Inspiration when the world is on fire.
Before I departed on my trip, I set some goals for my two weeks in Cape Town knowing that it is best to not cling to a plan while traveling. My approach was to keep my expectations reasonable and my mind open to change. I’ve been to Cape Town before, so it wasn’t all new. Instead of staying on my own, I chose a guesthouse, hoping that someone would notice if I disappeared (Dave had another safari to guide in Botswana). My primary aim was to research the botanical history of the area, to determine if it would be the setting for book three. Kirstenbosch National Botanical Garden didn’t open until 1913, which would be too great a time jump for Linnea. None-the-less, I chose a guesthouse close to the garden so I could spend several days working there. Kew was the main scientific arm of British imperialism in the Western Cape, even before the Boer War, and I thought there might be some connection that would give me a reason to send Linnea to Cape Town. Also, the Western Cape is home to the fynbos. I’ve wanted to explore the fynbos since my first visit in 2017.
My guesthouse was more focused on the weddings they hosted, rather than a random resident writer, but that was workable. Friends in the city reminded me to be careful about where I went. Safety is a major issue, especially for a woman traveling alone. Going to Kirstenbosch was fine. Exploring the city was possible in specific areas. Fortunately, I had scheduled several hiking excursions with my friend Dominic, a phenomenal naturalist and historian. On those days, we could explore the fynbos and bounce around ideas for my book.
Our first hike took us to an area of Table Mountain National Park called Silvermine. Heading straight up through granite rock fields, we cut through the different fynbos zones surrounded by a heavy fog that shrouded the mountains and soaked my clothes. After a few hours, a southeaster rolled over the peaks, dispersing the mist, and revealing blazing sunshine. Although it is autumn in the southern hemisphere, on the Western Cape, it is more like our spring. The fynbos flowers during the cooler, wetter months. I was a bit early for most of the blooms, but a few proteas were beginning to open.
That was our last day of autumn weather. The temperatures shot up into the 80s. On our hike Dominic had mentioned that they rarely had cloud to ground lightning. One afternoon, from the high porch of my guesthouse, I watched multiple strikes hit the top of Table Mountain during an intense thunderstorm. Hours later, when the wind picked up, I woke to the smell of smoke. And this view from my bedroom.
Much like the Alaska tundra, the fynbos need to burn. Proteas reproduce by seed and re-sprouting, and smoke is critical to their reproduction. Table Mountain experiences multiple fires every year. However, this fire raced from the top of the mountain on to the slopes that haven’t burned for more than 40 years, above Kirstenbosch, and less than a mile from my guesthouse. Capetonians assured me that there was no reason to worry. It would be extinguished quickly. It burned for a week. We had several days of thick smoke. My nights were restless. The flames created a halo on the ridge that was impossible to ignore. They closed Kirstenbosch when the fire burned down the cliffs and into the upper reaches of the garden.
During that week, Dominic and I escaped from the smoke to hike on the peninsula at a place called Gifkommetjie (Small Poison Bay). After days of trying to work on Garden of Shadows edits while the ashes of burning fynbos fell from the sky, I was restless to breathe the ocean air. Gifkommetjie was the perfect medicine. The trail begins as a ridge walk through granite fynbos high above the crashing Atlantic Ocean meandering down the slopes to the sandy beach. As always, our conversations were wide ranging, from natural history subjects to the politics of South Africa. I told Dominic that I was frustrated at being confined to my guesthouse. Trapped behind walls strung with electrified razor wire. It was an existence most Capetonians have accepted. As we walked through the strandveld, I felt heavy with doubts about writing about Cape Town.
Capetonians seemed unfazed by the epic fire burning on Table Mountain. It dawned on me that for them, it was just another disaster that they couldn’t do anything to change. The striations of socioeconomics in Cape Town are extreme. Wealthy people and middle-class workers, live in gated, protected areas. While others live in townships. Gangs control the transportation for workers in the townships, limiting how and when they can get to their jobs. The papers were full of examples of the overwhelming problems in Cape Town. One issue under discussion was how to get kids safely to school because they were being mugged and attacked while walking. Another recent incident happened to city workers trying to get sanitation lines into a township. They were greeted with gunfire when they arrived. Their bodyguards were murdered while trying to protect them as they took shelter in a concrete structure. A veld fire burning on top of Table Mountain? A transient annoyance by comparison.
The Western Cape is a gorgeous, ancient landscape unlike anywhere on Earth. But there is no escaping the tangle of this place. There’s a beach that I passed several times on my trips down the peninsula that feels emblematic of Cape Town. On one end is an old shipwreck that lures tourists. They blithely walk into a trap, guaranteed to be mugged. The other end of the beach is where the wealthy exercise their horses. In the middle is a strip of sand that divides the two realities: a violent struggle to survive and willful, privileged ignorance.
So, could I weave light historical fiction set in a place when there has been so much modern and historical suffering? Can I integrate the natural history and the struggles?
I don’t know.
Rain finally dampened the last of the burning stumps and I visited Kirstenbosch once more before I departed for London. Much of that old fynbos still needs to burn. At some point, the fire will return. My weeks were not wasted. Progress was made on both my edits and research. I gained a deeper understanding of this complex place. I’ve also given myself permission to take more time to process my experiences in Cape Town before deciding about book three.
You have described our world expertly. Unfortunately this reality is not reserved to Cape Town or to South Africa for that matter. As writers we can choose to say it like it is or continue exercising our horses on private beaches. I trust that book three will be as fabulous as its clear sighted author.