Nostalgic memories of childhood days in Cape Town bring this journey to life.
‘ALL ABOARD’ FOR SIMON'S TOWN
The old clock was a landmark in Cape Town station, and ‘Under the Clock’ was a
favourite meeting place. Like Big Ben, the clock kept perfect time and nearby were
the Arrival and Departure boards showing the times of all the suburban trains.
1946, and the two young cousins waited for their Aunt Rhoda, visiting Cape Town for
the first time. December school holidays were nearly finished. The war was over and
the summer was warm and promising.
Helen and Marla were looking forward to the trip to Simonstown with their aunt. Neat
little handbags slung over their shoulders they scanned the bustling crowd. “Here she
comes,” said Helen, running towards her.
“Darlings, it’s so good to see my precious nieces,” cried their aunt as she hugged and
kissed the girls.
“Have you bought your ticket yet?” said Marla.
“I’ll get it now.”
In those days a return ticket from Cape Town to the end of the line at Simonstown
cost a few shillings. The girls already had their tickets and some spending money.
“You should have let me pay your train-fares. Today’s my treat!” Tickets in hand,
Aunt Rhoda and the girls walked down to Platform 6 where the next train was leaving
in eight minutes. They chose the window seat; Aunt Rhoda sat opposite. “All
aboard,” called the guard and blew his whistle loudly. Then the train was on its way.
All the railway lines coming into Cape Town looked old and dirty, shiny steel
blackened by rust, smoke and grime over the years. Their train was All Stations and
the first stop was Woodstock, grimy and dilapidated.
“It all looks so polluted!” said Aunt Rhoda. “Don’t worry, it gets a lot better as we go
along,” said Marla. Salt River station with its big railway workshops was much the
same as Woodstock, but busy with shunting trains. Next came Observatory, neater
and cleaner with flowerbeds and spotless benches.
“It looks as if we have arrived in suburbia,” said Aunt Rhoda. Small houses lined the
streets surrounding the station. As the train journeyed further the stations and the
scenery improved, Mowbray, Rosebank and then Rondebosch. “We’re in the better
suburbs now,” said Helen, but we won’t see the sea until we reach Muizenberg.”
“That’s the famous Newlands Rugby Stadium,” said Marla pointing to the landmark
and they gazed at beautiful Table Mountain and a quick glimpse of Cape Town
University. “My dad comes here often in rugby season. Otherwise he spends ages
listening to the sports broadcasts on the radio.” Newlands passed quickly before the
train stopped at Claremont station. There were very few cars, horses and carts were
more common.
Harfield Road station looked like a small English village. Rows of Victorian cottages
lined the streets. A fisherman with his cart hawking his wares and blowing his fish
horn could be seen as the train trundled past.
Colourful flowerbeds brightened Kenilworth station. There was a long wait at
Wynberg, and Aunt Rhoda asked why. “It’s a busy station, lots of people getting on
and off, “said Helen. Then came Wittebome, with the road running adjacent to the
station where horses and carts were chased by small Coloured kids. Plumstead with
more colourful flowerbeds whizzed by, followed by Steurhof. Then Diep River came
into view - just a small suburban station with nondescript homes.
Next stop was Heathfield, the junction for the Cape Flats line. Passengers changed
here for Pinelands and Athlone. Few white people lived here. Retreat, then
Steenberg, where pondokkies came into view and derelict council houses and flats.
At last a breath of fresh air as the lake came in sight at Lakeside. Surrounded by
reeds the water shimmered in the sunlight. Then False Bay station and Muizenberg.
The sea at last. “Lots of people on the beaches and look at those charming coloured
wooden bathing huts!” said Aunt Rhoda excitedly. “Most of visitors arrive around
Chirstmas and stay until the end of February. The Johannesburg schoolchildren have
already gone back home. Their schools start school earlier than ours. We only go
back on 23rd January,” replied Marla.
Now the train was snaking along the sea front. The scenery was breathtaking, sea,
mountains and soft white sand. St. James, the enclave of the retired rich, was the
next stop, then Kalk Bay with its fishing harbour filled with small fishing boats and
fishermen lining the harbour walls. “We’ll stop at Clovelly next. Did you know it has
the largest golf course in Cape Town?”
Very few people played golf in those years. It only became a popular sport years
later. Still winding around the seafront the train stopped at Fish Hoek, a popular
resort town, and the only Municipality in South Africa that will not allow bottle stores.
Sunnycove station was very small. The train only stopped for a minute, then on to
Glencairn. Rocky beaches reached up to the railway lines, and the low blue huddle of
Seal Island could be seen in the distance. Then Simonstown where the guard walked
up and down the platform shouting “End of the line,” as the three got off.
“We can walk up to the harbour and look around. Mum says we can get a nice lunch
at the Criterion Hotel for three and six,” said Helen. “That’ll be fine,” replied Aunt
Rhoda. “Your mother also told me that there’s a bus going to Seaforth. It’s only three
miles and we can sit on the beach for a while. We’ll go there after lunch.”
Walking around the harbour followed by a delicious lunch and a bus ride to Seaforth
took up quite a bit of their time. The three of them sat barefoot on the sand watching
the ever-changing sea. “It’s so peaceful here, but we’ll have to leave soon. It’s nearly
four o’clock and I don’t want you to get home too late,” said Aunt Rhoda. Twenty
minutes later, they were in the train again and on their way back to Cape Town.