Kirstenbosch National Botanical GardenThe mountain rising behind the garden

Walking up along the hillside

Cape Town, South Africa — Botanical garden on the eastern slopes of Table Mountain.

First, take in the red-earth path at your feet.

The path is packed red earth, brighter than the leaves beside it. The roadside shrubs grow low, small and hard-leaved, clump against clump, and in the wind they only sound, never move. A signpost stands at the fork, a green board nailed to a wooden post. A few steps in and the canopy closes, cutting the light into patches on the ground. You can see the mountain — it is always there, never changing angle no matter how far you walk, only drawing nearer.

Higher up, the ground turns to gravel and fine-leaved plants you cannot name line both sides. A few tall trees reach their branches into the path, bark peeling in curls. Birds call from the treetops, short and abrupt, unseen on any branch. Rest on a wooden bench and look back to the city and the bay; turn around and it is the whole face of the mountain. Walk the same path twice and the light has already changed.

The land set aside in 1913

On 1 July 1913 this land was formally set aside as a botanical garden. It lies against the eastern slope of Table Mountain and covers 528 hectares, of which only a small part is planted as flower beds — most of the rest is native scrub climbing the mountain. The cycad that botanist Henry Harold Pearson planted at The Dell still stands in place, among the garden's oldest residents.

The garden puts its effort into indigenous plants, and outdoors the focus is Cape-native species. The masses of king proteas are the most striking, the hard-leaved fynbos spreading up the slope, and in the wind you hear only leaves brushing together. The mountain part has been left wild, never terraced into neat levels.

The greenhouse is another climate. The Botanical Society Conservatory groups plants by dry biomes such as savanna and karoo, with thick leaves and many spines — quite unlike the moist woodland outside the door.

A snaking bridge

The garden turned a hundred in 2013, and the following 17 May the arboretum's walkway opened to the public. Called the Centenary Tree Canopy Walkway, locals more often name it Boomslang — 'tree snake'. It runs 130 metres, curved like a crescent, highest 12 metres above ground, with two points returning to the earth.

The frame is steel tube welded into ribs, then a fine net stretched over; the rail is treated pine joined along the curve. The design takes the snake's skeleton, the deck narrow and light, barely blocking the view between the trees. The foundations are hand-dug concrete piers about 12 metres apart, only a short stub showing above ground.

The walkway's arboretum sits among several specialised gardens — on one side the king protea and cycad garden, on the other the rock garden, beyond that the concert lawn. You walk first beneath the woods, then are lifted above the canopy, and the surrounding mountain, garden and suburbs suddenly spread out.

Flowers in spring, concerts in summer

In spring the king proteas and other hard-leaved plants on the slope bloom one after another, the low shrubs at their most varied in colour. On summer Sunday evenings the Concert Lawn hosts open-air music, the light behind the mountain fading as the grass fills with more people than usual.

To go higher, the Skeleton Gorge ravine trail starts right in the garden, diving into the woods and climbing with the mountain. In a hillside hollow a natural spring pools, ferns crowding the rock walls — the garden's shadiest stretch. In rain the rocks are slippery, so take care on this part.

The entrance's row of columns links several buildings, long shadows falling across the plaza. The hillside has many forks; decide your path at the gate rather than wander — it saves trouble.