9 Peaks Women’s Solo Challenge- part 2

Never hesitate to trade your cow for a handful of magic beans.

Thursday 9 November 2023

8 pm

The drop-off to my right looked very dramatic in the pitch darkness.

Although the wind speed wasn’t that high, I had to brace myself when it gusted. Digging my trekking poles into the earth, I deliberately waited for the wind to subside before making my way across the exposed rock of the contour path. I was exhausted and could not remember when I had ever felt so drained. My pack, with all my hiking equipment, added additional strain to my already fatigued legs, and I wondered where I would find the strength to hike the 30-kilometer return trip to the summit. Earlier in the evening, I had downloaded the in-reach weather report for Kwaduma, and had discovered that the wind speed would progressively pick up through the night. By 9 a.m. the next morning, it would reach up to 70 km per hour. With dread, I realized I had to be off the mountain before 9 a.m. or I would be unable to safely descend the contour path.

I had no other option but to continue hiking until I reached the summit’s base, set up camp there, and try to get a few hours of sleep. If I could then make it to the peak by daybreak, and descend to the foothills by nine the next morning, I would have won the battle. Despite my fatigue, I knew this was the only option, and I would have to dig deep into my remaining mental and physical reserves.  As I continued to hike, the wind began to howl, and gusts pushed against me with increasing force. The thought of navigating the contour path in such extreme conditions filled me with a sense of urgency. I knew that reaching the peak before dawn was my only chance to make it down safely before the winds became too dangerous.  

The ability to be calm, present-focused, and organize your thoughts quickly, is invaluable during a challenge of this nature. Adapting to changing circumstances and managing countless variables is key to survival. I found that I was so preoccupied with the task at hand, that there wasn’t much time for self-reflection. I knew that would occur in the following weeks and months.

The drive from Mafadi to Kwaduma had taken 8 hours and followed along the base of the Drakensberg Mountains. My mind wandered as I reminisced about the simple rural life of my childhood. Lush rolling hills intermingled with traditional huts and all manner of livestock flanked the long dirt road to the base of Kwaduma. Bare-backed horsemen, decked out in the traditional gumboots and Basotho blankets, galloped past, gazing at me with curiosity. I parked my car at the base of the highest peak of the Eastern Cape, which towered above me at 3019m. To my left, a young woman stood in the yard outside of her hut. Chickens scratched in the dirt and bashful children peeked out from behind her skirts. I walked over to her and between broken Afrikaans, English, and a lot of hand gestures, I managed to convey to her that I wished to leave my car there under her protection. She visibly swelled with pride at this request, and I realized what a noble and generous community I had found myself in. I clambered into the back of my car and gathered any remaining food I could find. I presented her with bananas, biscuits, and chocolate bars. It gave me great satisfaction knowing they would be enjoyed by this deserving family. With my vehicle security resolved, I started climbing towards the escarpment as the sun began to set. Below I could see the herdsmen lighting the evening’s fires and gathering their sheep into kraals for the night.

Steadily I climbed the contour path as night enveloped the mountain. After a short scramble up a rocky gully, I found myself on the Drakensberg escarpment. Before me, I could see the outline of the summit against the star-lit sky.

It was pleasantly warm as I crossed the plateau, and I playfully removed my shoes and waded barefoot across a wide river to spare them from getting wet. At 11 pm I eventually reached the base of the summit, and found a reasonably flat patch of ground on which to erect my tent. I pointed the smallest end towards the oncoming wind and fastened each section securely as the tent was liable to be blown away.  I instantly fell into a deep sleep and was only occasionally aware of the flapping of the tent’s fly sheet. I had only managed to get a few hours of sleep when my alarm woke me. I hastily dressed, and began hiking the 10km return trip to the summit, hoping that my tent would not blow away in my absence. When I reached Kwaduma’s final rise, I found that the area around the summit was a tangle of rusty barbed wire fencing, a remnant of the former physical border between South Africa and Lesotho. I carefully navigated the terrain, and when the rock cairn of the summit came into view, a feeling of elation washed over me. Each summit signified a victory, knowing that one more peak had been conquered. I slumped against the rocks, as it was becoming extremely windy, and spent a few minutes appreciating the view. When I returned to my tent, which was now completely flattened by the wind, I removed my left sock to take a closer look at a toe that had been bothering me. I realized that my feet were starting to take strain and that my sock was full of dried blood. I cleaned my feet and applied plasters and strapping where necessary.

The wind was picking up by the minute, so I quickly packed up my tent and headed down the mountain. With danger now behind me, my mind started to calculate exactly what time the next day I would arrive at the final Peak. I estimated that if all went well, I would get to Seweweekspoort by 3 pm on Saturday and would be able to make the summit before dark. If I reached the top before 10 pm I would still be within my 6-day schedule, despite all the delays caused by bad weather on Namahadi. Spurred on by the prospect of achieving my goal, I felt full of renewed energy and determination.

The longest journey is the journey inward.

 Friday 10 November 2023

13h00

A tall, red-headed woman must have been an uncommon sight to begin with, but that wasn’t what had the attention of the little girl next to me. Her gaze was firmly fixed on my filthy, bandaged feet. I smiled at her through my altitude-blistered lips and had to laugh at how comical I must have looked. How could I even begin to explain to her where I was going and where I had been? I had stopped at a pizzeria in Maclear, as this was the last town where I had any hope of getting a hot meal before driving the enormous distance to the northern cape.

Ten hours of non-stop driving now stood between me and Murch Point in the Northern Cape. I felt revitalized and excited that if my calculations went according to plan, I would complete the challenge by the following evening. All my fatigue melted away, and I relished the thought that I would be resting and not hiking for the remainder of the day. I sent a message to Lynette, the farm manager of Murch Point, to notify her that I was on my way.

For the first hundred kilometers of the drive, mountains stood proudly against the horizon to my right. Cows casually crossed the road at the cattle crossings, giving me time to stop and appreciate the scenery. As I passed through small karoo towns along the way, locals sat chatting on the pavement, enjoying each other’s company, their world a place where people still had time for each other.

The long, straight road stretched out endlessly before me, inviting me to venture further into the heart of one of South Africa’s most remote regions. As evening approached, the setting sun cast a glow upon the road ahead. I pulled over to fully appreciate the sun disappearing behind the flat-topped Karoo mountains and take a couple of photos.

Despite the uncomfortable circumstances, I was having the time of my life. The combination of time pressure, pushing myself to my absolute limits, and the satisfaction of knowing that all my careful planning had come together like a well-orchestrated symphony, was everything I had hoped for and more. Without the distraction of companionship, I felt completely immersed and present in each moment.

What a privilege it was to spend this time doing something I loved so much.

I realized that deciding to do 9 Peaks solo was one of the greatest gifts I could have ever given myself. I loved the complete freedom I experienced and valued being completely, and singularly accountable for my actions. Strangely I never felt lonely and looked forward to sharing my stories with friends and family when I returned home. I elaborately recounted my adventure to myself and took as many photos as I could. I felt so fortunate to experience traveling the entirety of South Africa and seeing so many beautiful things within a week. I found it gratifying that I was achieving something that had never been done before and in turn, showing others what was possible if they dared to believe in themselves. By embracing the unknown, I experienced a solo adventure that few people ever get the chance to, and felt a deeper understanding of who I was.

Eventually, I found myself on the dirt road that led to the farm on which Murch Point is located. In the darkness rabbits, antelope, and even a porcupine scurried across my headlights. I found this part of the country so intriguing. What would it be like to live in such a harsh and unforgiving environment? When I arrived on the farm, I managed to get myself completely lost in the maze of dirt roads and endless farm gates. In my exhausted state, I started to panic, imagining myself losing precious hours driving in circles. There was no signal in this area and I was so relieved when I stumbled upon Lynette’s house. When I knocked on the door, I was greeted by the farm dogs and Lynette’s welcoming smile. She was shocked to discover that I’d been hiking and driving endlessly for days and offered me a bed and a shower, but I explained that I was regretfully under time constraints. Despite the hour, she jumped into her vehicle and guided me through the labyrinth of farm roads to the correct road that would lead me to the base of Murch Point. When I reached the designated start point, I climbed into the back of my car to snuggle down for the night, as cattle grazed nonchalantly around the vehicle.

By 3 am I was awake and strapping on my knee-high gaiters as protection against puff adders, which were endemic in this region. As I began to follow the winding dirt track, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe. The dry riverbeds painted a picture of isolation and resilience as if they had witnessed countless seasons come and go. The ruins of a farmhouse stood as a silent testament to a bygone era, its weathered walls telling tales of days gone by. Yet even in this harsh environment, nature found a way to adapt to its surroundings and persevere against all odds. As the sun rose on the horizon, casting a glow over the land, I couldn’t help but feel humbled by the beauty and resilience of the Northern Cape.

Now that it was daylight, I put in my earphones and switched to race mode. Pushing all fatigue to the back of my mind, I raced the 16km return hike to the summit.

Four hours later I arrived back at my car, and was greeted by Lynette waiting for me with hot coffee and rusks. Her kindness and camaraderie were so welcome at this point of my solo journey, and I hoped that in return our meeting could inspire her in some way.

When your body gives in, let your mind take over.

Saturday 12 November 2023

13h58

As my call went to voicemail, my eyes drank in the fields of yellow flowers stretching between myself and the Swartberg mountains. I had pulled over about 30km before the picturesque Klein Karoo town of De Rust, and I knew that the only person who could assist me in making this decision was Kobus Bresler, the creator of the 9 Peaks challenge and fellow soloist. Over the past few hours, my rational mind had reminded me that I had vowed to myself never to come down off the formidable Seweweekspoort Peak at night. In my original schedule, it was non-negotiable. At my current rate, I was on course to reach the summit and descend at night, and I knew that being fatigued, I was even more at risk of injury. Up to this point, I had rationalized that I could summit and make it down in the dark if I was careful. Anyone who has ever taken on this mountain would know that wasn’t realistic. I had let myself become blinded by my determination to achieve the goal I had set of completing the challenge in 6 days.

How could I reconcile my self-defeat and put my safety first?

In my world nothing was impossible, and making dreams a reality was something I was really good at. I favoured not asking too many questions and just getting things done, finding it almost impossible to quit or change direction once I had an objective. This could be considered both a strength and an Achilles heel.

This entire challenge had been a race against myself, and winning to me would mean I had done the absolute best I could. I needed a different perspective from someone who had been through what I had. The solo challenge was such an internal experience, and it was hard to explain to others what I was going through, so I knew that talking to Kobus would serve as a voice of reason.

My phone rang, and pulled me out of contemplation. Some conversations remain etched in one’s memory forever, and this would be one of them…

I explained to Kobus that I was torn between putting the final climb on hold until the following morning or pushing on into the night. He assured me that my mental fatigue and burnt-out state were completely normal. The strain of driving such an enormous distance and hiking alone had put me under immense pressure, and I should not be too hard on myself.

With great insight and serenity, Kobus asked me to consider if it was worth the risk, and that no one including myself in years to come, would care about how many days it had taken to complete. This solo challenge was far greater than that, it was a journey within, and you had to make it your own, whatever you chose that to be. (As I write this, I struggle to remember how long it took me to complete the challenge, as I have taken so much more from the experience, that it now seems strangely irrelevant).

His impassioned description of his hometown of Uniondale and the immense beauty of the Klein Karoo, made me feel like I was an honoured guest in one of the most beautiful regions on earth. He invited me to consider taking a slow drive through the Seweweekspoort pass and savouring the journey, and I imagined myself driving the route as if I were on holiday.

This was exactly what I needed to hear. He had given me permission to be kind to myself and enjoy my trip to the fullest. Suddenly I felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off my shoulders and I knew that postponing the climb until the next day was the safest decision.

I stopped in Oudtshoorn, picked up a couple of meals from a local restaurant, and slowly meandered my way to a guesthouse just up the road from the final peak.

At the base of Seweweekspoort Peak, I stopped my car, climbed out, and gazed up at its all too familiar rock-strewn slopes. It looked deceptively straightforward from this distance, and as always breathtakingly beautiful. The next day’s meeting felt like a scene from an old Cowboy movie, with the inevitable showdown at dawn.  It felt surreal to finally be facing peak number nine and I acknowledged that the personal cost to reach this point had been extensive.

Before sunrise the following morning, I found myself standing in front of a locked farm gate and realized this hike would start with a climb over a shiny, new barbed wire fence. It somehow seemed in keeping with the harsh yet magnificent beauty of the mountain. Every step was a careful one, as I negotiated jagged, rocky terrain and found that almost every plant was covered in some kind of thorny defence. Although it was only 4km to the summit from the base of the mountain, the elevation gain was 1100m over that distance, which made for a long steep climb, that involved careful navigation to avoid any impasses.

After several hours of hiking, I gazed up at the stratified sedimentary rock cliffs and realised I was only a few hundred meters from the beacon that marked the summit.  It was an exhilarating moment as I stepped onto the final stretch of boulders, and I knew that victory was within my reach.

As I took the final step toward the beacon, my legs collapsed under me, and I felt a wave of relief. I had never experienced a greater sense of achievement in my life. The completion of this goal was not just the end of an arduous journey, but a testament to my perseverance and determination. Now, as I stood at the pinnacle of the final peak, all the hardship had been worth it. The view was breathtaking, and it mirrored the triumph within me.

It was incredibly gratifying to know that I had done my absolute best, and left every part of myself out there on those mountains.

Many people have asked what motivated me to climb these peaks, and willingly endure such hardship, especially alone. The answer is simply that I considered this to be one of the greatest hiking achievements of my life. I never wanted to look back, and feel dissatisfied that I hadn’t given my absolute all to this sport and to the mountains which I love so dearly. I needed to know what it meant to give everything. The only way I could be in complete control of the outcome and have no regrets was doing it alone. And of course, the opportunity of being the first woman to ever achieve 9 Peaks Solo captured my imagination.

I have realised that we are all much stronger than we think, and largely underestimate our capabilities. The fear of the unknown should never limit your dreams and understand that there is magic in self-belief.

This experience has changed me, and I feel that I have been freed from the past, and stepped into the next chapter of my life. I have found peace, and this door can finally be closed.

Ultimately, we all go in search of ourselves, hope to face our fears, gain self-knowledge, and experience the pure joy of being alive.

Distance hiked: 178km

Elevation climbed: 8606m

Distance Driven: 4300km

Duration: 7 Days, 12 hours and 19 minutes