Nigeria – Chappel Waddi

8 April: Five minutes after stepping off the airplane in Lagos, I was drenched with sweat. It was hot. It was very hot. Luckily the arrival cards were made of cardboard, which we used as fans. After exchanging money, we took a very expensive taxi to Westtown inn. After all the horror stories we had heard about Nigeria, we didn’t want to hang around anywhere unnecessarily, especially not since it was almost midnight. 

In order to get our visas, I had to make a hotel reservation before the time and was told that two rooms would be $200. I e-mailed back to say that we would be sharing a room and that the cost, according to their website, would therefore be $100. I never received a reply back.

Dodgy room or not, the air-conditioning was pure heaven.

9 April: Breakfast was a dry omelet complimenting a piece of dry bread and we never received any change from the $200 we had to pay as a deposit. The manager was right after all, the room was $200. In hind sight we should have polished off the mini bar.

Another very expensive taxi to the motor park followed. We had changed our plans. Instead of flying to Abuja and taking a share taxi to Serti, we would take a share taxi directly to Serti. Seeing the bible lying on the taxi’s dashboard and listening to the hymns being sung, eased my mind a bit. During the 90 minutes it took the driver to get everyone’s luggage in, several arguments broke out.  Sweating profusely, I tapped my feet to the rhythm of the hymns sung. I controlled my fear by imagining thoughts like “What the hell did I get myself into” floating skywards in a tiny bubble, before exploding. A long prayer by the driver and our 16 fellow passengers followed, and then we were off on our estimated 15 hour journey.

Exactly seven hours later, we stopped for a bladder break. Men and woman alike formed a line next to the road, their backs turned to the passing cars and emptied their bladders. I am proud to say, I was amongst them.  It was only after Alan’s sarcastic remark “Nice white bum”, that I realized the Nigerian ladies were all wearing skirts. We were passed onto three more taxis before our journey ended in Makurdi by 23h00.   

10 April: A motorbike ride to the motor park was followed by our first taxi for the day. Two kilometers further, we also had our first breakdown of the day. Several more taxis followed and we finally arrived in Serti at 21h30. A bucket wash at the “Gods time is the best” hotel followed before I hit the sack, amazed at how strong I still felt.

11 April: After arranging a chartered vehicle and guide at the Serti Tourist camp, we were finally on our way. The trip was not uneventful. Some roads have gigantic potholes, so it is quite common to see vehicles coming straight towards you in the oncoming lanes. Our driver was also adamant not to pay “toll fees” at a boom gate erected by locals and a fistfight was avoided when he tried to run the local over.

In Njawa, we were welcomed by Mr. Chronicle, the Gashuki Gumti's national parks’ head. He generously offered us a bed in his house, washing facilities and food. People flocked to come and greet us and "you're welcome", “you’re very welcome”, were heard wherever we went.

12 April: Being a porter on Chappel Whaddi is clearly not a popular profession. When Anthony, our guide tried to recruit porters, everyone scattered away. Unfortunately for them, Hebrew and 14/14 were too slow. Mr. Chronicle pulled them to one side and what seemed like an earnest talk followed.

Following Mr. Chronicle’s instructions not to let Hebrew and 14/14 escape, Anthony set a heavy pace and we arrived at Jauro Hamasale village just in time to greet the chief. And then we were offered a lovely hut to stay in, maize, wild honey, sugar cane and a live chicken. The guides were extremely excited about carrying the chicken up the mountain and slaughtering it on top. My facial expression must have changed their minds. When I got back after a wash in the river, the chicken was slaughtered. I muted Alan and Anthony’s snoring by stuffing toilet paper in my ears.

With the chief, just before our hike to the highest peak

13 April. The chief’s extended family once again brought us too much food. We started our hike at 7h00 and got to our campsite at 11h30. I was eager to get to the top but Anthony was adamant to eat first and take a siesta till 15h00. When it started raining, he took one look at my panic stricken face and changed his mind. We made it to the top.

Taking GPS reading at the top

Once back, everyone was relieved to take a siesta while I explored the mountain.

The evening, sitting around the fire, we were all in stitches when Alan tried to convince the Nigerians that the dreadful Chinese Soya was proper food.

14 April. A terrible nightmare about visiting the wrong peak resulted in my dragging Anthony back to the summit where I measured the other two peaks close by as well. Our early morning visit was rewarded by fresh milk from a Fulani who stays at the top and after breakfast, we started our hike back to Jauro Hamasale, where lunch awaited. After the obligatory dash was paid to the chief and the photos with his wives taken, Anthony led the stiff hike back.

My first Sunrise on a Western African peak

Mr. Cronicle and his welcoming committee were waiting for us and insisted on carrying our day packs back the last 2 km to his home. After being offered food and a bucket of water to wash in, we started telling stories.  By the time Hebrew and 14/14 were asked if they would take another group up, we were all hysterical.

Our reluctant porters made it back safely

15 April. 3 Motorbikes were needed to take us back to Serti and since there were no volunteers (maybe our big backpacks had something to do with it), Mr. Chronicle’s help was called for. Three very reluctant drivers were ordered to take us to Nguranje.

The journey through the mountains was not uneventful. Motorcycles had to be swapped to handle some of the steep uphills and eyes were closed on most of the steep downhills. Once at Nguranje, Alan refused to travel another centimeter on a motorbike and we chartered a taxi to Serti, where we were treated like big adventurers.

A two hour journey followed through the mountains

16 April. When the Moslem prayers started, we were walking to the motor park, where it took 3 hours before the taxi was full. At Marabastad, Alan discovered that his daypack with some of his valuables was never transferred to our current taxi and arrangements were made to get the backpack back to the motor park in Takum. Another taxi transfer led to another adventure. AC our driver was singing along to a cassette of gospel songs with such immense pleasure that we all joined in. Our first running water and electricity in days awaited us in Takum. It was pure bliss.

Stopping for petrol along the way

17 April. I suspect not a lot of tourists visit Takum. On our way to the motor park, we were paid by a local to have our picture taken. Alan’s bag has not arrived yet and we were advised to return after lunch.  While walking back peacefully to our hotel, feasting on the mangoes that have fallen off the trees, we were picked up by the security police and interrogated for two hours. It was obvious, Takum doesn’t get tourists.

Back at the motor park, Al was informed that he had to go back all the way to Serti to fetch his own backpack, since it contained valuables.

An enjoyable 24 hours followed where I had a whole room to myself, a heavenly shower every 30 minutes when the heat got too much, and the best drink ever – an ice cold coke. At 19h00, I experienced a magnificent lightning storm before the rain poured down.

Al had an adventurous ride back to Serti where he was welcomed back like a lost brother. He endured the storm in a truck with no wipers.

18 April. I kept alternating between watching the lizards and taking a much needed cold shower to counteract the heat till Alan arrived back at 14h00. At 15h00, we were instructed by the immigration officer to go back to Lagos (a 2 day journey) since I was illegally in Nigeria. The custom official at the airport had stamped the wrong date in my passport.

Some pleading and tears followed, and after being kept in suspense for over two hours, we were told that we would not be allowed out of the country, but if we wanted to take the risk, we didn’t have to return to Lagos. We took the chance.

A bumpy ride on the back of the motorbike followed and pygmy kingfishers, parrots and birds of prey accompanied us all the way to Bissaula.

Our drivers were extremely helpful and arranged accommodation and a porter for us before taking us to the health inspector and then the immigration officer. 21h00 was no time to sort out problems in a small village on the border of Nigeria and Cameroon, and we were instructed to come back the next morning.

3 Minutes after entering our room and noticing the gigantic cockroaches and smelly toilet, my tent was pitched outside. Because of the heat, I was surrounded by locals sleeping on tables, chairs and even motorbikes. I felt very safe in my tent, protected from all the cockroaches, listening to everyone snoring around me.

19 April: The next morning, Alan emerged from the dingy room with horror stories about the cockroaches getting cozy in his sweaty hair. The immigration officer must have taken pity on us because our passports were stamped with no further questions. Thomas lifted both our backpacks on his head and by 06h00, our official Dumbo Trek started.

Between Highest Peaks

SUNRISE ON AFRICA’s PEAKS (SOAP): After Zambia it seemed to take forever to get going again on my mission to reach the highest point in every African country. I went for some fantastic hikes in the Drakensberg, but I was restless, and plan after plan to go to Angola fell through.

SUNRISE ON AFRICA’S PEAKS kidz (SOAPkidz): During October 2003, I attended a life purpose course in the Magaliesberg. I had visions of bleeding mountains – whilst the rest of the group had visions of building orphanages. I got on stage and informed them that they should hurry up and build their orphanages – and that I would come and take their children on nature outings to go and clean our mountains. In April 2005, I took the first group of children from the Abraham Kriel Children’s home in Langlaagte on a hike. Since then, I have registered SOAPkidz as a Non-Profit organisation and have taken out more than 11 000 children during more than 100 events.

CAMELMEN: Travelling together in Africa is a good test for a relationship. After the 5^th Roadblock in Zambia, Camelman II and myself, decided to finally end the three year relationship. Camelman III entered my life not long after the epic Zambia trip.

MY LIFE: Almost every aspect of my life was spiralling out of control.

• My working conditions has changed dramatically, with new management and other challenges
• The past two years’ hard work on trying to make SOAPkidz sustainable was not bearing any fruit. I have become obsessed with SOAPkidz, and mistakenly thought that by working harder, I could make things better. I was busy arranging event after event.
• I was killing Camelman III with my demands. I would start talking SOAPkidz at 05h00 and in the evening, having a bottle or two of wine, I would continue.
• My family barely saw me – I was, after all, trying to save the vulnerable kids in Africa.
• My planned Angolan trip was met by one obstacle after another and last but not least,
• Adventure B was going nowhere: A dear friend and I have been planning this three month adventure for years, and I was hoping to finally do it in 2010. He was, however, unable to give me a definite answer on his availability and I was stuck without him.

I made a decision, If not Angola or Adventure B, why not Morocco? It would be a piece of cake. I invited Camelman III with, and he immediately bought some travel books. He wanted to do the Camino in Spain as well. My heart was more set on fitting in another African country, but he was adamant. 

Two weeks later, Alan arrived in South Africa with some great plans for a West African trip. How many countries, I asked over a bottle or two of wine. “At least ten, maybe sixteen, if all went well”, he replied.

The next morning, I informed Camelman III that I was off to West Africa in February for two months. Morrocco will have to wait. It was an opportunity of a lifetime. I also informed my Adventure B friend that I have made a choice: I was going to West Africa for two months instead. It was one thing I was “certain” of and I only had to rely on myself.

Everything that could go wrong did go wrong.

• I spend Christmas on my own, washing and separating thousands of used bottle tops for SOAPkidz instead of hiking with Camelman III. He was not a happy man. I was not a happy woman.
• Alan experienced problems with his passport and had to return to Australia. We had to postpone the trip twice.
• Because of the world cup soccer being held in South Africa, no tickets were available in June, and the planned two month trip became a three month trip
• I worked 24/7 trying to arrange all the SOAPkidz events that would take place whilst I explore West Africa’s mountains.
• At work, it was a nightmare to get my manager to sign my leave forms – especially since I kept on changing the dates.

A day before the trip:

• My family decided to come and visit. So much for a last romantic evening with Camelman III!
• There was a power failure – resulting in further chaos. No electric gate and the last minute packing had to be done by candle light – where I discovered that my sleeping bag’s zip was broken. In between, food for everyone had to be arranged.
• My sister kept on taking pictures of me with every member of my family – saying it could be the last picture of me with the family.

D-Day:

• I finally got into bed at 03h00.
• I managed to give Camelman III a quick kiss before he left for work.
• I received a call from my new manager, and after shouting at her, I raced to work – to sort out some paperwork – before racing off to Johannesburg – to pick up a satellite phone – something my son insisted on me taking the previous evening, whilst I send my Dad to buy a new sleeping bag.
• When we finally arrived at the airport, I was close to a nervous breakdown. Alan’s grumpiness about me taking a satellite phone and other valuables with, did not help.
• After shouting at my new manager, I was unsure if I would have a job when I returned.
• I was unsure if Camelman III would be waiting for me
• I was unsure of SOAPkidz and where everything was going
• I was unsure about the three month trip – and how safe it was going to be.

I thought all my problems would be solved once I got on the plane.

South Africa – Drakensburg – More Exploration

30 December 2008: After quite an eventful night at Witsieshoek mountain retreat where we had to battle with the plumbing (after a search for the tap handles, only to find that there was no hot water, later no water at all and then the pipes complaining throughout the night), we were more than ready to explore the mountains around Phuthaditjhaba. We couldn’t have hoped for better weather. We followed several cattle trails down to the Fika Patso dam and several river crossings followed.

Several river crossings followed

Chris had been studying the topographic maps and was the only one that knew where we were heading. During one of the interesting downhills, Jenny twisted her ankle badly and the going was slowed down. There were many locals around and we were asked for food and even water every time we were approached by a group. One guy said that there was cholera in the water but maybe his English was not that good. Nevertheless, I begged some chlorine tablets from Jen, getting the ratio and waiting times mixed up thus providing the opportunity for much laugher and reducing the tension that had built up. We were very aware of the thefts taking place on top of the Sentinal and we have just stumbled upon a “coming off age” ceremony and were made to feel most unwelcome.

The amount of caves in the area was mind blowing. We finally made it to Suoi cave, where we set off cleaning the cave before settling down for the evening. It was decided that Warren and myself would follow Chris the following day and Phillip would keep Jenny, who at this stage could hardly walk, company and fix up the cave.

31 December 2008: The weather couldn’t have been better but the two bachelors, Warren and Chris took their time and we finally got away by 6am.  The general idea was to explore the unknown passes. The going was extremely tough since there were no paths and the grass was extremely lush. (Not to mention the patches of Chi Chi bush)

Bundu bashing through the chi chi bush

A long ascent followed before we finally reached the exposed grassy slopes. Trying not to hyperventilate, I reminded myself to get some help for my “must be old age and some bad experiences” fear of heights once I reach civilization. 

Steep uphill - I am getting too old for this!

Luckily, Chris and Warren came to my rescue. Chris grabbed me by my backpack and Warren shoved me from behind. We decided to have a short break. I was trying my level best whilst sitting under a dripping rock NOT TO LOOK DOWN, while the two bachelors were chatting away, admiring the lovely EXPOSED VIEW and baking in the warm sun.

Chris, Warrick and myself on top of the just named pass.

The chattering of my teeth announced that it was time to go.

Warren was talking to himself most of the way and when I asked him what the conversation was about he said, “I am crazy going with you guys!”.

The view was spectacular and after one last scramble, by 14h00, we reached the top of the escarpment. Chris christened the pass Black Wall pass and built a big cairn and then it was time for lunch. It was very noticeable that there was no litter to be found, which enforced our feeling that no one had been up this pass.  We scrambled down another unknown pass and Warren had several falls, injuring his knee. Every stumble was followed by the mug attached to his bag clanging, Warren falling and me asking, “Warren, are you all right?” Luckily it was not too bad and I could convince Warren that his cup clanging was not irritating me but rather warning me to get out of his way.  A long excruciating downhill followed (have I mentioned that my left big toenail was removed 3 weeks ago and it was still very tender?) and by 17h00, with my feet begging for a new owner, we stumbled into the cave. Jenny’s ankle was swollen badly and it was decided to take the easiest route out the next morning. Our new year’s celebration lasted exactly until 20h00.

1 January 2009: With a large bag of litter strapped to my backpack (mostly sardine cans left by locals), we headed straight for Fika Patso dam, hoping to catch a taxi on the main road. Locals having a braai next to the dam wall couldn’t believe their eyes when we walked past them and they insisted on taking some pictures of the crazy hikers that had appeared out of nowhere. Further down we bumped into more locals who were showing off their skills on a quad bike. They were reluctant to give us a lift, claiming that they were out for the day enjoying themselves and did not want to be interrupted. We had forgotten that it was a public holiday and that everyone was in a party mood. The road took us straight into Phuthaditjaba where everyone was once again extremely surprised to see us. We had to explain to everyone where we came from and where we were heading. The one lady informed us that we should have just gone over the mountain but after trying to explain the situation to her she just nodded her head in a strange way.

A cute worm

Finally we convinced a local to take Chris and Phillip to the resort to retrieve the vehicles. Jenny, myself and Warren kept on walking along the road. In a short while the locals who had given Chris and Philip the lift passed us, shouting that Chris and Phillip would be with us shortly. A long wait followed and still no sign of them or the vehicles. Finally they arrived and explained that they had been delayed because Phillip had barricaded the toll road and refused to budge until the official returned their toll money as he had promised. Happily reunited, off we went to the Shell garage for a quick wash and to repack the cars. The decision was that Chris, myself and Phillip would go exploring in Lesotho while Jenny and Warren return to Gauteng. A short and memorable trip through Golden Gate took us to Fouriesburg Country inn where we spent the night – a place I highly recommend.

2 January 2009: The start of our adventure in Lesotho. After studying the Lesotho map and consulting with some locals, it was decided to take the scenic route to Katse dam. Phillip and Chris were enjoying the 4X4 thing while I was sitting in the back, trying not to notice all the pot holes in the road. Around 12h00 a puncture stopped us. Since we had intended a 6 day hike in the mountains and not a 4X4 trip in Lesotho, I had left most of the repair kit and tools at home. While Chris and Phillip were changing the tyre, a 4X4 passed us, informing us that we were on a private road leading to a mine (opened 2 years ago) and that the road to Katse that we intended to take was pretty bad after the rains. We decided to have the tyre fixed in Matlehong and then head on to Sani Top Chalets. 

Chris and myself on top of a pass in Lesotho

The Supa Quick shop we had expected to find turned out to be 4 old tyres next to the road. Le Duc, the owner, had to be fetched from the river and charged us R80 to fix the puncture.  Relaxed and happy that once more we had a spare, the adventure continued. The feeling didn’t last very long because 20 minutes after leaving Matlehong we heard a big bang. The tyre Le Duc had just fixed, exploded. – obviously his air pump gauge was faulty and he had over inflated the tyre. We stopped to inspect the damage and did our usual wave to the locals and realized that they were not waving back but rather throwing stones at us.  We jumped into the car and sped off, absolutely shocked at the hostility shown us.

This was definately some sort of celebration

The erosion due to over grazing around Matlehong was incredibly bad.  The mountains were a desert landscape. (Who said that it was difficult to break a mountain?). We arrived at Sani Top Chalet at 16h00 where we were welcomed by the owner and given the following sleeping options since the place was packed

·   share a hut with the locals

·   share a room with the owner and his 3 big dogs

·   take over Liam’s room, a tourist from England, forcing him to share a room with the owner and his 3 big dogs.

Taking into account Phillip’s snoring it was unanimously decided to kick Liam out of his room.

3 January 2009: One look at the owner’s face the next morning convinced me that he didn’t get too much sleep the previous night. (Phillip’s snoring must have gotten to him since his dogs made it impossible to close his door).

The litter on top of Sani Pass

After breakfast, the nightmare trip down began. Since I suffer from a fear of 4X4ing, I chose to close my eyes during the first part of the road down Sani Pass.  The road turned out to be a highway with at least 15 4X4s passing us and the expressions on the drivers’ faces were all the same. Did you get down in this little 4X4?  Once again, Cutie, my little 1300 Daihatsu Terios had stood the test.

The very steep winding road down Sani Pass

Yes, she made it down!

The tyres were quickly sorted out in Underberg and we headed to Kgotso Backpackers where two hours of horse riding in the mountains followed. The backpackers was full and most of the guests were international tourists waiting to go on 4X4 trips or pony trekking into Lesotho.

4 January 2009: Time to head home. The guys had not yet had enough of dirt roads and decided to take all the “off the beaten tracks” whilst I tried to sleep or read, already thinking of dates for the next trip to the mountains.

South Africa – The Amatola Mountains

The brochure I received about the Amatola hiking trail suggested an early start. We were, however staying in one of the cottages at Starways Pottery in Hogsback and needless to say we could not help but get involved in the preparations for the opening of the Rose Theatre on the premises.

After Anton van der Merwe, the owner and master potter of Starways, showed me how to operate the chainsaw there was no stopping me and Sam, an artist from Scotland and within hours we had built the bar for the theatre. Phillip and Anton finalized the roof while the band consisting of Elliot and Pierce had us all in a cheerful mood after their practice session. Pretty soon it was time to work on my culinary skills, or should I rather say my decorative skills since 40 pizzas had to be made and what better oven to bake them in than the pottery oven!

The opening went exceptionally well and the music had everyone in a relaxed mood.

Day 1: Marden Dam to Gwili Gwili. (12 km - 7 hours)

Unfortunately, waking up at 5 am the next morning left me less chirpy than usual. Vale, Anton’s daughter, was kind enough to take me and Phil to Marden Dam where we started our first day hike. We decided on taking the short cut after we were informed of 1000 bee stings received the previous week by two hikers who were forced to abandon their hike. Hiking through the Pirie forest gave new meaning to sweating and made me feel good about my resolution (old year?) to get fit! What a great way to start!  We could hear birds singing all the time but it was only the Knysna Louries that showed themselves. Vermiculture was also given a new meaning when we learned that giant earthworms reaching up to 6m were responsible for the ever present heaps on the paths. Gwili Gwili hut was a pleasant surprise and since I was not expecting hot water, I was not too disappointed when we discovered that there was none. It started raining 15 minutes after we arrived and the rain only stopped an hour before we had to leave the next morning.

Day 2: Gwili Gwili to Dontsa (18 km - 8 hours).

The hike was predominantly through the moist indigenous forests and we once again could hear birds chirping all the way. We took the lower route at the Dontsa forest station which left us with some climbing near the end. Phillip couldn’t resist swimming in one of the lovely pools and refused to remove the pair of RayBan sunglasses he had picked up on the path. At the hut after another cold shower it started to rain and we were forced to move to another room since the roof started leaking rather badly.

Day 3: Dontsa to Cata  (17 km - 10 hours)
We decided to stick to indigenous forests and shorter routes and after reaching the Eseka Stream we opted for the  upper route. I was getting quite confident in my navigation skills and showed Phillip exactly where we were. After explaining to him that we should just follow the jeep track for another 4 km, I set off, leaving him to enjoy his snooze next to the path.  I was an inspired woman! It wasn’t long before I heard Phillip shouting at me – apparently I had taken the wrong route. My explanation for not finding any footprint markers along the way was that according to my reading of the map the route was so obvious and they weren’t needed!

A long 6 km followed and we reached the lovely hut without having to use headlamps. According to the journal left at the hut, we were not the only hikers getting lost.

Day 4: Cata to Mnyameni (13.5 km - 8 hours)

According to the brochure, one of the finest days hiking you are ever likely to experience is day 4 of the Amatola Trail. The trail was not laid out to get you simply from A to B, but rather to take you past the most spectacular and scenic spots you could wish to see. Unfortunately I did not find this amusing as the trail kept on cutting back to the extent that we seemed to almost be returning to our starting point. Picking up all the litter that the previous hikers had left around the hut left me in an even sulkier mood. Luckily we were still not expecting hot water.

Day 5: Mnyameni to Zingcuka (18.2 km - 10 hours)
The day started with a stiff climb up through another enchanting forest. I found this the best day and we could see the surrounding mountains most of the way. Phillip had several dips in and naps alongside the many rock pools. 

Day 6: Zingcuka to Tyumie River (15 km - 7 hours)

Due to heavy mist and after getting lost in the forest we were forced to take the forestry road to Hogsback. I found walking in the mist special with huge trees along the road and next to no visibility creating a wondrous atmosphere.

Two days later we were back at Zingcuka hut and completed the last leg of the hike in perfect weather. This time we were accompanied by Vale, Anton’s daughter. The whole mountain was covered in flowers and all along the route we were presented with fantastic views and we finally got to see a lot of birds.

Except for the zig-zaging from Cata to Mnyameni on day 4 and the huts not being maintained properly, I can definitely recommend this hike. The fact that the huts couldn’t lock was something to get used to.

South Africa – Drakensberg – Ship’s Prow

The invitation to join Chris Sommers on his hike up Ship’s Prow (Northern Fork) and down Gray’s pass couldn’t have come at a better time.  Arranging 15 SOAPkidz events and involving 3538 people in environmental projects during the past 9 months had left me depleted of any spare energy.

The group would consist of

·       Chris Sommers – very fit, the leader and Drakensberg fundi who has saved my life on several occasions in the Berg. (I suppose that he put my life in jeopardy to start with does not really count)

·        Phillip van der Merwe, whose fear of heights was displaced by a fear of death on the previous trip to the Drakensberg, still very unfit, especially since he was also involved with the arranging of the 15 events and has yet again decided to give up smoking on the hike (Help!)

·        Kim Lesley– Phillip’s school friend, extremely fit but a novice to the group and the great Dragon.

·        Warren – Energetic and motivated for his fourth hike in the Berg. Good company, especially for himself, as he has the habit of talking to himself whilst hiking. Well prepared this time with his newly acquired Gortex bivvy bag after being caught in a wind and snow storm during our previous encounter with the Berg.

·        Myself – very unfit and desperate to escape the noise pollution and recharge my batteries in the beautiful Berg.

Day 1: We left Pretoria at 5 am and arrived at Monk’s Cowl KZN Wildlife office around 11 am.  The 12 km hike was unadventurous and we were all relieved to pitch our tents in day light – it has been a long day and an even longer year.

Day 2: Five eager hikers were up by 4 am and ready to start the hike by 6 am. Phillip was feeling strong and the first 4 km to the start of Ship’s Prow Pass was done on a high note. We encountered our first Chi Chi bush at the bottom of the pass. The struggle with the Chi Chi bushes was interrupted by some serious boulder hopping, followed by gun shots and shouting from persons unknown on the southern fork of Ship’s Prow. 

Bundu Bashing through chi chi bush

Later back at Monk’s Cowl KZN Wildlife office we were told that rustlers were using the pass and that there were two dead cows there. Wondering how cows could possibly get up such a difficult pass, we were informed that the rustlers spread cow dung ahead of the animals and the cows happily followed thinking many cows had gone before. 

The last 1.5 km to the top was filled with some horrific moments when loose rocks came crashing down. Luckily no one was injured and by the time we reached the summit, we were just in time to glance at the sunset.  A mere twelve hours to get up the pass.  Kim who was so carried away admiring the sunset, delayed dressing warmly and got a fright when he entered the first stages of hypothermia .

Kim on top of Ship's prow pass

The wind was howling and five very tired and very quiet hikers hiked the last 2 km in the dark to iNkosazana cave, sharing 3 headlamps and the 1 remaining sense of humour. After 14 hours of hiking, no one was up to eating, Phillip and Kim climbed straight into their sleeping bags and appeared to be in shock.  I had to force feed them and very soon everyone was asleep.  Or almost everyone as I was busy trying to figure out the earplugs I had brought as protection against Phil’s snoring.

Day 3: Kim and Chris went exploring for the day while Warren and myself hiked to Champagne castle. Feeling a bit weak after the previous day’s hike, we were not brave enough to face the howling wind and went back to join Phillip who was lying on three mattresses, still snoring.

Phil, myself and Chris on top of Grey's pass

Warren discovered that we had lost the tent and luckily recovered it upon backtracking. I spend some time cutting grass for the cave and by 3 o’ clock, everyone was back and we decided to hike to Vulture Retreat to look at the magnificent view and watch the sunset.

The magnificent view on top of Grey's pass

Day 4: Walking to the top of Gray’s pass to watch the sunrise we noticed plenty of litter along the river. Two hours were spent picking up the plastics left by the locals and compressing it for transport down Gray’s pass.  By 10h00 we started our descent down Gray’s pass. The going was slow. We stopped regularly to pick up litter and when we finally pitched our tents at the camping spot close the Gatberg, we had collected 3 bags of litter, 99% bread plastic bags.

Trying to fit all the litter into the bags we took along

Day 5: Any ideas about going up Gatberg were put aside. We were on a mission to clean the campsites on our way back.  Picking up all the toilet paper left by, I truly want to believe ignorant women, got me into a raging state.  Finding empty gas canisters put me over the edge. Luckily Phil was there to remind me that by educating the children (SOAPkidz), we were influencing the next generation.

Down Grey's pass

Almost at the end we came across some day hikers. My instinct was to protect the mountain against further litter and so I said “Enjoy your hike, we have just cleaned the mountain for you”. The two girls smiled and politely said, “Thank you.”  Unfortunately the wise ass with them replied, “Don’t worry, I will dirty it for you once more”.  Fortunately for him the rest of our group was strong enough to hold me back.

Some of the litter we brought down the mountain

The Chief in Charge of the Wilderness area was contacted and informed about the litter and guns shots whereupon he provided us with some very positive feedback on the progress they had recently made with the smugglers and rustlers.

We were on the road back to Pretoria by 13h00.

My personal feelings:

·        I consider mountains holy.

·        It is a privilege to be on a mountain and not a right.

·        I don’t have any idea how we can stop the littering by the locals but I do know that I cannot keep quiet about the litter left by hikers. (especially women).

·        The following rule should apply to everyone going to a mountain or wilderness area – Leave the place in a better condition than you found it.

·        Nature conservation is there to preserve what should be precious to us all and visitors should therefore be placed under greater scrutiny. They should be required to detail in a register all food and canisters they have and upon return be required to show the empty packets, canisters etc.  I know that this is difficult to police but at least the message is clear, “What you take up must be brought back”.

·        All visitors must adhere to and sign a Code of Conduct for mountains or wilderness areas.  The Code of Conduct must clearly state all the Do’s and Don’ts relating to ablutions, water usage, litter, wildlife, plants, fires, rock art etc.

·        This Code of Conduct must be promulgated and promoted nation wide.

Botswana – Mount Otse (Otse)

The first time I set foot on Mt Otse was in November 2006. Two friends and I just got back from hiking in Namibia and we had a vague idea where Botswana’s highest peak was. After two hours of asking the locals where the highest peak in Botswana was, we found ourselves in front of Otse’s cheese factory. The lady behind the counter showed me where the highest peak is but warned me not to go the top. According to folklore, people don’t return. My two friends had enough of mountains and it was decided that I must run to the top, try to take pictures of myself on top of Botswana’s highest peak (without reading the camera’s manual and therefore not knowing how the self timer works) and run back.

The second time I set foot on Mt Otse was in September 2007. I had, in the meantime, discovered that there is a trig beacon on top of Botswana's highest peak. Needless to say, I had to go back and find the real highest peak. Crossing the border post at Ramatlabama, the staff informed us that people disappear when they go to Mt Otse. We were, however, adamant and this time I knew exactly where the mountain was. Finding the highest peak could not be that difficult. We found ourselves parked in front of the Cheese factory by 10h00. This time I asked the owner where the highest peak was. By 14h00 we were sipping a beer in the tea garden opposite the cheese factory discussing our hike. Yes, we did find a trick beacon but discovered a higher point about 50 m away. Taking the necessary pictures and coordinates, I can also lay claim to the first lady ever to fall off the “highest peak” in Botswana. It was while trying to recover some of my dignity that I spotted what seemed like a higher peak 3 km away. Decisions! Decisions! We were running out of water and time.

Back at the border post we had a wonderful welcome. The staff came running out of the building to make sure that we were flesh and blood. What a nice welcome back after visiting Botswana’s highest peak.

The third time I set my foot on Mt Otse was in June 2008. This time we wrote “Monalanong Hill” as the place of our visit at the border post. Armed with several GPS coordinates we turned left before the cheese factory and followed the dirt road for a while. By 10h00 we were parked in front of a lodge. Looking at the top of the mountain we slowly unpacked our daypacks. 90 minutes to the top, 90 minutes down. 2 Litre of water and 4 energy bars amongst us would be more than enough. 90 Minutes later we were standing on top of a peak. The highest in Botswana it definitely was not. Far right, I could see the peak I visited in 2006. To our right were the ones we visited in 2007. To our left, about 2 km away, were the ones we saw in 2007. Decisions! Decisions!  With renewed energy we raced to the range 2 km away. To be double sure I measure the peak to the left before rushing off to measure the peak to the right. Alas, somewhere along the line, by eliminating the other possibilities, Eureka! Trig Beacon and all!

For me, every encounter with a mountain is different. Some mountains are gentle, some are unforgiving. Normally I get a sense of a mountain when I lay eyes on her. With Mt Otse I’m still trying to figure out if it is respect.

The conclusion I arrived at after comparing the GPS coordinates I took with a Garmin Vista C with two I got off the internet

• Google Earth’s Highest peak in Botswana was 42 km away
• Peak Bagger’s highest peak in Botswana was 18 km away

South Africa – Drakensberg – The Sky Run

a) The 10 summits on the skyrun

b) The mountaineer’s/hikers/idiots version of the skyrun

c) Doing the skyrun barefoot/in crocs/on one leg

d) How to cross the 39 fences on the skyrun

I’ll leave it in your hands to choose the report’s heading

Day 1: (8 km): Exploring a new part of the Berg was the only requirement I had. When Pieter suggested doing the skyrun, I had to do some research. The only information I got was that it was an adventure race (Ultra marathon) over 120km + and lasted about 2 days. Thinking we need at least some sleep, I stupidly thought we could do it in 4 days. I contacted all the farmers to get permission and on Friday the 25^th of April 2008 we left Pretoria.

On the way to Lady Grey, Pieter showed me the maps and all the peaks we were going to summit. Still terrible with navigation, I just nodded my head. Once in Lady Grey, Otto Oertel from the Mountain Inn Hotel took us with his Caravelle to Tiffendele, pointing at the peaks Pieter couldn’t stop talking about. 5 Minutes after Otto dropped us at Tiffendele Ski Resort – we discovered our hiking sticks were still in his kombi. Thank goodness for cellphones. 10 minutes later we were on our way to Ben Macdui with our hiking sticks. We tried to get as much of the snow that was still left behind after the previous weekend’s fall. Since it was cold and getting dark, we pitched the tent after 8km and got into our sleeping bags immediately.

Day 2: (19 km) One can only sleep so long and we started hiking at 7h30 and headed straight for Edgehill. We were informed by everyone associated with the skyrun to turn left at a certain point but since we were adventurous/mountaineers/idiots we decided to head straight up. This would mean a 20km shortcut and how difficult can it be? Two hours later, we were back at the place the adventure racing experts told us to turn left. Okay, maybe it is not so safe going over the cliffs if you don’t know what’s waiting on the other side. Going down the mountain took ages and we battled with vegetation resembling rose bushes. We didn’t want to go down to the road since it would mean another 10 km. Decisions decisions. We could go down the road the adventure racers take and hike right into the night or we could try contouring again. We tried the contouring bit again. After 4 hours, 15 fence crossings and thousands of the rose bushes, we pitched our tent.

Day 3: (13 km) We started hiking at 7h30 again. According to Pieter, we had to make up for lost time. Belloch peak was waiting. Unfortunately I didn’t read my boots’ washing instructions and leaving them to dry in the sun I presume, was not something they recommend. My toes were in agony and part of the morning’s hike was done barefoot and part in Phil’s imitation Crocs. Pieter’s dream of making up for lost time was shattered. Going up was time consuming (with me it was one step forward, 2 steps sliding back). It was time to make a decision again. Pieter would go up and myself and Phil would slide along slowly. Two hours later, we made it to the top as well. Pieter was stuffed. It took him an hour to get to Belloch peak and back and he’s energy level was at an all time low.

Decisions, decisions. We started contouring. “Pieter, is this part of the skyrun?” I asked two hours later. “No, the skyrun is way over there!” By this time, I have regained my sense of humour. We were doing our own proper skyrun. We were surrounded by beautiful mountains. We decided to camp once the clouds moved in and to wake up early to make up for lost time. Pieter also mentioned a change of plan. By 18h00 Pieter and Phil were snoring!

Day 4: (19 km). We started hiking at 6h00 and by 8h00 Phil’s knee has given in. The going was slow but the view was absolutely breathtaking. I could do with new feet but it was really worthwhile. We stopped at 15h30 below Avoca Peak. We watched a spectacular sunset and the guys couldn’t stop talking about food (especially meat). I kept everyone awake doing 23 Sudokos. So much for bonding. But I did say on day 1 that we were either going to kill one another or bond!

Day 5: (12 km). Why do I enjoy summiting peaks? Well, the view from Avoca explains it all. It was breathtaking. We were on top of the clouds. Another long spectacular hike on a ridge followed. Phil was still battling with his knee. We camped below Snowdon peak at 13h00. At 14h00 Pieter and myself hiked to Snowdon peak. A lazy cold afternoon followed and by 18h00 we were all in bed, hoping for snow

Day 6: (23 km). We woke up at 5h00, expecting snow but were greeted by mist. We waited till sunlight and since the mist was not disappearing we decided to hike down. We bumped into several quadbikers . Phil was keen to phone Otto for a lift and when Pieter said it’s a thing of pride walking to the hotel, Phil said he lost his pride when he turned 30. Unfortunately Pieter is only 29 ¾. The only car we saw hiking down/up the road stopped to ask where we were going. Phil, still limping but not limping enough shouted: “We came from Tiffindele”. “Well, pop in for coffee at Olympus”, the lady replied before speeding off.

I was keen to hike to the hotel (idiot since it was still another 19km and my feet were already looking for a new owner) to fetch Cutie but Pieter convinced me that it was not such a great idea. Coffee at Olympus lead to supper at Olympus. Maureen, Leo and Kathy – Lee were extremely hospitable and after nice red wine and a lovely meal (when Phil asked what vintage (apparently it was the best wine he has ever tasted), Maureen replied Box wine!) we went to sleep. We were all snoring by 21h30.

Day 7: (19 km). We were on the road by 4h30. 19 km of bird watching and some interesting conversations followed. Pieter’s shoes were finally ready for the museum and he suffered a bit with blisters. When we reached the first house in Lady Grey, we were greeted by a lady, Helene Du Preez who was very impressed with our hiking and picking up litter. We were invited for coffee but nothing could stop the guys from having some meat first. (They were talking to the cows on our way down). After a nice bath and something to eat, we went for coffee at Helene’s place. Pieter was invited to develop hiking trails and we visited till late. All plans to sleep a bit forgotten. Back at the hotel, it was once again time for the boys to eat some meat! We chatted to Otto and Dalene and going to bed I was a bit sad, I have met wonderful people the past two days. Hopefully I’ll have an opportunity to meet them again.