A Dystopian Utopia

Jan ’20, English Channel - On the rare days where the seas are calm, the skies are not overcast and the wind has taken the day off, winter sunrise in the North Sea is extraordinarily beautiful. A week out from crew-change day, one such morning arrived breathtaking enough to, almost, distract from the emails, radio chatter and general business of a construction vessel’s bridge. Taking a moment to gaze out to the East, I pondered the implications of a travel advisory email from the crewing department which, obviously, is involved in global travel, not just Europe. The note simply mentioned an advisory of a strain of bird flu in China, currently no restrictions or impact. More info would follow.

Crew change day arrived mid-January and the advisory had been upgraded to recommend travel masks. Some complied, many went about their travel as normal. I returned without incident to Cape Town where we had recently shop-fitted and moved into our new retail store in the CBD during January and it was time to try to make it work.

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Mid March ’20, Southern Africa – Hanna arrived from Philadelphia for a 2 week visit as the world was rapidly starting to move from unfettered travel to more and more (health) restrictive measures. Time in the Cederberg got us away from the media noise, then a flight to Durban brought us back to the ‘real’ world. A world of hurried people, hushed conversations…subconscious distancing. The global situation brought us to a bit of an impasse late in the day at, of all places, an obscure border control post in South Eastern Lesotho. We (Hanna in particular, as she had travelled from the USA) were being scolded by a Lesotho health department official posted to the border crossing in the Lesotho Government’s attempts to limit cross-border contagion.

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There was a bit of irony being asked if we understood how diseases spread – on the one hand, un-documented locals were simply by-passing the border post by walking around it, their lives are too hard and too simple for them to care about policy. Daily food or taking your infant for a health check-up, outweigh things like passports or movement control. On the other hand, Hanna had a PHD in bio-statistics from the Medical Faculty of the University of Pennsylvania, and clearly is very well informed on the subject.

Eventually we were stamped-in and made our way to the land of the world’s best tasting bread - Semonkong Lodge and, next day we drove to the Maletsunyane Falls and I unpacked a brand new, never opened, Ozone XxLite , the crisp fabric crackling in the still thin air, and promptly flew it off the cliffs – much to the innocent delight of two kids who’d come to investigate. Returning to the lodge, the interwebs brought updates on how fast the world was starting to shut down. Hanna changed her ticket and we raced (via The Amphitheatre and Tugela Falls) to Johannesburg and she made it onto one of the final flights out, and I made it back to the gloomy duplex I’d been left with when my house-mate immigrated.

April ’20, Cape Town – Being mostly a solitary creature and the years spent isolated in some or other mountain or boat at sea, set me in good stead for ‘hard’ lockdown. In fact, I enjoyed it. Granted, for the time being, I was well-off – I could afford groceries, I had no screaming kids to try explaining the sudden prison-like rules too. I had a roof, hot water and coffee, what more could one want for? As it transpired, not enough Gin but, like most of us, that oversight got solved by simply procuring a dealers whatsapp.

Crazy times!

The weekly walk to get groceries offset the lethargy of chilling out at home. I’m fortunate in this case not to suffer the absolute need to move, all the time, I didn’t suffer the confines like those accustomed to going for their morning run. Hibernation is a natural opposing status to the full-on schedule of balancing a small business, an offshore career and a lagging adventure life. Of course, the imposter athlete in me would benefit from the need to train, but that wasn’t a problem in April 2020.

Lockdown, for me, brought time. Time to do the things I put aside – time to build the ntabaproject platform, time to clean up our online store and try learn e-commerce. Time to read (I’m undecided if Orwell’s 1983 was appropriate or not at the time, but it got a re-read).

Personally, I enjoyed April ’20. It slowed things down, gave enormous perspective and it threw one’s value system into stark review.

What REALLY matters, when everything seems threatened.

May ’20, Cape Town & Northern Cape – May rolled in with an easing, ever so slightly, of restrictions and we could start to do weird things like sell winter apparel, but not summer apparel and other such oddities. Simultaneously I’d been contracted to join a construction vessel in the Taiwan Straits, provisionally in July. I had already terminated my lease and if not for lockdown would already have been homeless. Johannesburg was the only functioning airport in the country, so my primary goal was to get as close the airport given the chance, and wait it out until time to leave. I wanted to be close enough that if any return to ‘hard’ lockdown happened, I’d literally be able to walk to the airport. That was the plan, any way.

Jun ’20, Kimberly – There’s a saying – “You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take”. Level 4 lockdown allowed for certain permitted vehicles / people to cross provincial borders. I applied, and as a reseller / distributor of “winter wares” was granted a permit. To be honest, there were zero checks-and-balances on the Governments permit application web portal – anyone could have gotten one, you just needed to take the shot. Typical.

Travel was one thing, but accommodation and campsites were still closed under restrictions, so it became a road-trip of people-networks, from one friend to another, etc.

The trip started with a visit to a small wildlife reserve just outside of Kimberly. I spent a few nights with the researchers as they tracked Black Footed Cats (a rare, very small, wild cat) in the Savanah. Long pleasant days, away from the mayhem of online discussion boards, replaced with the beeping of tracking collars, acacia trees and grass seeds in your socks.

The simple life.

June ’20, Waterval Boven – The roads from Kimberly to North West are, usually, hard going – mostly single carriage way, often congested with semi’s, making it all a little unpleasant. But with roadblocks keeping most everyone off the roads, it was bliss. Hours of easy driving gave a rare chance to, actually, watch the landscape change, from the Great Karoo, to the Free State Sunflower fields and, finally, the Magaliesberg to collect a friend, Chloè (who was finishing her master's thesis) and her sister, and thence to Waterval Boven. En route to ‘boven, shortly after another roadblock where the poor policemen really wanted anything but to interact with other people, we watched a crop-sprayer plying their trade, unaffected by the pandemic other than having fewer cars to dodge on the highway as they flew across it. Apparently, the insects never got the shelter-in-place directive – some things are beyond government control (but not insecticides).

Gustav and Alex (of rocrope) were in Europe but generously put us up in one of their cottages, and we spent nearly two weeks clipping bolts at empty crags with the Lord of Boven, Duke the Weimeraner (who was clearly missing all the attention of visiting climbers).

Jun ’20, Harrismith & Northern Drakensberg – Wrapping up in ‘Boven, we dropped Chloè’s sister back in the Magalesberg, and headed South to Harrismith. Mt Everest is located on private land so we were able to stay and climb there. It is such a great climbing venue. Easy access to everything from bouldering to multi-pitch sport routes. The farm has a number of self-catering chalets and, at the time, a large herd of commercial game. The farmer was inviting and generous despite the midst of insolvency, and it put our carefree recreational climbing in glaring perspective. For us, lockdown was a non-event; we knew that not everyone had it the same way and spending time with the farmer as he wound up his pride and joy were definitely some of the more somber moments.

We’d heard that Sentinel was open to day visitors, so wrapped up in Mt Everest and took the short drive to Witsieshoek, only to find the entrance gate open, but the hiking gate locked. It was one of those immaculate winter’s days in the high ‘berg, not a breath of wind, warm sunshine, and devoid of people. The air was clear, and you could see for miles – Eastern Buttress and Tooth, Woodstock dam, Ntaban Hlophe…it felt like you could see to the edge of the earth. Plans were re-arranged and we headed to the Midlands to stay with friends Kath and Mark on their little farm.

As the drive from Witsieshoek to The Midlands went down Oliviershoek Pass and, effectively, passed Royal Natal National Park, I took the opportunity to take the short cut and flew my XxLite from the Sentinel Car Park, to Tindele, and Chloè drove the 2 hour round trip, eventually finding me lazing by the river, my little paraglider serving well as a pillow, next to the gurgling Tugela.

Some enquiries to Witsieshoek overnight had us up and on the go BACK up the pass next morning. Colin McCoy joined us for an ascent of the classic Angus Lepan route on the North Face of Sentinel – another glorious winters day in the high ‘berg. Crisp in the shade, the lower access pitch in The Gulley requiring a point of aid to climb the verglass, but the rest was incredible, and we were joined by my spirit animal, The Lammegeir (I have never been to the Drakensberg and not had their company) on and off throughout the day.

Jun ’20, Natal Midlands – A few days climbing at Monteseel, some 4x4ing in the valley of a thousand hills and generally going about life as if there were no cares, it really felt like that is how life should be. No deadlines, no stress, just living in the moment. Days were spent adhoc adventuring. Chloè wrote thesisstuff, Mark and I explored random ridges and peaks, flying the Deikot mountain ridge, Mark making his first speed flight off of Ntaban Hlophe (and later off the Bulwer Mountain Summit)…and I visited the area manager at Giants Castle nature reserve.

Jun ’20, Giants Castle – The lockdown rules at the time allowed for day hiking, but no overnight hiking. I had an idea, and I needed to see what we could get away with without getting too many people into too much trouble. To her immense credit, the park manager was exceedingly accommodating. While she couldn’t let us stay overnight, she did allow us some latitude on starting our ‘day’ hike.

Chloè, bless her soul, was up for a big day…probably because she didn’t know what I meant by a “big” day! Until you have spent time in the Drakensberg, particularly the Northern ‘Berg, you’ll never understand the size of the area’s relief. I’ve watched it break many a strong hiker, seen Alaskan’s eat their words. A 6 am start had us on the go by head torch, and the sun joined us midway up Giants Ridge. Soft morning light on still fresh bodies, in fact, there was still a smile on her face. 10:55 and the smile was replaced by a scowl that read: “WTF did you just make me do?”.  We’d just crested the summit of Giants Pass, from the Giants Castle car park in under 5 hours, with gear.

There’s an adage that says: “If you pack bivi gear, you will bivi”. We took it a step further and threw out a set of ice tools, half the screws, and one of the half ropes. Weight was that important. Ice climbing in South Africa is often this bizarre juxtaposition of warm sunny approaches with not a hint of ice, followed by dropping into a South facing gulley and being surrounded by ice. We dropped down over the escarpment toward Makhaza and weaved our way between residual snow patches, our approach shoes not really equipped to stomp directly across them. We changed gear, donned layers and rappelld into the bowl off a V-thread, and ended up climbing two WI 3-4 Ice routes (Chloè’s first ice experience) before packing up and heading back down.

I’d promised the park manager that we’d be back at the car by 18:00, and if you find an agreeable government manager, it really is in your interest to keep your end of the bargain! It builds trust (not just in you, but in themselves to take the chance on the next mad-cap visitor who asks for something out of the ordinary). It’s a public service.

This is almost certainly the most intense day for someone’s first-ever day of Ice Climbing!

• 1300m of vertical gain
• 14km of horizontal one way

Made for a total of 2600m vertical gain/loss, 28km hiking and 70m of WI3-4…in 12 hours.

Jun-Juy ’20, Umfolosi – Some R&R was spent at one of Chloè’s friends cottages in The Monks Cowl valley (she slept for the entire day while I met Mark to Fly at Bulwer) and thereafter we headed to Zululand to warm up next to the Wit Umfolozi River, where the signs say beware of crocodiles, the crags rise out of the river and the campsite deck looks straight down valley, an idyllic venue without cell signal where the campfire bounces flames across the climbing routes and the bushveld sounds creep into your soul.

From there we headed back to Magalies and brought to an end nearly three months on the road, visiting some of South Africa’s finest mountain terrain, linking objectives and means on the fly, while having each and every place completely to ourselves.

It really was a dystopian utopia.

Postscript:

August ’20, Taiwan – Traveling internationally in ’20 really was a unique experience. Johannesburg international was operating select flights but had virtually no ground crew. On arrival, check-in was somber and devoid of the usual bustle, and baggage check happened upstairs, on the parking deck with you and your bag in line while a police sniffer dog, living her best life, ran excitedly up and down checking for bombs, drugs and whatever else. Doha was eerie. Desolate halls, usually teaming with people, shops and noise was quiet, calm…lifeless. Taiwan was strict, 14 days of quarantine and then eventually onto vessels to relieve crews, some of whom had been stuck onboard since MARCH!

Looking back, there was (maybe still is) so much (mis?) information, speculation and extreme views at the time, it really was difficult to know what was true and what was important to follow/obey. I was relatively well informed, not prone to fearmongering but, equally, a realist to realizing that the system around me, ultimately, would win – so I navigated life as best as possible within the bounds, even as they moved, and tried to make the most of the situation.

Some peoples ‘reckless’ was other people’s ‘freedom’ and this was just the beginning of that murky, obfuscated journey of life going forward.

It is said that the definition of luck is “preparedness meeting opportunity”. In 2020 I got lucky!