The eThekwini Invasion

Like many adventures, it started with a phone call:

 “Tricky Ricky! What’s cracking?”

“Sup boytjie! [insert small talk]..... So, you got 3 weeks leave for Kalymnos in October?”

“Nah bru, only two hey”

“KZN roadtrip then?”

“Sweet”

Now, Tim Dunnett and I have more niggling injuries than an old age home has zimmer frames, so I can see why it may seem that Marian Penso was recruited for her physiotherapy skills. However, no such coercing was required, and who could blame her for wanting to join two such handsome studs? Honestly, I am surprised we weren’t swamped with requests from nubile vixens, but one has to accept that there are things in this world that just do not make sense.

 

My first encounter with the eThekwini municipality was a sign that read: “Parks, Leisure and cemeteries”. Fortunately we avoided requiring the later, although we did spend considerable time at The Boneyard. This crag derives its ominous name from an incident where one of the area’s pioneers abseiled of the end of his rope. Although rather broken in the bone department, he did not require the signposted graveyards. The Boneyard is also a name shared with several fossil sites around the globe, and indeed the crag does have a rather prehistoric feel about it; with the shrieks and flaps of feathered once-dinosaurs filling the forest canopy. A number of the bolts are from a bygone era, which adds to the feeling of antiquity. Unpacking bags below enormous trees, engulfed in a cacophony of avian calls, one can easily forget that you are only a 10 minute walk from houses with DSTV numbing the occupants. This was a stark reminder of the importance of urban nature reserves. 

Tim strutting his stuff on Dance Macabre (26).

Other than enjoying the ambience, and waiting out rain, we did manage some climbing at The Boneyard. Pretty much everyone suggested Dance Macabre (26), and indeed having revelled in it, I would pass the recommendation on. Tsunami (23) was equally deserving of its star rating. Showing commendable tenacity, Marian slayed The Grim Reaper (23) with a sequence that must be at least grade 28. My lanky lower limbs refused the appendage-origami necessary to use any of the crux footholds, so I resorted to dynoing from a middle finger divot-undercling. It felt utterly desperate, but surely easier than Marian’s way. Only Tim managed the line in something resembling grade abiding justice.    

Marian putting the The Grim Reaper (23) to rest.

Umgeni. How many crags have a walk-in through zebra and wildebeest families? Perhaps I have been hanging out in the wrong places, but this was a novelty for me. We did not spot the giraffe in the valley below, but maybe we were too focused on the great climbing right in front of us. Marian onsighted Age of Paranoia (23), her first of the grade, and Tim onsighted War on Gaza (24), his first in a while. Due to my litany of injuries, I was not gunning for anything too hard, so Nothing Heals like Cold Steel (27) seemed a good compromise. It was encouraging, and strangely anti-climactic, that I wandered up it second go, finding it substantially easier than advertised. However, a good fight was not far away…

Crack Addiction (19)

After 8 days on with only one rest day, it seemed a grand idea to try and onsight Agnes the Skinhead (26). Out the gates I was so cumulatively poked that I fell off the warm-up. This boded about as well as a fat grub making it out from a den of ravenous starlings. Five bolts up, I was hanging on the rope well toasted, most un-warrior-like, but determined. Draw by draw the harness got lighter all the way to the chains. Now, a sensible man would have cleaned the gear and sipped tea for the afternoon. Fortunately, I can’t claim an abundance of sensibility, nor do I like tea. A detailed ascent description would be an embarrassing tale of thrutching anti-style, excruciating non-rests and sensationless fingers. Yet, I did not let go, and that is surely the ultimate beta for any route. Faye also did a remarkable job of pushing Umgeni-zen vibes up the rope from below. It was not pretty, even calling it ugly would be a compliment, but it was the send of the trip for me.  

Speaking of pretty: quote of the trip:

“What’s the point of being a climbing chick is you don’t look hot?” – Marian.

Another quality line at Umgeni

Next: Howick Falls. Faded magazine photos had sold the idea to me several years ago, so it was satisfying to finally turn the idea caterpillar into a climbing butterfly, so to speak. The area immediately surrounding the waterfall appears to have 3 endemic user groups, and a transient population wielding carabiners. The first are tourists, whose primary function is to gape. In addition, they keep the second group, curio sellers, a going concern. Finally, locals from the township wash their clothes in the river. Given the copious quantity of garments hanging on rocks, in a perpetual state of damp, down the length of the waterfall; their track record in returning home with a full quota of laundry is clearly not 100%. Suffice to say all three groups find climbers a bit of a spectacle.

Opening the doors to Stage Fright (20).

Its all about location, location, location.

The narrow base of the Synch buttress is pretty neat. Perched in the middle of a rock wall, the plunge pool below your chalk bag is under constant aquatic bombardment. Regarding the access abseil, Roger’s magnum opus warns that “Everyone shits themselves when they do this rap for the first time so don’t feel bad…”. Either I am more man than Chuck Norris, or I spend too much time doing precarious raps, but my pants remained blissfully unsoiled. However, if you pull your ropes, and then experience catastrophic forearm failure, or an afternoon storm, you may be forced to descend all the way down and swim out. This has happened before. Not that we were in any doubt whatsoever about our cranking prowess, but we did leave a rope anchored at the top. For taking photos, obviously. The prime line, Every Inch a Synch (25), did not disappoint. In addition to exposure, many holds were coated in brown dust rather than white powder, adding to the wildness.

Putting in some effort to onsight Every Inch a Synch (25). Photo: Tim Dunnett.

Tristan Firman kindly let us crash at his current pad while he was off in Europe. This happened to be about 4 mins walk from the crags at Monteseel. I suspect we fell into the trap of neglecting what was on our doorstep, and we did not climb here as much as planned. We did give the trad rack a few outings, but will need to return for some of the unticked gems. 

Marion enjoying our 'local' crag. Photo: Tim Dunnett

My maiden voyage on Granny's Souped up Wheelchair (23). Photo: Tim Dunnett.

Another spot we only partially sampled was Kirk Falls. Owing to the hard work of Roger, Illona and others, the crag is extending boldly where no bolts have gone before, so there will be plenty more to do in the future. The climbing portion of my trip ended abruptly on the second last move of The Final Frontier (25), with a horrendous noise emanating from my gamy knee, followed by a blue-balloon-impersonation. With a remarkable sense of déjà vu, I muttered some foul words and hoped that this was not indeed the final frontier.   

Fortunately, the bend in the leg seems to be progressing better than expected. Already, I am plotting for when I should call someone up about a return trip to this lekker part of the country. 

Starting up the aesthetic Child of Darkness (25). Photo: Tim Dunnett.

Its not over until its over. Then you start something else! Photo: Tim Dunnett.

Big thanks to Tim and Marian for a stonking time, and to the following awesome folks for bettering our trip with planning info, lodging, nutrition, transport, good times and indelible memories:

Warren Gans, Illona Pelser, Brigitte and Matthew, Michael Van Der Ham, Mark Millar, Kath Fourie, Tristan Firman, Faye and Andrew Scott. Also to Roger Nattrass for an excellent guidebook and opening about half the routes we did!