No Fixed Abode: Close Encounters

Wed 18 May 2016 - Southern Drakensberg, Cobham area

Yesterday was a nice rest but today we were back in our hiking gear and ready for the mountains but, although we had prepared for an early start, the morning mist was reluctant to lift so we dawdled at the cottage waiting for the air to clear. By 0930 we were at the park, paid,signed in and ready for another day.

The route we’d chosen followed the ‘Giant’s Cup’ trail for 8km until it reached the Mzimkhulwana hut. Like Monday we had the hills to ourselves and we wound our way up a small spur, intriguely named ‘Tortoise Rocks’, however, at the top all was revealed in the shape of lots of large rocks, which could, if you squinted through both eyes, be made to resemble tortoise shells. The well worn path made for easy walking and with the sun just finding its power, conditions were perfect.

Once over the spur we could see into the next valley and the back side of the mountains we had admired whilst having lunch yesterday. The path contoured around a short way then steadily descended diagonally down the valley side until we reached the hut and stopped for lunch. The sun was now high in the sky and we stripped off our socks and shirts to eat our butties with the sun’s rays on our bodies and our feet in a cold stream. Does life get any better?

Reluctantly we popped our socks and boots back on and set off back up the valley side to climb up to a 2000m plateau. Initially the path followed the stream up the gully it had created over the years but as it turned hard left, we turned right onto a track marked on the map as ‘way to go’. We had walked on ‘major paths’ and ‘minor paths’ but nothing labelled thus so we we unsure what to expect. At the start it seemed like any other path, if a little steeper, but it soon became increasingly difficult to follow through the broken terrain and more than once we lost and refound it. At one point Glenn struggled up a steep section to meet a large rock lip that he thought Yvonne would struggle with so he retraced his steps and we continued on another, sort of, track which crossed the small stream we had been following. This track became less and less distinct and we could see the original track on the other bank looked much better trodden but how to cross the stream? At this point we spotted a large (10m) boulder lodged in the gulley making a handy bridge, the only problem, how to get on top of it.

Glenn fought his way past a stubborn tree to get to the base then used his best rock climbing techniques to reach an obvious ledge with good handholds. Dumping his poles he asked Yvonne to pass up hers and was about to climb down in order to give her a hand. “Let me have a go first” was the reply and, with some grit and determination plus a helping hand from Glenn above, she made it with a big smile on her face. We then followed the track on this side of the river until we could see the lip of the plateau above us and tried to work out the best route up. It was, of course, on the other side of the stream but fortunately the crossing point here was simple.

Once over the stream it was straight up cross country with no path to follow and, although quite steep, the footing was ok and we made slow but steady progress. While walking we kept hearing this strange animal call but could see no sign of its source until eventually we noticed a couple of small heads peeking over the summit rocks we were heading to - baboons. No problem they’ll likely run away when we get there. However, as we walked higher we spotted another head, then another - in fact every time we looked another appeared. We were walking into the manor of a whole troop. Working on the old axiom of discretion being the better part of valour - and Yvonne’s nervous shriek every time a new head appeared - we contoured diagonally up to the plateau’s edge a way along hoping the baboons would stay in their patch, which they did and their warning calls subsided.

At the top we were greeted by a large, flat expanse of grassland that made for easy walking. The only problem we had now was to find our path down the other side. Using our trusty map and compass (the old ways are more fun) we crossed to the far side and looked down on the Pholela river winding its way along the valley floor 300m below, and our route home.

After a short break to admire the view and to get some sugary food in us we followed the plateau’s edge until we found our path then descended its steep and twisting course to the valley floor. All that remained was a few km of slowly descended, pleasant walking along the river’s edge in the cool of the late afternoon only marred by an encounter with two people - what were they doing in our wilderness! We made it back to sign out at the warden's hut with 10 minutes to spare. Perfect.

A speedy car ride to allow Yvonne to sit on the terrace with a cup of tea and watch the sunset soon found us home. Only problem - no sunset. Most unusually some strange clouds had formed that only allowed a vague pink glow. Tea inside then. We did, however, finally get to meet Johan, Jude’s husband, and had a short chat about the beautiful autumn colours, which, it transpired, are mainly as a result of the imported trees planted by the early colonists which the South Africans now love - New Zealand take note.