The sunbathers of Stoney Point

The Featherbed feast

The Forsaken Valley of people long gone

I start at the base and head up the pathway that leads to the top.I'm all kitted out complete with water, coldrinks, dried fruit, the works.At the top of the path I turn up, to my right and head to what is called the Wolfberg cracks.I'm on Wolfberg in the Cederberg Valley, and at 10 in the morning, the sun is angry and showing it.A place of tranquil, the mountain lures you deeper into her cool inner sanctum, and then abruptly spews you back out on top, facing the dry heat once again.I start running, heading to the Wolfberg Arch, a few kilometers away.Save for my heavy breathing, there is no sound up here, and one should be forgiven for thinking that God has forgotten this place.Except he has'nt.Rock lizzards in an array of colours stare coolly before disappearing between the slits.Rock formations par to none abound and for a fleeting moment I feel as if I could be part of an old forgotten world.I run on my cushioned shoes with their state of the art lacing system, and my breathable moisture wick shirt is surprisingly dry in this heat, and I realise I am far from it.Far from a world where the San once made their home and worked the earth.I'm far from a place where water was scarce, food had to be hunted and there was no protection against the sun.Where the only running was for work, and cushioned shoes were foreign.

We're really lucky I thought,

we have it all, I thought

I was wrong I think.

They had it all.

The Kalkbayday

" Every man ought to be inquisitive through every hour of his great adventure down to the day when he shall no longer cast a shadow in the sun. For if he dies without a question in his heart, what excuse is there for his continuance? " - Frank Moore Colby

seeking the snowman

In the heart of winter, and in the heart of the Western Cape, when the rain has gone and the snowflakes have fallen; its then that you'll catch a glimpse of the ever elusive snowman.if you go looking of course, and if you have the heart for it.
As you leave Wellington you head over Bains Kloof pass, built by Andrew Geddes Bain, the first man to build a road across the Limiet Mountains, the main barrier between the Cape Settlement and the interior.

A stunning winding road with crooks and turns that will leave your stomach somewhat detached, leads you past Wolsley and through another pass into Ceres.Dont go after 4 on a Sunday though, because your already detached stomach will not be be fed by the irate restaurateers at this time of day.Tourism ends at 4 o'clock after all.untill next week that is.
Suffice to say that hunger takes precedent over any snowman, and the elusive carrotnose escaped our cold clutches for the time being.untill next year that is.

Knysna

The Knysna forrest is apparently known for its mysticism and magic that has lured people to it and enchanted millions over the years.Its famous for its once great herd of Cape bush elephant.
In 1876 it was estimated that between 400 and 500 of these giants roamed the forests of Knysna. The numbers declined partly due to poaching and ivory smuggling. In 1908 when the elephants were declared royal game only 20 were counted, and today, of the original females, only one remains.

Its this one that you'll probably see passing you on doing the Knysna marathon without training, so I'm told.It came as no surprise then that I reacted with a nervous twitch as soon as any living creature of greater stature then myself passed us on the way to the finish line.I had no intention of becoming a statistic, and made sure that the lycra cladded pachyderms (large thick skinned mammal according to Encarta)stayed at a safe distance.

Brenton on sea, just a few kilometers away, is the perfect base camp for a weekend adventure, and the tranquil beauty makes one wonder what it must have looked like 200 years ago when our pachyderm friends had the same peace in this place that we now stole from them.