Part 1: Cape Town, the Mother City....Part 2

This is an in media res posting verbatim from when the last post left off.

Our guide had trouble with my name and said that it "broke the tongue". He told us of the forced deportations of blacks, coloureds, and black malays as he drove the "the district" area (now built up to resemble any other part of downtown Cape Town). There was an occaisional old mosque, school, or church that had been left by the wrecking crews.

We drove to the black township of Langa. Words fail me. Alleyway after alleyway of ramshackle shacks constructed with the wood from pallets, corrugated metal, cardboard, boxes, signage, etc. The neighbourhoods teemed with youngsters running about, groups of locals chatting, and women roasting meat on grills over oil cans.

We were definately an oddity to the locals but there wasn't the slightest bit of hostility detected. We visited a 'Shabeen' (illegal pub): a darkened hut filled with men on benches drinking beer from a huge coffee can. We were all offered a sip.

We were given guided tours of old "hostyel" accomodations where 3 families (11 people) shared a bedroom smaller than my bachelor place in Vancouver. Nonetheless, everyone was smiling and the children were clean and curious. I was shooting pictures like mad.

We drove through different areas of the township some with relatively large houses and others (the informal or illegal areea) lopsided shacks. The inhabitants in the latter area were proud to invite us into their homes and have their pictures taken with their children.

It was an eye-opening and life-changing experience; a good taste of what is to come in Ethiopia. We even visited a local witch doctor and his hut strung with the dried skins of every animal imaginable.

It didn't taken long for me to fall in love with South Africa. I have to get rest tonight because tomorrow I climb Table Mountain, the great giant that looms behind this fascinating city.

Day 3, Oct. 9th

I had little idea what to expect when I reserved a guide in B.C. for a scramble up Table Mountain. The mountain, Devil's peak, and the Lionhead all dominate Cape Town's skyline and all approaches look rather steep.

So earler this morning I met up with me guide, Roger Galloway, and we embarked on a Class 'C' scramble called "Kloof corner". The route began at the bottom cable car station and progressed up a steep slope to the foot of a vertical ridgeline. It was at this point that the scramble began. The route when right up a vertical wall that I would classify as a hard 5.7. There was a chain with which to pull yourself up the wall. I went first and found the 15 feet or so fairly challenging in stiff mountaineering boots. I adapted using a lot of arm strength to compensate for bad footing, and made it to the top.

We followed the ridgeline, climbing and boulder hopping along. The weather see-sawed between sunlight and foggy rainclouds that enshrouded the rocks. It was by far the most difficult climb I've taken part in and its hazards were amplified by long drops and cliffs surounding the route.

We came to a second chained wall section that was like an open book with a crack at the spine running the length of about 40 feet straight up. The rock was wet so footholds were bad but It made my way up going on adrenaline and arm strength.

"Intimidating" was the word I would use for most of the climb. The surrounding cliffs left no room for error. Finally we made it through a pass in the rock to an 11-inch wide 'chimney' that stretched 20 feet verical. There was another chain to assist in climbing. Roger went first and I followed with great difficulty. There wasn't enough room in the wedge to turn your hips sideways and lift a leg in the normal manner. I squirmed around, crushing my ribs and making no vertical gain. With much cursing and yelling I eventually got my feet higher and broke through the chimney to the other side (a huge vertical drop but no squeeze). The chain assisted up a fairly easy slope.

The remainder of the climb was much easier but still perilous. At one point we were traversing a cliff face with an 800-meter drop beneath us. Fog covered the top of the mountain and rarely broke to reveal Cape Town down below. Exhausted and soaked, with grated hands from the sandstone, we took the cable car back down.

I would like to classify this climb as my first true mountaineering experience. After Kloof Corner everything else seems like hiking. I spent the rest of the day resting at the hostel.