A couple weeks back we visited Shelley Point up the west coast of Cape Town. It’s about an hour and a half drive from the city and it feels like a different world.
The area is pretty rough and rugged and it makes it hard to think anything substantial would survive here other than sea life. The scrubby plant life reflects this sentiment.
Shelley Point is also a residential and vacation estate that originally was a very attractive deal when it first launched as there was absolutely nothing else in this area others than a harbour and a few local fishermen. But these days it’s very expensive and exclusive but there are options to find alternatives outside of the estate. The town has grown and it doesn’t seem as secluded as it once did.
The estate has to let surfers in to access the local surf spots so as long as you have a board on the roof you get it with no worries.
We headed in as if we belonged and took a slow drive around the coastal roads of Shelley Point estate.
Our first stall was a car park where the everyone pulled in. Busy. Surfers filling every parking spot. We’re not usually in the business of finding the crowds, especially when we’re supposed to be somewhere less populated, so we headed back to another spot.
I jumped out the car decided to go for a walk around the point. There wasn’t any surf this side so 
I stepped foot onto the coastal path and was greeted with a crunch. The entire bay is is filled with black and pale blue mussel shells. I’m sure that below the shells you would just find more shells and eventually shells that have been ground down into sand from the weight of our feet crushing them and the layers upon layers of shells sitting on top of each other.
This bay must have a particular current that catches and deposits the shells right here on this point and this bay, because the beach on the other side of the point only has shells dotted here and there.
As I walk I pass families out with their kids enjoying the warmth of the sun on this late autumn morning. There excited to play and crunch the shells under foot and throw them as far as they can.
The shells even begin to make a natural Baum closer to the point where the waves are little more wild and dangerous.
I keep walking and reach Pastures. There’s a lady perched next to the high water post taking photos of the surfers. But my phones not going to do the trick.
The seagulls don’t like my presence and nervously move off as I approach, glancing in my direction and then moving back into position as I pass by.
After dropping my shoes in the car and helping Grant sort out his board (yes he had been sitting watching the surf the whole time that it took me to walk around the point to the car!) I carried on for another couple kilometres on the beach.
More shells but more randomly dotted around, but there were a few casualties on the beach too.
The saddest was a youngish seal that must have been caught in a current and dragged away from its herd. It happens. Especially on this wild side of the coast.
The walk did me good. It frees the mind of clutter and refocuses ones thoughts.
The walk back to the car was less eventful but beautiful nonetheless. A whole flock of seagulls took to flight as I interrupted there sunning in the morning light.
This area has an emptiness and vastness that is more obvious than other places near here. It’s beautiful in an unwieldy not so obvious way.
I left feeling a bit unsettled and scattered. It must be the uncomfortableness (I know it’s probably not a word, but I couldn’t come up with a better one. Discomfort isn’t quite right either) of this place that left me feeling that way.
But the day ended well and we eventually made our way back home.
