Survivor... icecave!

Whether they like to admit it or not, everyone develops a life-motto somewhere along their journey. To date, mine goes something like this: "I will try almost anything at least once."
Not very snappy, nor does it roll easily off the tongue, but there you have it. It's a philosophy that's served me well, and certainly applies to my latest adventure.

As someone who appreciates the great outdoors and finds herself lucky enough to be dating someone who also shares that love of nature, it seemed inevitable that at some stage or another I would have to experience genuine hiking. I'm not talking about a meander up a nearby mountain, a spot of tea at the top and then a stroll down. Oh no, not this time. It was to be a 4-day trip into the Cederberg mountains, with cave-camping and VERY au naturel ablution activities.

Part of me was very excited, and a slightly larger part was a bit apprehensive. Cold was going to be an issue to me, that's a given, but would I cope with the (for me) heavy backpack? Would I hold the rest of the group back and earn their resentment while I crawled up the track? Did I pack enough food? Did I leave my last will and testament in an obvious place?

As my significant other put it upon our arrival at the start of the trail: "Is your trepid a bit acious?"
It was. In large, super-sized scoops.
But the scenery was gorgeous; winter-streams gurgled down a rock-strewn 'kloof', ancient ceder-trees giving a welcoming nod to passer's by. A grassy plateau followed, then some more rock-strewn uphills with a final boulder and scree-strewn slope before we reached the cave that would serve as home for the next few days.

And now for a word from our sponsors.... or at least a grateful acknowledgement to them. Trekking poles rock! They are great for balancing backpack-heavy hikers. And those pocket-heaters: rip packet, expose to air and *poof* a treasured little source of heat for up to 24 hours. Ah... bliss!

And now back to the action...

It was with great relief that I undid the backpack once we reached the cave. The hike up had pushed my limits for sure, but it did deliver that personal sense of accomplishment nothing else can manage. These trips also brings with them a sense of simplicity - you cease to worry about all the vagaries of modern life, and instead focus on the smaller, essential things. Your day now breaks down into waking up, first cup of tea, morning ablutions (finding a quiet spot and, ahem, contemplating nature), exploring, breathing, sharing....

Of course it wasn't all moonlight and roses.
It was cold. I gained a lot of experience by being told what I should've done just after I'd done something. More cold. Sense of humor loss. And cold again.

There was also a death-defying trip to the top of another mountain named Tafelberg, featuring great gaping chasms filled with roiling lava and the scaling of a soap-smoothed vertical cliff.
Well, ok, maybe not quite that bad, but it certainly seemed that way to an inexperienced hiker as myself.
But with supporting friends (quite literal at times) we all made it to the top and safely back down again.

As I sit here now, cup of tea in hand and modern life blaring away around me, I start to remember it with a lot more fondness. The views were spectacular; the full moon cresting the saddle as the sun sank in the west, the fantastic patterns of ice sheets, water trickling down the rock behind it. The simple joys of warm food and good company.

Will I do it again? Probably . . . but not just yet.
The memories of fear and anxiety need to fade a bit more, to be balanced by the richer colors and warm fuzzies inspired by the good moments.
Oh, and the swelling on my twisted ankle needs to go down as well.Who thought I'd return from a weekend of freezing my extremities off only to snuggle up to an icepack back home.

Ah yes, that's the great outdoors.