The Letter From After The Trip

Cape Town, crossroads of the world, lies in a perfect setting on the slope of flat-topped Table Mountain. It is a lovely 50-mile drive to the Cape of Good Hope, where we stood on a breezy headland and looked down at two Oceans. Sheer scraggy mountains, clean windswept beaches, cozy suburbs with exquisite rock gardens... the stately home of the Prime Ministers... the breath-taking 2 1/2 acre amphitheater of blue hydrangea in full bloom. One of the engineers had his motorcycle on board ship, and we wrangled it through Dutch Customs Inspection and roared up Table Mountain on it for one of the most exhilarating rides I've ever had (I had frowned on motorcycles for years!)

The During-the-Trip Journal

The journal picks up a few hours after she sees a cloud-flanked Table Mountain from the ship deck at 4am two posts ago. She goes back to sleep, but then:

Woke again at 7:00 when immigration officers came aboard. Much pro-ing & con-ing about sightseeing. 5 went this am on the 100 mi drive. Shag, James, and I went uptown. Adderley St is the main drag. A wise, interesting St, but clothes are hideously unattractive and very expensive. Displays garish. Most cafes seem to be in galleries above the street.

Side note: The civilian passengers go one way, she goes the other (with engineers tagging along). Like we’d expect any different.

And here are photos of what Adderley St looked like then, in all its wise- and interesting-ness.

5:45 — Shag and I walked up on the hill toward town, vistas down the streets toward Table Mountain, Dutch architecture, severe stucco buildings, red roofs, quaint chimney-pots — some spiraled. Crosses standing out against the mountain which is rocky, sheer, looks a wilderness.

Side note: I imagine it was strange, or at least different, for the two of them to be on land together, strolling around on their sea legs, going places that aren’t on a boat.

Types of people: Cape Coloured — mixture of Hotentot, original Portuguese, other tribes — all shades. Square, stolid Dutch, English, some of the stevedores are the blackest blacks I ever saw. Hindus in turbans — there are more Indians than whites. Boys in fez. The black boy on the mule cart singing Al Jolson to the life with the inflections, the gestures — he couldn't have been more than 11 yrs. old.

Side note: Racial nomenclature was of course quite different in 1938. We can never know Helen completely, but a personal journal can be a pretty good window. She strikes me as an observer and, of course, fact collector (you’ve seen those copious lists). I don’t pick up derision towards people in her (except towards civilian passengers who annoy her).

In the evening with Shag and James in the Kloof Nek bus to Table Mountain, and climbed up to the cable station. Below us, the lights of the city, behind us the menacing shadow of Lion's Head, above: the luminous sheerness of the table.

Side note: What a picture. Shag and James and Helen on a bus up a mountain, which may have looked like this, zig zagging switch backs in slow motion. Would Shag and James, who’d seen these ports before, be doing touristy things if not for Helen?

Capetown — English style traffic, on the left, with right hand steering wheels. Many American cars, some Eng., little M.G. sportsters snort around, most intriguing. 

Side note: Snort around.

Street signs in Dutch and English. Capetown Harbor: fancy maneuvers to get in from the breakwater. Handsome powerful tugs (15 knots at sea) do the trick. Praetoria — Deutsch-Afrika Line — large passenger ship in next berth — flying the swastika.

Side note. The Deutsch-Afrika Line was, as it sounds, Deutsch, hence the diabolical flag it is flying (with its stolen ancient symbol).

Praetoria was the name of the German boat, and good lord look at its history… The Silverwillow didn’t make it through the war, but a German ship gets to become all sorts of other types of ship until it retires in the 1980s? Not quite fair.

Sat. Dec. 4: Driver was to come at 9:30 to take Mrs. Sierist, Mrs. Dreyer and me on the 100 mi. drive. He came — his price having risen to 3£, we argued (the price having been set yesterday) in vain. We refused to go. We hired a car and I had the idea of taking Shag long. Came back to get the movie camera, picked up Shag at the P.O. started at 11:00. 

Side note: This is brilliant. Remember, Mrs Sierist is the passenger that Helen, at some point this month, decides she doesn’t like; and Mrs. Dryer is Helen’s roommate. They are both over 60s. So, three women aged 34-70ish are inviting a 23 year old crewman to take a 100 drive. And he says yes.

Out Victoria Road past the Lion's Head and the Twelve Apostles. Follow the shore line, passing attractive homes, bays where bottle green and sapphire waters mingle. The curves of the shore bring ever new vistas of mountain peaks, a dazzling stretch of pure white sand and ice green rollers curling in from the sea give no intimation of its dangerous quicksands. Inland a few miles thru barren boulder strewn hills to the Cape of Good Hope where two oceans meet. Stop at a little Dutch farm house for hot scones, fresh strawberry jam and large glasses of milk, served in a tea garden overlooking the Indian Ocean. Returning along False Bay thru Simontown, base of SA Naval Squadron. Took moving pictures of Muizenderg one of the most beautiful beaches — white sand, clear water, good surfing, as they say — and two stunning peaks rising behind it.

Side note: A 23 year-old man having scones with strawberry jam and large milk with the ladies is fun to picture.

Then thru the southern suburbs: Diep River, Winberg, Kenilworth to the De Waal Drive, where we stop at Groote Schuur, Rhodes House, in which the prime ministers live. Beautiful gardens — the jacaranda, wisteria just past its best but still lovely. Roses as big as chrysanthemums. The house, high ceilinged, is stately, sombre, panel walls of teak, ponderous furniture of teak, satinwood, stinkwood. Folding window blinds with superb brass fittings. Dutch wardrobes with silver drawer pulls, pieces inlaid with ivory, a clock of Napoleon's, and many handsome grandfather clocks. A gallery looking toward the garden with a row of wooden chests.

Side note: How can anyone spell chrysanthemums correctly in a journal just casually?

8 p.m.: Capt. and I went to the plaza. Saw Vogues of 1938. Modernistic theater, just misses being very attractive. News reels, shorts and ads from 8:15 — 9, then an "interval", and finally, one showing of the feature, ending with a picture of George VI, and playing "God Save the King". To Del Monico's, new Venetian restaurant and night club, spiral columns, artificial sky, Hindu waiters. A shilling for a chocolate ice cream soda, which was just a flavored club soda chilled — it never saw any ice cream.

Side note: 45 minutes of news, shorts, and ads! ‘Vogues of 1938’ was a technicolor musical about a fashion designer and his escapades. The theater the “just misses being very attractive” I believe is this averagely attractive theater.

And I think the George VI ‘picture’ was colonial propaganda like this God Save the King.

Chief mechanist took us aboard the H.M.S. Amphion, a light cruiser — 7500 tons (3 mo. In S.A. — flagship), 72,000 engine horse power, 80,000 boiler H.P., 16 engines (oil fired steam turbines — quadruple screw) speed well over 30 knots. 12 6" guns (we went into the gun turrets), 4 4" anti-aircraft guns, 2 airplanes, detachable pontoons, catapult. He is also Chief diver and we saw diving helmets, shoes with 10 lb. of lead soles. 

Side note: Remember what I said about fact finding?

A light cruiser, such as the Amphion, was a war ship, hence the guns. I did not know cruiser meant war ship. Learning!

The diving helmets, my goodness, look like torture devices.

Train back at 5:47. English style coaches, crowded with people going back from the beaches. Shag and I left for town, walked in, took bus to Kloof Nek again, and the lovely walk toward the cable station — evolved some foundations for a friendship. Back to the ship by 12:00 but S. wouldn't go aboard until 1 a. We walked up on the breakwater — waves rumbling in, stars bright.

Side note: Evolved some foundations 😍. This is what Cape Town Harbor looked like from above around that time.

Mon. Dec. 6: 9:00 a.m. — Shag and I buzzed to town on the motorbike ... and roared off up Table Mountain to the Cable Station. It's as beautiful by day as by night. A layer of cloud like froth lay on it, poured over the side in a stream and vanished. Took some pictures — hope they'll be good. It was a morning to remember forever. I take back all I ever said about motorcycles, there's a tremendous exhilaration about it and our minds and hearts and appreciations were in tune to make it a quite perfect trip.

Side note: Pictures?? Why yes, some of them turned out just fine. Look who it issss…. SHAG! Told you he was cute, and he matures into Hollywood-dapper in a year or two. Just watch.

Is that helmet-head? I hope they wore helmets, but it was early days so probably anything went. Note the pirate laces on his shirt.

I always assumed there were two motorcycles, and they rode them up the mountain side by side. But ‘motorcycle’ is always referred to in the singular. So there must have been just one, and they took turns posing with it. Due to Helen’s dislike of motorcycles, I’m going to assume she didn’t know how to ride one. Maybe it was at Table Mountain where he showed her how. Vroom vroom!

Took the bus back to town after lunch. Took a look around numerous stores. Could hardly tear myself away from stinkwood pieces. Ivory figures from Rhodesia, lion skin bags, zebra cases, elephant hair jewelry.

A gale blew up this p.m. at 6 when the tugs came alongside the wind was just a beam in the entrance to the harbor. Water, wind blown in sheets thru the air, as dry snow is blown off the top of drifts. With port engine full ahead and starboard full astern we just cleared the breakwater. Wind at 65 m.p.h. all evening, cold as blitzen, Lion's Head and the Apostles very grand as we passed by. Not dark until 8:30. Exchanged experiences with Ruth. Bed at 10 with a murder story, but couldn't stay awake.

Side note: “Cold as blitzen” must derive from one of her schools, as it’s a pretty rare Appalachian saying, from what I can tell.

Ruth is either the woman about her age or her roommate. She introduces the passengers by last name only but then calls them by their first names quite a bit in the day to day.

And then they are again afloat! From Cape Town, they steer up the east side of the continent to see what adventures await.