If I thought I was stiff on day 2, well! I had to be pulled out of bed and propped up on the bunk from where I managed to propel myself forwards so that my momentum got me to the showers a few metres away. I managed to overtake a caterpillar on the last metre. Getting back up the stairs to the hut was another story. However once I set out and loosened up a bit I actually found myself for the first time enjoying the walk and the scenery despite another massive, forgotten mountain climb.
And enjoy the scenery I did because I still stopped to rest every few metres, although I convinced myself this was purely voluntary, until I was overtaken at speed by the power walkers despite my half hour head start. They greeted me cheerily as they rushed by without a drop of sweat on their noses in pursuit of some record breaking ascent. Got to the top of the mountain and was rewarded with the most astounding view of the surrounding Tsitsikamma mountains where I realised for the first time how truly isolated and in the middle of nowhere we were.
It started raining as we descended into yet another valley. I was by now getting very confident and evidently delusional after making it to the top of that mountain without any of my vital signs being in danger of fading. We stopped at another river for another best cup a soup I've ever had for lunch. Smoking in the rain takes a fair amount of agility in having to dodge the drops off the dripping trees but these drops have the added benefit of cooling your soup down quickly. Scouts badge goes to my dad for being able to boil the water in the rain.
After lunch it was more uphill and maybe I was just getting fitter, but this did not seem quite as steep as the Kilimanjaro wannabee slopes that had previously threatened my physical limits. Rear gunners dad and I eventually caught up with some of our party having a rest in a clearing in a pine forest, so out came all our snacky things, including a tin of mussels from someone’s, possibly a weightlifters, bag. We then continued down into another beautiful forest where my dad stopped often to point out various shrubs, trees, lichen etc. which was fine by me, because it gave me the chance to reduce my breathing to ragged gasps. After a few more little uphills, designed to finish you off if you think you've made it to the hut unscathed, we arrived at the hut, Heuningbos, with everyone waving cheerily at us from the balcony. I was just about to hurl yet more expletives at them when my dad fell down in front of me with an exclamation of joy. I thought he was just glad to be at the hut, but then I saw a Windhoek lager and a Black Label, glistening with glorious little droplets, on the last step and I fell on it like a woman deranged. Nevermind the cup a soup, this was definitely the BEST beer I had ever had in my life and ever will. The Eastern Capers, bless their hearts, on discovering there was cell phone reception wasted no time in phoning the Bosbou “stasie” 6 km’s away and placed an order for as much booze they could fit in the back of their 4x4 bakkie, which they then delivered. This hut and Blaaukrantz are the only ones accessible to vehicles. Not as isolated as I thought. After phoning my little darlings back home and assuring them that we hadn’t been trampled by wild elephants although we had had the odd run in with a wild bush pig named Pumba, we joined the party which was already in full swing.
That we night we braaied steak, although some people refused to eat theirs, it was looking a bit iffy by then. Well they missed out because it was the most tender steak I've ever had. Now I know how the restaurants get it right! But by far the greatest feat, and this was a team effort, was to finish ALL the booze by 9 o’ clock. There was not a drop left to have to carry the next day! One of the girls had trouble telling the lapa from the hut and eventually had to be carried to the hut from the lapa. Someone else managed to set fire to his boot, yet another fell down the steps of the hut after two unsuccessful attempts to make it up and, oh, the jokes were getting raunchier and rougher with each passing night.
Day 4 ......more drama to come .....
And enjoy the scenery I did because I still stopped to rest every few metres, although I convinced myself this was purely voluntary, until I was overtaken at speed by the power walkers despite my half hour head start. They greeted me cheerily as they rushed by without a drop of sweat on their noses in pursuit of some record breaking ascent. Got to the top of the mountain and was rewarded with the most astounding view of the surrounding Tsitsikamma mountains where I realised for the first time how truly isolated and in the middle of nowhere we were.
It started raining as we descended into yet another valley. I was by now getting very confident and evidently delusional after making it to the top of that mountain without any of my vital signs being in danger of fading. We stopped at another river for another best cup a soup I've ever had for lunch. Smoking in the rain takes a fair amount of agility in having to dodge the drops off the dripping trees but these drops have the added benefit of cooling your soup down quickly. Scouts badge goes to my dad for being able to boil the water in the rain.
After lunch it was more uphill and maybe I was just getting fitter, but this did not seem quite as steep as the Kilimanjaro wannabee slopes that had previously threatened my physical limits. Rear gunners dad and I eventually caught up with some of our party having a rest in a clearing in a pine forest, so out came all our snacky things, including a tin of mussels from someone’s, possibly a weightlifters, bag. We then continued down into another beautiful forest where my dad stopped often to point out various shrubs, trees, lichen etc. which was fine by me, because it gave me the chance to reduce my breathing to ragged gasps. After a few more little uphills, designed to finish you off if you think you've made it to the hut unscathed, we arrived at the hut, Heuningbos, with everyone waving cheerily at us from the balcony. I was just about to hurl yet more expletives at them when my dad fell down in front of me with an exclamation of joy. I thought he was just glad to be at the hut, but then I saw a Windhoek lager and a Black Label, glistening with glorious little droplets, on the last step and I fell on it like a woman deranged. Nevermind the cup a soup, this was definitely the BEST beer I had ever had in my life and ever will. The Eastern Capers, bless their hearts, on discovering there was cell phone reception wasted no time in phoning the Bosbou “stasie” 6 km’s away and placed an order for as much booze they could fit in the back of their 4x4 bakkie, which they then delivered. This hut and Blaaukrantz are the only ones accessible to vehicles. Not as isolated as I thought. After phoning my little darlings back home and assuring them that we hadn’t been trampled by wild elephants although we had had the odd run in with a wild bush pig named Pumba, we joined the party which was already in full swing.
That we night we braaied steak, although some people refused to eat theirs, it was looking a bit iffy by then. Well they missed out because it was the most tender steak I've ever had. Now I know how the restaurants get it right! But by far the greatest feat, and this was a team effort, was to finish ALL the booze by 9 o’ clock. There was not a drop left to have to carry the next day! One of the girls had trouble telling the lapa from the hut and eventually had to be carried to the hut from the lapa. Someone else managed to set fire to his boot, yet another fell down the steps of the hut after two unsuccessful attempts to make it up and, oh, the jokes were getting raunchier and rougher with each passing night.
Day 4 ......more drama to come .....
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