The Parallel Universe atop Table Mountain
Catherine
Nature represents a form of escapism. A slowing down of the mental cogs which keep our day to day to-do lists in check. Usually, the rule is the further away from civilization you get, the easier it is to forget. Not so on Table Mountain I discovered on a recent visit home. Even with Cape Town’s buildings within view, the sensation of occupying an alternate universe was powerful. Was it the heat? The fact my trail fitness wasn’t at its peak? Or is it something about this mountain itself? All I know is that I thought I was heading onto the mountain to slow down after a busy time of visiting friends and family. What I experienced was something quite inexplicable. Read all about it in this issue of Notes from Outside.
Catherine
Editor, Notes from Outside
Table Mountain is easily underestimated. You stare up at it from Cape Town’s city bowl and your own eyes confirm that this is indeed a large chunk of rock. Not a gentle hill nor a friendly little peak, but a “real” mountain, with jagged edges and craggy cliffs. And yet, its proximity to the center gives it a sense of familiarity. You can forget that this mountain is a wild place and not merely a tourist attraction. But even if you do walk up via one of the busier routes on the northern face, you’ll still be surprised by how quickly — and completely — you slip into another world.
In January 2024, I climbed Table Mountain via a less touristed but still popular route: Skeleton Gorge. Within 20 sweaty minutes of climbing through indigenous jungle-like foliage, the traffic sound had dimmed. The gorge walls closed in as we climbed higher. The bird song and heat grew louder. We had already stepped through the portal.
Upwards we slogged, step after tree root after step, eventually reaching the ladders. Facing the first one, I realized I had misremembered these ladders. True to memory, the tree canopy did make the climb feel less treacherous, just not to the degree I thought. It still felt like climbing straight up a cliff face, albeit with some boulders and a few plants to bounce off if you put a foot wrong. I focused on the moss growing on the granite rock, concentrating on placing my hands and feet carefully on each rung.
After a short eternity we emerged onto an exposed zig-zaggy path, grateful the ladders were behind us. Here it was clear just how high we had climbed. Once again, we could see the city, the ocean, the mountains on the other side of the bay. But it was as if we were seeing them through an invisible force field. You can look, but you cannot touch. We turned to face the mountain, continuing up the switchback path until we reached the top of the gorge. Here the trail hung right onto Smuts Track, which traverses the top of the mountain in a northerly direction.
We followed this trail through the fynbos (the fine-leafed plants endemic to this area) towards Maclear’s Beacon, the highest point on Table Mountain. The city view accompanied us to the east, its tiny houses and tiny cars, tiny people living their tiny lives…
To the south, 50 kilometers of sandstone mountain stretched to the tip of the peninsula, and to the west, nearly 7,000 kilometers of uninterrupted ocean. Turning 360 degrees to take it all in warps your sense of place – and space. Suddenly you’re the only human on the mountain, and the mountain feels like the entire universe.
In this state of mind, Smuts Track felt like an adventure in Wonderland. The track wound and climbed, lined with red disa flowers, mostly flowerless protea plants, and other small-leafed twiggy little shrubs. Suddenly it dipped. We were on a boardwalk over watery ground, batting spikey restio plants out of our path, with a big hunk of granite straight ahead. We’d lost the vistas for a moment, immersed instead in the minutiae of the trail. Eyes down avoiding broken slats, darting up again as a tiny sunbird flitted across our path. Another ladder. A little scrambling. It was the hottest day of summer so far and when we popped out at the top of this ascent, there was already a group of hikers huddled in the only available shade – the shadow of a lone boulder. We surprised them. They too had been lost in the reverie of the mountain, forgetting other people exist at all, never mind walk these very trails. We plodded onwards. Upwards.
We were close to the beacon now and the cityscape was taking center stage again. There was one more ladder to climb and as we stood upright, the force field separating us from the world fell away. Groups of hikers and well-dressed tourists were taking turns to climb the stones and get their photo taken atop the highest point in the city.
From here on out it was an easy stroll along an even-surfaced trail conveniently cemented-over between the beacon and the busy cable car station. There was a final moment of surreality, as the national park’s helicopter hovered past. The khaki clad rangers smiled down, waving at us from 20 meters above as the buzz of the machine drowned out the tourists’ chatter.
An hour later, after taking the cable car down, followed by a taxi to the restaurant, we were eating lunch in the city center, the jagged edges and craggy cliffs of the mountain blurring once again into that familiar hunk of granite that overlooks the city. Fooling us once more into believing that the world as we know it is all there is. That no parallel universe exists.
Words & photos by Catherine Sempill
Catherine is the Content Manager for the Adventure Hub. She grew up exploring the wide open wild places in South Africa. Now based in the UK, she walks, cycles and runs her way around the English countryside (at an exceptionally relaxed pace).
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