Cederberg

Confident that the bad weather was mealy a coastal phenomenon, we headed inland to the Cederberg Wilderness Area. To the north of the area is the town of Clanwilliam, home of Rooibos tea. The road out quickly becomes a rough, winding gravel track (although people do come along here in 2-wheel drives), continuing for an hour or so through rugged, picturesque terrain to the camp site at Algeria. Unfortunately this area has suffered a recent fire, and this, together with the fact we couldn't find anyone at the campsite, drove us south to Dwarsriver. Here many Capetonians were settling in for the upcoming (cold and wet) long-weekend.

We got the fire lit, put up the awning and started cooking our super. Whilst doing this, we couldn't help notice that the other happy campers had gloves, hats and puffer jackets – surely this is not what camping in africa is about. We huddled round the fire for warmth, but then the rain came, which drove us inside the van. There the gentle patter of rain on the fibreglass roof sounded like someone playing the drums inside your head (not helped by the roof being only 2 foot away). This together with the van's lack of acceptable watertightness, and the fact the awning was pooling so much water I had to go out and collapse it before it pulled the van over, made for a sleepless night.
















We awoke, surprised not to find ourselves being swept down a torrential river, and with firm ground under-feet. It looked like it would be a cool, clear day – prefect for a hike. We booked in for another night, and got a hiking permit along with some vague instructions on how to get to The Wolfberg Cracks. A 1km bumpy drive from the campsite gets you to the start of the climb - it was nice to find that we were the only car in the car park; of course the downside of this is that when you break your leg, you're the only one on the mountain. The first hour is a fairly easy switch-back path, which enables you to watch the van slowly turn into a sugar cube beneath you. After that there are two route options. The woman we bought the permits from mentioned something about a chimney and a ledge, but I wasn't really paying attention. After a couple of nerve racking and futile reckies along some ledges, we took the easy route up a large boulder field to what is essentially a massive crack in the top of the mountain.

















The crack is around 10m width, perhaps 100m high and several hundred meters long – it has within it its own mini forest ecosystem, I've never seen anything quite like it. The other end opens onto a mountain plateau, with further walking options. Heading back down, we came across a couple on the correct ledge – alas the 'chimney' was a small, concealed cave with a wall a far end, which once you'd pulled yourself up, brought you out onto ledge.



We drove out of the area as more campers poured in. Tonight's destination was Citrusdal – home of the orange grove. Our plan was to stay at some hot baths; unfortunately their campsite was full. Luckily the gate man phoned a local farmer, who we followed along a dirt road, up into his orange grove and over a brook to a private site with its own toilet block. As the rain set in we decided that the best way to deal with getting wet was to sit in a pool of very hot water.
















On our return, we set up the awning so the rain would run off it (with the aid of an occasional prod) and huddled underneath it – this is what camping is all about. Fortunately the rain stopped, and we duly burnt a very large bag of wood for warmth. The next morning we stopped to pick half a dozen oranges, before commencing the two hour drive to Cape Town. Thanks to Kirsten's skilful navigation we found the hostel on Long Street with little bother, finally found a parking spot and returned to keys to Mike from Just Done It – I can't say I'll entirety miss it, but as we watched it being driven down the street it was like losing your (cold, damp and noisy) home.