Final assault

Along the Eastern Escarpment of South Africa there is a mountain range which is called the Drakensberg. The Drakensberg is acknowledged by the hiking and mountaineering fraternity as offering a selection of some of the finest, varied and challenging trails and ascents. Strategically based hotels and resorts provide comfortable ‘base camps’ for hiking and climbing. One of the more well known peaks in the range is Cathedral Peak with the famous Cathedral Peak Hotel nestling in the foothills below. The elevation of the summit of Cathedral Peak is 3005 metres (approximately 10 000 feet). The hike and climb from the hotel to the summit and back usually takes about nine and a half hours. It is a technical climb involving strenuous ascents, rock face ‘scrambling’ and a very shaky chain ladder covering a rocky outcrop with almost the full 10 000 foot drop, below! There have been fifty eight recorded fatalities resulting from falls. The hike is listed as being in the top ten of the world’s most dangerous hikes. And so this hike is not for the faint-hearted, requiring also a fair amount of fitness.

I’ve climbed Cathedral Peak three times. Unfortunately I was not able to complete my fourth attempt due to a previous knee injury which chose to re-visit me a third of the way up. My most memorable of the climbs was my first, when I was still a Cathedral Peak virgin! In fact all of us in that first group of five people were first-time Cathedral Peak climbers. My buddy Dave and I joined up with another group of three, two ladies and a guy. Mike and Sue were a couple and they brought Sue’s buddy Lee. Dave and I were both medical specialists while Mike and the ladies were in corporate finance. They were considerably younger than us. We also chose a seasoned guide since it was the first time for all of us. Hikers getting lost in the foot hills is not uncommon. In the winter months this could be fatal as happened recently. Two hikers lost their way and had to spend the night in below freezing temperatures. Unfortunately neither survived.

The morning of the climb arrives. We’re up early and meet in the dining room of the hotel. Here we’re introduced to our fellow hikers and our guide. A quick cup of coffee and a sandwich and then the standard pep talk from the guide. Check our gear, water supplies and snacks and we’re on our way.

It’s still dark so we’re bunching up behind the guide. There are no visible landmarks. We arrive at a small bridge and cross a swift flowing river. There’s no talking at this stage. We’re all fired up in anticipation and you can perceive the collective energy in the group. Hiking boots on the gravel path with rhythmic breathing. After a while begins a light ascent as we begin the elevation above the valley.

The first light of dawn now begins to appear. We’re hiking up a path on the side of a rocky hill. The light is welcome because the gravel has been replaced by small stones. We begin to chat and become familiar with each other. I’m at the back, as usual. I always tend to drift to the ‘sweeper’ position. We all seem to be equally matched in fitness and so we’re going at a steady pace. I note that my mind is quietening down. Thoughts of others, places and things now dissipating.

Now it begins to get steeper with the path snaking up the rocky side of the hill. Breathing is now heavier and spaces are opening up between us. The sun now peeps above the horizon. A new day. Energized and exhilarated. The guide together with one or two are now far ahead. They’re waiting for all of us to arrive and re-group. A pause and we take our first sips of water. Re-connecting with each other and confirming that all is well. We are nearing the top of the hill. The sun is now up and the temperature is rising. Time to remove the outer jacket.

We arrive at the top. And there to meet us is a perfect mountain pool, fed by a waterfall arising out of a crack in the rocks to our left. To the right, a great open plane towards the next elevation in the distance. The water in the pool is crystal clear and ice cold. We splash water on our faces and fill our water bottles. The group is chatting and bonding. I reflect that the dopamine of anticipation and of the engagement with the hike has been joined by oxytocin, with the resultant warm fuzzy of the group connection. It’s ‘one for all and all for one’ time!

The journey continues. We cover the plane in short time and ascend the next elevation. Not too bad. We’re on a roll. And then without warning, two and a half hours into the hike, something unexpected happens. We’ve begun ascending a formidable incline. We’re all in rhythm and I’m fixed on Dave’s calves, pumping up and down. Dave’s a big guy – a former rugby player with seriously muscular legs. To our left is a high rise and to the right, a sheer drop into a gorge. The path is very narrow. Dave’s losing his rhythm. Hell, Dave’s stumbling! I push him against the rise on the left and force him to stop. I call to the others. Dave is breathing heavily with a look of fear/horror on his face. I ask him what the problem is. He points to the gorge, just managing to squeeze out ‘acrophobia’ (fear of heights). Shit, is this for real? Dave has set off to climb this bugger of a mountain and he suffers from acrophobia! And so a new challenge emerges. We can carry on the hike but Dave has to face the rise on the left. So the others continue on while Dave holds on to the guide’s stick while I ensure that he’s stable from behind. Soon we’re following the path through thick vegetation and undergrowth which fortunately obscures the drop into the gorge and Dave is able to hike again. And so we arrive at the top of the gorge, named ‘Orange Peel Gorge’, because when we get to the top we all take a break and eat oranges (supplied by the hotel) and throw our peels into the gorge.

We emerge now into a clearing and turn left on to a contour path. This is a long path which will lead to the beginning of the ascent to the peak. Below are rolling valleys. I feel euphoric. I taste the timelessness of this space. This space holds in its geological palm, its creation, the dinosaurs and all that came thereafter ...to this moment. And right now, right here with the sun shining from a deep blue sky above, there is nothing else in the universe but us in this space. And the ‘me’ is becoming very insignificant.

Now begins a formidable ascent. A steep hill with a serious gradient, an absolute bugger of a climb. The gradient has no let up or reprieve. It takes no prisoners. Sweat pouring, breathing labored, screaming pain in calves and thighs. Slowly and painfully ascending. I’m not looking up to see how much further to go. It’s too disheartening. Eyes fixed to the ground and contemplating the next step. My entire life focus narrows down to putting one foot in front of the next. And then ... we arrive. We’re now on a shoulder walking along a path with a slight gradient towards the rock face on the right. We walk along the path which now ends at the base of the rock. We turn enquiringly to the guide. ‘Up, up,’ he responds, pointing upwards to the rock face. Dave bows out immediately. He’s managed to get this far and no further. He’ll be waiting for us on our descent. We stand in disbelief before the rock face in front of us. There is anxiety and tension in the group. Danger, the unknown, fear – the amygdala is kicking in.

And then something really startling happens. Mike who is a decent guy, well educated with a generous helping of self-respect, becomes a victim of his amygdala and degenerates into fight/flight. He begins to argue aggressively with the guide. "No way. You can’t do this to us. No one told us we’d have to do this!" It becomes pretty obvious that to get to the summit, we’re going to have to do it. I ask the guide where I need to begin and where I need to move towards.

I find a perch on a ledge and begin ‘crabbing’ (shifting side wards by shuffling feet and steadying with hands) over to my right. The ladies join soon thereafter with a trembling corporate financier in tow! We crab using the ledge that we’re standing on and our finger tips on a ledge above, snaking ever higher up the rock face. Then we reach a narrow path which takes us to a questionable chain ladder. The ladder follows a large rocky outcrop. At one point, if you look behind and below you, there is nothing except the floor of the valley 10 000 feet below. At this point I am in pure motor-mechanical survival mode. I am devoid of all thoughts and emotions. I am in pure adrenaline-cortisol fight/flight mode. The path ends and more rock face crabbing is required. Now something really weird happens. I think it’s the endorphins kicking in. I break through the fight/flight mode and I inherit total numbness. Then I’m floating reflexly up the rock face – no thoughts, no feelings and no fight/flight. All that exists is the rock. And then I reach a curved part of the rock, hanging in the middle of nowhere on the right. I grab hold of it and pull myself up and over ..... and I’m on the summit of Cathedral Peak!

Thanks for joining me on this thrilling adventure. Next time I’ll tell you how we got down ....