…where what has been seen can NEVER be unseen…
A few years ago Gary and I holidayed in Cape Town over the December holidays, and other than the heat wave, my most vivid memory was of Sandy Bay.
Let me set the scene for you…
Cape Town was hot. Scratch that. Cape Town was on fire! I remember looking at the car’s temperature gauge close to midnight one evening and seeing it was still about 40°C, so you can just imagine what the temperature would have been at midday. (Thank goodness for aircon as we were in a black car.)
Add to this that we are not “get up early and get to the beach” kinda people. We enjoy our lie-ins and enjoy spending evenings with friends. Not to mention that with the sun setting so late, all comprehension of time sails away with the tide. So we would get up when we got up and saunter to the car and start our day. As some of you may know, if you don’t find a spot on the beach before the crack of dawn, all the good spots get taken and you’re left with only a square inch to call your own. Not quite enough space to lay down your towel or put up your umbrella.
Every day we would tell ourselves that tomorrow would be different. Tomorrow we would get up early and find our spot on the beach before the crowds. And every “tomorrow” we’d switch off our alarm clock and just enjoy being on holiday. The beaches would still be there later anyway…
So one day, little miss Jessica gets it into her head that she needs to get to the beach and needs to get a tan. Of course she only thought about this at the last moment. We pack all our things, put the car on with the AC on full blast (black car remember), climb in once it’s cool, and finally head out to survey which beach we’ll call our own for the day.
Considering it was not the crack of dawn, we found that every beach we drove past was madness. If you were lucky enough to find parking, you weren’t lucking to find that square inch of beach to claim. If you weren’t lucky to find a parking, you just headed over to the next beach. But there are only so many beaches to consider before you make a road-trip of it and that would have required more energy than I could muster.
We were stuck. No beach spot to claim. No parking. No chance that little miss Jessica would get her wish. Until…
Gary pipes up and asks whether we should go to Sandy Bay. I had never been before. And I figured that since it is a nudist beach, we probably wouldn’t have to fight for a spot since all nude beach-goers want to keep to themselves (right?!). So we drive on over…
Now let me tell you that Sandy Bay is one of Cape Town’s most inaccessible beaches. Besides not knowing where to park the car and which direction to walk, the only way to get to the beach is a 20 minute walk over rocks, on a trail, and over wooden decking placed to protect the vegetation. Remember those flip-flops beach-goers as you’ll need shoes for this trek!
We finally spy the beach and literally high five when we see how empty the beach is. Score!
The rule of thumb (well my thumb at least) is to position yourself with a LOT of space around you so the nakedness can stay a little bit away. Spread your towels out. Claim as much space as you can. Never ever ever look directly at the other beach-goers’ bits and bobs. Keep your sunglasses and hat on so you can spy discreetly.
I’m not one to get naked in front of people I don’t know, so we were the ONLY people on the WHOLE beach that were wearing anything. Granted my bikini was so itsy-bitsy-teeny-weeny (black and white polka dot) that I could maybe count myself as naked in an Arab state. But it was on. And it covered my bits and bobs.
I positioned myself on my tummy on my towel facing the sea with my hat low over my forehead and my sunglasses on. This way I could watch the beach-goers discreetly. (Remember the rules guys.) There was one Adonis who would parade into the sea, do a few dives (yes the bum would be visible), do a few stretches and then saunter out like Halle Berry.
Instead of keeping to his side of the beach, he’d saunter out directly in front of me so that I got a full visual of how cold Cape Town’s water really is.
And then there was that couple that must walk their dogs every day in their birthday suits. The woman was so tanned that her skin was the colour of molasses and was probably the texture of leather. She was not young, if you know what I mean, so I got to pondering whether she ever tans lying down with her boobs pinned up so that she can get a true all-over tan.
And then there was the gay couple that first arrived on the beach wearing the teeniest of tiny hotpants which were bright pink or green or had the Union Jack emblazoned on them. (Forgive me for not remembering this detail as I was otherwise occupied discreetly staring at their abs.) They lasted a few minutes before the hotpants were thrown off and the tanning session began…lying on their backs!!
Sandy Bay must be the best-kept secret as the beach of choice during the busy holiday season. I’d definitely go again though perhaps next time I’d stick to the shallow rock pools where I can whip off my bikini without having the other beach-goers stare discreetly at my bits and bobs.
Hugs & Kisses