was out of Vogue magazine. The cacti were impressive though.

The feathered bird-life was a little disappointing but I didn’t go looking anyway as honestly I wasn’t that bothered. I still saw some birds I don’t normally see – Spanish sparrow and Yellow-legged gulls with the highlight being a close-up look at a hoopoe that Sabine spotted the middle of Los Christianos – here’s a photo from Botswana:

And a lot of feral pigeons.

At the 5th floor pool bar, waiting for us to leave the nuts that came with the drinks

But we were unable to find a wildlife tour guide who would have taken us out for a day and shown us some of the island – the lovely concierge at the hotel and her colleague also tried and couldn’t come up with anything.

We did wander around our charming little fishing village of La Coletta, at least the waterfront part that isn’t now hugely built up – still with restaurants and bars everywhere and all full mid-afternoon.  There were a lot of Brits around which probably explains a lot – I reckon 95% of the people there, although in the hotel we did begin to hear more Germans as the days went by.

We didn’t go whale watching, maybe something for next time, we didn’t go parasailing in the bay, and we didn’t go paragliding off the mountain behind the hotel, definitely not something for next time.  This latter sport was very popular – the most we saw were 15 paragliders that seemed so close together that they must have taken off one after another.  There was also a botanical garden somewhere that might be worth a look next time.

The low point of the trip (hoopoe excepted) was the day we spent in Los Christianos, the nearest larger town.  The weather was bit cloudy and not looking too hot.  We asked the same lovely concierge about getting the bus which stopped right outside the hotel but she must have been new in post because she hadn’t got a clue.  She consulted the internet (which we had already done) but to no avail and finally she had to ask one of the bell-hops.  But she was so sweet and earnest trying to help that she simply endeared herself more to us, despite being completely useless.

If anyone offers you the chance to go to Los Christianos, say you’re too busy.  If anyone suggests you might like a holiday there, never speak to them again.  Once we were on the bus to Los Christianos and out of the relative oasis of La Coletta, it was very revealing how the other half lives – one huge hotel after another and wall to wall people – all the way there and everywhere in Los Christianos. 

And you get to see (remember 95% Brits) a section of society that perhaps you don’t normally.  Without a lot of clothes on.   Despite the cost-of-living crisis, it seemed that nearly everyone had spent a lot of money on tattoos and I didn’t realise that men of a certain age did nipple-piercing, proudly taking the opportunity to display the results, so much so that Sabine asked why it was that men with the biggest fattest bellies liked to walk topless along the crowded promenade.

Another revelation was that you could rent mobility scooters (by the week) and drive them on a packed pedestrian promenade.  In fairness one or two drivers had walking sticks but most didn’t – was it just too far for them to walk?  Some were two seaters so that wifey could be spared the ordeal of walking too.  Needless to say, they weren’t the most sylph-like examples of our species.                                                                                                              

We’d have had to wait a while for a bus to get back to the hotel with an hour’s journey ahead of us and I needed a pee, so Sabine very kindly offered us an Uber for the return.  And not just any Uber. This E class black Mercedes comes along (he does Uber trips in between airport transfers) and whisks us back to civilisation so serenely that the contrast with where we’d just been could not have been greater.

It was a wonderful break from reality but possibly long enough as you could get very comfortable in that artificial environment.  Would we go back there? In a flash!  We did see a hotel more inland (we don’t really need the beach) that looked more wildlife-friendly which would be worth checking out too.  A month or two later in the year or in the autumn might be warmer too without it being too hot during the day.

A Perfect Week in Jersey

2 Replies

We had Sabine’s brother and sister-in-law, Mike and Susanne, to stay at the end of April.  Their home is near Lake Constance in Germany.

The choice was Jersey or Rhu and I thought that they’d find Jersey more interesting, especially as they hadn’t been there before, or at least  Susanne hadn’t.  It turns out that Mike had done a day trip while on a summer exchange in Caen in 1983 and still has the photos to prove it.

Well, first off, the weather was glorious – 7 sunny, warm days and no rain whatsoever.  And Mike and Susanne were so appreciative of suggestions as to what to do and where to eat that we just got on with it.  At the same time, we were careful not to do too much, but fortunately the weather meant that the balcony at Good Hope was always calling.

First: the Culinary Experience

At some point, we had to apologize for seemingly organising the itinerary around food.  But whereas what you do and see can be flexible, you still need to eat, so why not make it as special as possible.

Mike and Susanne arrived late afternoon on Saturday on BA via Heathrow, so dinner was at Good Hope.  Sabine and I had bought freshly caught scallops from Robbie, our fisherman neighbour who opens his new shop out of his garage on Greve D’Azette every Friday afternoon.  I wrapped them in bacon and we served them with Jersey Royals and a salad.

Sunday breakfast was a variety of croissants from Roberts Garage across the road.  We’d booked Sunday lunch at The Anchor Club in St Aubin’s because we wanted Mike and Susanne to experience a really good Sunday roast with all the trimmings.  Which we did.  The meal was superb – both food and service.

On Monday we had lunch outside at Portelet Inn.  We had the first of several close encounters with herring gulls, but at least these ones simply threatened us by circling away from us and watching us eat from their vantage point on the roof.

It was Tuesday outside at the Zoo café that one tried to help itself to our lunch.  Fortunately it was off its game that day and although it flew down to the table, it was unsuccessful in grabbing any of the four possibilities on offer before we recovered from the shock of having an uninvited guest and our outrage drove it off. 

So we were very wary later that day as we sat outside at St Brelade’s Bay Hotel to our 3 tiers of afternoon tea goodies.  Like the day before, the omnipresent gulls flew over and looked down at us longingly but fortunately didn’t practice dive bombing.  The tea itself was possibly the best I’ve had, with a wonderful top layer of the sweet delicacies – normally this tier is a disappointment (too heavy, too sweet, too experimental) and as a result only gets picked at, but not this time: light, delicious and all gone 😊.

Wednesday was promising to be the hottest day of the week so it was the obvious choice for a lobster dinner on the balcony.  Which is exactly what we did, with gambas, Jersey Royals and salad plus strawberry and rhubarb crumble topped off with Jersey vanilla ice-cream to finish – and no gulls to spoil the occasion.

The highlight of the week was undoubtedly our lunch on Thursday – and the bar was already quite high.  We ate sitting outside in the sunshine at Green Island and it was fantastic.  The food was absolute perfection, and it was amazing how all the tables were served by the owner and one waitress. We lingered on the patio for as long as possible, giving me the opportunity to tell my Uttoxeter Wetherspoons joke, prompted in my mind by the five men sitting at the table next to us. 

They hadn’t seen the north coast, so lunch on Friday was at the Plemont Café.  Another glorious day.  The food was fine but, as Sabine had seen a display showing they had won an award for the best Jersey ice-cream on the island, we had to have a 99 each for dessert.   It was ok but only ok – I still maintain the van at Grouville Beach is the best.  The owners had strung wires up over the outside picnic table to deter the gulls, so we weren’t bothered by them at all.

Mike and Susanne love Indian food.  We’d hoped to taken them to The Spice House on Friday evening but it was closed for renovations.  We settled for Saffron (where Nelson’s Eye used to be) within walking distance from home.  The meal was great – we shared 4 mains and our waiter of Indian ethnicity from Barking in London’s East End with an accent to match was called Alfie 😊.  The owner who was also the chef came out to talk to us as we were leaving, which felt quite classy.

Our final meal was lunch in town on Saturday.  We’d planned to take them to La Capannina but because Mike wanted to see the Boat Show in the morning, there wasn’t going to be enough time as any meal at La Capannina cannot be rushed.  So we settled for Colmar and had two of the most miserable serving staff I’ve ever encountered.  Eventually they couldn’t be bothered to serve us at all and made one of their (Kenyan?) colleagues attend to us, who was so charming that he saved the day.

Second: The Tourist Experience

After a leisurely morning at Good Hope, the lunch on Sunday and after a stroll along the quay in St Aubin’s, we went to one of my favourite places – the bird hide at the scrape in St Ouens.  It wasn’t such a problem for the others because Sabine quite likes birding and Mike had bought a new camera for our safari later in the year that he wanted to try out on the birds.  A lot of the photos in this story are his.

I’d never seen the bird hide carpark so full – the ice-cream van was doing a roaring trade, but as almost always when you get away from any carpark, you see no-one and we had the bird hide to ourselves.  Across the road, we took in the great views up and down St Ouen’s Beach, including a lot of people surfing.

On Monday I’d arranged something unique to Jersey in the afternoon, so visiting the German gun emplacements on Portelet Common was the perfect morning accompaniment.  We parked at the bus stop car park and walked over the Common to the complex. 

The German control bunker is only open once a month and not the day we were there, but the wall plaques tell you a lot about the place.  We also saw these UK registered pre-war Austins there, one a renowned Austin 7 – Jersey is so good for people who love cars of all kinds.

In the afternoon, we had a tour with Nicky Mansell of Jersey Uncovered to La Cotte, the Neanderthal hunters’ site, on the east side of St Brelade’s Bay.  The tide was low in the afternoon to give easy access to the foot of the cliff where she told us about the site, the only one like it in Europe – thanks to Don’s Maps for this photo.

We were back home early enough for a swim.  The afternoon tide was never quite right for the sea to have come in over the hot sand and it was cold at first (12C) – go in, go out and then go back in is my secret.  Mike then went in almost every morning after Susanne and he had gone for their kick-the-day-off 6km run. 

The next day, Tuesday, we headed for the Zoo. We arrived in time for the keeper talks and managed to go to three before lunch.  The first was by a newbie keeper about cranes and perhaps unsurprisingly she wasn’t very knowledgeable.  The next one was on giant tortoises and was really good.

On our way to the third one (Orangutans), a whole family of tamarinds ran along the fence next to the path we were on.

By that time the third talk was finished, we had information overload and headed for lunch but that gave us a chance to get a good look at the gorillas which were now all outside (they’d been in their  house earlier).

. A gorilla sitting on grass AI-generated content may be incorrect.

We wandered around a little after lunch, taking in the reptile house, the meerkats,

the capybaras (giant guinea pigs!), the butterfly house, the flamingos and the lemurs around their lake.  Sadly the fruit bat roost was closed for maintenance.  But after a total of 4 hours there, we’d done justice to what the Zoo had to offer –  or so I thought.  The exit through the gift shop wasn’t too much of a problem but I’d forgotten one of Sabine’s favourite places in Jersey – so of course, before we left, she led our guests to the Zoo’s charity shop.  Eventually we were able to head for St Brelade’s Bay.

Our afternoon tea consumed, there was a definite need for some gentle exercise, so a stroll in the still warm sunshine along the promenade was called for, after which we visited St Brelade’s Church and the beautifully simple Fisherman’s Chapel, where some of you attended my marriage to Caroline in August 2016.

Wednesday was market day for us, or more precisely markets day.  We walked into town through Howard Davis Park and down Colomberie.  Our first stop was the fish market to get the lobsters and gambas for dinner.  We then went to the main market to have a look around and to visit Tony at the antique shop, another of Sabine’s favourites.

The next day, Thursday, was Hougue Bie.  We arrived just in time for the tour – we had the very knowledgeable volunteer guide all to ourselves which was an added bonus.  I am impressed that I am still flexible enough to stoop low enough to go down the tunnel into the neolithic chamber below the chapel.  

We also went through the German bunker that now contains a quite moving exhibition honouring the World War 2 slave labourers

and then the very impressive exhibition showing the 2000 year-old coin and jewellery hoard, the largest in Western Europe, that detectorists had found in a field nearby in 2012, so big that it took several years to dissemble.

We went a slightly back way home, so that Sabine could show Mike and Susanne the orchid field behind the St Clement’s Golf Course before then heading off for that wonderful lunch at Green Island.

After lunch, in need of some exercise, we walked out on the La Rocque breakwater, and as it was low tide, it provided a good vantage point to see the oyster beds and Seymour Tower.

Friday saw Sabine and I take our guests to the Occupation Museum.  They did the 3.5km walk-through while we had a coffee in the café.  I had noticed that the reception area was new and much improved.  The facility had been bought recently, and one of the reception staff enthusiastically told us that the new owners had some really great plans to develop the museum.

https://www.jerseywartunnels.com/the-tunnels/

From there, we went to Grosnez at the extreme north-west of the island by the racecourse, to explore the 14th Century castle ruins. 

En route we stopped at The Windmill to window shop for jewellery at Catherine Best’s.  We then walked on the cliff path to Plemont and lunch.  It was a glorious day and we all wished we’d brought our swimsuits. 

On the way home, we drove south from Grosnez, took in the view down St Ouen’s Bay, past L’Etacq and down 5 Mile Road to the main bird hide for a final check on the wildlife.

And then it was Saturday and they were catching a direct flight back to Munich, a new summer route for Air Dolomiti, a subsidiary of Lufthansa.  But that wasn’t till 15.30, so we were able to take in the Boat Show in the morning.  Sabine and I had gone in 2024 and really enjoyed it, and Mike and Susanne were keen to go too (they used to have a boat on Lake Constance).  We caught the bus in to be there just after opening at 10am, and had a great time both on the pontoons looking at the boats that we and most everybody else will never buy, watching a water-jet aerial acrobatics display and

touring the kiosks either side of the harbour.

Fatal – last year I got away with having to buy a paddleboard for Sabine but the Thermomix people were there again (Mike and Susanne have one) and I wasn’t as lucky this time.  We’re taking delivery of one of the new and improved models (just as well we didn’t get one last year, eh?) in July when we’re back in Jersey.  I do quite fancy one of the outdoor saunas we saw at another stand, but for Scotland, not Jersey, so that can definitely wait for another time.

And that was when we had to say farewell to our lovely guests.  We had done a lot but there was still a lot more to see – Goray and Elizabeth Castles, the Jersey Museum and the Maritime Museum, more walks on cliff paths, the Orchid Foundation, Samares Manor gardens (now without so many trees), Val de la Mar (now without so many trees) and Queens Valley Reservoirs, the low-tide walk to Seymour Tower, and St Catherine’s Woods and Breakwater to mention just places that come to mind as I write this.  We really look forward to their second visit 😊.

Western Cape Wildlife – Part 2

Leave a reply
  • Cape Mountain Zebra

Now we really came into our own in Dominic’s eyes.  We were at the end of the day’s tour, on a road running next to the Nature Reserve delimited by a fence on our left with scrubland beyond.  We noticed some bontebok grazing.  Then Sabine said – Oh, is that a zebra with them? – followed by  screeching brakes and an emergency stop.  Dominic got all excited once again – a rare Cape Mountain Zebra that he hardly ever sees, conservation status Vulnerable. 

It’s the smallest zebra species with narrower and more numerous vertical stripes and wider horizontal strips on the hind quarters.  It is only found in the Cape Province, historically the most populated region of South Africa and hence hunted virtually to extinction by the early settlers.

  • Quagga

It seems only fitting to next show you the other zebra we saw, this one on the Idiom Nature Reserve attached to the winery and restaurant, owned by one of Sabine’s Summer School “students” and her husband. 

This breed is actually extinct (in the wild by 1878 and in captivity five years later) but advances in genetics and breeding techniques have spawned a project to bring the species back to life.  But not everyone is enthusiastic about it:

https://nypost.com/2024/11/11/science/scientists-divided-over-resurrection-of-extinct-quagga-species/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quagga#:~:text=The%20last%20wild%20population%20lived,animal%20whose%20DNA%20was%20analysed

The debate seems to centre around two things – whether it was ever a separate species and the use of a strain of plains zebras that had similar markings to bring it back to life.  You can easily spot that the rear is very different from the markings of both the Cape Mountain Zebra and the regular plains zebras below that we saw a lot in Kenya.  But if you click on the Wikipedia link, you’ll see that it doesn’t look much like the 1870 photo of the one held in London Zoo.  I’m no expert of course but I must admit that I think the shape of the new ones looks very much like that of the plains zebra (collective noun: a dazzle 😊).

  • Springbok

Less controversial is the little antelope that the national rugby team is named after.  We saw them in the Idiom reserve alongside the quagga.  South Africa has a lot of antelope of different sizes and camouflage patterns.  In the bush, they are fearful of predators (one ranger described them as Fast Food).  To say that, generally, antelope in the wild are always on edge is to put it mildly and for good reason, given that our group actually witnessed 9 female lions kill an impala in Kruger what is now 15 years ago. 

The Springbok we saw here were a lot less nervous, probably given that the reserve didn’t boast the predators of the wild, and I have to say they are probably the prettiest of all the antelopes I’ve seen in Africa.

And talking of pretty, here’s the rugby team’s emblem, modelled by Sabine.

  • Cape Dwarf Chamaeleon

We were in the David the potter’s garden in Swellendam with Garth’s birding friends when Kevin, one half of this couple, suddenly had this chameleon on his hand.  He’d seen it in the bush (also in the photo) and had grabbed it to show us.  Quite amazing.  Presumably if he’d held on to it for much longer, it would have changed colour to pink to blend in with his hand.

They are found only in the southwestern Cape around Cape Town.  They are insectivorous and, while very slow moving, catch their prey with a very fast moving tongue.  Interestingly, their eyes can move independently of one other.

  • Cape Fur Seal

I wasn’t that interested in them (hence this isn’t my photo) – there were birds on the shore that I wanted to see, the seals were just lying around all cuddled up or maybe going for a swim and were a bit comical trying to move around on land on their tummies.   And in any case, I’d seen grey and common seals in the Murray Firth. 

But Dominic gave us some information about them that was a bit unusual.  First their numbers have soared recently because of orcas predating the great white sharks that in turn preyed on them.  The sharks have all but disappeared from False Bay where a lot of the Cape Fur Seals live, so they have no natural predators.  However, Mother Nature loves things to be in balance and after it was noticed that the seals have been behaving more aggressively, it turned out that they now have rabies, contracted possibly from a seal being bitten by a jackal.  Swim at your own risk.

  • Mongoose

We only saw one fleetingly on the walking bird tour morning with Lynette, so here’s a photo of a mob of them we saw in Kenya (plural mongooses, not mongeese, other collective nouns being pack, troop, gang).  These ones are banded mongooses, but while the one we glimpsed outside Outshoorn could have been the same, other options include the Cape Grey, Slender, and Yellow.

  • Vervet Monkey

We were on a nature trail in Wildness (now misnamed as it is anything but wild in the most part – very touristy and built-up in the narrow strip between the Indian Ocean and the lakes at the foot of an escarpment.  Cutting into this ridge was the nature trail we were on, a valley lengthways like a Y made by a couple of streams coming together.

Sabine saw it first, about 3 metres up on a branch in a dense foliage – hence no photo.  It was quite shy, seemingly not afraid of humans in that it didn’t disappear into the undergrowth but sat looking at us.  So we got a good look at it.  In fact we saw two of them during the walk, both totally uncooperative when it came to having their photo taken, so here is one from Kenya.

  • Dolphin

On our last Sunday, we were invited to lunch by David, another of Sabine’s “students”, a GP who after retiring at the tender age of 53 went to Canada with his wife and undertook a series of 2 year-long locum roles all over the country including Haida Gwaii in northern BC and First Nations land, and also Churchill, Manitoba where Inuit were his patients – hence his interest in Sabine’s course.  He and his wife have only just returned to Cape Town – in their time in Canada they have seen more of that vast country than any Canadian I know.  Theirs is one of those fascinating life stories I mentioned in the previous story “What a surprise”.

Anyway, lunch was at the waterfront Radisson in sight of Robin Island and to our delight a pod of dolphins swam past while we were there.  What kind they were I have no idea – Bottlenose or Heaviside’s, Common or Humpback are the four options, but in reality it simply felt like a privilege to see them glide by so gracefully and silently close to where we were sitting.

Common Dolphins

And that completes the list of the non-bird wildlife we saw in our January/February 2025 trip.  It was a trip experience bonus added to the lovely people we met, to Sabine’s lectures and the “student” appreciation she received, to Cape Town and the parts of the Garden Route we visited and to the birds we saw (their story is next).

Western Cape Wildlife – Part 1

Leave a reply

I’ve had to split this story in two – too much to say in one post.  This trip wasn’t meant to include a safari of any kind, but we did manage to arrange some birding day or part-day tours that brought us close to non-bird wildlife.  Here’s what we saw.  What struck me was the variety and also how much depended on luck – seeing most of the animals was random, the luck of the draw, completely unplanned (just like birds).   I’d never heard of a lot of them, so I’m guessing neither have most of you.  Each in their own way were quite special.

About half of them we saw with Dominic, the Fynbos (pronounced Fainboss) Guy on the two one-day tours in Cape Town and in the Cape Point Nature Reserve.  Despite being British, he was very knowledgeable – he came out when he was 19, and started off guiding for safari lodges in Botswana before moving south and setting up his own business.  Each day was different and fantastic.  The other main exposure we had to non-bird wildlife was with Andrew, the ranger at the Idiom Winery Nature Reserve, who took us for an hour’s game drive.

  • Baboon

Baboons were everywhere and have become an urban pest.

This might be why there are so many of them 😊

And this is more like where they belong

  • Angulate Tortoise

We came across them in two locations and their conservation category is Least Concern.  Contrary to a tortoise’s reputation, they can move quite quickly when they want to and they are easily camouflaged in the undergrowth.  They’re very territorial and in the bottom photo, two males are facing off – the one on the right came out on top.

  • Cape Dune Mole-rat

We’d only just been talking about moles and mole-rats when Dominic spotted a mole-rat by the side of the track at the sewage works.  It scampered away from us as we went to get a closer look, so this is a picture taken by someone’s camera trap.  Dominic was very excited because you don’t usually see them in daylight as they live most of their lives in burrows in sandy soil.  He said it was either ill or looking for a mate and it didn’t look ill.  They’re fat and ugly with projecting pairs of top and bottom teeth – being mostly blind, presumably looks aren’t important to other dune mole-rats.

  • Dassie

We saw several dassies on Boulders Beach, Simonstown in the same area as the penguins.  Go Wild provides this description of them – fortunately or sadly, we didn’t see any heart-stopping capers:

They’re small, cute and rather special – rock hyraxes, also known as dassies. Visitors of the South African coastline marvel at their heart-stopping capers among the rocks, cheerfully ignoring the plunging chasms below.

They may look like groundhogs, but their closest taxonomic relatives are actually the elephant and the manatee. (My note – what????)

And that’s not the only odd thing about them. Dassies are distinctly sociable – in their mostly harmonious family life, of course, but also in squabbles among themselves. Unusually for herbivores, their foraging needs only take up an hour or so of every day, leaving these sun-loving creatures plenty of time left for playing, snuggling or just lounging around.

They have some pretty unusual anatomic features too: the irises of their eyes can contract to such an extent that they can look directly at the sun, and the soles of their feet are retractable, which makes them extremely well-suited to climbing around their rocky habitat. And last but not least, the male dassie can sing – at least when he’s courting the lady dassie of his dreams. All in all, they are a peaceful bunch but when cornered, they can be fierce adversaries.

  • Bontebok

It’s all in the Afrikaans word bont, meaning colour.  Man has not been kind to these beautiful animals – by the early 1800s, there were 17 left after they had been hunted to virtual extinction for their meat and skins.  These 17 were fenced in by a farmer and unlike other antelope species, they couldn’t jump out.  So today, while they are still protected in the wild – there’s even a Bontebok National Park at Swellendam set up for their protection – we can enjoy seeing them (3,500 of them according to San Diego Zoo which takes part in their continuing conservation programme).

  • Rote Hartebeest

These are weird looking, aren’t they?  But Dominic was very excited at seeing these as well because he has seen them only rarely in the Cape of Good Hope Nature Reserve, even though through Southern Africa they are not in danger.  Our stock as clients was increasing by the minute given the range of beasties we were seeing with him.

  • Cape Crocodile (Black Girdled Lizard)

Dominic gave us lunch in the shade of the Nature Reserve tourist office.  On the way back to the car, we saw this lizard coming out of a wall, looking amazingly like a baby croc.  While they are not found outside the Western Cape, they are locally abundant in rocky areas from sea level to the mountain tops.  Despite their restricted location, they are not endangered – even though they are very popular as pets (ugh!).

  • Green Milkweed Locust

Dominic found this bug. Having never seen a locust before, it seemed harmless enough but then I read the de Wets Safari website entry – the photo is theirs too:

“The Green Milkweed Locust, or African Bush Grasshopper, is a large – up to 9cm long – poisonous locust that can congregate in enormous numbers (as we experienced on Sunday at the Walter Sisulu National Botanical Garden, apparently an annual occurrence there in September and October), and may migrate over great distances, flying strong and high. They feed on toxic plants and are rather sluggish on the ground, preferring to stay in trees and bushes and flying between them. When feeling threatened they will raise and rustle their wings and exude a noxious foam (poisonous if ingested) from their bodies as defense. Eggs are laid in the ground and the nymphs (also called “hoppers”) are highly gregarious, moving around in tight clusters until they are almost fully grown.

And yes, they scare me. Terribly.”

What a Surprise!

1 Reply

What surprised me about our trip in January to Cape Town?  Well, pretty well everything.

I shouldn’t have been surprised by the first thing, given that I now have a new roof on the house in Jersey and I was delayed leaving the island (once again) before Christmas last year.  Storm Eowyn arrived in the UK the same day we were due to leave (Friday 24th January 2025) bringing with it winds of up to 100mph near Glasgow Airport.  Emirates told us on the Thursday we wouldn’t be leaving the next day, but had rescheduled us to go on the Saturday, so we lost a day and that meant we wouldn’t be able to pick up the car rental either because the firm, RentaCheapie, wasn’t open on Sundays (it’s all in the name).

I’d only flown Emirates once before, in 2008 to Mauritius and on the way back, I’d had wanted a stopover in Dubai to visit a former Deutsche Bank colleague.  I seem to remember they were good but didn’t have a clear memory of anything in particular.  However, they fly the A380 daily from Glasgow and I hadn’t flown in that plane before, they were cheaper in Business than BA, and the idea of not having a 12 hour flight was appealing, albeit involving a longer total journey but broken into two parts. 

I didn’t think I could be surprised in a good way by an airline ever again but their service was superb (the A380 was luxury personified, and we even arranged for a driver to meet us in Cape Town at short notice and take us to where we were staying, given that we had no hire car).  I now never want to fly long haul with any other airline ever again –  certainly not BA who, according to a recent poll. have won the long haul race to the bottom.

Look at the number of Emirates A380 cabin crew! They had been walking round with bottles of Veuve Clicquot before serving lunch 😊

Another nice surprise was the welcoming, caring hosts everywhere we stayed.  We picked most of our stayovers at random, apart from staying with our friends Gus in Cape Town and Garth in Swellendam who had recommended his friend Uwe in Barrydale.  Everyone was so kind and the personal touches made that aspect of the trip really special.  One example of this was that our first hosts in Constantia insisted on driving us to Sabine’s 9.15am lecture for the first two days until we finally collected the hire car on the Tuesday.  The fact that four of our hosts were of German origin made Sabine feel even more at home.

Following on from that, the next surprise was to ask how could Cape Town be so congested?  Tom Tom reckons in terms of travel times, it’s #3 worst in Africa, #106 in the world.  We can attest to that – we hit gridlock literally after dropping the car off because there was a rugby match on at the main stadium.  Poor Gus was driving. However, most of the cars were new or newish, there were a lot of 4x4s and a lot of Chinese-made vehicles most of which I’d not seen in Europe.  Generally you got a feeling of relative affluence in a country and continent where any kind of affluence is in short supply. 

The other side of the coin of course is that there is virtually no public transport (buses and trains) with the general population relying entirely on minivan taxis to get to and from work, the owners of which, so we were told, having shown in a recent strike of taxi drivers that they have the region’s economic activity by the throat.  So our host driving us to the University was a true gesture of goodwill as we sat in a five mile jam the first day – he found a much better route the next day which we used for the rest of the week.

And to underline the point about no trains, I can happily say that we saw three trains the whole time we were there, two in Cape Town and one outside a place called Ashton.  One of the Cape Town trains was a freight train at the docks when we dropped off the RentaCheapie hire car.  The other was an almost empty commuter train (but it was a Saturday). 

The strangest one of all was the Ashton train, a steam locomotive in a siding uncoupled from a full set of older style carriages.  We’d followed a narrow gauge track seemingly all the way from Barrydale on our way to Stellenbosch when I saw it.  It was so incongruous, given that we’d seen NO other trains, old or new.  It seemed to belong to a completely different world (which of course it did).  I had to research it when I got back and this is what I found it – https://www.robertsonr62.com/new-cape-central-railway – a fun thing to do on a Saturday next time we visit.  The surprises just keep coming.

On board 😊

We did do two wine tastings (De Krans in Calitzdorp and Marianne Winery in Stellenbosch) and sadly didn’t have time for a third (Idiom near Sir Lowry’s Pass which I think would have been the best).  The surprise with the two we did was that I didn’t really like any of their wines – none.  However, our Constantia hosts put a wonderful bottle of Chenin Blanc in our fridge for our arrival (but we can’t remember the name).  We had other lovely wine in restaurants, one of which was the wonderful red from the Constantia Uitsig winery that I’d really been impressed with on both previous visits to South Africa (2007 and 2009).  It was, however, definitely worth going for the more expensive wines on the wine list (which in any case mostly weren’t very).  And the food was fabulous and also not expensive.  I’ll see if I can do a separate post on our culinary memories.

One of the most important aspects of the trip was the lectures that Sabine gave at the Cape Town University Summer School and I was not expecting the following that she had there.  People signed up for her course (The Frozen North – Inuit Art and Culture, 75 minutes each day for 5 days) simply because they had so enjoyed her previous pre-CoViD lectures.  She had a steady 30+ attendees and they were truly rapt in attention when I looked back at them.  CTU has asked Sabine back next year.  The comments to her afterwards showed how much they appreciated the course.  We were entertained on separate occasions by four of her “students”, who clearly wanted to show their gratitude, and their hospitality together with their really interesting life stories were a surprise to both of us. 

On that note, when I think back to the people we met, it was a surprise that, socially, we came across no-one black or coloured (a specifically South Africa distinction?).  Yes, a coloured cop stopped us at a police checkpoint, and certainly we were served by blacks and coloureds in restaurants and at our various B&Bs.  We noticed that a lot of the blacks in the restaurants were from Zimbabwe.  But everyone we met socially was from the white, educated, older and retired, and relatively privileged section of Cape society.  The life they live, albeit surrounded at home by varying levels of security, is a very good one by any standard and it was important to remember that not everyone lives like that there and I’d say that society is still quite divided.

Another surprise was that driving the 1000km on the Garden Route was so easy and trouble free, and at no time did we feel unsafe.  It was all quite normal, contrary to what I had feared (but with no point of reference).  Certainly we saw townships, both large and small, some seemingly ok but most awful looking, and while we struggled to understand how anyone could live in that kind of habitation, the people we saw didn’t seem bothered.  It may be the old story of what you’re used to, I guess.

The driving took us through some stunning countryside, some with gently rolling hills and long views to the horizon; another landscape was larger rocky hills with the road following the valley floor alongside a river (and often an unused railway line).  Quite a lot of the land had no evident sign of habitation or cultivation while some of the landscape reminded me of parts of the US I’d seen out west.  At times, you felt you were really in the back of beyond, but still on good quality and not particularly busy roads.  All this was a surprise, but what made it even better was the courtesy of the other drivers, who if slower than us almost without exception would pull onto the hard shoulder to let you pass more safely.

As you can see from the photos, the weather was not a surprise, thank goodness – in fact, it lived up to our every expectation.  We had one day in Cape Town when it rained, but after the lecture we went on a wildlife tour that took us south over some hills towards the Cape of Good Hope, into dry and brighter skies.  The rest of the time the sun shone, it wasn’t too hot (high twenties most of the time), it wasn’t humid and there was no wind. A complete contrast to what we’d left behind and would not look forward to on our return.

Talking of wildlife, another surprise was the variety of wildlife, not just birds, in the Cape Province.  We didn’t mean to make the trip all about nature but managed to go on five wildlife tours of different kinds.  Two were all-day in and around Cape Town after Sabine’s lectures with Dominic, The Fynbos Guy, taking in Kirstenbosch Gardens, the city’s sewage works (a particular favourite for birds and birders alike), and the Cape of Good Hope Nature Reserve.  We had a safari-light tour of the Idiom game reserve with the ranger, Andrew, (which is why we didn’t then have time for the wine tasting – you could say we had our priorities wrong) and in Wilderness we did an early morning boat tour of the lake.  The last one was a simple walk over farmland outside Oudtshoorn with Lynette of A 2 Zebra Adventures (she also does tours of the Great Karoo region just north of where we were which would be on our list for next time).  I’ll do a separate post on the wildlife we saw.

Andrew at Idiom, overlooking False Bay

And then there was the potter in Swellendam.  His name is David Schlapobersky.  We went to see the birds at the feeder in his beautiful garden with Garth and a couple of keen birding friends who helpfully knew what we were looking at.  We went back to the pottery on our way out to Wilderness the next day and bought some of his wares.  He was a little eccentric but Sabine in particular was very impressed by his work – a very talented artisan and, as we learnt, with a heart of gold.  I’d love to have the urn as a feature in the garden in Scotland but, with our frost, maybe not a good idea.

https://pottery.co.za/

Our particular thanks go to Gus for letting us stay with him and for looking after us for two weekends.  It was also great to see his daughter and son-in-law again and meet his young granddaughters.  All in all, an amazing 2+weeks which really was just a taster and we can’t wait to go back.

Have you ever seen one?

1 Reply

It was Saturday just gone.  The sun had been shining all week – absolutely brilliant weather unless you really wanted to ski in perfect conditions all day.  We were in Haus im Ennstal, near Schladming in Austria and we saw 18C at the base of the Hoffi Express 1 lift at 9.30.  We’d already been skiing for an hour, and while most of the runs were still hard-packed from the colder temperatures Friday night, the snow was already softening on the lower slopes.

I hate snow when it turns to porridge – I find it much much harder to ski in any kind of rhythm and much much easier to completely loose it.  And that’s when accidents can happen and at my grand age, even though I’m trying not to let the old man in, I am happy to forgo the extra hour or so on the ski hills if the trade off is that I walk away in one piece happy with what I’ve been able to do.  Which that day was an ok 18km of skiing in two and a half hours, non-stop.

So what to do in the afternoon?  Well, we’d had a 9km hike in the afternoon of the previous day but had missed out the path along the River Enns that in previous years had yielded a dipper and a mistle thrush.  So I was wondering if we might do the path and wind up at the Dorf Café in Weissenbach we’d visited on the hike the day before.  We thought we could then catch the ski-bus back if we didn’t fancy the walk back (a false hope as we’d mis-read the timetable).

I like it when I’m with Sabine because she notices sounds and movements better than I do and in any case it’s always better to have two pairs of eyes than one, no matter.  So she heard the dipper first; it was on a rock on the opposite side of the river, its white front showing well against the darker rocks it was standing on. It flew down the river a short distance and we followed.  We saw it again and then quickly it flew back the way it had come. I didn’t have my camera but it was too quick for a photo anyway. Here’s one I took on an Aigas field trip in the Highlands.

We were still looking at the opposite bank when another movement caught our attention.  Not a bird this time but an animal of a very different sort running along the riverbank towards us.  It was extraordinary looking – a thin, relatively long body and tail, dirty white in colour with sharp facial features that were accentuated by its pointed nose, and the very distinct black tip to its tail.  It was a stoat in its winter ermine coat.

Photo courtesy of the British Wildlife Centre

Sabine, who knows about these things, said they were hunted in their hundreds of thousands to satisfy ladies and gents (kings even) fashion demand in the good old days when this sort of thing attracted no approbation whatsoever. 

Louis XIV

And the days aren’t so old either – I read on the British Wildlife Centre site that in 1937, 50,000 ermine pelts were imported into the UK from Canada for the coronation of George VI, whose preserved robes were worn by his grandson, Charles III, at his coronation in 2023. Presumably the black flecks are the ends of the tails.

Back at the river, we watched this descendent of a stoat the hunters missed run in between and behind the rocks at the edge of the river until it was directly opposite us. It then disappeared into a tangle of rocks that probably hid the entrance to its den.  I hoped that its dirty white coat had looked a lot more pristine at the start of the winter when fresh snow would have been very white too.  As it was, it looked quite incongruous given that there was no snow anywhere on the valley floor through which the river flowed – the camouflage was having the opposite effect by making the animal stand out quite dramatically rather than blend into its surroundings.

Come spring (and that can’t be too far away in the Enns valley if the temperatures we saw are anything to go by), the stoat will moult out of its white coat into one with a brown back but still be white underneath.  Apparently not all stoats will change into an ermine coat at the start of winter but they are more likely to do that the colder the climate they live in (which makes perfect sense to me).  Of those that do go ermine, some will not be pure white but have some patchiness like the head of the one on the photo.  More information can be found on: https://www.woodlandtrust.org.uk/trees-woods-and-wildlife/animals/mammals/stoat/

Kenya – Part 4c

Leave a reply

This last instalment is about 12 months overdue, so my apologies to you all.  I got busy last year with other things (Hospice treasurer, a lot of travel, and the house in Rhu) and, as I need a lot of uncluttered time to do the writing and the thinking behind it, I got out of the habit and with it lost the motivation.  Our recent trip to Cape Town and the Garden Route has restored my interest in storytelling though and as we saw another wealth of birds and other animals, and as I’ve just uploaded the photos I took and as the weather is absolutely appalling right now in Rhu, it’s time to get back to it.

On our last game drive, and after we saw the pair of Southern Ground Hornbills I wrote about in Kenya 4a, Simon took us to a glade which turned out to be quite bird rich.  Two birds got our attention in particular, the Woodland Kingfisher and the Paradise Flycatcher.

Woodland Kingfisher

I wrote about two other Kingfishers in Kenya – Part 4a, the Grey-headed and Malachite.  But this one was just sitting in a tree with no water nearby, so very much not the habitat with which we Europeans associate kingfishers.   And while it’s not the best of photos, you can see just see the brilliant bright blue wing panel, a colour that it also has on its back and tail.  And note the large almost out of proportion beak, upper mandible red, lower mandible black.

It’s fairly common within a band across Africa south of the Sahara to Pretoria (not as far south as Cape Town).  It eats insects and small reptiles but doesn’t need water to house its diet.  Wikipedia notes that “It hunts from an exposed perch, often on a dead branch of a tree, or perches quietly in semi-shade while seeking food”, the latter being exactly what the one we saw was doing.

African Paradise Flycatcher

In the glade, we had the absolute pleasure of seeing first the female and then the male.  Both were unbelievably beautiful, the male more so as is normal in the bird world.  They are similar in colouring but the male has a much long tail.  My photos of the female aren’t the best, but I think you can get the idea by combining the two (I love the punk crest and even she has quite an impressive tail) but the male was not as obliging, so thanks to the Waterberg Bioquest website for their photo which shows the very long tail and the strong blue eye ring to great effect.

These extraordinary birds are widespread, favouring well-wooded river or stream valleys and copses, but may also be found in suburban gardens – what a treat that would be to find a pair in your garden!

Vultures

From the beautiful to the positively ugly.  Natural selection has favoured the development of bald heads so as to make burying their heads in the blood and guts of carrion less of a hygiene issue, but as a consequence made them quite grotesque looking, at least to my mind.  Still, they are an essential part of the biosphere and indeed are a great indicator of a healthy natural life-cycle environment.

I mentioned this next part in Kenya 3c.  The return part of our long day trip to the Serengeti took us through lands where the Masi had encroached with their cattle and where, during the night before, lions had attacked the herd and killed at least six, but more likely eight or ten cows.  Not a great outcome for the Masi nor for the conservation-minded Masi Mara park rangers who didn’t need lions attacking very easy prey but nevertheless the wrong kind of animal. 

When we drove through the area, some of the lions were still feasting but others were fast asleep, having gorged themselves on the raw steak and tastier offal, leaving the carcasses to be finished off by hyenas, jackals and, of course, vultures – lots of them.

Jackal and White-backed Vultures

And there definitely was a pecking order (pardon the pun).  The vultures came last – if mammals were at the carcass, some of the braver vultures might try their luck as well, darting in for a beak-full before making a quick retreat, but for the most part, the vultures were standing in huddles a safe distance away waiting their turn, while the sky was full of late arrivals flying in to join the banquet.

In total, we saw 5 different species in this melee (and a sixth, a Palm-nut Vulture, on the coast south of Mombasa).  Below is the huge Lappet-faced Vulture with its massive beak and wings spread and by comparison the much smaller Hooded Vulture on the left.

Not mixing with the others was this Egyptian Vulture.  I last saw one of these flying across the autobahn back to its roost at the Salzburg Zoo in 2018.

The final species was the Griffon Vulture, and I remember Simon being quite excited as it was a rare vagrant.  I don’t have a photo, sadly, doubly so as I read subsequently that there is some dispute in birding circles as to whether these birds are actually the more common immature Rüppel’s Vultures.  Who knows but I’ll happily take my lead from Simon.

Widows and Bishops

Yellow BIshop

Once again, in the UK or Europe we have nothing like these types of birds.   Bishops are in the same genus as Widowbirds, most of which like the Red-collared Widowbirds below have really long tails.  Both like the open grasslands and from their beaks, you can see they are seed-eaters.

Whereas we saw the former on its own, the latter is polygamous and sure enough we saw him with his harem of about five females. We saw these birds a few times when we passed a scrubland area with bushes and high grasses.

Storks

The word “stork” seems to be used liberally in the birding world t describe the birds belonging to several genera and families.  The white stork migrates from Africa to  Europe where it can be seen sitting on top of chimneys or specially built roof nesting platforms, as we found in little town of Rust on the shores of Neusiedler See in Austria.  Except we didn’t see it on this safari.  However, we did see several other types of stork.  

This rather attractive Yellow-billed Stork above was in a reflective mood standing in a shallow waterhole towards the end of day, but was quite different from the ugly Marabou Stork (looks almost vulture-like with its bald head), different again from the stylish Saddle-billed Stork with its amazingly striking beak, and very different from the strange-looking aptly named African Openbill, also categorised as a stork, as shown in the three photos below (the Saddle-backed Stork is from an earlier safari in Kruger as unfortunately we didn’t see an adult in Kenya).

This Marabou Stork was so vulture-like that it was standing just apart from some of the vultures near one of the carcasses.

Saddle-backed Stork
African Openbill

The first time we saw an Openbill, Simon saw it first and explained what the shape of the bill to us, but it sounded so incongruous that we thought we didn’t hear him right. The bird then flew up and stood on a branch at the top of the tree and you could see the blue sky through the gap in its bill.

Lilac-breasted Roller

There’s a European Roller that I’ve never seen – a summer breeding visitor in Spain and Eastern Europe before sensibly migrating back to Southern Africa for the rest of the year.  And very pretty it looks in the book, a feature common to Rollers in general (they’re related to Bee-eaters which says it all).

We saw Lilac-breasted Rollers a lot in the Masai Mara and they were always a delight.  Apart from being stunning to look at, they made viewing easy by perching near the tracks and being obligingly photogenic.  One happily demonstrated its hunting capability by catching a large grasshopper and swallowing it in front of us.

And that completes the Kenya bird story and indeed the Kenya story itself.  I haven’t mentioned a whole raft of other birds, too many to mention, and nearly all with no direct comparison to birds in Europe. The colours, the variety, the sheer numbers, and the ease of seeing them in totally natural surroundings in Africa makes this hobby such a different, special and rich experience.

We saw 118 species in 4 days on safari in the Masai Mara and 11 more at the beach hotel near Mombasa (mainly shore birds like the little sanderlings that run to and fro at the water’s edge), and I still have a few unidentified bird photos.  There is no doubt both Sabine and I have got the African birding bug that I know my friend Gordon has as well (he’s chasing his 500th species).  We added a lot of new species on our next trip to Southern Africa (Cape Town and the Garden Route) at the start of 2025 and while I want to say I’ll do another post or two about that trip, given that this one is a year late, I’d better not make promises I won’t keep …… but hopefully watch this space 🙂