We connect to walls that have seen millions of years. Photo: Anton Gietl |
The world changes, and it doesn’t.
However the stories are more important than they stage they happen on.
Eons ago, our ancestors painted on cave
walls and told their tales around the glowing embers.
Today we take photographs and write blogs
by the glow of our screens.
Back then you could see the expression of
the listener, run your fingers over the art.
Now a stranger posts a comment and you zoom
in on pixels.
In the Cederberg you can still find ancient
rock paintings, gather around a campfire, snap away and type your adventures
up.
We can act like our for-bearers, but I doubt they
could imagine our digital circumstances.
The world changes, and it doesn’t.
Either way, it is all about the story, that is what counts. They are not bound to a time or place. They drift down through generations and the phases of civilization.
These days we take pictures as reminders of those stories. Sometimes the picture itself speaks, sometimes you need the narrative.
These days we take pictures as reminders of those stories. Sometimes the picture itself speaks, sometimes you need the narrative.
Here are two. Almost identical. Without the
words they are just images of rock.
First glance: No chalk |
The first is from September 2013. I teamed
up with a free spirited traveller, Anton Gietl, to explore the area near De
Pakhuis. He had a great attitude to life, a positive exuberance and was up for
any adventure. Even if it could turn out to be kak. Which it never did. After
doing a route we still haven’t named, I saw this beautiful line. I vowed to
come back. I am like a magpie in this regard – I have an affinity for pretty
things – and some just say “climb me”. Unlike the feathered one, I prefer to
collect sparkling tales for the memory bank rather than shiny shit for
my nest.
The second is from August 2015. I met Alex
Bester at the campsite. He was in the enviable phase of being a dirtbag, having
lived out of a tent for the last 3 months. It’s a simple and satisfying way to
not be stressed about the universe. We returned to the area I visited in 2013,
and climbed the line that had been on my list for almost two years. We named it One Life Stand. The circle
was complete.
The rock didn't change, but I did.
The stage remains, we move on.
The rock didn't change, but I did.
The stage remains, we move on.
The next day while others were hiding in
their tents, rain beading off the flysheets, we were abseiling down a steep
cliff. You can learn technique, train for strength but you can’t coach desire.
I suppose some would argue you can’t coach stupidity either, but we had a great
day, despite our wet clothing and soggy gear. If that counts as stupid then
I’ll wear it. We also have a project to come back to…. Another cycle begins.
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