Life at The Lucky Fish, Kayser’s Beach, ECZA

Living in a faded mansion perched on a sand-dune means you get a nice view of the rising sun, the Indian Ocean and the sky.

Never a dull moment, and truly, it all happens in winter, May to October.

There’s a spectacular and constant procession of ships, yachts, dolphins, lots of whales, many kinds of birds and, to top it all, the Sardine Run, one of the last great wildlife migrations on planet earth.

I call the entire spectacle the Serengeti of the Sea.

Yes, the Sardine Run is unpredictable… sometime in May / June maybe even July. Nobody knows exactly when or whether the right currents will come to prompt the savage movement of massive shoals of sardines and their predators, including sharks.

It’s hard to discern: is that splash a whale spurting or a gannet diving?

Life jumps in and out of the sea; a splash indeed.

The verkykers (binoculars) help to define the activity.

The dogs put their paws on the balcony wall. They want to see too.

There are two visible yearly migrations: the acrobatic ocean giants spurting their way west to Hermanus ( May/June to September/October) and the other is the quick-skittish sardines racing east along the Aghullas current possibly to as far as Mozambique. Ears back, there’s a frantic and ferocious entourage in pursuit (May/June/July).

ALERT: They all pass in view of The Lucky Fish.

The whale migration lasts longer and is gentler than the Sardine Run’s smash-n-grab crescendos and chaos. Both are riveting though, for those who like being captivated.

For a closer view, you and the dogs walk to the braai spot car park.

You step down onto a landscape of sand and rocks, tidal gulleys, middens, and clutters of shells. Your eyes are at sea level and they’re looking into the pointed poignant smiles of porpoises dolphins. You don’t know the difference that close to eternity; these sleek mammals catching waves, forever.

The dogs sprint in the direction of the ruin, the dune field, and the long stretch of sand and sea to Three Sisters; Spotty Braveheart Muller and my tall girl Beentjies, Little Legs in Afrikaans.

You rest on your walking stick and admire their energy and athleticism. Beentjies stretches her neck into a gallop. Spotty’s short legs pump determined.

They don’t see the sea birds, shore birds scurry and soar.

On the way home, you notice a golf cart in the braai spot car park.

The nearest course is at the West Bank Golf Club, about 40kms away.

Are they lost?

No. The vehicle cruises silently up Snipe Street, in front of The Lucky Fish.

We greet in the inimitable Kayser’s way: wave as you pass. Smile, if you can.

They waved. And their Yorkie’s tongue blurted pink happiness.

(ends)