I’m in Cape Town, South Africa- near the southern most point of Africa and I’ve just climbed Table Mountain. It is easily one of the most breathtakingly scenic places I’ve ever been. There are mountain ranges with clouds that hover on tops of the peaks, threatening to spill over and down the sides. There are pretty cliffs and white sand beaches that introduce the land to the never-ending bright blue ocean.
We were warned it was a dangerous hike. We were warned we must be a part of a group to ensure our safety if anything were to happen.
So naturally my friend and I went alone without studying the maps or writing down the emergency numbers.
It was a marvelous hike. Incredibly challenging with equally beautiful views. With scenery that changed every few hundred feet, it was impossible not to look around and feel a sense of appreciation. Whenever I go for a hike I find myself thinking about those who forged the path. This trail was made for people like us who want to test their ability and explore a mountain and I’m very grateful that I had the chance to take advantage of it.
No matter how much I want to portray myself as a mentally tough, super athletic professional hiking woman, the fact of the matter is, I struggled. The trail was difficult for me, it took about two hours to hike from the road to the top of the mountain. It was two hours of hiking up a steep incline with even steeper steps lined with a barbed wire fence to keep the plantlife safe from wandering hikers. I almost took hold of it once to steady myself when I luckily spotted the sharp barbs. Two hours of heavy breathing, of urging myself not to stop, telling myself it would all be worth it when I could finally see the view from the top. We were passed by many happy-go-lucky people making their way down the mountain, they all seemed to be dressed rather nicely, clean clothes with no signs of sweat, or dirt. No evidence of any struggle really. I didn’t notice any of them breathing heavy or sweating profusely like I was. To keep my sanity, I told myself they must’ve taken the cable car up the mountain and decided to hike down.
It’s not like I don’t go to the gym, I enjoy working out. Ok, maybe cardio isn’t my favorite activity and this is evidence enough for that, but how could I be the only one struggling? This trail is intense! I thought hiking up to Machu Picchu was difficult but this one blows it out of the water.
After about 90 minutes of labored breathing and my legs feeling like a combination of jello and cement, I look up and see that
I’m now making my way through a cloud.
It’s becoming cold now, the sun is gone, everything around me is eerily muted and the grass is covered in dew drops. The only sound I hear is the water is trickling from the rocks on either side of the path.
It’s collecting in small pools of cold, clear water and I’m to the point now where I’m tempted to roll around in it like a dog who’s found a big puddle of mud. We are in a narrow valley just wide enough to manage switchbacks, meaning it’s all uphill from here. Gone are the friendly flat spots of the trail that give my thighs a forgiving break, I’m officially on the ultimate stair-master.
Now when I pass someone who is making their descent I try not to seem too desperate when I ask how much further to the top. They always answer in such an encouraging tone, saying only a bit further. My inner monologue has turned a bit negative at this point as I say to myself “Keep your lies to yourself” and keep an eye on my watch.
This is when the mental game comes into play.
Looking back now I should’ve began telling myself a nice story to aid as a distraction from the predicament I’ve got myself into, but instead I continue to torture myself by constantly going over the fact that if I were to turn around now I’d have to face this trail all over again. I have to continue, and I can’t waste too much time otherwise I’ll miss the sunset and the cable cars will no longer be in service, forcing me to hike down at night.
It would’ve been a great time for Bobby McFerrin’s song to get stuck in my head… “Don’t worry, be happy”…
Then we see it. The clouds metaphorically and literally part and the trail levels off. We enter into a land of green tree tops with lots of yellow flowers among huge boulders.
After two hours of mostly solitary climbing, I find myself surrounded by all sorts of tourists eagerly taking photos along the edge of the mountain. The views make me stop in my tracks. To my right I see the city of Cape town, the harbor and the other mountains far into the distance. Straight ahead I see the ocean, it’s immensity always the best reminder of how small I am.
And to my left is my favorite view; a string of mountains in the clouds with steep slopes that lead to a green valley.
I’m surrounded by beauty and I’ve already forgotten the struggle it took to get here.
