OH LITTLE TOWN
Sorbet-pink sunsets and sweeping views, open doorways and gap-toothed smiles, the West Coast fishing village of Paternoster will reel you in with its bounty of charms
Words Jillian Starke
My first trip to Paternoster was three years ago
in the middle of a very wet Cape Town winter. The photo album tells the tale: picking black mussels off the rocks, skinny-dipping in ice-blue waters in a deserted (I sincerely hope it was) cove, grilling fish over a campsite fire. I remember driving out of the village, past the
and promising an imminent return.
Now, as our car peels off the road from Vredenburg, with the city only an hour and a half behind us,
I wonder why it took so long.
Most towns or villages take their time to romance you. You have to hasten through the industrial parts, skirt the seedy quarters, turn a blind eye to brazen architecture. Not Paternoster. From the moment you enter this West Coast village the saltwater air fills your lungs and the integrated community draws you in. Several stories surround the naming of this town. Legend has it that the Portuguese sailors who survived the sinking of the Columbine off the coastline in 1829 christened it ‘Pater Noster’, which means ‘Our Father’ in Latin. Then again, the beads worn by the indigenous Khoisan tribes living here were also called ‘paternosters’, derived from a prayer that goes back to medieval Christianity. Moved to prayer; however you look at it, the name seems to fit.
In South Africa’s oldest fishing village, the livelihood of this 1 700-soul community remains unchanged. ‘My grandparents’ parents’ parents lived and fished here,’ says Craig, a Paternoster local who comes over to inspect a returning vessel. But the twenty-odd wooden boats above the
high-tide mark tell of changed times. Over the past decade, quota restrictions have made it much harder for subsistence fishermen to feed their families. Limited commercial rights were allocated, but the application forms were complicated, forcing many poorly educated fishermen to turn
to outsiders for help, who invariably ended up with their own names on the licences. Some of these much-needed quotas are also reported to have been sold to the fish factories, further depleting the historic self-sufficiency of the community.
The fish market above the beach is deserted. Locals say it’s been a white elephant since it was built about five years ago (at a cost of R1.6 million). To its left a cluster of new homes is being constructed, and one can only hope that the
influx of tourists and holidaymakers, coupled with increased sensitivity of legislative bodies towards the economics of fishing communities such as this one, will see more boats in the sea and less above the shoreline. Perhaps then the market will become what it was intended to be.
In spite of hard times, we encounter nothing
but good cheer from the men pulling their boats back to the shore. Standing shoulder to shoulder, they shout instructions to each other in Afrikaans, and offer us glistening, fresh ‘hottentot’ – R40 for four fatties. We’re too early for the snoek run,
but are told that from November to April they, too, are plentiful.
A day well spent in this village is done on foot, drifting between shops and studios infused
with colourful characters who’ve chosen
this enviable seaside existence over big-city commercialism. Paternoster se Padstal sells jangling shell mobiles and fresh jaffels, while Patchworks offers a spread of carefully crafted quilts and aromatic handmade soaps. Next door
at the Stone Fish studio we run into renowned ceramic sculptor Dianne Heesom-Green, back from her morning kayaking on the bay. A stony-looking coelacanth stares out at us from her workbench. Dianne explains: ‘We see fish as pieces – fish fingers, fish fillets. So I took the pieces off the
plate and remodelled them into this fish using paper clay.’
Less into deconstruction, and putting the focus back on the plate is The Noisy Oyster, where owner Karl Jaentch oversees lunchtime preparations. Having worked his way across the Cape peninsula, running popular eating spots such as Harbour House, Polana and Live Bait, Karl is now dedicated to bringing good cuisine to Paternoster. And with the restaurant just about fully booked for dinners since it opened a year ago, he’s certainly caught on to something. ‘I’m here for the beer and the cheer,’ says Karl, ‘and Brian [Smit, the chef] puts the quality on the plate.’ Quality indeed; their signature dish is pan-fried duck breast with pistachio crumbs and spice-crusted confit of thigh, served with turnip, Swiss chard and brandied sultanas.
A fairy tale garden of draped canopies, brightly coloured scatter cushions
and shells strung like tinsel in trees makes for
a whimsical setting in which to soothe sunburn with a long cocktail and indulge in a little West Coast gastronomy (provided you can secure
a table).
Stooping through a hobbit-sized doorway, we find ourselves inside Gerhard van den Heever’s softly lit pottery studio. Like the building he occupies (once
a stable, then a nightclub) this Upington-born potter is well adapted to village life. His trademark vases are fired outside in sawdust, imparting a mottled and smoky texture, and are on display in several local guest houses. Mind your head on the way out and walk across to Die Winkel op Paternoster for
dotted among tin crockery, caramelised popcorn and locally produced jams and pickles. Organic
artichokes, mint and sorrel spill out from retired wooden boats in the tea garden and old South African signage and dated appliances oxidise gracefully in the sea air. Soaked in nostalgia, humming Frank Sinatra, we take our leave.
With the sun slowly melting into the horizon, Voorstrandt Restaurant beckons. ‘Beachfront’ couldn’t be a more accurate description for this 108-year-old tin fisherman’s cottage, perched
on low dunes with peppermint-green tables on
a wooden deck. Drinks in hand, snacking on fresh West Coast mussels, the sky has turned a mixed sorbet of pinks and blues and even the wind appears to have inhaled in awe of the evening’s beauty. After tasty grilled sole, we leave this bistro landmark in search of local entertainment, finding ourselves at the Paternoster Hotel.
That’s not all we find there. Lacy lingerie adorns the ceiling of the tiny hotel bar – a tradition which began in the Seventies, Giorello Carosini tells us. His father opened the hotel in 1973 and although authorities insisted the underwear be taken down, it seems there’s no stopping Paternoster’s ladies. The hotel has been a police station and a school though, apart from the steel bars in the window,
its former identities have been covered up with lewd animation and photos that would make even Paris Hilton blush. We line up at the bar for the promised ‘hot sex’ (shooters, as it turns out) and the rest of the night is a hazy blur of lengthy dart games while listening to Snotkop, Loslappie and other Afrikaans bands the local lads cannot believe we’ve never heard of.
The next day dawns brighter than necessary, but after an excellent breakfast at the upmarket Paternoster Lodge we have mended our ways.
A drive into the Cape Columbine Nature Reserve – only a few kilometres outside Paternoster – is
a definite to-do.
and colourful rock pools await the intrepid explorer, and campsites any closer to the water’s edge would just be too wet. The Beach Camp, a private concession within the reserve, is a firm favourite for corporate team-building events. No electricity, a well-stocked seaside bar and a large communal table for seafood dinners must be the perfect antidote to the antiseptic office environment.
Tietiesbaai lighthouse is the last manned lighthouse that was built in the country in 1936. Expecting to find a weathered lighthouse keeper, holed up in the tower for decades manoeuvring
the lenses, we are somewhat disappointed
to be presented with a light switch.
After a numbing dip in the sea, we bask on
flat rocks, looking out across a shimmering bay. The wind hasn’t stirred in two days. This is surreal for the West Coast, where the mighty southeaster hounds at doorways, sending weathervanes
into a spin. But, right now, nothing stirs other than an oystercatcher foraging for limpets and a hermit crab scuttling over the rocks. As it was the last time, I have been hopelessly romanced and silently renew my vows to return to this little piece of West Coast heaven.
STAY AT
The Sugar Shack
0861 626 539
Paternoster Lodge
022 752 2023
Blikkie (pictured on page 86)
082 856 9930
Hocus Pocus self-catering villa
083 988 4645
The Beach Camp
082 926 2267
EAT AT
The Noisy Oyster
022 752 2196
Voorstrandt Restaurant
022 752 2038
Paternoster Hotel
022 752 2703
SHOP AT
Stone Fish Studio
082 824 8917
Paternoster Pottery
022 752 2061
Paternoster Clothing & Patchworks
022 752 2668
Die Winkel op Paternoster
022 752 2105
EXPLORE
Sea kayaking
082 926 2267
Mountain Biking
082 926 2267
Hiking Trails
022 701 7000