One year later...

I cannot believe it's been one year - two memorial days spent on planes and before I leave for the last time, it'll be two birthdays.

I will remember last Sunday for the rest of my life. With a sunny forecast and few of those left here, I left early (while the crew in Sea Point was just finishing their work of hand painting all the traffic lines and crosswalks) and headed out to Jonkershoek.

Earlier in the year, I hiked the Panaramic Trail with a dead battery in my camera - devastating mistake as it ranks among the best single day hikes I've ever done. The Swartboskloof Trail now competes for the best trails I've been on, but not my best hike.




Buying my permit, I debated which trail to do - I longed to get back one particular point on the Panoramic with my camera. It's in the saddle of 2 peaks, but has a view of mountains for as far as

you can see in any direction, with no sight of human existence besides the trail that gets you there. Words do it no justice. However, the morning chill was still hanging in the air and realising Swartboskloof Trail was on the opposite side of the valley, the sun - as opposed to the shade for another couple hours - was definitely enticing. Hearing that the views were comparable, I was sold on a new adventure.

The Swartboskloof Trail is a kilometer longer than the Panaramic, 18km with a 2km walk along the road back to your car to finish the loop. I started around 9:30am in pants, a tank top, a synthetic long sleeve top and a fleece. Within 10 minutes (the first 4.5 km is the ascent up the mountain) I was down to the tank top and enjoying the first vitamin D my skin has had in too long - especially for the first of June!

The hike was amazing - every 5 minutes, I wanted to stop and take a picture. Looking over my shoulder, the view continued to improve with elevation gain.

A few hours in, I lost the trail. I wasn't worried because you always had a sense of where you were. There was never a point when I couldn't pick out North using the sun. I also had a rough topo map and the mountains make land markers because I could always see for kilometers. After some searching around, I found the trail and built a little cairn for the next person. (Check out the picture; I started close to - and at the elevation of - the lake in the distance.)

I was soon (it's all relative) at the top and could not make out Table Mountain and Lions Head in the distance (~70 kilometers) . After taking the picture of my shadow, I left my pack (3 liters of water, pb&j, snacks, extra clothes, etc.) for a quick jaunt where I thought I might get a glimpse over the next peak... and there I found False Bay! I could make out the mountains going to both the Cape of Good Hope and Hangclip Point which are the two points on either side of False Bay. (In the picture below, you can see False Bay on the left side of the horizon line and Table Mountain and Lions Head are on the right.) It was quite the location for my little picnic lunch.

This is one of those hikes that gives what one shouldn't 'earn' with just a day hike. I felt like I should have only been experiencing those views after at least 2 full days of hiking and camping. While it's winter in South Africa, even in the summer, Jonkershoek is relatively empty. There's something about hiking alone that prevents the distraction of casual conversation from taking full appreciation - even notice - of the surroundings and the insignificance of day-to-day worries. It took me back to the 30-minute segment of solo hiking on ELC Backpacking II in the Rainbow Wilderness Area. A part of solitude brings that relief - appreciation and balance that comes with recognition of the bigger picture. There's a quote I enjoy that challenges you to try to remember precisely what you were worrying about one year ago from today - usually insignificant or even unmemorable now.

I continued on until I reached a T. I knew which way the trail was headed so I picked right but my path dead-ended into sticky bushes (not harsh enough to be called thorns but definitely avoided as long pants only lessened the discomfort). I returned to the T and tried left only to find the same result. So... I went back on the path to the right, made a marker so I could pick out the spot and return if needed, and bushwhacked through thigh-high weeds and branches to find the trail.

Instead, my foot found a stream. Looking around, I found waterfalls in the mountain above; I found the creeks on the map but wasn't sure if it was only existent due to the recent rains. I decided to follow the stream down a valley because I knew the trail followed a stream down to finish the hike and at one point crossed it. Stepping/hopping rock to rock was actually much easier going than the bushwhacking. Fortunately, I was wearing my Vasque Gortex cross-trainers and my feet stayed dry until the couple times when I was over ankle deep in water - and yes, there was the full slip that left the entire back of one leg wet.

So as I'm carrying on, I'm doing a status check of everything I have with me. I wasn't fearing my life or anything, but it's a mental preparation thing. I've always wondered how people get lost on Table Mountain because the landmarks (uh, the city, the water, etc.) don't move. I still believe it's either getting in a position that you can't get out of (climbing up something you can't climb back down) or weather that comes in and wipes visibility. The same holds true in my head about Jonkershoek.

I had plenty of water, warm clothes, and a phone that had a signal an hour before my trail-losing escapade began. So, worse case, I could hike back up the creek (not so excited about that), back up the valley (even less excited about that) and back the way I came. I also had the mobile number of the 'ranger station' in case something went wrong. I was more concerned with causing Grant any anxiety as I sent him an sms when I started with where I was and that I would check in 4-5 hours later. I was quickly approaching that time. My next problem came, as I approached an end of the creek. This end came in the form of a waterfall. I poked around and looked for a 'safe' way to descend the 30-foot problem. I picked my way down a bit and stopped when if I were to continue, it would get more technical. The rock was actually full of nooks, knobs, and handles; it would have been great for climbing- but not without ropes and a belay. So, I gave in and started back up the creek.

Another ELC recollection was keeping a smile on my face. There was a kayaking rule that I don't even remember completely. Something about making you get your feet wet - the boat had to be floating or you had to be at least calf-deep before loading the Duluth packs or getting in the boat. To achieve the rule (floating 0r calf-deep), you were obviously wet; you'd make sure to only load and get in once it wouldn't cause the boat to hit the bottom. BUT, if there hadn't been the floating/calf-deep business, you'd try to get loaded and in with staying as dry as possible. It resonated with me because once my feet were wet (the big slip, one might say), I'd choose the more stable rocks, albeit submerged, than the

perhaps tippy stone that would keep my feet dry. Those smart ELCers...

I came to the point where I had met the creek and painfully started the bushwhacking back up the valley. Seriously, travel slows to fraction of the pace when you're trailbreaking - kudos to the explorers and seeds to the people who decided the trail wasn't 'too overgrown' to deem upkeep (come on, I paid R25!).




Looking to the next peak, I saw... my saviors. The first group I'd seen on either the Panoramic or the Swartboskloof. I whistled and they stopped (comes in handy for not only hailing cabs and SOS calls). I held their attention for a minute with more whistles and shouts and I started up the valley to make my way to them but they began hiking again and disappeared as I was still significantly below them. Quite a downer; it would have been clear that I wasn't on a trail and I didn't understand how they could have come to the decision to carry on. I wasn't 100% which trail they were on but I was determined to get to the path they were on. As I trudged on, they came back into sight and I whistled again. They stopped; this time I was hoping that I was close enough to yell and be understood. As they stalled I began bee-lining my way to them. It's like trying to run through knee deep water while someone is impatiently waiting for you a mile away. Eventually, I made it to them and the guy in the back of the group introduced himself. It was so bizarre. After I asked him if I could join them, they started again and they all spoke in Afrikaans except Cobus spoke to me in English. They turned out to be grad students in Stellenbosch studying IE and cabernet, quite the combination between them...

So, that was my hike. I've decided to leave that trail alone and if time allows, I'll bring my camera back on the Panoramic. I was a little shaken returning to my car (perhaps more exhausted than shaken) and took a picture looking back at the Jonkershoek Mountains as I drove towards the N1. A beautiful sunset and warm shower welcomed me at my apartment - the day ended with home cooked chili at Grant's.