On a pilgrimage...
Disclaimer: These are my thoughts and paradigms and experiences that I try to share as truthfully as possible so that whomever stumbles upon them might be able to relate and know that the biggest lies of the enemy are often related to isolation, loneliness and the feeling of “no one gets me…” What I’m trying to do with my stories and thoughts is to a) process a myriad of thoughts and feelings and perceptions in my own head and b) show that there probably are no unique temptations, and if we just get over ourselves and speak to one another, we will find it much easier to find friends to strengthen our feeble hands and weak knees …
Everything I write is open to be challenged and dissected. Everything I say is open to be scrutinised. We see in part, we speak incompleteness … But we do not keep silent. For what we know of Him, we declare. And we do not take ourselves too seriously.
By the Blood of the Lamb, and by the word of our testimony …
All these thoughts are incomplete and coloured by my life-experiences, cultural influences, family background, church upbringing and an overactive imagination … and somewhere in-between, I trust that Wisdom might have whispered something of worth that will help us see Jesus and our Father, and one another, so that there might be Love.
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The sand from three weeks of summer beach holiday is hiding in the corners of my costume. It was a proper, and critical, time of rest. Anchoring back into family, catching up on some zero pressure colouring in, getting pummeled by waves and building up a proper tan. Drinking bubbly and finding orange starfish.
I also took some time to journal through mindsets and thought-patterns that started to make 2024 feel pretty heavy. I think I somehow started to accept dumb oppressive thoughts about myself (classic rookie error). Journaling through the thought, into its core lie, has always helped me to detangle the pattern. It’s pretty brutal, and it sure ain’t pretty. It’s a spiritual discipline, like pulling out weeds. Once the lie is exposed, I write a truth over it. It sometimes takes hours to get to the bottom of the thought’s honest emotion (sometimes anger is actually just a sad with claws, for example), and the authentic, believable truth. But the spring clean is worth it. So, there was a bit of that too, and I think it’s an important process to do before considering what to take into a new year.
The themes of the patterns that were not helping me are likely classic for my life stage. Is there still something to look forward to in my career? Am I now finally too old to find a life partner? Where has my sparkle gone … Where did my writing gift go …? I felt like the things that I am good at and love, like seeing pictures that explain the world, writing poetry and being able to make strategically creative connections, are insignificant and obscure. I also felt like a failure on other fronts. Too disillusioned to hope again. Bla, bla. Meh.
You get the drift. It’s fundamental identity, self-worth and significance stuff. Too heavy to carry into another year. So, I transferred their dull weight onto paper, and applied some Gilead balm. I’m also reading a (dense psychology) book about the female “wild woman” archetype, and it’s validating the primal importance of intuition, something that I started to neglect because layers of intellectual complexity choked my gut. And that’s dumb.
I needed that process, and mostly the sea and sun and family time, to get to a shimmer of hope for 2025.
I prefer the concept of new year’s commitments over resolutions. It seems less “grin and bear it”.
Commitments lead to priorities, and priorities get resourced. That’s how it goes for me.
So, my commitments are in a few categories, with an overarching theme: Mastery. Not just participating, or being at the table. Actually getting good. Practicing to develop an authentic voice.
I have some ideas about how to implement this. A first principle is to get into a space where there are others who are much better than me (in the different categories), so that their excellence can set a new standard. Another principle is weekly scheduling. Block the time slots for the things.
Some of my new year’s commitments have more to do with reclaiming territory than with aiming at new goals. For example, I used to win races, not just do them for the participation medal … :). I want to (realistically) reclaim some of that excellence. I know I’m not going to win half-marathons (I simply don’t want to train on that level), but I might be able to make the top 20 of a mile swim. Signed up for group triathlon training. It has slots in the diary. Canal swimming at 6am it is, then.
In terms of work, the challenge with being in the same leadership role for some period of time is the trap of rinse and repeat. Some things ain’t broke, so they don’t need fixing. But there is always opportunity for a fresh approach and a new angle on the same task. Thankfully, there’s a super dynamic team, with new people joining, and the creative capacity is vast. Cocreating is key.
Academically, I’m embedding myself into understanding impact from the perspective of philanthropy that cares about green, sustainable economic development (SDG 8) in Africa, and aligning non-profit brand positioning to that insight. It’s a PhD (manifesting there …), but it’s also a professional and “expert” voice to practice and develop. I’m considering weekly LinkedIn articles, just to practice sharing nuggets and hopefully getting good. Will see if I find any to share :).
Music is another important pillar in my life. Vocal coaching or a music theory course might be on the cards. A masters degree in music technology only keeps its value if you build on it …
There are a few more. Some belong to future vision boards, and some belong to prayer journals.
This reflection is honestly more about the habit of writing. I missed it.
May you keep your personal commitments this year, but first make sure that they really matter to you. Not because it seems like something you should want, or want to do.
Some years have moody accent colours that overshadow everything else. 2009. 2017. 2019. Those were accent colour years, first with brushes of deep purple sorrow, and then seasons of bright blue interventions and red redemption. These types of years leave smudges. (Also, those 2020/1 blurred pastels that shall not be mentioned. PT(C-19)SD.)
But 2024 hasn’t been overshadowed by any particular colour. My 2024 camera roll reveals a year in lush earthy tones, coloured with friends, flowers, mountains, waterfalls, and stretch goals. The Insta view is at least 75% of the story. We can start there.
On the home front
I’ve made Vredehoek home. The plant-creche is happy here. Did some renovations in Jan, with emerald shower tiles, white American shutter blinds and green & grey accent walls. It is safe space to hang memories on the wall. The full moon rising over Paje beach. The elusive summit of Kilimanjaro. Moroccan dunes and wells. Sunrise on Good Friday from Upper Injisuthi Cave. Amathola waterfalls and Otter river crossings. Paintings of proteas, birds, and almond blossoms.
I’m actually nesting, and still feel like staying, at the risk of eating my words. But for now, this is where I inhabit my skin, and where I take this time to honour the highlights of 2024.
Mountains and waterfalls
Another year blessed with the immense privilege of access to soul-sustaining playgrounds, and friends to enjoy the “I’d rather be hiking” life with.
Jan – March: Moordenaarskop with the close berg-adder encounter. St James Peak fire lilies. Skeleton Gorge / Aqueduct for Disa Uniflora and the little purple one. Jonkershoek; Bergriviernek, Dwarsberg Plato, Panorama, Kurktrekker. For the Kings. Cederberg Sneeu Protea on Sneeukop. Wolberg Cracks. Devil’s Peak King’s Blockhouse for a Devil’s Peak King’s Blockhouse, post housewarming. Lion’s Head, for the internationals.
April – June: DubiousTable Mountain alternative routes. Then, the big one: To the top of South Africa; Mafadi (this one merited its own blog). Kogelbay. Miaspoort-plus. Nobody-cried-nobody-died Llandudno Buttress/Grootkop/Llandudno Ravine. St James Sunday. Chris-mas in July Boesmanskloof. No such thing as bad weather …
July – Sep: Jonkershoek Mountain seven summits. Cederberg, first Zooridge explorations and then SMS songs-of-ascent (Cracks and Stadsaal). Table Mountain, Hobbitbos submerging and Diagonal plus. Lion’s Head, again for the internationals.
Oct – Dec: The healing Otter. Cape Point overnight for EB’s bday. Nursery Ravine / Junction Peak boendoe. Newland’s and Silvermine meandering. (Still counts, technically on the mountain). Bain’s Kloof secret-ish waterfall. Sossy’s Kloof showers. Skeleton Gorge / Aqueduct for Disa Longicornu. The 20km Jonkershoek Swartboskloof/Panorama symphony.
Technically, there were more walks in the wild, connected to beautiful breakaway weekends like Porterville was … Puik.
The Solomon’s are formally falling apart. I think they did well.
Stretch goals
At the risk of being compartment-y, I’m now seeing themes emerge here. I had physical, intellectual and emotional stretch goals this year.
Physical stretch-goals are relatively straightforward. I pick a thing that I will fail miserably at if I don’t get my butt in gear and train. Then I enter a race or say yes to an expedition while it still seems like a dumb idea. This is a semi-effective strategy to provide the motivation to go to gym/the Prom/the backline and be sort of ready so I minimise the chances of dying on the day. Near-death experiences are fine. Like the Jonkershoek Mountain Challenge emergency room tumble. It left a scar. The Cape Town Marathon was less dramatic, but I did cry a little (from relief?) when I crossed the finish line with time to spare. The Ebenezer Mile swim was fun, with my sister in the Top 10, and even me, Top 20. #suzzelswatswem. Trail run, marathon and open water swim with potential hippos. Check.
The intellectual stretch-goal is a bit of a long game. Enrolled for a PhD in Brand Leadership. Circling back to my theoretical first love: Brand Positioning. It’s a weird nerd-girl thing. Proposal has been accepted, so now the fun really begins.
Emotional stretch goal. Mmmmm. Getting back in the saddle? So to speak. Made it to one Curated Connections social. Aluta continua.
Maybe I can add a spiritual stretch goal too. I believe in the value of spiritual family, and it’s taken me way longer than expected to find a faith community in Cape Town. I found a bunch of real faith-peeps this year, something to celebrate.
Talents and hobbies
Confession. I sing in project choirs predominantly for the lekker mense, fancy venues and the drama of a full orchestra. And for being on stage with Conroy Scott. Don’t tell anyone, but Verdi, Mozart and Bach blur in my mind … mostly, there are a bunch of requiem et ternam’s floating above the amens …
I sing in SMS for friends-that-are-family. And high Bs in the Wolfberg Cracks.
Choral highlights this year was being an impact-soprano for the Philharmonia Choir’s Verdi Requiem in Cape Town City Hall, and singing Mendelssohn’s Elijah with Johan’s project choir in a sold-out the Endler Hall. We also had the biggest end-year concert for SMS this year, packing the PJ Oliver hall.
I also had a chance to try my hand at creating a thing with clay. That was satisfying. I might pick that up in the future. I used the Otter to rekindle some poetry.
Career
We did a tally of the comms-involved project outputs for a board strategy session. The amazing team I manage (well, we co-manage ourselves, to be honest), coordinated and helped to run roughly 60 events (three of these were multi-day international conferences), took 30 publications through review, design and publishing and ran with the dissemination campaigns connected to these outputs, efforts delivering close to R25m PR value. Non-trivial for a NPO. Tips of the iceberg, and some of the physical evidence of the impacts that the whole organisation is committed to to deliver.
I did however crash in November, after a two-day conference where I super-subbed as MC. I also sensed that others around me were skirting the edges of nearing burn-out too. We were at 35km, and there were still 7.2km to go …
And that led the the 25% of the year that Instagram doesn’t show. The waves kept coming, but the surfers were done. Aware of the fact that this should all be fun, but it’s just not if you’re gasping for air, and fighting to just make it to shore. With a semi-torn achilles and an awkward inner-thigh injury.
Dramatic pause for effect over.
A waterfall revived me, and now we are here, on the verge of a three-week beach holiday.
Lessons embedded in the fabric of 2024: Don’t get a tattoo when you’re tired. Run to the rivers. Hide out in the heights. Stick with your gang. Crush and blush. Sing. Pray again.
Here’s to a 75% technicolour year, with some interesting shades of grey. Where the lessons live.
I guess it will always require some degree of effort to reach the highest point of anything. If that thing is a whole country, it’s probably worth considering that the effort might match the significance.
So it was with Mafadi Peak, the highest point in South Africa at 3 450m, on the border of the Mountain Kingdom.
We started off our Easter weekend adventure with a few days of luxury chilling in Zimbali, stocking up on supplies from the Ballito lifestyle centre and generally just catching breaths and drinking bubbly for breakfast after a busy first few months of the year. Syncing Garmin maps with AllTrails routes in preparation for a great adventure.
The drive to Injisuthi from Durban is about 3 hours (requiring a high-clearance vehicle for the last stretch of the road, or a rental car …). Midway Family Stop offers a well-positioned and neat comfort break for coffee (ask for a triple shot, though) and take-aways just off the N3 near Estcourt. The colourful kosmos put on a delightful show, as we negotiated a right of way with herds of cattle.
The accommodation at Injisuthi camp is perfect for either a long-weekend away or to overnight before and after a hike. The electricity comes on intermittently with a generator, and there is a degree of wifi to get some news out to the world close to the reception. Only some of the houses have plugs, so rather make sure there are charged battery banks in the group. The appliances and the shower geyser run on gas. Lovely sprawling lawns, towering trees and all the views. Comfy beds. Plenty of day hikes if that is more your inclination than heading off into the wilderness …
Day 1 – Injisuthi basecamp to Centenary Hut
Garmin stats: 10.95 km, 926 m elevation gain, sleeping at 2 301 m. Max heart rate: 175 bpm (steady on, now).
The hike starts off with a scenic undulating meander (euphemism for get-the-hell-up-that-hill-you-lazy-ass) and a river crossing or two. It is a stunning introduction to the valleys and views that would unfold further. Getting used to the weight on your back again (a 19kg backpack can literally hurl you down a mountain if you misstep slightly and forget the counterbalance effect – been there, almost died, a few times).
This was my first Drakensberg immersion, and the scale of the drama is captivating. We ventured through the self-christened “vallei van die vlinders” and “vallei van die verkleurmannetjies” – delighted by die chameleons and butterflies, also dodging a troop of baboons. Still in Kansas, Dorothy.
Then came Heartbreak Hill. The elevation gain is sudden and relentless, and we met the infamous afternoon KZN thundershowers. Lightning and mountain escarpments and humans with metal hiking poles. Those are the headlines of news stories of how people leave this earth. Mercifully there are no direct hits and we reached Centenary Hut drenched, and to a degree exhilarated by the physical challenge of overcoming a steep elevation gain in torrential downpour. We met up with a group from Joburg whom we would be sharing the rest of the adventure with.
Centenary Hut is a bit of an oversell of the word hut. It is a brick structure with a roof that at least offers some rain shelter, with the metal skeletons of bunk beds. Unfortunately it is dirty and rundown. I pitched my tent inside. Its saving grace is the Pierneef-painting views, when the clouds and mist allow a glimpse. There is a small stream about 200m away for fresh water. (For a safety check: Some of the team managed to get some signal from the rocks behind the hut.)
Day 2 – Centenary Hut to Upper Injisuthi Cave
Garmin stats: 12.4km, 1 200 m elevation gain, sleeping at 3 314 m. Max heart rate: 161 bpm (altitude getting in on the game).
The morning starts off with Protea coffee and Futurelife Oats, made fancy with Woolies dried blueberries and a Buttanut sachet. Just enough fuel to make it up the first rude incline, and enjoy the 3 km meandering nature of the day 2 start, with its glimpses of scenery from Lord of the Rings. The whole thing turns Amathola-level-extreme on you from Judges Pass. There’s no polite way of saying it. It’s a brutal up, requiring all limbs and stamina reserves, navigating some slippery scrambling, trying not to allow the backpack’s tendency to pull you back, kill you as you plummet to your demise. Towards the upper ridges, the craggy rock faces and waterfalls plunging into the valleys below provide some degree of scenic reward for extreme physical effort. The effects of altitude also start to creep in at around 3 000 m. In a nutshell, it’s classified as Type B Fun.
Finally reaching the top of Judges Pass, we are met with horses and herders, then made our (still going bloody up) way towards Upper Injisuthi Cave over the escarpment (slightly off the path, so make sure you have the route pre-saved on a watch), where we settled for the night. Until around 23:24. I checked the time and for some strange reason, noted it.
Went out of the cave for a “bathroom” moment. Pitch dark, misty, cold. Suddenly, a massive boulder rolls over the edge of the cave roof and lands about 3 m away from my head. Breaks and scatters into the night with a deafening sound. I hurry back into the cave, with the rest of the crew now also half-awakened by what initially seemed like a natural rock fall. Until we realised that there were key items missing – boots, jackets, tentpens … The rock falls intensified, starting to feel like an ambush attack or an avalanche. It continued for basically an hour. With massive boulders being hurled down the mountain towards the opening of the cave, as if intentionally trying to prevent us from getting out to follow whomever might have taken the stuff. That’s the theory we settled on, anyway. It was an ever-so-slightly more logical explanation than wild horses wanting to get into the cave away from the storm … and a tad more comforting explanation than the cave collapsing under an avalanche … I’m not sure if anyone got any further sleep that night, but the rocks did eventually stop falling and the heart rates dropped down slightly. Plans were to be made at first light for the guys who lost their boots in the ordeal. The helicopter was called off. (We managed to get through to SARZA and KZN Mountain Rescue with weak signal, and they were on standby, just in case).
Joy comes in the morning. Easter Friday with a sunrise view from the highest cave in South Africa.
Thankful to be saved.
Day 3 – Mafadi Peak summit, Upper Injisuthi Cave to Marble Baths (sort of)
Garmin stats: 13.72 km, 1 432 m descent, sleeping at 1 889 m. Max heart rate 156 bpm (way down we go).
After we take a survivors photo and the two guys sans-boots become Mr. Crocks and Mr. Socks (taping socks over plakkies), we head out early to summit Mafadi Peak, a short and relatively easy stint from the cave, reaching the top of South Africa at 3 450m. I find these sorts of things (mountaintops, country borders etc.) profound for their symbolic significance, and offered a silent prayer of blessing over our beautiful nation at the simple rock altar.
We do these things for the sheer joy of having coffee and Easter eggs with 360 degree rolling views of Lesotho and South Africa. Simplicity brings clarity.
The route then hugs the border over the rocky escarpment for a while, navigating a few drops and ledges. Down is via the breathtaking Leslie’s Pass. It involves numerous unintentional and forced butt-slides due to incessant light rain with much mud causing slippery slopes, occasionally requiring hanging onto grass for dear life. If you catch a wobble, you break limbs. Or worse. Inching down foot-by-foot continues for longer than what my reasonably strong legs could carry. An onslaught on knees and quads and toes. An almost-Kilimanjaro descent rival, but with you carrying your own stuff.
We decided to not push on to Marble Bath caves, and camped next to the river in a clearing, simply not having one more kilometre of bundu bashing in our legs. Wise move. I was close to being a little broken that night. Whiskey hot chocolate and ibuprofen helps.
Day 4 – Marble Baths to basecamp
Garmin stats: 10 km, 552 m descent, sleeping back at basecamp. Max heart 149 bpm (clearly slacking).
Saying goodbye to the remnant of our Joburg friends, we bundu bash the last km to Marble Baths, and after a slippery river crossing requiring some off-the-beaten track navigation, we meander our way down (still some butt-sliding required) the rest of the mountain to track back to the trail that meets up with the day 1 route. After a short “surely we need to obviously go left” split path scenario, we have a last coffee stop, make the final river crossing, and reach the jeep track leading back to basecamp.
Our simple dinner of pasta and left-over trial food, with the brilliant forbearance of keeping some wine in the car, is a celebration of a shared adventure and personal victories.
As the cellphone reception returns and the social media reflections roll out, I reflect on why these experiences are so important to me. I’m firstly so thankful for the friends that make these experiences possible, with a special mention to Susan that initiated and organised and led this trip, and many others before it. Also to Rene and Carel that shared in the Type B (and actual) fun.
The soul has to marvel at something beyond its grasp. The body needs to persevere through a degree of physical effort. The mind must break away from daily obsessions. The heart requires connection to a community with shared passions.
Mountains and music satisfy those thirsts for me.
Selah.
Some amateur gear footnotes
The Naturehike tents seem to condensate quite a bit, and I am not fully convinced that it would survive a proper downpour with high winds. Maybe it actually needs its tentpens. I was relieved of mine during the midnight raid.
Salomon boots for the win, always. NorthFace rain jacket did the trick. Garmin Fenix 6s navigation is on point. Battery bank required. The DoT gifted one works well 🙂
Protea coffee is the best, and Mamma Alles provides good sustenance. I just go with Smash and fine biltong.
Established in an active and generally well-balanced lifestyle, actually mostly happy in my own skin. Perhaps 42 really is the answer to life, the universe and everything.
This year can be thematically content analysed into verbs. Hike, swim/run, sing, work, search and settle.
Hike
Day hikes: Bobbejaansrivier fence-jumping and waterfall abseiling. Jonkershoek Dwarsberg Plato via Panorama (with a 10km bike-in roundtrip on one occasion, and a 27km turbo-adventure edition walk-in on another). Victoria Peak. Swartboskloof. Three Kurktrekker-killer descents. A few Sossyskloof breather trips. Table Mountain ascents from multiple angles. Skeleton Gorge, Myburg Ravine, Three Firs, Kasteelspoort, Platteklip, Diagonal Ravine and Constantia Neck (for a boendoe-bashing immersion). A few Kloof Corner contour and Lion’s Head loop mornings. Stellenbosch Mountain sunset Tuesdays. Silvermine Elephant’s Eye with Constantia Peak. Hermanus and Paarl mountain meandering. The Hout Bay Hoerikwaggo stretch. Breathtaking Banhoek.
Overnight hikes: Greyton / Macgregor (times two). Wilderness area wild camping with billion-star-hotel hammock sleeping in Groot Winterhoek (first trip with the Mountain Club of SA), and a weekend in the Cederberg (Algeria access).
None of these adventures would be worth it without friends-family. My very much loved life-sharing cornerstone community.
Swim (and run)
Many miles in the Sea Point public swimming pool and Wembley Square Virgin Active. First time backline exposure; Clifton Fourth to Clifton First and back with the Cape Town Open Water Swimming Co. Boschendal dam Fridays. Bergriver open water 400m and mile. Culminating in the 4 hour / 8km Robben Island to Blouberg Beach marathon swim with Megs. That pretty much maxed me out on life goals in April.
There were also steady additions to the ParkRun tally, adding Somerset West, Muizenberg, Green Point and Meerendal to the mix. Sea Point promenade Gforce Fridays. The Knysna 21km ITB-edition.
Sing
Life-sustaining Madrigal-family Tuesday rehearsals in Stellies, with highlight performances for me a fun festival participation in Cape Town City Hall, and being special occasion entertainment at weddings, fundraisers, church anniversaries and RWC semi-finals …
First soprano impact-chorister-fun with the Cape Town Philharmonia Choir for Carmina Burana (Cape Town City Hall) and the choir-formerly-known-as-Libertas for Verdi Requiem (SU Conservatorium).
Work
After almost 5 years at GreenCape, there has yet to be a day that I don’t want to go into the office. Dynamic colleagues who are friends and mentors, runs and hikes and after-work drinks, (most notably stalking the Springboks on their victory tour), a cause that is worth fighting through the harder days for and a safe culture built on values that I personally align with. Work highlights this year include growing the comms team, and seeing the team step into their respective sweet-spot roles, winning an international brand award and travelling with different project teams to host catalytic events and workshops in Mpumalanga. I still love the herding-cats challenge, hustling pretty hard every day to hold the different parts of multiple events and publications and projects in some degree of calm order, and crafting the nuances of key messages for strategic projects. And of course, the privilege of attending and participating in COP28 in Dubai. I know I am blessed.
Search
It’s a bit of a running joke that I basically buy or sell a property and move every year. Some years, more than once. There’s probably some psychological undercurrent that one should get checked out at some stage. Alas. I was very happy in Gardens this year. I loved my Table Mountain view and the morning sun in the living room, and Kloof Street Park outside my bedroom window. I felt home in Leeuwendal. But the plan was to rent until both Hout Bay and Royal Ascot were sold, and then to reassess where I actually wanted to live. I did an extensive search, within the tricky parameters of Cape Town property prices. There were a few non-negotiable tick boxes. Offstreet parking. A balcony with a view. A walk/run safe neighbourhood. I knew instinctively I want to be close to the mountain. It holds my heart. I ventured out into Woodstock, Obs, Newlands, Rondebosch, and scouted around extensively in Oranjezicht, Tamboerskloof and Gardens. Nothing fit.
Then, on one Monday evening, after the umpteenth not-quite-right-viewing, I walked into a simple space, and my heart stopped searching. The transfer took four months. I moved into my new flat in Vredehoek the weekend after returning from Dubai, before leaving again for a 5-day hike. Drop and go. With the prospect of nesting in the new year. White shutter blinds already ordered.
Settle
This is the first year of basically my entire adult life that I was not vaguley pre-occupied with some form of romantic dissonance. I had one inappropriate crush, but that was securely ring-fenced. I am 42 and still living my best single-woman life. That’s not what I imagined for myself. I really wanted a loving husband, have four kids, and a Top Billing home, by age 25. Recalculate.
Honestly, I am at peace with this raw and real journey. Every now and again I’m starting to feel a little sad-pang about the inevetable biology-course of female bodies that eventually run out of baby-making cells. But then again, I recently heard about a woman giving birth to twins at the age of 70 …
I have learned to value the embedded freedom benefit of independence (with community council decision-making input). This life, the only precious one I have now, is pretty full and flourishing. Established in grace and the Love that never fails.
It does feel like this year has been a “let go of what is behind, and stretch out for what is to come”.
I’ve had some loose thoughts about new year’s resolutions. The elusive PhD is still hanging around in the back of my mind. Something along the lines of a half Iron Man is also echoing faintly. I started writing a book titled “Living Single”. Maybe I publish in 2024. With a world tour. And a music video. Carpe the crap out of the diem. Maybe not yet. First Christmas with family and New Year’s with friends. Breathe out.
Pause to choose. Choose to commit. Commit to invest.
I did a peculiar double major at Rhodes University. I obtained permission to specialise in both Economic Journalism (for which I had a Reserve Bank scholarship to thank) and Creative Writing (for which I had a grade 3 teacher praising the first poem I ever wrote to thank). For the one I had to write an OpEd for Mail & Guardian about the budget speech. Riveting. For the other I had to compile a poetry anthology. I can’t recall who I was in love with back then, but I guess it was inspired loosely by some form of doomed affection. Tragic.
When I am confronted with complex emotions and global threats, the poetry still leaks out on the odd occasion. I really care that wild places remain untamed. In nature, and in people.
I think the combination of end-of-year filter-fatigue-tired and being slammed with agenda-overload linked to COP28 next week is putting me in a reflective mood.
There are many things one should have a clear position on. But I am a storyteller, not an economist, and I am honestly pretty deliberately tonedeaf to politics.
So, in the midst of the crafted narratives and clever influence tactics, it’s worth pausing to remember where the real fire is. What makes you actually cry. What boils your own blood, in the midst of a warming planet?
Indifference makes me cry. Littering, racism and corruption makes my blood boil. If there is one thing I know, it’s that I love South Africa. It does sometimes feel unrequited.
Indifference is an empathy void. Littering (and its equally nasty sibbling, pollution) is disrespectful of nature and people. Racism is arrogance. Corruption is haemorrhaging South Africa.
Actually, it’s probably all arrogance. Self above all else. Archetypal stuff.
Natural eco-systems need to do what they are programmed to do. Regenerate. When the regeneration rhythm is lost for too long, entropy. In the poetic sense of the word.
In my mind, the mission is to live in ways that keep those rhythms going on Earth. Make a living in ways that don’t kill life. Leave the wild places be. Logic. Also politics. COP28 narrative in a nutshell – Negotiations: Get the money promised and required from have to not-yet-have, to pay for the mess made by generations gone. The context: Unequal climate change-related economic and health burdens. The solutions: Solid plans. Bright minds and ready projects. Brilliant technologies. Lots of ideas to connect money with clean tech. The quagmire: Weird policies with regional and personal self-interest agendas. The essence: We maybe still have a small window to get the symphony back into a life-sustaining rhythm. But maybe not. Then it’s all jazz … where some might argue for the existence of newly formed highly intricate evolved rhythm … My ears just can’t seem to hear it.
I found a professional home in sustainable economic development, because it intersects the concern for planet with a passion for innovation that creates opportunity for prosperity for people. Those are the things I want to get behind.
Oblivious to even the remote possibility of it occurring, we drove into a sunny and dry Baviaanskloof on Friday 22 September, hypothetically chatting about what might happen to the road if the river ever happened to actually flow. A week later, we saw what happens. The river wins.
When a seemingly dormant river deals with torrential rain in its catchment area, and forges a way to direct gallons of water over whatever terrain it chooses, including the exit road, you wait untill its done raging. As long as it takes. A Ford Ecosport might imagine that its almost a 4×4, but there’s nothing like an actual flooded road to remind it that it is, in fact, a suburban SUV poser.
But between those two Fridays, there was a whole lotta edgy adventure to be had.
The Leopard Trail is a 4-day-almost-60km slack-packing hike in the beautiful Baviaanskloof Wilderness. The sweeping scenery reminded me of the Blyde River Valley, without the wag-n-bietjie thorns, golden orb webb spiders and hippos.
“Slack-packing” might give the impression that this is an easy hike. The only easier bit is not having 20kg on your back when you walk the 20km of day three over three mountains. In the rain. With a sprained shin muscle.
Ok, that’s a tad dramatic. But true. I tripped over a silly rock at the end of the gloriously sunny and bright day 1 hike, and sprained something that caused a great deal of discomfort over the rest of the hike. At least my ITB knee held up.
So, I did most of the stunning hike in pain. Meh. With every step I reminded myself to look up and be alive to the moment. But the moment actually hurt like hell. I wanted to kill it with ibuprofen. But alas, kidneys are hard to come by.
That aside, it is a truly lovely trail. The overnight huts are probably the best in SA (of the ones we’ve sampled thus far). The amenities are very close to what I imagine people who only do glamping would approve of, including flush toilets and warm gas-heater showers with a view on the mountains. The only catch with an outside shower is to figure out how to keep your clothes dry and get dressed in a coed setting when it rains. Plans were made with washing pegs and sheets.
As mentioned, day one was a sunny and bright 13ish km uphill start, and the veld erupted in shades of purple and yellow. We had lunch at Gabriel’s Pool, and some among the ranks took an icy dip. Fighting off hypothermia, we made our way to the first hut, where even me, I ventured into the plaasdammetjie pool. Rescued a few bugs from drowning, had a beer. Had a braai. (The perks of packing in a crate that you don’t need to carry with you). Life goals. Noticed I couldn’t lift my toes without flinching. Urgh.
Day two was a cooler 18km trek, meandering over labyrinth hills and reflection pools valleys, nestling into the huts as the thunder started to rumble.
Day three was overly arctic. Chris aptly called it “bite-the-bullet” hiking, which means it was simply unpleasant weather and near-impossible to stop for coffee breaks anywhere. There were a few proper elevation hills. It rained pretty hard and the wind was relentless. As was the shin-turned-ankle. Eventually, we made it to an overhang up a (at that stage still passable) riverbed, at around 10km, which provided a repose to have a bite and glorious coffee, and attempt some degree of changing into less drenched shirts. I make it sound dreadful. Suck-it-up-buttercup mode really does have its own charm. As one of our Kilimanjaro crew said: Open a can of toughen the f up … 🙂
Thunder and lightning accompanied us for the rest of the 20km to the overnight huts, as we hiked in and through a dry riverbed surrounded by picturesque rock-walls. We were the last group in that week with the right of passage along that route. The following day, the river claimed it back behind us.
Day four was overcast and rumbling, but we were given the gift of completing the trail with sweeping views and a few final elevation reminders that the fitness required to enjoy this trail is not to be underestimated.
And then, in the words of Seal, the rainstorm came. Literally, as we were sitting at basecamp reception to have our usual end-of-another-epic-hike-#squadgoals celebratory beers. A cloudburst type scenario. All night long.
Thinking little of it, except perhaps being a bit nervous about the roof blowing off, we checked into a farmhouse at basecamp for the evening, thankful to be dry and indoors and fully convinced that we would be leaving the next day, onwards to the Cango Caves, and then home. Videos from the Eersteriver bursting its banks again, and houses under water on the Breede, and the chaos at Robertson and Stanford and Botrivier and other places started to ping on phones as we returned to a weakish-but-still wifi signal.
This is what one might call a plot twist. A reminder of how vulnerable we actually are when nature shows up in an untameable mood.
A whatsapp on the group from one of the all-terrain 4×4 vehicles in our group that left early on Tuesday morning: “We’re turning back, we can’t get through. The road is flooded.”
Oh. Shit.
I think that sums up the general initial sentiment.
There goes the plan. Recalculate.
The other groups were still stuck out on the trail, and the crew couldn’t get their food to them. That situation soon turned into a crises management case study. Massive kudos to Willem and the Leopard Trail team for dealing with the multiple responsibilities and complexities that were suddenly dropped on their shoulders. Things were potentially starting to be a little risky, as one day’s barred access to reach the hikers in the huts turned into another, and then more. Tractors and trailers got stuck. SAPS helicopter evacuations added to the surreality of the scene. Everyone on the trail got out safe. A massive thank you to the owners for driving all the way from Knysna to drop food supplies and make sure everyone is safe. And for the free beer.
When we realised that the river was not going to relent on our terms, and that we were not going to leave for a few more days than initially anticipated, my sense was that the group shifted mental gear into thankfulness for being safe and together as friends and family, and finding meaning (and actually, having fun) in the pretty special and unique situation. We were sorted with enough spare two-minute noodles, left-over nuts and biltong and baked beans for a day or two. We went on shorter day walks (testing our on-foot river crossing capabilities), and played our own version of Codenames and Oh My Hat and Banagrams… It seemed from the weak-wifi reports that we were seeing in bits and pieces like the entire country had some degree of climate change / weather crises to deal with, and we really did have a stunning spot to ponder upon the futility of fighting floods.
As one of my caring collegues put it in a whatsapp, as I was mid-almost-starting-to-panic: “Embrace the world you are in right now.” Or as one of my helpful friends suggested as a productive use of the being-stuck time: “Pick one and populate …” 🙂
There is nothing like a shared slightly nerve-wrecking adventure to create a sense community. All the food became communal. We shared the house with one of the other evacuated groups for one evening, and they left us, the remaining city-SUV-handicapped remnant, an entire dinner’s worth of vegetables for a lovely curry, and other luxuries like chocolate oats-so-easy.
Over the next three days we simply had no option but to let go of our expectations of getting home and back to work on previously communicated timeframes. Each day had a different level of off-road “canary car” going out to test the water levels. Pretty much a Noah’s ark-send-the-dove situation. On Wednesday the Land Cruiser with the snorkel only just made it out. On Thursday the double-cab Toyota made it out. On Friday, a convoy that included a Jimny and a Kuga and two Ecosports bounced through deeper-than-comfortable crossings shakily, with much anxiety and one super there-goes-the-engine-mid-river-push-out close call. Thank you to Chris and Carel for carrying the stress of being the designated flood-facing drivers!
And here we are. On the other side. All my hiking gear washed and dry and packed away. I had Woolies sushi for lunch. Insta reels are posted and my 500+ work inbox is back down to the 72 emails that I have to actually read and respond to tomorrow.
Thank you to very special group of people for so much joy and good humour, making this another unforgettable life-story experience (especially thank you to to Elsje for all the planning and arrangements).
It all seems so fleeting now.
Be fully alive to the moment.
Even if it hurts.
“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you.” Isaiah 43.
For the longest time, I have been searching for home.
Maybe it’s the adult orphan thing, or perhaps it’s the single woman thing. Could be the existential “this world is not our home / foxes-have-homes” thing. Or a mash-up of all of those. Regardless of the source of the searching, it’s been an underlying restlessness, amplified in some seasons more than others.
I have found a sense of “my second home” with people. In family, church and work, and with friends. I have found reasons to delight in every place I’ve lived. A massive soetdoring tree in the garden in Pretoria. The aloe-dotted Sunday morning drive to Port Alfred from Grahamstown. Table Mountain in my face and the library around the corner. The echoes of something eternal in the ocean’s calming drone during isolation lockdown in Hout Bay. The Blyde River Valley’s dramatic backdrops. Sunset over vineyards in Stellenbosch. Jonkershoek. The mischievous winking of a million lights at night in Joburg.
I have loved people, and the places I knew them in.
But somehow the search never really subsides for long.
Maybe home is a person yet unmet.
Maybe it’s a choice yet unmade.
Maybe it’s a promise yet to be fulfilled.
But frankly, it’s also a place with walls and windows and a toilet.
Reluctantly cliched, but home is where the heart is. And it seems like my heart is currently drawn to Cape Town City Bowl. My head probably also has a little to do with it, given insight into the infrastructure capital investment pipeline and resilience wisdom of the people tasked with running the City. So I’ve been looking to re-invest, and it’s taken months to find something that’s not ridiculously over-priced. It’s crazy, actually.
I had a dreamlist. Some things were negotiable, and others made me say no when I really wanted to give up the search and just say yes. But alas, my heart is too stubborn. She didn’t let me. Also, Holy Spirit. Peace or no peace. The choice still remains yours. Also, the consequences of choice. Ignored that still small voice once. Once is enough.
I think I may just have found a reasonable nest. I know because the search stopped when I walked through the door. The inner drive to keep looking dissolved. My heart is pretty clear with me on things like that. I have been searching for so long and seeing things that were not quite right, so when the right thing came along one unassuming Monday evening, I simply knew.
It’s not the full expression of the entire dreamlist, but conviction is what it is. Stop looking, you found it. Now, put a stake in the ground. And let go.
Be patient and uncompromising in the “not yet”, and swift to act in the “yes”. Hold fast, and hold lightly.
Maybe our eyes meeting will be like that doorway. A simple finding. A coming home. I hope you have a view. A few, actually.
Now, to the barrage of paperwork. Living the dream seems to equate to 97% admin.
The first half of 2023 definitely had its share of adventures.
The “do something for the first time” bit of the year so far, is open water swimming, in the ocean. A few sessions of training at Clifton culminated in swimming from Robben Island to Blouberg. Roughly 8km of icy ocean perseverance, inspired by a colleague. Not something I ever through would be possilbe. Not sure how to top that. Feels like its the year’s goal done.
But it never is, is it?
The year has also naturally had its hiking highlights. Bobbejaansrivier, Jonkershoek, Table Mountain, Boesmanskloof, Groot Winterhoek (another first: wild camping and hammock sleeping), Hermanus, Cederberg, Banhoek.
Slight glitch in the game at the moment, is an ITB knee. The last 4km of the Knysna half-marathon was painful enough to make me wonder if pushing too hard is worth it.
Even though I’m frustrated by what seems to be a silly, yet debilitating niggle, I do realise that its probably a mid-year opportunity to slow down.
I’m not really good at the slowing down bits. But taking your foot off the pedal when the wheels start coming off, is the only way to avoid a crash.
Slowing down is not easy for me. But it does seem neccesary. No one else will set your boundaries for you.
I’ve had a lovely birthday week, with family and sister-time. It came at the exact right time, just as my wheels felt like they were coming off a bit.
It’s an oversimplification put a heading on a whole year. If I had to commit to a theme, the idea of being quietly resolute comes to mind. I made and stuck to a few personally significant resolutions. These had to do with my heart, my body and my sense of home.
I start my annual reflections by going through the photos on my phone, month by month, to recall the captured moments that accumulated into a year.
2022 definitely had momentum. The world opened up again, and hurled forward at a tremendous pace, eager to make up for lost face-time.
For the most part, 2022 was a healthy, wholesome, adventurous and blessed year for me on pretty much every front, and I write that with thankfulness. Yes, it was packed and at times borderline manic, but somehow there was grace, and intentional work-life balance. The consistency of work, friends, mountains and music anchored my schedule in a healthy weekly rhythm and, for the most part, gave the clarity of perspective.
I’ll return to the heading for the year in due course. First, a few sub-headings.
Hikes
The hiking culmination of the year was the 6 day Tsitsikamma Trail (16 – 21 December), starting in Nature’s Valley and ending 62km later in Stormsriver Village. Much of the hiking happened in the rain, with its own charm and challenges. The trail meanders up and down mountains, over rivers and streams, dipping down into magical indigenous forest where the mountains fold. Hiking out of a year is a meditative experience, and doing so with good friends and kindred spirits is healing.
Multi-day hikes are emmersive. The simplicity of a small gas stove, brewing a cup of something warm. No thought of loadshedding schedules, because all you need is a fire and a headlamp. The delight of two minute noodles. Being mindful of your next step to not slip on a drenched protruding root. Putting your head down and getting up that final steep stretch. The slight trepidation of a river crossing. The joy of being embraced by green and lush and wild.
The December adventure stood on the shoulders of the 18 shorter ones that happened throughout the year. Most of these are connected to disa and orchid hunting, due to the esteemed company I keep .. .
Table Mountain Silvermine (Metallic Disa)
Kogelberg (heatwave hiking … questioning life choices)
Jonkershoek Swartboskloof x 2
Table Mountain Overseers Hut (Red Disa) weekend
Greyton to McGregor (overnight and back for Chris’s birthday)
Simonsberg
Drakensberg short meander
Simonstown to Cape Point
Constantia Neck via Chapmans Peak
Cederberg Luna Peak
Cederberg Wolfberg Cracks
Table Mountain highlights (up via Three Firs, via MacClear’s Beacon, down Kasteelspoort)
Devils Peak King’s Blockhouse
Jonkershoek Victoria Peak
Landroskop (overnight and back)
Chapman’s Peak
Table Mountain Skeleton Gorge Disa Valley (Blou Drup Disa)
Weekend breathers
Weekend breathers were also a tank filler, and 2022 was packed with a few short hops across the country.
Pretoria (a family weekend for ouma Lizzie’s 90th, also unknowingly farewell)
Hermanus (marathon support crew)
Montagu (Cape Chamber Choir performance)
Langebaan (SMS choir practice weekend)
Buffelsbaai & Knysna (to run a half marathon)
Olive Glen (camping)
Cederberg Zooridge (rock art and red wine)
Cederberg Sanddrif (camping / freezing / hiking)
Drakenberge family break-away (Cathkin Peak for Tannie Liefie’s 60th)
Johannesburg / Musina / Tzaneen (work & birthday)
Exploring further afield
Zanzibar! This bucket list experience has its own blog: Click.
Memorable activities
There is a certain energy that accompanies entering a race or committing to a concert date.
For me, the value lies equally in the adrenaline rush of the actual event, and the weeks or months of physical and relational investment leading up to it. 2022 had its fair share of goals requiring dedication and fun habits. Honourable mention goes to the Gforce crew, for all the early Friday morning runs up Kloofnek Corner, around Lion’s Head, and on the Promenade. This year’s races included the Knysna half marathon, the Gun Run half marathon, and the Berg River Dam half mile swim.
Being part of the Stellenbosch Madrigal Singers is also an important commitment in my life, and this year again held the weekly privilege of singing with friends, in preparation for performances at weddings, church services, the Wolfberg Cracks, and a fancy year end concert. With my first solo :).
Doing things for the first time
I tried two new things this year. A mountain bike trail adventure with the Gforce crew at Bloemendal, and playing Padel. The hype is validated, on both occasions. Funsies!
Life events
There were a few disruptive moments during the year that caused some choppy emotional waters. Nothing too dramatic, but still worth reflecting on to glean the wisdom and leave the baggage behind.
2022 was the year of property portfolio experimenting. I made some calculations and took the plunge to buy and move into a second property. It was lovely to live in Royal Ascot for a bit (a quiet and quaint neighbourhood for anyone looking at Milnerton and surrounds.) I enjoyed being part of Life Changers Church Century City for the season, and valued the sense of community, being in a lifegroup again.
The playing with properties process escalated into proper landlording when the traffic finally got to me, and I decided to see if renting out two properties could turn into a side-hustle. As these things go, I had a choppy month of transition with a few maintenance and tenant gripes. I make light of it now, but that one month of cortisol bombing taught me that tycooning requires more resilience than what I had. The waters settled again, with one property sold and another rented out just in time for my own move back to the City, a block away from where I initially landed in 2019. Full circle, anchored again in the reassuring presence of Table Mountain.
A few other adulting things this year included paying off a car and correcting a romantic misalignment. Both of those statements are more profound than the space I will give it here.
I’ve written a separate blog about this, but its worth a reflective mention again. For the first time in literally my life, I feel confident in a bikini. I stopped making excuses, and dug my heels into a healthy diet and consistent exercise. It’s more about the decision to do something about what was niggling me than the weight-loss. The outcome is a newfound sense of personal confidence and freedom in my own skin. It’s easier to run, easier to hike, and easier to consider bigger goals. Like doing the Robben Island swim.
I guess the key gleaning from some of these deeper experiences this year is accepting the responsibility for emotions and actions. Owning a sense of agency, and doing the work required to change the things about yourself and your circumstances that are within your influence.
Do something about it.
Maturity 101, I guess.
In 2023 I want to extend that energy beyond myself. I want to care about the wrongs in my world, with the same sense of agency and commitment to change things within my circle of influence. In 2023, I desire to be fit, with purpose. To do something about it, not just where I am the main beneficiary.
There are a few other loose ends I want to tie up again. Write and release my dormant songs. Develop a PhD proposal for a study looking at the planet as a commercial shareholder in business and government decision-making, identifying the positioning bases for organisations that could be its legal proxy.
There is always still the lingering longing for my life-partner, and my own family. Hope has not deferred there yet, even with the mythical 40-plus label firmly stuck. P.S new rule: If you ask about my love life, you tag yourself with the responsibility to introduce me to one eligible guy in your circles.
Tapestry of Thought 