Running the False Bay Coast: From Muizenberg’s Vibe to Fish Hoek Stillness.

By Jamie Benjamin

Every journey starts somewhere. This one started in the sand at Muizenberg Beach. Photo: Jamie Benjamin

Running has always been my favourite free-time activity. It’s not necessarily because it clears my mind or gives my body a workout. I find it’s the best way to really explore your surroundings through a different lens. If you’re willing to abide the fact that your legs might cramp and your breathing will become laboured, it can really get you into the nooks and crannies of a place. I’ve rarely met anyone interesting or experienced all a place has to offer cooped up in a car. No, if I ever truly wanted to explore a place, it would be through running.

I held this firmly in my heart as I set off from Muizenberg Beach. I decided to change my route to really get a feel for this stretch of the False Bay Coast I’ve run so many times before. On a whim, what would normally have been a run from Muizenberg Beach to Kalk Bay Harbour extended itself to Fish Hoek Beach.

The Muizenberg beachfront: a destination for surfers, shoppers and the odd observer in shadow. Photo: Jamie Benjamin

As I finished my warm-up stretches and made my way to Main Road, the early birds were already flocking into the beach. The sun had barely broken through, yet the beachfront was filling up with day-trippers, surfers and people just looking to enjoy something warm while they watched the waves break. They geared up at the surf shop, settled down in the numerous coffee shops that littered the storefront, and just made themselves comfortable.

This scene stopped me in my tracks. My run had barely begun, and I was thinking of changing my approach entirely. I looked at Muizenberg Beach once more. Its vibrant and diverse crowds were a sight to behold against the backdrop of shops, apartments, and the beachfront they frequented with such liveliness. It felt as if I was truly seeing the area for the first time. Three questions burned in my mind: Had Muizenberg always been like this? And how would Fish Hoek compare? Was there a deeper undertone to this stretch of the False Bay Coast I’ve been running along all this time?

I embarked on my run starting from Main Road at the signpost showing directions to Surfer’s Corner, Muizenberg Village, the railway station and all the places that made Muizenberg iconic.

Muizenberg's Surfer's Corner: a staple of the coast's beach culture. Photo: Jamie Benjamin

The view never got old for me. As my legs carried me to St. James, I looked to my left at the Indian Ocean. The view of its warm waters was a constant I relied on as I regulated my pace to reduce my growing fatigue. I looked to my right as well. On the mountain slope, a hodgepodge of historical and modern houses stood. I looked out in front of me and reminded myself that today’s run was different. I didn’t care if I slowed down or stopped entirely. I just wanted to soak it all in. I wanted to answer those questions that cemented themselves in my mind when my run had barely begun.

Fellow joggers taking their route at their own pace between Muizenberg and St. James. Photo: Jamie Benjamin.

I made my way to St. James Beach. My pace was consistent, yet always ready to cease. The small, picturesque beach painted a familiar scene. A tidal pool lay chock-full of people looking for a quieter atmosphere than Muizenberg. Children ran on the edges of the tidal pool, much to the reprimands of their parents. Some even played hide-and-seek along the row of brightly coloured Victorian beach huts. This beach in the quieter suburb of St. James had a walkway that came out onto the Main Road.

The colourful beach huts of St. James. It's an enduring part on a changing shoreline. Photo: Jamie Benjamin.

I stopped because a signpost caught my attention. They were one of many spread across the Main Road, from Muizenberg to Fish Hoek. While nothing special at first glance, they were a great way to get a feel for the False Bay Coast’s history and culture as you ran and walked through it. They told a story of the area’s growing surfing culture, its colonial roots as well the local fishing traditions. I wondered just how many people took the time to read them. Had I stayed in place longer, I might have learned more myself.

One of many signposts along Main Road. They share the community's history and culture between Muizenberg and Fish Hoek. Photo: Jamie Benjamin.

The runners I encountered came in all shapes and sizes. Some ran alone. Others ran in groups that took up the whole sidewalk. There were some who wanted an extra challenge that the flat surface of the Main Road couldn’t give them. It came in the form of the many sprawling sets of steps that connected Main Road to Boyes Drive. Their daring gave me the spark of inspiration I needed to see things from a different angle.

Not just runners tried their luck with Jacob’s Ladder. The first set of steps that connected the two roads fell into view just after the St. James railway station. It was the beaten path that most people took when wanting to see things from Boyes Drive. On that day, it was a free-for-all where right of way was all over the place. Everyone on the steps took things at their own pace. Those looking to walk the steps as a form of light exercise were given a reality check. Some were going at a snail’s pace while others stopped entirely. The residents of these 141 steps made their way out of their homes, eager to start their day. All the while those running up the steps exercised caution wherever they could and ran at their own pace. I did the same. Running was hard enough on its own but doing so while running up steps felt like bumping up the difficulty level. The soundtrack of the steps was a cacophony of greetings, pardons, and laboured breathing.

Jacob's Ladder connects Main Road to Boyes Drive. It offers both a challenge and a new perspective. Photo: Jamie Benjamin.

My ears popped as I finished my brief but taxing encounter with Jacob’s Ladder. I regulated my breathing as I took in my first view of Boye’s Drive of the morning. It was already full of life. The other sets of steps were teeming with people as well. Many of them stopped at the ends of the steps they finished climbing. Runners and cyclists on Boye’s Drive made the road come to life. The road itself had commuters looking to take a streamlined, more scenic route to Main Road.

Gaining my second wind, I ran past sets of steps I could have run up instead of Jacob’s Ladder. Their names passed me in flashes: Capri, Ley, Hillrise, Manila Steps. The speed at which I ran past all these steps along the winding path reminded me I wasn’t just on a run. I was looking to reflect.

I spotted a jogger as I rounded the bend after the Manila Steps. We struck up a short conversation as she was catching her breath and stretching her legs. It was the kind of conversation you could only really have while riding a runner’s high: unfiltered and reflective. I wanted to know why she ran this stretch and how she felt running from Muizenberg to Fish Hoek.

“It’s just that I’m at peace because after a strenuous week I need to relax my mind to get off from work and get into a mode of relaxation, not having to stress and worry about things.”

She passionately spoke of how she loved running between Muizenberg and Fish Hoek. To her, it felt like running in the present and then opening a time capsule that just sucked you in the further you ran.

“There’s lots of changes happening changes happening and it’s always a vibe. Different vibes between Muizenberg and Kalk Bay. When you get to Fish Hoek, it’s like time stood still because nothing’s changed over many years. Everything is still the same. The buildings. Some are actually dilapidated, so there’s no new renovations going on.”

I said my farewells and with her words firmly in mind, I rounded the bend at Manila Steps . This bend gave way to a gorgeous morning-soaked view of the remaining stretch from Kalk Bay to Fish Hoek. The view itself was better than any picture I could have taken. In a single frame, Kalk Bay Harbour all the way to Fish Hoek beach could be seen. In Kalk Bay, the patrons within its boutiques, restaurants and cafes looked tiny. It reminded me of the distance I still had to go. I temporarily turned off my reflections as I focused on running. The true essence of this environment would jump out at me whether I wanted it to or not.

From Boyes Drive, you can see how the curve of the coastline sweeps from Kalk Bay to Fish Hoek. Photo: Jamie Benjamin.

Boye’s drive came and went as I rounded its final bend. I was grateful to it. It showed a view that visitors to the Main Road rarely saw. The scene changed back to the Main Road as I made my way to Fish Hoek. Kalk Bay would wait as I knew the return trip would take me on the route where I could truly appreciate the bohemian seaside village where salt air mixed with the scent of coffee and fish: through Main Road.

I fondly remembered a saying I would always hear the elderly say: “You find your strength when your day is almost done”. I found myself running the best I ran all morning. Fish Hoek was in view and the day was growing older. At 8 in the morning, the runners kept running and the cyclists kept cycling. Even those walking in ones, twos, threes, and more kept cracking on. The traffic was piling up and the taxis were well on their way to their destinations.

I remembered the female jogger’s words as I ended the first stretch of my run to Fish Hoek. Time really stood at a standstill here. Fish Hoek had a slowed-down hush about it. The people moved with urgency and purpose. They were off to work, off to the beach and already starting their day. Barracuda’s faded signage, the regular crowd of The Galley and the daily buzz of the Pick n’ Pay gave Fish Hoek its own rhythm. As if only the town was paused in place, but not the life.

Main Road in Fish Hoek. The buildings are worn but the people move about in this old seaside town. Photo: Jamie Benjamin.

I left sleepy Fish Hoek and started returning to Muizenberg on the Main Road through Kalk Bay. It brought me back to a familiar buzz. Coffee drinkers and loungers outside Olympia Café, growing conversations from Salt’s terrace, and a homely clutter from the bookstores and Trading Post. I approached Kalk Bay Harbour. Kalky’s shutters were still down, the scent of vinegar and deep-fried batter still absent from the air. The only visitors were the seagulls, circling above the bay, making themselves known through their shrill cries. Fishermen were already at work, their boats prepped, and their movements deliberate. The pampered seals hadn’t yet taken centre stage on the slipway and steps. Like Fish Hoek, it had its own rhythm. A theatre waiting for the curtain to rise.

Kalk Bay Harbour. Here, where gulls cry, nets hang and the charm of this Cape Town stretch comes to life. Photo: Jamie Benjamin.

I reflected the most passing back through St. James. To me, it was a waystation. It reminded me of how far I’d gone to answer my questions. It felt almost jarring and alien as the pace I got in Fish Hoek carried me back to Muizenberg.

Feeling as if my questions were still unanswered, I noticed a woman soaking up the scenery. Like the jogger, I had a strong feeling she had the answers I craved. I wondered why they kept coming back to this stretch. She spoke with nostalgia and a hint of the future:

“Definitely coming back because of the good memories and the new memories I get to create with my children.”

I came into Muizenberg beach once more. Exhausted and not to start my journey, but to end it with my questions answered. Whether you’re local or international, you’ll find something along this stretch of the False Bay Coast. It can be quiet or a new memory waiting to be made. I chose to run it, adding new layers to a familiar scene. Run it or linger within it. Ask your own questions, and hopefully, like me, you’ll find a few answers along the way.

Back where I started. Muizenberg's storefront seen from the other side. Photo: Jamie Benjamin.