'Perhaps you'd like to fetch the lounge chair from over there and bring it closer
to this nice spot for me, Jeffrey.'
We can understand that people might question our fascination of mountains. Pictures of mountains, stories -on mountains, -of mountains, -for mountains and volcanoes. What's with these mountains? No doubt, we spend much time on them and think even longer about these giants. What is the attraction of these inanimate objects? The short answer is we don't know. The longer and better answer might be that we are consumed by them. They form, in some way, an integral part of our lives. We love to hike and climb up them, at times to run down and less often, run up. We love to view them at all hours of the day, to observe sights from them, to watch the changing seasons influence them, to witness the effect of the weather on them and in the case of many, their influence over the weather. We watch their moods, some are smoldering beauties, others only attractive with their make-up of snow covering. Each one, shaped and sculptured in a unique way, no two are ever alike. They block the sun, deflect it, reflect and shine in it; they cast shadows on the earth's surface and over clouds; they reflect off lakes and other bodies of water. They are constantly in a stationary dance with the clouds, the mist and fog. Some erupt, most are dormant yet even the latter have an enormous impact on the world without ever changing their positions. Perhaps another feature of their beauty is their consistency—come rain or shine, war or peace, harvest or famine, they are an ever-constant presence throughout the ages. We observe, admire and seek to conquer them in our fleeting lifetimes; they do not know of lifetimes, only eternity.
We've never found a mountain we did not like or one we felt we could not ascend. Perhaps that's where the saying arose with us in mind: 'Often wrong but always optimistic". Truth be told, no mountain is ever easy to hike, climb or scale. The seemingly smooth grassy faces, the gentle rock slopes, the attractive snow and ice coverings are mere illusions. In fact, they are traps for the unwary and those with foolish expectations. Mountains are dangerous, difficult and deceptive. They offer the sojourner no respect. It is a one-way street. The trespasser owes the mountain care, caution and most times, awe.
So when we put a picture of a mountain on the blog, we see more than just the image. After all, it's a whole lot more than just a pile of rocks, boulders and plant life.
These few words hardly touch on our inner feelings but they are a start.
Oh, the mountains we mention so often.
Another shot of a favorite, Cathkin Peak and Monks Cowl, to the left.
The Sentinel on a relatively clear but windy day.
The Sentinel on a relatively clear but windy day (2).
We took a hike without actually being told to do so, surprisingly, of some nine miles along the mountains, above Tendele rest camp. The walk down to Tendele is a terrific one in of itself but instead, we went exploring. The beauty of our travels of exploration is that the day usually becomes one of a surprise or two. Getting lost is no longer a surprise, more of a given. Although we did not lose our way in the sense that we knew our way back to the lodge from all positions, we did not necessarily reach the perceived destination. That could be considered a bit of intellectual gymnastics although some might question the use of intellect and ourselves in the same sentence. Be that as it may, one can wonder over the mountains and not see a soul for hours. In fact, besides birds, the only life we noticed were very shy antelope that scattered when we were about 600 yards from them.
Blame me, not Jen. I can't resist this seldom-sighted view of the sun.
Uh! Oh! When the editor reads on trails it usually means we are having a directional conundrum.
A scene unique to the Drakensberg mountains.
Trying to capture scenes of the sun reflecting off the grass and the Sentinel got in the way.
Catching a 'glimpse' of the Amphitheatre.
On our final evening before returning to Mom, to be followed by the journey back to San Diego, we spent the time in a rondawel in Harrismith. Coincidentally, on our first night as wife and husband, we stayed at the Holiday Inn in that town on our way down to the Sani Pass Hotel in Himeville. This should not be confused with the pass of the same name into Lesotho which it often is. The woman I was with in the rondawel is even better than the woman of nearly forty-two years ago—lucky guy.
Editor on a nine mile hike, sprightly on the day.
Love the scenes as one rises and the mountains come into view.
We'll post a video next time of what turned out to be an unbelievable period in South Africa. To those on our revised, trimmed (slimmed) down circulation list, thanks for traveling with us—it's always a pleasure to have someone with whom to correspond.
Thanks, Mom!
Cheers,
Jenni and Jeffrey
A few photographs that "might persuade' us to return to South Africa.
The "Wild Coast".
Storms River Camp, view from the trail.
Cascading sunset along the Otter Trail.
Lions Head, Cape Town.
Skildekrans along the Otter Trail.
and then we had to stop...
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