So this is the tale of the second time I attempted to climb Blouberg, having been defeated the first time by a tin of tuna. You’ll be pleased to know that I did learn from the first attempt and got a whole lot more trad climbing under my harness (see what I did there?), as well as a few mini epics and a couple of beknightings, before attempting it again.
Interesting side note 1: Beknighting is a more noble way to say that we had to walk out in the dark. This was generally due to poor planning, getting lost, or foolishly agreeing to quickly climb a three-pitch at 4pm in the afternoon. Beknightings were generally done without a torch.
Interesting side note 2: In those days I didn’t carry a head torch on most trips. Probably because I was stupid. Interestingly, I seldom carry a head torch now either—but that’s because the knowledge that I do not have a head torch makes me very careful not to get beknighted!
View of Blouberg’s Main wall and The Wall of White Light.
So, being a little wiser, a little more experienced, and a little more competent, I teamed up with a fabulous strong climbing partner, D, and off we went. Leaving Joburg at lunchtime on a Friday, we arrived at the start of the walk-in—Frans’ Kraal—in the late afternoon. We walked up through sunset and arrived in the dark at our accommodation for the weekend: the cave.
This time (possibly due to straightforward cockiness) we had chosen a long, sustained mid-grade route. Which, for the life of me, I cannot remember. (Oh, the foolishness of not having a climbing logbook). But I do remember it was a decent grade and of about 10 – 12 pitches. Gulp!
Hooligans in the Cave.
Leaving the cave before dawn on Saturday, we stumbled down the ramp in the dark and arrived at the base of the climb at first light. And it was HUGE! Fortunately, my partner D was an astoundingly strong climber and a bit of a wild child. He was rapidly gaining a reputation for climbing hard, and for dragging me unwillingly behind him. He was great fun but he did not appear to know the meaning of fear. No—in our belaytionship, I think that was entirely my job!
Now, on long routes it’s all about pace, rhythm and steadiness. Everything has to be efficient and run smoothly. So it works like this: Person One leads the first pitch, establishes a safe stance and belays up Person Two. Person Two—whose end of the rope is now on top—takes the remaining rack from Person One, quickly repopulates it with the pieces they removed from the first pitch, and leads the second pitch. This process is repeated the whole way up the climb. So we were constantly swinging leads on each alternative pitch. Which is smooth, fast and efficient. But it does mean that you lead every second pitch, no matter how scary.
Climber’s inspecting their tender hands (Jenni in the white helmet).
And as we got higher, my euphoria grew and grew. The climbing was hard, sometimes almost at my limit. The heat and sun were intense—the entire wall is north-facing. And the fear was very, very real. But the focus was pure, the climbing was beautiful, and deep inside was a massive sense of contentment and joy.
Below us stretched a canvas of perfect bushveld. Donkeys with cowbells donged softly far below us. This was life lived to the edge. And it was perfect. Steadily we ascended, hold by hold, swinging leads, eating GORP and drinking water at each stance, talking very little.
Interesting side note 3: GORP is an acronym for Good Old Raisins and Peanuts—also known as scroggy—a mixture of peanuts and raisins and extra things like Smarties, jelly tots, nuts and seeds. Put this all into a bottle and eat regularly. It is incredibly energy-dense and quite delicious. Just never ever add biltong—take my word for it!
And then we got to the rotten band of rock near the top—and it was my lead. Every handhold shifted in my grip and every foothold twitched when weighted. “Oh well,” I thought. “So this is big wall climbing.” And off I went. The climbing itself on this pitch wasn’t hard, but I battled to place any decent protection. Finally reaching solid rock, I set up a good stance and quickly brought up D. His eyes were wide when he finally reached me!
By late afternoon, we were nearly at the top. We scrambled up the last blocky pitch (thinking back we probably should’ve roped it) and finally we were on top! And it was awesome and amazing and incredible and unreal and not all that important all at the same time.
Interesting side note 4: As this was the days before cell phones we unfortunately have no photos. But if we had a photo, it would show two grinning idiots with a backdrop of pure Africa behind them.
We did not linger there for long. We had successfully summited a—to us—very hard climb, and we were very tired. Fortunately, we were experienced enough now to know not to push our luck. We quickly descended the maze in the last light, found our way back to the cave, ate dinner (I don’t think I even bothered to cook my two-minute noodles—I just crunched them raw), drank a lot of water to rehydrate, and had a night of fitful sleep.
The next morning was slow and we finally reached the car and started back for Jo’burg.
Interesting side note 5: I remember stopping at a seriously skanky café on the way home and buying a mega portion of chips. Dripping with oil and vinegar and wrapped in newspaper, they were the best slap chips I have ever eaten.
Back in real life, I think I was stiff for like a week. But I didn’t stop grinning for a week either. And even now, when I remember that trip, I still smile.
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