The valley is a natural venturi. Air pushed against the peninsula finds the low ground here and accelerates through it, arriving at the bay with real force, and it does that for weeks at a stretch in summer. The effect on buildings is straightforward mechanical damage: doors slammed hundreds of times a season, closers driven past their limits, hinges dropping, and latches that stop meeting their keepers squarely.
That is why so much of our work here is not about locks at all. A door that has been hammered by wind for years does not usually fail at the cylinder — it fails because the leaf has moved, the frame has taken the shock, or the closer gave up so long ago that nobody remembers it working. Most Fish Hoek visits end as lock repair and adjustment rather than replacement.
The wind also carries sand off two beaches, and that ends up in exactly the places it does most harm: sliding door tracks, gate runners, and keyways on anything facing the prevailing direction. It is an abrasive rather than a corrosive, so it wears mechanisms rather than eating them, and the symptom is stiffness that gets steadily worse rather than sudden failure.