Don't Wait For Me

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Cape Good Hope

It was still just me and the boys the next day. We climbed on board the truck and headed towards Table Mountain to see if the Table Cloth had lifted for a wander up to the top. “I’m not joking when I say you are going to carry me.”
“I can fit you in my backpack,” Alex winked back at me. Poor sap, he actually thought I was joking. “I could fit in you know.” He surveyed me and nodded in agreement.

The Tablecloth was still drapped over and Derick gave us an option. We could take a cable car up now or come back later in the afternoon to see if it is safe enough for us to walk up. I left the decision to the boys. A show of testosterone and we were going to try our luck in the afternoon. “By the way, we’ll go to La Med for a sundowner. It gets really crowded on a Sunday so at the end of the day it will be a quick change and straight into a taxi.” The boys chatted in Norwegian, hang on, Danish so Hendrik could understand. In the weird world of Scandinavian tongues, the Norwegians can understand the Danish but the Danish can’t understand the Norwegians. Unless, the Norwegians change their pronounciation then Hendrik is included in the conversation. Yet they can read each other’s languages. The boys switch quite easily to English, even though Hendrik couldn’t pronounce his R’s, but at least they would speak to me in English.

We arrived at Cape Point and given a spiel on the South Western most point. Derick waved us off and we walked past the ‘Don’t feed the baboons’ sign at a reasonable pace up to the top. Alright, I thought it was a reasonable pace, but the boys probably thought it was a lovely little stroll. ‘Don’t feed the baboons? Are baboons dangerous?” I nodded, they are about as aggressive as a carbohydrate addicted female with PMS. While walking they were still speaking in hybrid Danish/Norwegian.
“Sure, I totally agree.” They realised I was there and laughed. “Do you guys have to learn English?”
“Yeah and we can pick another like German or French, like I learnt German for 3 years.” Harald replied. Alex spat. He spat a lot when we were walking up.
“That’s an angry language.” Harald nodded in agreement.
“They’re still angry about the war.”
“All of the wars,” added Carl. “Do you have to learn a language?”
“Depends on what school you go to. I had to learn agriculture.”
“Ag-gri-cult-ture?” Carl intoned back.
“Farming.”
“I know, but you had to learn agriculture?”
“I went to an agricultural high school. It’s selective but takes both city kids and country kids. I learnt how to catch a sheep, drive a tractor and had my very own vege plot,” I explained. All four of them laughed at the idea that I was forced to catch my very own sheep in a paddock on my first day of high school.
“You learnt how to drive a tractor?”
“Yeah, it was dead funny. Someone drove into a cow and another drove over the teacher’s foot.”
“How do you drive into a cow?”
“Put a city kid behind the wheel of a tractor and a stupid cow in a paddock.” Believe me its all shits and giggles when you put a city kid in any country situation.

At the top, tourists of every description milled around the lighthouse. Patiently they all waited in line to have a photo taken with the sign detailing exactly how far their home country is from that spot. On the panel with the distance to Sydney, some rugby league nut had stuck a Penrith Panthers sticker next to it. From the old lighthouse you can see Cape Good Hope stretching out in front of you. To the left is a view of False Bay and Cape Hangklip. On the Atlantic side there is Platboom Beach. Or I like to think of it as the non-swimming side. If you want to risk hypothermia head to one of the beaches on the Atlantic side if not, head to False Bay where it is likely to be more pleasant with the Indian Ocean. A foggy day meant little joy with stunning photos but you can understand why it is named Cape Good Hope. Although you may not feel like you are at the end of the world, despite the large amount of tourists, you do feel somewhere far away.

“I’m going to have fun keeping up with the military boys up Table Mountain.” I told Derick back down at the bottom.
“They’re fast?” Even though we kept pace up to the lighthouse, with their long legs, my stubby ones and the elevation of Table Mountain, my geeky brain told me that I was going to struggle. Not to mention a week of slothfulness and farewell drinks to added to my physique.
“Yes.”

Standing on the brick hedge so I could be eye level with Derick, we waited for the boys to finish their ice-creams before heading to see a colony of penguins.
“They are my least favourite animal.” Derick remarked.
“Why?” He turned around with a dead pan look. “What’s the point?”

Oh So Many Confused Penguins

One day, the people of Boulder Beach woke up to find that some 3000 African penguins had moved in. They are still there and they don’t do very much. I was staring at a lone penguin that was just standing there staring back, not moving when I began laughing. A little Indian boy looked at me like I belonged in a sideshow and moved on. I had remembered a joke about penguins and accidently laughed out loud. Alex was staring at the same penguin. “It’s a decoy penguin.”
“Not impressed?”
“Not impressed.”
“It is a bit weird seeing them on the beach,” Hendrik commented.
“Yes, they are a bit confused,” I admitted. Although, if I had a choice of sunning on the beach or freezing my butt off, I know what I would choose. Hang on, you left the sunny shores of Australia for the foggy little island England.

Stupid Stuff you may want to know about Jackass Penguins:
1. They make nest in their own shit (guano).
2. We steal their shit for its high nitrogen content to be used as fertiliser.
3. Stealing their shit is the one of the reasons why they are endangered, that along with oil spills and stealing their eggs. (Kind aren’t we?)
4. They don’t have any blubber but a layer of air underneath their feathers which keep them warm.
5. Boulder Beach Jackass Penguins is the only colony which voluntarily inhabited suburbia but the jackass part of their name actually comes from the donkey like sound they make.

Table Mountain

We gave the penguins and their guano stench a polite amount of our time and headed back to the truck. Arriving at Table Mountain, the mist had lifted enough for us to walk up to the top. Derick dropped us off at the bottom and pointed out the path. “Make sure you go to the right. It should take about an hour and a half, forty five minutes. But really you guys should make it in an hour.” Who is he kidding?! Clearly he has forgotten what I am like in a year. “I’ll meet you guys at the top and with the tickets for the cable car.” He looked at us, slapped the steering wheel as a sign of a done deal and we were off. Walking to the start of the trail, Carl asked “He’s not coming with?” I shook my head. “Did you see his footwear?” Earlier this morning I had noticed he was wearing flops and knew he was not going to walk up to the top with us.
“I need to pee.” To Hendrik’s dismay and mine, no toilet. Maybe it will be an extra incentive to get to the top. “Come on guys we got to get to La Med,” Alex reiterated Carl’s earlier sentiments. Then they are going to have to wait. The path is rocky and in parts there are steps or boulders the height of my kneecaps. The boys bounded off and I slugged behind. Fifteen minutes later, they were waiting for me on some boulders some few hundred metres up. “I’m a girl, I’m slow.”
“So is Harald,” Carl argued.
“Okay, I’m short,” I scrambled up the boulder which they easily stepped up on.
“So am I,” Hendrik replied. Oh fine then! I am horribly unfit.
“You guys seriously don’t have to wait for me, you’ll be here forever.” So they left.

Table Mountain is roughly 1086m high and we were taking the Plattekilp Gorge path. There are over 300 paths, people do get lost and deaths occur yearly. The path I was ditched on is very easy to follow. It’s a straight up slog, so unless you are fit, my Lonely Planet City Guide tells me that you should try walking down it first. According to them, it is about two and a half hours from the Cableway to the lower station - taken at an easy pace. I reached the lower station as some kids bounded down. “Are we there yet?” I told them that they didn’t have long to go to the bottom. One of them looked me up and down and said “You’ve got a long way to the top.” He didn’t look hopeful that I would make it. Thanks kid, break a leg.

Forty-five minutes later and my arse muscles weren’t impressed that I was giving them so much attention.. A podgy old fellow with sixties style specs and sporting a faded electric blue sweatband was taking a breather about halfway up or was that a third? My judgement by this stage was slightly impaired due to the lack of oxygen both to my muscles and brain. “How’s it goin’?” He asked in a thick English accent. Crap, I’m on par with a geriatric from Shropshire who is paying homage to an early George Michael. “Not well,” I confessed. “I have been ditched by four young Scandinavian military boys and I really really need to pee.” He looked around at the rocky outcrop. “You could go behind one of the rocks.” Was he nuts? People were everywhere. “Trust me, from here on in, you won’t get much more privacy.”
“You’ve done this before?” We began walking together.
“Yes, do it every year, heeee.” He answered in his high pitched voice. “Aren’t you Australians supposed to be fit?”
“Sure, we also jump on crocodiles and punch out sharks in the surf.”
“Hehehehehe,” he giggled
“What do you do?”
“I’m a physio.”
“Aren’t physios supposed to be fit?” Just rub it in why don’t you?
“It’s a myth just like all Australians are tall tanned blonde beauties.” I stopped, pretending to look for my camera and let him carry on. I never caught up with him, meaning I was not on par with him. Serves me right for making fun of his sweatband.

Looking at the crevice which marked the end of the trail, it was slowly becoming obscured by the tablecloth. The tablecloth is the local term for the rolling mist that often covers the mountain. It can reduce visibility and is one of the reasons many hikers not taking this particular path run into peril. Plodding along at an embarrassingly slow pace, I passed a wheezing obese couple sitting on a step. Please, at least let me make it up before them! My insensitive little brain thought. “Should we go back up?” I heard one of them remark. Holy crap, they were going down?! Walking through the crevice, I checked my time. “How long did that take you?” I looked up to see a frail old man and his son walking down. “An hour and half, give or take.” You couldn’t see the path heading down anymore the tablecloth was that thick. The mist at least was cool. The beginning of the path is exposed to the sun and was highly unpleasant to say the least. “That’s pretty good,” the old American man said kindly. “Thanks, but I know four others who did it twice as quick.” He laughed and said “Spare a thought for me, I have to get down!” If I was his age and even contemplated trying it, I would be a lucky woman to be half as fit.

The path petered out for a few metres before coming to a step that was as high as my chest. Just when I thought I didn’t have to scramble anymore. I looked up and saw Derick standing at the top. From the distance, I could see he was trying not to laugh. I scrambled on hands and knees up the midget unfriendly step. “You made it.” His tone was a mixture of mirth, encouragement and amazement. “Where are the boys?” he asked as he took my bag off me.
“What?” Controlled deep breath, “They have been here for over an hour,” controlled deep breath. I was half expecting them to jump out from behind a shrub to applaud my less than credible effort up the mountain.
“I haven’t seen them.”
“Huh? You have got to be kidding. They are here somewhere.” He turned back to look at me. Yes I am still just plodding along. “Trust me, they are here. They ditched me well and truly.”

The view from Table Mountain is beautiful whether it is overcast or a spring day. Did I appreciate it more because I climbed up instead of cablewaying it? No. I would have appreciated it equally. From the top the Waterfront and City Bowl side was a contrast of developed, developing and decay. On the Clifton Beach and Camps Bay side you could see the foreign jet ski owning Cliffside houses. “Check out all the people at La Med already!” Derick peered down through the thinning tablecloth. “The boys are having coffee and cake in the café.” I dragged my sorry arse over to them and plunked heavily onto the seat. “You made it.” Yes, yes, I am here. “How long have you guys been here?”
“A while, it took us about 55min and Hendrik 58min.”
“Hey! Still under an hour.”
“I had old people carrying me up after you ditched me.”
“You told us to go ahead.” Carl reminded me. That I did. People climb Table Mountain for a variety of reasons and not because of the view. You can experience the view without putting yourself through the physical slog. Some do it for a personal sense of achievement. Others enjoy the physical exercise, others do it so they can tell people they have done it and some do it because everyone else is doing it. I did it because I could.

The rotating cable car means everyone gets a good view of the city and the more adventurous hikers taking the Indian Window route. If you are part mountain goat then this is the path for you. As we rotated around, three browning tubular buildings came into view. “The three tampons.” Did I hear him right? “They’re student accommodation but everyone calls them the three tampons.” Truly, they did look like three tampons and because they were the tallest buildings in a six block radius, they stuck out like, well, three horrendously large tampons.

La Med

After showering back at the Inn, I joined Valentina in waiting for the boys. They may be fast up the mountain but those blonde manes take awhile. “How was the climb up Table Mountain?”
“Painful. The military boys did it under an hour.”
“What about Derick?” I looked at her with a confused expression.
“Um, he didn’t walk up it.”
“What?!” she exclaimed. “He told me he did!” Did ANYONE look at the man’s footwear?

How do you know when a shared taxi is full? When there are two people to the right of the driver. A shared taxi is a combi van of varying standards which run particular routes around South Africa. It’s the primary transport for locals because it’s cheap. The only way to know where a shared taxi is heading is by asking the driver. We clambered on board a relatively safe looking blue shared taxi and headed to La Med. The entrance to La Med is an obscure driveway. Signage is not necessary as anyone who is anyone knows where La Med is and if you don’t, then you are with the wrong crowd - probably the knee high socks and sandals German crowd. Cars were parked for a couple of kilometres either side of the driveway as people arrived early to claim their spot on the deck for the sunset. With the twelve apostles in the background my last sunset in Capetown proved to be both spectacular and the most uniquely amazing I have set eyes on since leaving home. Spread across the horizon a striking golden centre was circled by a deep orange fringed with purple. If you were to see this depicted in a painting you could be forgiven for thinking the artist had an active imagination. But real it was and conversation stopped as the La Med crowd turned to soak in the surreal sunset. Many pulled out cameras and phones to capture the moment. All too soon it passed and despite a fun filled evening of drinking, good food, fantastic company and dancing, it will always be the sunset that stands out in my mind.

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Photos

Cape Good Hope
11 642km to the Penrith Panthers

Cape Point
The most south western point of South Africa... I think. I'll read the sign when I get back down.

London Panel
9623km from work... woohoo!

False Bay
The bikini swimming side...

The Atlantic Ocean
The wetsuit swimming side

A Real Coast Line
Trust me, not the skinny dipping side...

Jackass Penguin
What are you looking at?

Boulders Beach
One day the people of Boulders Beach woke up to find some 3000 penguins had moved in....

More Penguins
... and they are still here.

Decoy Penguin
And they don't do much.

Capetown from Table Mountain
All this after 1hour and 45min

Table Cloth
Suddenly the mist comes rolling down...

La Med
'Look at all the people already at La Med!'