Sand and Granite

South Africa

TONY: After all the percolated coffee and dirty toilets in France, landing at Cape Town airport greeted with a soy latte and a clean loo felt like a return to civilization. I’ve always wanted to live in a place where you could surf in the morning before work and climb in the evening after, and Cape Town delivers that in the most beautiful location of any city I’ve ever been. It also has decent night life and excellent food, a mix of Asian, African and European and the best condiment known to man, Mrs H.S Balls Original Recipe Chutney (Laura: Julie thinks she’s seen it in your fridge at home. You NEED to put us in contact with your supplier!) Laura’s sister Jeanette kindly offered us a room in her apartment in Rondebosh, a leafy suburb close to everything, with a view of Table Mountain to wake up to every morning. She was great company and an excellent part time tour guide, and we saw a lot in the week we spent in an around the city. The highlight was probably the little seaside villages dotted across the peninsula, each with its own character and beach and mountain vista. Eating fresh seafood at sunset on the fisherman’s quay in Kalk Bay, watching the seals try to steal some of the last catch of the day while it’s being bought in by the colorful little fishing boats... There are also African penguins, and everyone knows I’ve got a soft spot for penguins. We climbed one of the classic table mountain routes, ‘Jacobs Ladder (16)’ in a single very long day. Julie lead most of the route, including the amazing traverse pitch. Climbing this steep cliff high above the town and the ocean was one of the highlights of the trip. 

Beautiful traverse pitch on Jacob's Ladder - with Cape Town below

Table Mountain with our lovely hostess Jeanett

Sad to leave Cape Town, we picked up a rental car, filled the boot with Biltong and headed north, through empty countryside to the Cerderberg Wilderness..  We starte to feel it was all a bit easy, just like home, and then we drove past Zebras (ZEBRAS!) We named our VW Polo ‘Von Smits’ to try to fit in with the Africaaners. The main attraction in Cederbeg, aside from the rolling hills and wildflowers, is the sandstone boulders, which attract scores of climbers from all over the world for months at a time. August is prime time for camping and bouldering at the ‘Rocklands’ when days are sunny and clear and friction is at its best.

At least, that’s what the guidebook I was reading insisted while we sat in the car watching the hail batter the windscreen. It was freezing, but thankfully only for a day or two, after which we got the sunny weather we were promised. We spent our one sunny day climbing with French, Germans, Russians, Czechs and Americans.  That night prompted by many a veteran Rocklands boulderer, we visited a fundraising performance at a primary school in a nearby village. The kids really put my primary school plays to shame with their incredible dancing and singing (although my family said my turn as ‘Trooper 4’ in ‘Captain Midnight’ at Castlemaine North Primary was inspired). Their choir covered a Ladysmith Black Mambazo track that I love, and traditional dancing was neat. The littlest kids were very cute in their enthusiasm.

Leaving the next day at 6, we made our way through South African and Namibian border checks; at least 6 windows to visit it turned out, but no one told us that until we tried to cross the border without some random stamp or fee paid or another. 

Tony in his element visiting endangered penguins on the Cape

Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens in Cape Town

Fishermen bringing in our fish for dinner - check out the seal

Julie and our fish at chips at Kalkies, Kalk Bay Cape Town

Namibia

It was really started to feel like Africa. The roads were straights and dusty, junctions swarming with families looking for rides and shacks made from tin cans selling beaded necklaces and collected firewood. I’d expected to see African animals in game parks, but we were already spotting ostriches, warthogs, springbok and gemsbok in the early morning and late evening from the road. We traveled up through Namibia, which is really one vast desert stretching from the huge red sand dunes of the Namib to the plains of the Khalahari. There are many local languages, and we learnt how to say hello in the Nama language, one of the “clicking” languages, from a girl at a roadhouse. Not easy to pronounce, and I have no idea how to spell a click. (I think they use apostrophes !nama) We stopped each night to camp in the desert. The first night we camped close to Fish River Canyon, the second largest canyon in the world behind the Grand Canyon, and watched the sun go down on its edge. We visited the Namib Desert dunes at Sussouvlei, and hiked through the red emptiness reminiscent of Arabia to the Hidden Vlei, a mud flat with petrified trees 600 years old. The colors of the flat white ground against the deep red dunes and the bright blue sky were incredible. 

Fish River Canyon (and a tiny Julie)

We continued north, Von Smits grudgingly absorbing the dust, corrugations and potholes. We’d been told not to pick up locals looking for lifts, but it was getting increasingly difficult to drive past families with their thumbs out in the middle of nowhere, happy as they seemed to be waiting in the blazing sun. When we asked again at a service station about picking up hitch hikers, the friendly man was emphatic in his insistence that it was to be avoided, and we would be harassed or worse, but we had to question his real motives when he mumbled ‘you’ll never get the African stink out of the car’. We were happy the next day to give a lift to a friend of one of the park rangers to the city, who we found out later worked as a nurse in a healthcare system with 700 patients per doctor, 7 days a week at a workplace 8 hours drive from home. We arrived in Windhoek, the capital, for a days rest and to collect provisions for a week camping at Spitzkoppe, the “Matterhorn of Africa”.

Von Smits in Namibia

Soaking up the ambiance at the canyon

Our desert camp in Sossusvlei

The incredible Sossusvlei dunes in Namibia

The only shade for kms, under a 600 year old dead tree in Hidden Vlei

JULIE:

To give some idea of the aspect of Spitzkopppe, you might imagine a Namibian version of Ayres Rock, in the shape of the  Matterhorn – it’s a great reddy golden mountain and boulder playground rising from a vast dry plain.

Our arrival at Spitzkoppe marked 5 days or so of dawn starts, unheard of for Tony, and a veritable miracle for me.  We not only survived, but continued the trend of pre-sunrise starts to climb a few longer routes in Spitzkoppe (the sun sets early here in winter).  But I get ahead of myself.

3 hours into our drive from the capital,Windhoek our recorded book about the travels of Livingstone and Stanley finished. I tied up my work, my laptop died and I realised I’d forgotten to buy a new book. I was utterly dismayed, expecting that the desert blankness for5 days would get more than a little boring (Oh, how wonderful, more, sand). 

Ah but the desert won. My simple mind just couldn’t comprehend how a place so dry with 5mm of annual rainfall could support so much life.  A base level of intrigue made each new sight a discovery, a thing to ponder and the rock is beautiful, smooth and sinewy.  The rock here is ancient, truly.  Apparently created by volcanic action well before Gondwana was even created, the granite didn’t pierce the surface.  Over eons, first covered by glaciers, surrounding earth cleared, to reveal the granite now exposed to the sand. That there is nothing around to see in any direction compounds the sense you’ve moved back in time. (The local town is a mere smattering of tin shacks, home to gem stone miners, and sits near a dry riverbed kilometres away).

Camping among the boulders at Spitzkoppe. 

The guidebook describes the ambiance as ‘spiritual’; reading which made me mentally vomit.  But, there is something truly special about real silence in the desert I can appreciate.  Your body must, I think, sense the silence, and shut down even those tiny defences it retains even when you’re fully relaxed on, say, a beach holiday back home.  In the desert even your ears can relax.  And it’s true that the stars are more beautiful.  

I have to admit that I didn’t relax straight away.  As we entered the Spitzkoppe Park I read a happy report explaining conservation success attracting fauna to the park – including leopards.  I was shocked. In my head, all I had to watch our for were snakes near the rocks.  Snakes, being Australian, I can watch out for.  But I figure I’m snack size for a leopard, and definitely not able to intimidate one.  

Thus commences night one, a tiny desert mouse scuttled around near the tent.  I was sure it was a leopard.  Tony snored. I shuddered!  The Leopard would find us now for sure!  I was sure I’d look up to glowing Leopard eyes through the fly door.  Then a fierce wind picked up and whipped the tent so fiercely I couldn’t make out leopard sounds from the sandstorm.  Unfortunately the cold, strong, wind hounded most of our trip and limited our ability to climb the balancy slabs* somewhat, though we did scuttle up P. Hufagnel on the towering smooth buttress next to our camp on one sunny afternoon  .   

Tony contemplating the next run out on P. Hufagnel

Abseiling off P. Hufagnel

The access to the climbs were quite lovely too. For our most satisfying climb we had to start the walk in from the ground to the far right of the Pontok range and trend up the low angled slabs past each of the 4 big pontok mountains all the way to the leftmost Pontok Spitz. The path lead through a maze of boulder steps and corridors.  Along the way we saw mountain hyrax, and odd plants like cactus trees, spiky desert plants with delicate purple flowers. 

Admittedly slab climbing of the flavour in the area is not my ideal variant of the sport– I feel too much at the whim of brittle rock to commit to 4 metre+ run-outs.  Tony on the other hand boldly (as his wife, I may say somewhat too boldly)  loves to climb slab routes.  He lead us up the 8 pitch “To Bolt or Not To Bolt” on our final, perfect weather day.  New monikers aside (“To bolt a little more?”), we reached the summit marker in the sunshine and I was awfully glad we’d done it.  Our names are now in the Summit Book at the top, recording our battle up the glorious crux, thrutchy chimney,  off-width crack and brittle traverse pitches, on our honeymoon. 

We left a little sandy, but happy to wash off and relax in a comfy bed in the Capital.  We learnt a little from other guests in the thoroughly recommended Rivendell Guest House; Etosha Game park further north is apparently teeming with game, including black rhino and is beautiful, and we’ve been tipping at roughly 5 times the going rate all trip.

Currently sitting at the airport, where our first internal African flight from Namibia has been delayed for 6 hours for maintenance.  Namibia is very developed, and so I suspect this marks the start of our “real” African journey.   We’re off to Zambia now to stay in a game lodge for a week and then catch the Tazara train through Tanzania over and then hang out in the very, very, cool sounding Zanzibar (just rolls off the tongue doesn’t it) with Tony’s Dad.

(*Slabs are rough rock that is less than vertical you patter up based on friction alone. Physically easy, apart from on the calves, it’s scary as one slip and you’d likely grater down, quite far since often (and in Spitzkoppe generally) the relative ease of the climb means protection is well spaced 4-10 metres apart)

Tony Conqueror of Pontok Spitz

A hug on the summit of To Bolt or Not To Bolt- our final day.