SA Adventures (vol. 3)

The beach in Durban

    On Thursday morning (June 9) I crammed my earthly possessions into my backpack and biked hard to the train station. I missed the train by a minute, so I was fifteen minutes late to meet David, who had just lost his phone. In a moment of indiscretion we had planned to arrive at the airport fifteen minutes our departure time. And I had squandered that absurdly short buffer. The taxi driver obliged with a 140 kmph ride, and we regained fifteen minutes. We ran from check-in to security, then sprinted to the gate. We got into our seats ten minutes after arriving at the airport, and the flight left on time. When we arrived in Durban we tried to rent a car, and after three tries we found a place which would do so with a debit card. After running on the beach and getting a bit lost, we found our car, a hostel, and an Indian restaurant.
    At the recommendation of several people, we got bunny chow: a curry in a hollowed out half a loaf of bread. It was delicious, but we decided we needed a bit more food. While we waited the forty-five minutes it took for it to arrive, the table next to asked if we'd like to help them finish their food. They were a lively group of marketing co-workers, and we chatted about spices, language, politics, and endurance sports for nearly two hours. One of my favorite parts of traveling is all the lovely people I encounter and this was a really fun interaction.

    The next morning we set out before dawn in hopes of avoiding potential traffic caused by political protests. We stopped for gas in a small town three hours in, and when I started the car afterwards smoke billowed out of the hood. When I looked under the hood I saw that oil had poured out of the engine and was still rapidly dripping, though I couldn't identify the source. The owner of the cafe I parked in front of was very kind and let us use her phone to contact the rental company. And then we drank coffee (which I forgot to pay for, and had to come back when we passed through town again) and waited two hours for the replacement car to show up. We ended up with a much better car (the original was a .8 L, highway legal go-cart) and set off again.
 

We followed a small road through rolling brown hills and small villages to a trailhead. It was noon so we selected a short, 5 km hike hoping to get back before dark and find a place to stay. The trail led through grasslands and sun at first, with the escarpment in the background.

Rounding a head of land the trail dropped into gorge, and instead of sun-drenched grass we were suddenly surrounded by ferns, trees, moss, and a waterfall fed by a clear, cold creek. We followed the creek up the gorge, under trees and ferns, to a larger waterfall. After contemplation I decided I probably needed to shower under it, so I stripped and went for it. It was cold, but not paralyzing, and supremely refreshing.

 

 We decided to continue up the gorge instead of heading back, figuring there would be just enough daylight. We boulder hopped, passing Zion-esque slots (think The Subway) with clear green water in smoothly carved channels. In hopes of making a loop instead of backtracking (which I avoid on principle) I suggested that we could climb out the gorge, find a trail at the ridge, and follow it back. I was honestly a bit hesitant, not being familiar with the area, and therefore unable to accurately assess the risks. But David was for it, so we clambered out. The waist high ferns provided decent grip, but a barrier as well. The slope was almost too steep to climb, and when rock was exposed it was more bouldering than hiking.


    Eventually we made it out the "top" of the gorge, and it became slightly less steep, so that we could walk instead of using all four limbs. It was still like a long flight of uneven, very steep stairs, and the scramble to the top of the ridge was long and exhausting. We found a trail just where we expected, and decided to take the longer, more interesting route back. So we turned left and followed a barely perceptible foot track through the knee high waving grass. The hills were covered in the grass, with no trees, with little hint of their scale and steepness. From the ridge we had a much better view of the escarpment, the grassy hills gave way suddenly to sheer walls of dark rock, topped with rugged peaks where the escarpment rose 1000m. I realized how fittingly the native peoples named the range: Barrier of Spears.

    We walked briskly, not enthusiastic about trying to trace the footpath through unfamiliar mountains in the dark. As the sun dropped behind the range, beams streamed in around the peaks, highlighting their rugged crags. We decided to drop back into a gorge for the hike out. The trail appeared to end at the top of a cliff, and pick up at the bottom. But, it led down the face, more scramble than trail, and we jogged up the valley toward the exit. I glanced back at one point and sun had broken through the clouds and lighted up the largest of the cliffs, showing that there was color in the dark granite. We made it out just as it became two dark to see, having traversed around fifteen km, a few of those off trails.
    Sadly we did not have the gear to camp, much less with a low around freezing. So we drove back to town to find lodging, stopping at a hospital for David to look around. His experience working in a Ugandan hospital showcased pretty horrific healthcare. He was pleasantly surprised at the cleanliness of the facility, number of staff, and overall quality. KFC provided sketchy internet and ice-cream, and I found a reasonably priced lodging for the night. I was so tired I couldn't think, and was very happy when we found a hotel in the town where we had broken down earlier. The staff was incredibly friendly, and the owner loaned me his phone charger since I'd lost my adapter

    In the morning we headed to Royal Natal national park to hike to the base of the Tugela Falls, the highest in Africa. Clouds had moved in eliminating the view of the escarpment, so we hiked into the clouds and rain. We couldn't see the falls, but we did find a slot canyon, with beautiful greenish water in pools, sheer 25m walls, and lovely curves. Slot canyons are one of my favorite features, but we needed to head back to the car. Mostly drenched, we hiked and ran the 7 km back, and I stopped to think and listen to the rain at times.

Sunday held another incredible hike in a granite cathedral, up the escarpment above the clouds to the top of the second highest waterfall in the world. The hike began after half an hour of very steep and rough mountain road, which ended at a military outpost. The frost encrusted bushes and concertina wire, with freezing wind whipping over the ridge almost deterred us from the hike. But we decided to start in and if it was not wise or just too cold, we'd turn back. Fifteen minutes of brisk hiking carried us above the cloud, out of the wind, and the sun was actually quite warm. An hour in we took a side path over the ridge and got our first look at the escarpment. It was filled to the half with clouds, but the portion of the cliffs above still inspired awe.

I was eager to be at the top, so after brief admiration we set off up the trail. It became steeper, more boulder strewn until it ended at a fifty foot cliff. Fortunately for us, chain ladders gave passage up the two faces to the plateau above. Instead of hiking through rugged mountains, we topped the Bluff and strolled through rolling fields with a frozen brook running though.

The grassy, rolling plateau abruptly became sky at the margin of a cliff. Two thousand feet below, a sea of stratus clouds obscured their base. The granite walls stretch away and end jagged crags to form a cloud filled Amphitheater whose scale defies conception. I sat at the edge, my brain scrambling to process the grandeur. I envied the ibis which flew off the edge, suddenly three orders of magnitude higher off the ground. Sadly the pillowing clouds would not support me quite as well.
I tried to commit as to memory all the details: streaks of color in the dark granite, razor ridges, clean, cold air carrying the smell of sky, and the enormity of the scenery.

Tugela Falls begins its 948 m descent where we stood, falling in five cascades down the sheer face, including second highest single drop in the world at 411 m. There was very little water and it was frozen, but the view was still stupendous.

As I looked the clouds became shreds of poly-fill revealing the tortuous gorges the falling water has carved into the valley floor. The insurmountable ridges we had wound though the day before shrank to mere lumps from the vantage and comparison. Once again, my eyes failed me as I struggled just to focus in order to take in the view. I spotted the trail we had followed to the base of the falls, a mere thread along the now miniature cliffs.

On the hike down I probably missed out on the scenery as I continued to process the grandeur I had just experienced. Clouds swept up over the ridge, so I didn't get to see the Amphitheater again, and a troop of angry macaques motivated me to not linger at the lower viewpoint.







We headed back to Durban for David to catch his flight, and for me to find out if I had one. I couldn't look into my flights any more until the business day began in the US at 1400. So I started running. I first ran five km to a wharf, tried to get a gig as a deck hand on a yacht, was turned down, so I ran to the beach.
I spent two hours watching the waves, surfers and my footprints in the sand. I stopped at a coffee shop for some coffee, forgot to pay again, and had to re-run a long, steep hill to settle up. After 15 km of running I made it back to the hostel with loudly moo-ing calves. I did finally get my flights sorted but not until fifteen hours before their departure time.

The trip to Moz the next morning was uneventful, other than a no-show airport shuttle which stressfully forced me to try out Uber for the first time. I did realize while I was waiting My driver, Wisemann, was a South African grad student in statistics, and we had a lovely chat about culture, TV, and the pace of life in different cities. I arrived in Beira on time and had no issues with customs, much to my surprise.
And now I'm here, definitely in Africa for the first time in six years. Some things are eerily familiar from my time in Kenya and at the same time I feel completely out of place. So I'm helping out where I can, finding how I fit into the projects here, learning some portuguese, and getting to experience a very new church atmosphere. The vacation in SA was lovely and I am excited to get involved in the work here.