They warned me. Don’t go alone… take someone with you… you’re looking for trouble.
As a young girl in the 1960s, I was free to go into the adjacent veldt whenever I felt the desire. It was the playground of the neighbourhood kids. We built shelters, made fires (were we crazy?), scaled colossal, round boulders and sang to the cows. We never worried about strangers - we chatted to the passing herdsmen and stuck to the one and only rule: be home before dark.
I still stick to that rule - well, usually.
As I became more and more familiar with the forest trails, my spirit of adventure grew in leaps and bounds. Little openings in the undergrowth beckoned and enticed me. Sometimes I ignored the pull towards these secret hidden paths, but, from time to time, I lost control and plunged into the bush to find out where the mystery paths would lead me.
The more I studied the trails on the Trailforks app, the more inquisitive I became. I had heard that Pepsi Pools was worth the hike and, on a whim, decided to adventure forth. Armed with my nifty hydration belt, pepper spray, a whistle and my jazzy running gear, I set out on what was supposed to be a two hour stagger. Little did I know that my innocent jaunt was soon to turn into a wild escapade.
I set off from First Avenue in Fernridge and headed east. Somehow, as I passed the old waterworks, I inadvertently veered off the path that leads to Pepsi Pools. I did not mean to venture off the ‘Indigenous Trail’. Mistake number one… I soon found myself entangled in a thicket and wondered why the path was so unused. However, my sense of adventure was strong, so I pioneered onward, battling the bushes that reached out to me. Suddenly, I was thrust into an opening. Before me was a highway! The swathe of grass that undulated along the steep rolling landscape cut through the indigenous forest as far as the eye could see. Ha! This was going to be a piece of cake.
Nooo… the knee-high grass hid many obstacles: roots, rocks, swamps and holes. Not only did that cause me to stagger even more than usual, but the descents and ascents were treacherously dangerous. I soon realised why this highway existed. When I got to the bottom of a particularly steep and slippery descent, I was confronted with a huge rusty pipe that spanned the deep gully below. I am not good with heights, but I had no choice. So… onwards it was. I reminded myself that I was brave and that it was only a slippery pipe. I could do it. And I did. Just when I thought I was going to be imprisoned on the highway maze forever, one of those little mysterious openings in the undergrowth appeared on the right. Yay! This was my chance to escape the ‘pipe route’.
With renewed resolve, I plunged my weight into the bush and fought my way forward. I did think it was rather strange that the trail was so overgrown and indistinct. Trailforks told me that I was on track, so I forged on. I tackled each twist and turn, and the relentless sucking mud with vigour, promising myself that I was fine and was going to get to Pepsi Pools.
Eventually, I slithered my way down a long, steep, muddy trail, almost into the cola-coloured water of Pepsi Pools. I had made it! Yes, it was worth the arduous journey. The rushing sound of the waterfall, the foaming turbulence, the sheer volume and speed of the water, and the verdant tree ferns were impressive.
I looked at my watch. Oops! I was running behind schedule. So, I decided to find a quicker route back to base. After consulting Trailforks, I thought that a route alongside the Garden Route Dam and then via the new waterworks, back to First Avenue, would be much quicker. Yeah, right!
I conquered the steep trail out of the Pepsi Pools gorge and turned left, as instructed by Trailforks. Alas! The trail headed straight into the Garden Route Dam! I was confused. My internal GPS was, apparently, on vacation and Trailforks was a liar. The wall of the Garden Route Dam had been increased in height and the water had risen and obliterated the trail. Back to the top of the hill… down again… great confusion. It was late afternoon. I decided that the disorientation was nonsense, sat down, consulted FatMaps, Plotaroute and Trailforks - again… I found a route that would take me up a long hill, across the airstrip used by the fire helicopters and spotter planes, through the new waterworks to a trail that I knew. With a sense of purpose and urgency, I marched forth. The sun dipped below the tree tops and I knew that I was going to be in trouble if I was out in the dark (without a head torch).
I trotted up the hill and crossed the swampy airstrip in the twilight, only to find that the trail that I was familiar with had been fenced off. The new waterworks site was surrounded by a very high fence to keep enemies out! By this time some stars were beginning to emerge in the indigo sky. Slight panic set in. I scurried along the southern boundary of the airstrip, seeking an escape through the towering fence. Nothing… my mobile phone torch was not exactly the best searchlight. Oh well, I thought, I would have to put my pride in my pocket and phone my husband to come and help me get over the Everest of a fence.
My husband is not good in times of crises. He is not good with technology. Sending him a pin did not help. And… it was load shedding, so there were no street lights. I could hear from his voice that he was frustrated, panicky and furious with me! Eventually, he found a couple in a vehicle and asked them for directions. Meanwhile, I was standing at the two metre high palisade fence topped with seriously sharp serrated daggers!
People are wonderful and kind. Picture this: me, the guilty staggerer on one side of the high, insurmountable fence, ankle deep in mud, and three innocent humans on the other side, all trying to work out how I was going to get to the ‘right’ side of the fence… in the pitch dark. Aah… blankets! There were blankets in both vehicles. The kind stranger threw layers of blankets over the palisade daggers and hauled himself over to ‘my’ side. My dignity was about to fly right out of the window. Using the poor man as a ladder, I heaved myself onto the top of the fence, ensuring that my legs were in the spaces between the daggers - quite a feat, I must add. There I was, poised, like a large Greek goddess overseeing her attendants. As I balanced, trying not to stab myself, the kind stranger leapt back over the fence to join the innocent party, ready to help me down. What kindness.
The next morning, I realised that I had lost my rather expensive hydration flask. I ventured forth in my car to the scene of the crime and spied my flask on the other side of the evil palisade fence. As I was about to find a pole to reach in and retrieve it, a man drove up to the fence.
“Can I help you?” he asked. I coyly pointed out my hydration flask and he replied, “No problem, I’ll open the gate for you.” So easy. Just like that! After I embarrassingly explained how my flask landed on the other side of the feared fence, he chortled, "There are lots of holes in the fence - you just need to know where to look!"
So many kind people.
TIPS:
Come home before it’s dark.
Take a headlamp… ALWAYS.
Don’t upset your partner.
Be kind.
Mountain Mom
Jane the Staggerer
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