Time is going too fast! There are too many
stories happening that are accumulating and may never be told! Since my last
post I have been on the road – trying to get as much done to compensate for
time lost due to participation at the Fynbos Forum, and to put time aside for
an upcoming wedding. As such, surveys have been conducted dawn to dusk where
possible over the last two weeks. Or dealing with storm damage - here is the
story of Saturday 14 July and the arrival of the cut-off low pressure system,
the closest we here in the central Cape region will experience to a hurricane.
Phoebe Barnard, my postdoc supervisor, and
Dale Wright, Western Cape Birdlife South Africa regional manager, had been
planning to rendezvous for a trip to the Baviaanskloof to tie in with my
survey, to see first-hand what I was doing, to help out, and to do an Important
Bird Area (IBA) site assessment of the Baviaans-Kouga IBA. Due to busy
schedules on the part of all three of us, it had taken weeks to organise, and
it finally made sense to tie it all in on a trip to one of the most important
regional conservation conferences – the Fynbos Forum.
However, dire weather had been predicted
for the weekend of our planned reunion all week. But we live in hope. So Phoebe
and Dale still made the trip up from Cape Town to Blue Hill on Thursday, while
I was surveying Prince Alfred’s Pass. As predicted on Friday the weather was
overcast and drizzly. Due to a booking error by ECPTA we had not been able to
book Bergplaas in Baviaanskloof for the Friday night. Not wanting to camp at
Rooihoek (the alternative accommodation on offer) in the rain, I said I would
rather stay at Blue Hill and see how things panned out on the Saturday. Dale
decided to head to Graaf Reinett to visit his girlfriend doing her ‘Zuma year’ (general practitioner practise year).
During the night the rain started to pick
up and by Saturday morning it was as if the sun had decided not to rise again
it was so dark. The wind from the south blew stronger and stronger, driving
rain horizontally down the valley. Gusts would bend the cypress trees nearly
double. The rain sometimes starred the windows as sleet. By 9am I decided to
see if Phoebe needed rescuing as she was sleeping a cottage across the stream.
I went outside to be greeted by the site of massive branches from our giant
Belumbra tree lying on the ground, literally one inch from where the Hilux was
parked.
Driving to the cottage the water was
already up over the weir, but Phoebe was comfortable in the cottage with a
fire, blanket, hot-water bottle and laptop. However, with rain still coming in
so much it was running down the chimney, we decided it was time to evacuate. We
lit the fires in the main house and settled down to work on laptops. Volunteer Matt
had entered all the data he could, and started to update his photos. After
lunch he then decided to bring in his camera trap, which was at the top paddock
by the pine trees. He came back to report that the normally dry east-road
stream was flowing. Sure enough, a dam had formed in the upper lucern field.
Water was pouring down the road, and Chris and I were worried about it all
flowing down the steep embankment and eroding away the road. So I got the
Kubota and started to reinforce diversions. Some had to be done by spade due to
all the water also pouring off the mountain. After Matt had finished taking
photos of the main stream, now at the highest levels we have ever seen it, full
of wood and debris like an Amazon river after a storm, he and Phoebe also
helped pitch in making temporary water diversions. All of this in non-stop
rain. Matt documented the day at his
blog: http://zoologistinafrica.blogspot.com/2012/07/blue-atlantis-escape.html
Water coming over the weir must have been
raging across at about a meter deep – impossible to cross. Then as it crossed
the area cleared of wattle was picking up a lot of branches. At the bridge just
before our intersection with Pierre and Sonja’s road a massive tree trunk had
been washed across the road. One by one we retired from the rain as wet and
cold took its toll. That night we had a nice dinner at Chris’s house, while the
rain abated. The rain gauge stood full at over 100mm – the biggest one day
rainfall in our 4 years here. Our neighbours, who had been a bit more attentive
about emptying their rain gauge, reported over 200mm. Rumours from the
Langkloof, on the southern side of the Kougas where we are, were close to 400mm
of rain. Our concern now was how long we were going to be trapped – the news
told of people trapped on the N1 in the Karoo in snow, flooding in Port
Elizabeth, and road closures all over. Perhaps surprisingly during all this
there had been only one major powercut, which was fixed withing a matter of
hours, and the telephones worked the whole time – so we were able to find out
that Dale had managed to get out of Graaf Reinett to enjoy the snow, but that
the route back south to us was still open.
On Sunday it was still drizzling but we
headed out to inspect damage. A small dam on our river on our neighbours farm had
been washed away. The water was still flowing strongly over the bridge we
needed to cross to get out. Plus there were now two large tree trunks on it!
Otherwise, there were no road collapses, so our efforts in the rain on Saturday
may have helped. However, Chris had forgotten to collect in the camera trap he
had placed in the normally dry stream bed - so that looks like it is gone (I
couldn’t see it when I went to look and the water was flowing strongly still!).
It was clear we would not be able to get out in any vehicle that day, leaving
us to wonder how long we would be trapped, and if we would make it to the
Fynbos Forum. Overall, I was thankful I had made the decision not to go to
Baviaanskloof, knowing that there would be no way in our out for some days.
By Monday the water had subsided enough
that it looked we could attempt a crossing out of back route in the Hilux – we
were worried that a crossing in the little Suzuki would simply result in it
being floated away down the river. We rendezvoused with Dale on the main road,
having navigated our dirt Hartbeesrivier road carefully – it had withstood the
storms well, considering. It was in the Langloof, which had borne the brunt of
the storm, that we got to scenes of real devastation. The Kouga River was
roaring like I have never seen it before. The Krom River, which flows down the
Langkloof to St Francis Bay, and is normally a placid stream, had burst its
banks and we could see that the previous day the entire valley would have been
filled with water. It was truly impressive.
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| The Krom River - this is normally a nearly insignificant stream |
At the Fynbos Forum we met Baviaanskloof
staff who informed us that indeed people were trapped in the kloof. The manager
showed us an impressive picture of someone’s vehicle buried in mud up the roof.
So we felt lucky to be there!
By the end of the busy week at the forum,
with much meeting of people and learning news things about Fynbos, we headed
back to Blue Hill. We were surprised that water levels were still high, and
water still seeping out of the hills, despite a sunny week. The water logged
ground through up one surprise – a Common Mole-rat – a subterranean mammal not
often encountered above ground!
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| Common (African) Mole-rat |
However, with water continuing to flow from
all sorts of places, there was also lots of drama, including managing to get
the Toyota Landcruiser bogged in mud – no mean feat given this is the pride of
our 4x4 fleet! And just this week a fountain emerged from behind the main
house, and appears to have caused havoc with our electrics. Again, Matt documented me digging the cruiser
out on his blog: http://zoologistinafrica.blogspot.com/2012/08/stuck-in-mud.html
As I sit and write, more rain comes in
waves across the mountains. What more fun are we in for I can only fear.
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