There’s something about winter that wraps around you gently, like a shawl worn soft with time. It’s quieter—the kind of quiet that feels full rather than empty.
Waking up at The Marine, you look out at the ocean in the low light, and even before breakfast is served, there’s already the possibility of magic—because our whales are back.
They arrive each year as if on cue, gliding into the bay. You hear the excitement before you see them—a sharp exhale from a blowhole, someone calling out from the cliff path, pointing. Sometimes it’s a tail that breaks the surface, sometimes an entire arc of a body rising into the air, impossibly elegant. Watching them never grows old, no matter how many times you’ve been lucky enough to witness it.
That’s the thing about winter here: everything seems closer.
The path that runs along the cliff’s edge offers the perfect vantage point where whales are given centre stage. Along the way, the benches invite you to linger longer. There’s a scale model of the solar system stretched out along the route—each planet placed with astronomical accuracy, reminding you of the vastness of space as you wander beside the sea.
Hermanus is a town best explored on foot—boutiques and studios tucked between galleries, florists and jewellers beside coffee shops. They all have an unhurried presence that suits the season.
On a recent morning, wandering the narrow streets just after rain, I came across a small shop I’d never noticed before. Shelves of sea-glass, old books, handcrafted things—the kind of place that feels like a secret.
Stepping a little further away from the centre of town, into the fynbos-covered paths or out onto the long, wide beaches near Grotto and Voëlklip, you find space. On these beaches, you can walk for what feels like hours.
There’s something deeply restorative about winter by the sea.
Perhaps it’s the way everything slows down. The salt in the air sharpens your appetite—for food, yes, but also for reflection.
Perhaps it’s the knowledge that while others rush through their routines, you’ve slipped away to a place where whales glide by your window, and each step—whether along the cliff path or through a quiet shop—reveals another layer of Hermanus’s winter beauty.
