Knysna Revisited

Knysna Lagoon and the Heads

I find myself back in Knysna on the Cape south coast.  I didn't plan to be here - at least not now.  As the saying goes - man proposes, God disposes. So between visiting a very dear and very sick relative in hospital, I've been reminded of how beautiful this area really is.

So what makes Knysna so special?  That’s very easy to answer.  It’s the lagoon.  It’s beautiful, exiting to the sea through a crevice in the rock-basin called simply The Heads. Not only does the lagoon provide a wonderful scenic feature and a home to all sorts of water sports, but it is also home to the Knysna Oyster.  The canny folk of Knysna have a knack of taking their natural advantages and turning them into commercial advantages.  For many years one would drive onto a small low-lying island in the lagoon –Thesen Island - which had a desultory timber business on it, and the Knysna Oyster Company.  The Knysna Oyster Company was a beacon attracting tourists and locals alike.  At first it consisted of an oyster farm where oysters were cultivated in the lagoon and sold –open or closed – to visitors and local restaurants and hotels.

After some time, a few outside tables were added where you could sit in the sun, enjoy the lagoon and eat your oysters with your own wine.  Then it became a café, then a restaurant, then a landmark … and then it disappeared.

Knysna specializes in rarities.  There are the famous Knysna elephants, by far the rarest of their clan.  Believed extinct for many years, it has now been established that a few still wander deep in the Knysna forests keeping well away from humans.  For visitors who don’t have a few months to invest in trying to find them, an Elephant Park with non-Knysna elephants has been conveniently situated nearby.

Presumably the wedding guests

At Brenton on the sea side of the town, there is a butterfly – the Brenton Blue – which occurs only there.  In common with several other species of Blue, it has a complex relationship with a species of ant.  The caterpillar secretes a sweet substance that the ants enjoy, and in return they protect it and help it with its complex life cycle, even excavating a hole for it to feed on roots and eventually pupate.  Since this is sea front property, the Blue was hardly likely to have been left in peace, but at least an area has been set aside to attempt to preserve the species.  Brenton Blue tours are doing well too.

Then there’s the Knysna Seahorse – the rarest species of seahorse and the only one on the South African coast.  It occurs only in three estuaries along the west Cape coast.  All seahorses are fascinating creatures - see Susan's delightful posts - with their rather languid behavior and charming faces.  Fortunately, they’ve caught the hearts of the people in the Knysna area.  But that brings me back to the disappearing Oyster Company. Thesen Island has become a residential development.  Suddenly this small island, practically at sea level, has been packed with houses.  We are assured that no damage will result to the lagoon or the seahorses.  Just what happens to the effluent from all these new dwellings is best left to the imagination.  The oysters packed up and left, bag and baggage.  But where can the seahorses go?

Thesen Island today

Well, perhaps global warming has one saving grace after all.  Thesen Island will be among the first to go…

Michael-Thursday.

Ellies

Ingwelala 2011

My favorite animal is the elephant – by far.  In South Africa they are usually called by their diminutive - ellies, which is a bit of a joke since they are huge – up to 6 tonnes.  They live in family units.  They are widespread in southern Africa and other parts of Africa, as well as on the Asian sub-continent.  African ellies are larger and generally not domesticated.

Ellie bulls are similar to human males in many ways – full of bravado and hot air. Elephant cows are to be wary of, especially when little ones are around.

Michael and I were canoeing the Zambezi near Mana Pools on our way to Mozambique.  We stopped for lunch on an island in the middle of the river.  The edges of the island were small cliffs from the river wearing away the sand.  We were just setting up a little table and emptying the coolers when an ellie popped out about 50 metres away from underneath a tree.  It looked at us as though deciding what we were.  It walked around the tree to the other side and gazed at us again.  Then back around the tree.  It stared at us and, without warning, ears went out, trunk went up with a loud trumpet (a terrifying sound so close), and it charged.

We were between a rock and a hard place or, to be more accurate, between an charging ellie and a river full of hippos and crocs.  For me it was a no-brainer.  The danger from the ellie was imminent; the danger from hippos and crocs in the future.  I started running for the small cliff.  Before I hurled myself into the water, our game ranger jumped in front of the elephant, shouted and waved his hands.  The ellie skidded (literally) to a stop, looked at us once more, and wandered peacefully away.

“How did you know it was going to stop?” we asked.  

Chobe, Botswana about 1986

"Young bulls usually make a mock charge!” came the answer.  It was the word “usually” that caught my attention.

Another time, I saw a small herd drinking at a water hole.  A tortoise was also wanting to drink and was headed between the legs of the ellie.  One female ellie gently nudged the tortoise away with its back leg.

And elephants have a sense of humour.

I go frequently to a game area called Ingwelala (Sleeping Leopard), which borders the huge Kruger National Park.  A few years a group of human teenagers were in a Land Rover watching a herd of ellies.  The humans were being very noisy indeed, as a result, no doubt, from an over indulgence of alcohol.  Eventually one older ellie got the hell in and wandered over to the Land Rover, picked up the front of the Land Rover by the bumper and dropped it.  It then repeated the exercise and wandered off.  The humans were shocked into total silence and crept away in fear and ignominy back to camp.

Ellies are posing a major problem in southern Africa at the moment.  Why?  Because there are far too many – possible twice as many as the reserves and available habitat can sustain.  In numbers, Botswana has an estimated number well over 50,000, possibly closer to 100,000.  When Michael and I visited the Linyanti on research for our third Detective Kubu book, we saw areas so devastated by ellies that a World War I scene could have been filmed there.  Of course, when the habitat is thus destroyed, the habitat for many other animals and birds is also destroyed.  So by saving the ellies, we are often killing other species.

Culling is a big no-no in the eyes of the West.  From our perspective, culling may be the only way to preserve the habitats.  Otherwise who knows what the consequences will be.

Here some photos that I have taken of ellies over the years. 

Ingwelala 2011

Ingwelala 2011

Ingwelala 2011

Ingwelala 2011

Ingwelala 2011

Ingwelala 2011

Ingwelala 2011

Chobe, Botswana 2011

Stan - Thursday

Rare Pleasures

This blog is a piece of unashamed theft. Knysna is definitely Stan’s territory – it is where he lives when he’s in South Africa - and I have absolutely no business writing about it. However, there are extenuating circumstances. Three of them in fact. First, he asked me to write the blog for him this week. Second, I’ve just been visiting him in Knysna, so at least this is based on recent first-hand experience. Third, he wrote a piece about Johannesburg last week (which is where I live).
So what makes Knysna so special? That’s very easy to answer. It’s the lagoon. It’s beautiful, exiting to the sea through a crevice in the surrounding hills called simply The Heads. Stan’s house is up on the left hill (or Head) in this picture that looks from the town out through The Heads to the sea.

Not only does the lagoon provide a wonderful scenic feature and a home to all sorts of water sports, but it is also home to the Knysna Oyster. The canny folk of Knysna have a knack of taking their natural advantages and turning them into commercial advantages. For many years one would drive onto a small island in the lagoon –Thesen Island - which had a desultory timber business on it, and the Knysna Oyster Company. The Knysna Oyster Company was a beacon attracting tourists and locals alike. At first it consisted of an oyster farm where oysters were cultivated in the lagoon and sold –open or closed – to visitors and local restaurants and hotels. After some time, a few outside tables were added where you could sit in the sun, enjoy the lagoon and eat your oysters with your own wine. Then it became a café, then a restaurant, then a landmark … and then it disappeared.

Knysna specialises in rarities. There are the famous Knysna elephants, by far the rarest of their clan. Believed extinct for many years, it has now been established that a few still wander deep in the Knysna forests keeping well away from humans. For visitors who don’t have a few months to invest in trying to find them, an Elephant Park with non-Knysna elephants has been situated nearby.

At Brenton on the sea side of the town, there is a butterfly – the Brenton Blue – which occurs only there. In common with several other species of Blue, it has a complex relationship with a species of ant. The caterpillar secretes a sweet substance that the ants enjoy, and in return they protect it and help it with its complex life cycle, even excavating a hole for it to feed on roots and eventually pupate. Since this is sea front property, the Blue was hardly likely to have been left in peace, but at least an area has been set aside to attempt to preserve the species. Brenton Blue tours are doing rather well too.

Then there’s the Knysna Seahorse – the rarest species of seahorse and the only one on the South African coast. It occurs only in three estuaries along the Cape coast. All seahorses are fascinating creatures with their languid behaviour and charming faces. Fortunately they’ve caught the hearts of the people in the area. But that brings me back to the disappearing Oyster Company. Thesen Island has become a residential development. Suddenly this small island, practically at sea level, has been packed with houses. We are assured that no damage will result to the lagoon or the seahorses. Just what happens to the effluent from all these new dwellings is best left to the imagination. The oysters packed up and left, bag and baggage.

Well, perhaps global warming has one saving grace after all. Thesen Island will be among the first to go…

Michael-Thursday.