Soulful Ceder

Figured I could use time away. Away from my MacBook, away from DSL, away from reception, away from the norm for a few blissful days of vast open expanse. I figured this back in the States, and from there it didnt take more than a searching mail to my father across the Atlantic to get the thoughts building steam, till the kettle filled and wheels whistled onward to the Cederberg Mountains on Thursday.

(9pm - The farm. Only a few minutes late. Surprisingly.)

Those few ‘delayed’ minutes turned to hours as five passengers (myself the loudest) begged the combi to a hault, somewhere, nowhere, beneath a blanket of star shine at what now was Friday morning. It was packed like a taxi headed to the Transkei over the festive season. 2:45am. Only the mosquitoes were still at large.

(Enough’s enough)

We had made it close to Kagga Kamma, originally a bushman resetlment initiative, and drove the last section in before setting off from there for Sandrif by bike. Some 105km away… More than a month of no training fancied. But then it was more about the non-physical. This trip and all. Here even a non-searching spirit would be moved by the extravagant simplicity of the sandstone rock formations.

A ride easied by my Uncle’s periodic ‘feedzones’ of sweets ‘n treats and something cold. It was a mild day by Cederberg standards as temperatures here can reach the mid 40’s by mid morning. Having sensed better wisdom watching Piet, father, Michal and Michael disappearing, I did an South African “toi-toi” (boycott) of the major climb, and joined again on the descent into Sandrif.

A short walk later, and we’re at the “Malgate” for a late afternoon refreshing.

I’d heard about the Wolfberg Cracks, but never imaged them to be so stupendously impressive. For sure one of the most unique South African images I’ve seen. So much so, I felt agitated I’d never been up there, a mere two hours from home. I best start living.

(Somehow fit through the shadow.)

The harder crack is a squeeze. At times seeming impossible even. But a thrill to move from one obstacle to the next and approach the challenges with more laughs than level thinking. Went on to the Arch, and thankfully not Table Mountain. An epic 6hour hike non the less, with the awesome vistas.

(Food on tap it seemed. Here making some braai broodjies.)

We capped Saturday with a wine tasting at Cederberg Wines on the Sandrif farm. Exceptional wines from the highest vineyard (altitude wise) in South Africa. Being the ‘last man standing’ at a Saturday afternoon’s tasting, we got to take all the opened bottles back to the camp. Some with only a glass left, some with only a glass missing. But all emptied by bed time.

We had much time for mellowing. Played Rummy (disputing the rules) while shooting the breeze. Good guys. Good times. And good Potjie’s…

(The view in reality was crazy)

I had my moments. Some higher some lower. Literally and figuratively. Realized on our Sunday ride with stunning views of nothingness that there was no better place to.

Unfortunately my father had a spill on the way back. Could have been worse and turned a merry fare into a nightmare rescue effort. We were such a long way from civilization. A 4×4 would have battled in getting to us. No cellphone reception. Thankfully just a 3rd degree shoulder dislocation. It was operated on yesterday - a recent medical procedure that drills through the one bone, hooks into the lower and then pulls the two together. Forever. Replacing the tendon that snapped on impact after a front wheel got stuck tracking in a small rut. Thats my assumption at least. Father couldnt recall… Seems the op has gone well.

(The illogical logic)

After packing up on Monday morning, we made our way down the river again before setting off. Unlike the previous three days, the Cederberg furnace was full tilt today. The top step doesnt look high in the photo above but its close to 12m I guess. Too high anyhow. But now that I was up there, caught somewhere between rationale and the longing to let go. Must have been a 45min battle of mind and soul. Unreal what one can think of in times like this. The soul won. Or perhaps the mind gave in. Tired of fighting. By no means a dangerous or crazy feat, one I could logically process. But still stood gripped in fear and hanging on to the familiarity of solid rock. Best to jump at times?

(My father on the way out, cooling in the 40degree heat.)

Created with Admarket’s flickrSLiDR.

Categories: News

Tags: Cederberg, Father, Michael Melck, Michal Steyn, Mountain Biking, Pieter Wehmeyer, Sandrif, Skip Krige, Thoughts, Wolfberg Cracks

This entry was posted on Friday, December 5th, 2008 at 10:50 pm. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.