What I did on my holiday...

Not the most creative title, I agree, but hey... as Barney would say: "true story"!
The significant other and I headed out to the Cederberg Mountains this weekend for some much needed R&R away from civilization, cellphone calls and cats. Even us dedicated pet staffers go a bit foamy at the mouth after being bounced on for the hundredth time at 3 am in the morning, or yowled at because said cats feel bored / hungry / annoyed / playful / nauseous etc etc etc.

Anyhoo. Considering the trip in retrospect, I feel a bit like Frodo or Samwise Gamgee after their famous journey, including the chance to shout "Here come the Eagles!". Scoff if you want, but our trip included treacherous mountain ascents, wizard-like staffs and, yes, eagles!

Our destination was Kromrivier - a haven for any world-weary wanderer tucked away in the folds of the Cederberg Mountains, an area known for its strange rock formations and world-class hiking / climbing routes. With the rainy winter season in full swing, we arrived at the major river crossing to find it, ahahahaha, flooded. And then some. With some backtracking and creative navigation we arrived safely at our cottage, if slightly later than planned. But visions of the Lord of the Rings soon turned into the Three Little Pigs as we set to huffing and puffing to get our darn fire to burn properly! Perseverance paid off though, and by bedtime our cottage was a cozy haven where weary travelers dozed before a blazing hearth. With an outside bathroom, trips were made on a pressing-need-only basis, and rather quickly at that.

Well after daybreak we set off to scale a local feature that promised good exercise and a fantastic view. Unfortunately it came with some hidden terms and conditions that we discovered the hard way. Just getting to the start of our ascent included a lot more bushwhacking than anticipated. I ended up with prickly leaves and thorns in mentionable places that made me say a few unmentionable words. With names like Umbrella Thorn (Hak & Steek) and Climber's Friend (officially Cliffortia Ruscifolia, but once you've grabbed a handful, it's known by more colorful phrases), the journey may sounds almost cheerful. It wasn't.
Fighting our way through these menacing shrubs, we climbed higher, finding our path littered with interesting flakes of newly exposed rock, some rock dust, areas that looked newly-plown and some new-looking boulders. All very interesting geologically speaking; all VERY nerve-wracking when you realized you're walking right along the path of a recent rockfall. Like Gandalf's brave company, this climb was not successful - we did not make it to the top, and returned to camp scratched, sore and out of sorts.

But, like all good stories, the journey was not over yet, and hope remained. The next day we set off to meet with Megan - she who follows the airy trails of the local Black Eagles (Verreaux Eagles for those in the know, "Witkruisarend" for the rest of us). As part of her PhD studies she monitors the Eagles during their breeding season, and Significant Other had volunteered his services to rig an abseil to place a camera above a nest.

We hiked up the mountain around the corner from the nest site, popping over a saddle before descending to the overhang above their nest. Unlike yesterday's brushy ordeal, this hike was an absolute pleasure. I'd also unpacked my trekking poles, and oh my word: 8th wonder of the world. The dramatic cut-down on flailing about and making ground-level inspections of pebbles was almost magical. Then a shadow swooped over us, and I got my first close-up look at ::drumroll: the Eagles. With a wingspan of 2 metres, even the most daring human feels that inner mammal giving a very alarmed 'squeak!' at the sight these hunters.

As there were eggs in the nest already, our job was to get in, get the job done, and get out with as quickly and with as little disturbance as possible. Sitting at my belay station on top, I watched as the eagles flew past every now and again, and yes, I admit it, I enjoyed it thoroughly being able to say "Here come the eagles!"
With camera set in place, we left the area as quickly as possible and I'm happy to report that by the time we reached the the valley floor, the Eagles were settling in on the eggs again.

That evening we sat around a roaring fire, happy smiles and tired bodies celebrating the indescribable wonder of being 'out there'. It may not always be a smooth journey, but the rewards are beyond measure.

P.s. For more info on the Black Eagle project, see https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Black-Eagle-Project/166520386739894