‘Wintry boughs against a wintry sky;
Christina G. Rossetti; Spring signals to Winter, 1862
Yet the sky is partly blue
And the clouds are partly bright.
Who can tell but sap is mounting high,
Out of sight,
Ready to burst through?’
Winter has returned to the Western Cape. Those of us who are not millennials or late 20th century arrivals on Mother Earth will remember the Cape winters of old. Winter meant rain, and rain came in week-long doses, wetting the mountains and surrounding areas thoroughly; rivers ran freely down Table Mountain like trails of molten silver and the world turned green. Heading to work in the morning and returning home in the evening was done with windscreen wipers and lights on for those in vehicles, and with sodden raincoats for those who took the train. Then, something seemed to happen to winter around the 1990’s: it went soft on us. The rain kept away, and the southeasterly winds lasted far too long into the autumn months. Dams started emptying and meteorologists and wise people in general scratched their heads. Global warming? El Nino? Climate change!
The jury is still out; four years ago we seemed to have reached the point of no return in terms of rain filling our dams, and those wise people were predicting that the rains were gone: for ever. Water rationing was introduced and the spectre of queuing for our daily litres loomed large. Things looked bleak. But Mother Nature is capricious – the rains reappeared, in small quantities at first, then in increasing volume each winter until, come 2021, the original status quo has been reached. What is absolutely predictable, of course, is the human response: stand in any (socially distanced) queue, and listen to the grumbles and moans from damp humans. And these are damp humans with solid roofs over their heads, not of the 6000 or so homeless or flooded out people who are really suffering.
Millenia ago, before those meteorologists and wise people existed, winter was identified with various deities by the cold and wet humans who eked out an existence on earth. Every country had their own version of a god or goddess who meted out the rain, snow and frost. Ba-Jia-Jiang were the eight gods of Chinese mythology, and the most influential (by some accounts), was the Great Winter God. At his side was Tengliu, the snow goddess. The Ancient Greeks, who had a veritable pantheon of gods, worshipped the goddess Kheimon, the hora, or seasonal goddess, of Winter, but they also played it safe by worshipping Boreas, the Greek god of the cold north wind and the bringer of winter. He exists to this day in the adjective ‘boreal’, meaning northerly. The Romans of that era put their trust in the god Hiems, who didn’t seem go down in history. The Norse mythology god of winter was called Ullr, and Celtic mythology gave us the goddesses Cailleach and Beira.
With time, the gods were reduced in number, and winter became personified in many cultures. Old Man Winter, in various guises, is a colloquialism for the winter season derived from ancient mythology and Old Worldpagan beliefs, evolving into modern characters in both literature and popular culture. Jack Frost or Old Man Frost are the characters that wander around the northern hemisphere distributing ice and snow; the more ominously named Ded Morez is the Russian equivalent, although he is actually a chubby bearded character far closer to Santa Clause or St Nicholas in modern mythology. In Japan their winter has a feminine touch, with the spirit Yuki-onna (not to be confused with the discordant ‘chanteuse’ Yoko Ono, although there are some similarities) floating across the landscape in a white kimono, disappearing in a cloud of mist when approached. Or turning children to ice by hugging them, depending on which story you believe.
Winter is here to stay; as long as the earth has a tilt of 23.44˚ to the plane of it’s orbit, we will experience the chilly breath of Jack Frost or Yuki-onna each year. But rainy winters aside, we are lucky. Cape Town’s geographical position means milder winters than most of our European, Asian and North American counterparts, if we can shrug off the occasional shower. In 1684 it was so cold in England that the Thames froze, with 30 centimetre of ice allowing people to hold a fair on the river. The North Sea froze too: 3.2 kilometres out to sea, which didn’t help with shipping, fishing or skinny-dipping. We should count our blessings.
One of those countable blessings is the fact that all year round Waterfront Charters can take guests out onto the Atlantic Ocean for a wide range of cruises. All it takes at this time of year is an extra layer of clothing, and a handy rain jacket for the possible occasional squall, although our vessels are all handily provided with waterproof roofs. Cape Town in winter is extremely beautiful to view from any angle, but from the perspective of the Atlantic Ocean it’s magical. Join us for the cruise of your choice; they are all listed on the website, as are our boats. We follow all the protocols that are in place regarding Covid restrictions; it’s the safest, healthiest most rewarding adventure that winter has to offer! All aboard for a winter wonder.
