So what's the hardest hiking route on Table Mountain?

A contentious question. In my humble opinion, and drawing on the experience and knowledge I have gained ascending all the routes on Table Mountain many times over, I have the following to say on the subject:

For an accurate answer, we need to define “hard”, “route” and “Table Mountain”.

“Hard”

What defines a hard route? Four things: length, terrain, technicality and exposure to heights.

-          Length: the component least likely to lead to drama if you get it wrong, but still impacts on a route’s severity.

-          Terrain: while the average hiker might not despair when a route turns out to be a bit longer than anticipated, rough terrain could bring him to his knees as well as tears. Dense vegetation and loose rock are the two main ingredients that complicates terrain; others include cliffs (dealt with separately under Technicality) and wet watercourses.

-          Technicality: this refers to the degree of climbing skill required to negotiate vertical sections. Getting it wrong on technical difficulty is not cool and carries considerable drama-potential. Routes on Table Mountain are graded according to the most difficult climbing encountered along the way. An ‘A’ route involves walking only, with perhaps the occasional use of hands to negotiate steeper sections; a ‘B’ route calls for some elementary climbing (scrambling), sometimes necessitating the use of a rope; a ‘C’ route involves more serious scrambling, often requiring a rope. Upwards from ‘C’ is regarded as proper rock-climbing.

-          Exposure to heights: although only a mental strain, it should not be discounted, as it can sap your energy as much as an uphill slog. And if you don’t have a head for heights, an exposed ‘B’ route can feel more like a ‘C’ or even a ‘D’.  Incompetence or negligence on an exposed route – especially ‘B’ and ‘C’ grades – could spell disaster.

Does a route’s gradient affect its overall difficulty? Not as much as you might think. To gain a 1000 meters in elevation along a straight route with a 45 degrees gradient, you would cover a distance of 1400 meters. To gain the same elevation along a route with a 22.5 degrees gradient, you would cover a distance of 2400 meters. That’s a full kilometer further. Many variables come into play when putting this into practice: the gentler route might be bushy, while the steeper route follows an open path – which one you gonna take? Or the steeper one gets summertime shade most of the day, while the gentler one is in full sun the whole way. In my opinion, it’s best not to fret too much about a route’s gradient; there are other more important factors to take into account.

“Route”

What qualifies as a route on Table Mountain?

For the purposes of this exercise, we will only consider current routes – routes that are still in existence. There is quite a number of hiking routes on Table Mountain that has fallen into oblivion and obscurity; trails long since overgrown and faded from memory, with only a few lone, moss-covered cairns as evidence to their erstwhile existence. A route like Slangolie Face (C-grade) on the north side of Slangolie Buttress, one of the Twelve Apostles, has probably not seen any hikers in decades. Opened in 1922 by A.G.S. Black and party, you’d be lucky to even find a crumbling cairn on it, let alone a hint of a path. So we’re not going to count Slangolie Face as a route, apologies to Mr. Black.

“Table Mountain”

For many people, Table Mountain comprises only the tabletop you see from the city center. But there’s much more mountain hidden behind its iconic facade: the Twelve Apostles, the undulations and mounds of the Back Table and the forested buttresses on the Suburban side. All these areas are considered to be part of the Table Mountain massif. Lion’s Head and Devil’s Peak are not included. So we will consider routes leading up all sides of the Table Mountain massif, not only those terminating on the tabletop summit.  Bear in mind that some routes do not lead all the way to the summit, but latches onto another route for the remainder of the way. An example would be Kloof Corner (C) – a route in its own right; not a sub-route or variation – which terminates about 150 meters below the summit, from where hikers use the India Venster route to gain the summit.

It’s tempting to assume that a C-grade route would take the honors as the hardest route on Table Mountain. But the reality is that an exposed B-grade route leading up bushy and brittle rock feels much harder than a C-grade route involving clean and short C-grade pitches on sound rock.

So let’s line up the candidates. Starting on the east side of the mountain, the first candidate is Hiddingh-Ascension incorporating its Ferny Dell variation. Weighing in at a B+ grade, it is technical, bushy in places, long and exposed with some loose slope thrown in for good measure. Bonus points given for the fact that it involves complex route-finding.

Our second contender is Silverstream Ravine, a C-grade that leads up the north (front) face of Table Mountain. Although fairly tame for three-quarters of the way, it makes up for it with a steep top-section that involves tricky and exposed climbing.

Third up is Kloof Corner Pinnacle, a souped-up variation to the Kloof Corner route. Both are C-grade, but the Pinnacle route involves more scrambling, and if strictly adhering to the original route, more exposure. Awkward scrambling over considerable drops makes it hard, rather than bush and loose rock.

On the western side of the mountain, we have the Grotto-Fountain-Cairn Traverse, a sensational route with ample exposure, bushy stretches and tricky route-finding.

Victoria Gully, along with its non-official approach, Pimple Traverse, makes for a worthy addition to the above candidates. Long and bushy, it involves tricky and exposed scrambling in its latter stages. Graded B, but not to be sneered at.

So which one deserves the distinction of being the hardest hiking route on Table Mountain? It’s a tough call, but I have to give it to Hiddingh-Ascension via Ferny Dell. This route ticks all the boxes of what makes a route hard, and grand. Hats off to the pioneers, G.F. Travers-Jackson and G.T. Amphlett, who way back in 1899 blazed a trail up this forbidding part of the mountain.

Hiddingh-Ascension is such a superb route, it deserves its own blog post, which it will get in the near future. Best is to experience it first-hand. Hike Table Mountain offers guided hikes up this sensational route. If you’re adventurous, in good shape and have a good head for heights, then this route will blow you away. We’re ready when you are.

PS: Second place goes to Kloof Corner Pinnacle, by a short head.

Table Mountain: New Wonder of Nature

Table Mountain has been elected as one of the New 7 Wonders of Nature in the first tally of global votes (along with the Amazon jungle, Halong Bay in Vietnam, Iguaçu Falls on Brazil-Argentina border, Jeju Island in South Korea, Komodo in Indonesia, Puerto Princesa Underground River in the Philippines). Not that I ever thought of the mountain as anything less than a wonder of nature, but it’s nice to know there are many out there, from all over the world, who feel the same.

The results are provisional and all votes will now be validated and independently verified. Once this process is completed (early 2012), the New7Wonders campaign will work with the confirmed winners to organise the inauguration events. It may happen that one or more of the provisional winners announced on the 11 November drop out from the list during the validation process. Chances of Table Mountain dropping out? Around 1%, according to an informed source. “It’s pretty much confirmed that we’ll stay in,” says the source.

The man behind the New7Wonders campaign is adventurer and filmmaker, Bernard Weber. The New 7 Wonders of Nature is the group’s second campaign. It began in 2007 when more than 440 locations were nominated in more than 220 countries through a global voting process. The top 77 choices were short-listed, and with the help of a panel of experts, further narrowed to 28 candidates and announced in July 2009, when the voting for finalists began.

Says Weber, "So many breathtakingly beautiful, natural places are still quite unknown to many, from waterfalls to fjords, rainforests to mountain peaks, freshwater lakes to volcanoes. We are discovering together the incredible beauty and variety of our planet."

In a statement announcing the provisional results, Weber says: "When the New 7 Wonders of Nature are confirmed they will join the man-made New 7 Wonders of the World in becoming part of global memory for humankind forever."

The movement began when Weber had an idea to revive the Seven Wonders of the World, much like Pierre de Coubertin revived another ancient Greek concept, the Olympic Games, in 1896 with the introduction of the modern Olympic Games.

The Seven Wonders of the World, selected by Philon of Byzantium in about 200 B.C., included the Hanging Gardens of Babylon and the Pyramids of Giza, and served as a travel guide for fellow Athenians. The key difference, noted on the N7W website, is that the New 7 Wonders of the World were not chosen by one man, but by millions of people all over the world.

Weber’s next campaign? The New 7 Wonder Cities, where we’ll have the chance of voting for our 7 favourite cities.  Now how cheeky it would be if Cape Town makes it to the top 7 in that campaign.

Table Mountain’s new status as one of the 7 wonders of nature is no doubt a boon to the depressed tourism industry, as it will bring thousands of additional tourists to our shores. The downside is the increased environmental impact on the mountain. South African National Parks sure have their work cut out for them. To all trail-runners, hikers, dog-walkers, mountain-bikers and climbers on Table Mountain, let’s help where we can by respecting the mountain more than ever and picking up any litter we come across.

With its new triple status as a World natural Wonder, World Heritage Site and National Park, hiking Table Mountain is now more exciting than ever.

Singular sightings on Sugarloaf

One hardly expects to come across animals on the well-trodden slopes of Sugarloaf (Lion's Head circa early 1600s). Scarab beetles, girdled lizards and red-winged starlings are the usual suspects, with a rock kestrel putting in an occasional appearance. Great was my surprise then when, on a recent climbing foray with my favorite miscreant and fellow climber, I startled a 1,20-meter rhombic skaapsteker (snake). Sleek and patterned, it packs about as much venom as your garden-variety bee. Then, 3 hours later on the descent, trudging down the main path at dusk, having done justice to a route called Sunset Crag by topping out at sunset, we watched in mute wonder as a spotted eagle owl swooped down on an unidentified prey in the path a few meters ahead of us. It peered at us for a full 5 seconds before flying off. What a privilege. You never know what you might find when hiking Table Mountain, but one thing is sure: you never come away disappointed.

Snakes and Ladders

No, not the board game – real snakes and ladders.

I came across a Berg Adder the other day meters after negotiating one of the steel ladders on Table Mountain, making me feel like I was playing a game of real-life snakes and ladders. So, with no common ground other than their significance with regards to foot placement – the one you want to step on, the other you don’t – let’s take a closer look at what a hiker on Table Mountain can expect in the way of Adders and ladders.

First, Adders. (Snakes on Table Mountain in general will be dealt with at length in a future blog – watch this space). Two Adder species occur on Table Mountain: the Berg Adder and the Puff Adder. Both have scaly, plump and boldly-patterned bodies with flat, triangular heads. And both are sluggish and strikes readily. Berg Adders reach lengths of between 30 and 45 cm, while Puff Adders grow to 90 cm.

So what venom do they pack? Berg Adders are considered mildly venomous, but no anti-venom exists, so a bite might confine you to a hospital bed for months. Also, the venom is both cytotoxic (cell-destroying, attacking tissue and blood cells) and neurotoxic (attacking central nervous system, causing respiratory failure), but fortunately lacks the potency to kill a human.

The venom of the Puff Adder is mostly cytotoxic and apart from causing excruciating pain, can lead to the loss of a digit or limb. Fatalities from a Puff Adder bite are rare, but do occasionally occur. Colloquially referred to as a “Puffy”, it thoroughly deserves its notoriety in that it is responsible for more fatalities than any other African snake. This can be ascribed to a combination of factors: prevalence, wide distribution, aggression, potent venom, long fangs, habit of basking in footpaths and its sluggishness (most snakes slither away when sensing danger; the indolent Puffy holds its ground).  

So what are your chances of coming across an Adder while hiking Table Mountain? Slim. I spend a lot of time on the mountain, often in remote locations, and haven’t seen a Puff Adder in years. As for Berg Adders, I chance upon one perhaps once a year. Puff Adders seem to be more prevalent around Cape Point, as I have come across them twice in the last eight visits to the area. Both times they were coiled up in the path, basking in the sun and in no hurry to get out of the way. Mean-looking and with a face only a mother can love, I steered a wide berth around them.

From Adders to ladders. A few routes on Table Mountain feature artificial aids at some point along the way, whether it be steel ladders, staples (U-shaped steel bars fixed to the rock) or chains. One of the most well-known ladders are those found in Skeleton Gorge, where they help hikers to negotiate a steep and treacherous section in the ravine bed.

Another route that has benefited from artificial aids is India Venster, notorious after it saw a spate of fatalities in 2009. Since Table Mountain is a national park and a World Heritage Site, authorities are usually loath to pin ironmongery to the mountain, but in this case it was justified. On other routes, the use of aids is questionable, like the chains on Kloof Corner and the staples on the Llandudno Ravine route.

The newly-installed chains and staples on Lion’s Head (formerly only chains) sparked off an impassioned debate among regular hikers and climbers. Some pundits are of the opinion that the existence of an easier and safer way to the summit renders them superfluous and only defaces the mountain, while others maintain that they enhance the route and makes it more accessible and safer to novice hikers. Then there are those who feel that too much ironmongery has been affixed; that it constitutes an overkill in the use of aids.

This is a contentious issue and will always be, with opinions surfacing on forums and articulated on the mountain being as virulent as an Adder’s venom.



(c) Riaan Vorster

The first European to climb Table Mountain

At first thought I wanted to head this blog with ‘The first man to climb Table Mountain’, but that distinction belongs to a traceless individual whose name we shall never know – probably a young herdsman or hunter from the Khoi-khoi tribe, indigenous people who settled around Table Mountain hundreds of years before the arrival of the white man. However, we do know the first European to climb the mountain: a Portuguese explorer by the name of Antonio de Saldanha. The year was 1503, and Saldanha found himself separated from his fleet and unsure as to whether they had rounded the Cape of Storms (present-day Cape Point). He needed a vantage point from which to get his bearings and the lie of the land. So when they espied a flat-topped mountain overlooking a sheltered bay, he made a beeline for the coast and proceeded to climb the mountain along a deep ravine running diagonally up the front face. Lucky for him the summit was free of cloud, for he got clear views of False Bay to the southeast, confirming their position: they had not yet rounded the Cape of Storms. The climb proved helpful in more than one way, for they discovered a stream of fresh water flowing down the ravine, enough to water his fleet.

Saldanha named the mountain Taboa do Cabo, meaning Table of the Cape. The ravine by which he gained the summit is now known as Platteklip Gorge (Flat-rock Gorge), and it is the shortest and most direct way to the top. It is interesting to note that, according to historical records, Saldanha reluctantly climbed the mountain. He did it in the line of duty, for he had bigger fish to fry (establishing a trade route to India) and could ill-afford the time and energy it took to slog up. Also, it involved a certain measure of risk, since dangerous animals (lions, leopards and hippos) as well as potentially hostile tribes inhabited the area.

So exactly how difficult was Saldanha’s climb to the top? Unfortunately, he didn’t leave us with details of the climb, but we can still form a pretty good picture of what it must’ve been like. Let us contrast it with what the hike is nowadays. It takes the average hiker about an hour and a half to reach the summit of Table Mountain up Platteklip Gorge, along a well-constructed path made of rock-steps. The elevation gain is about 700 meters – from 360 meters, where you leave your car, to 1065 meters on the summit. And you don’t have to walk down; the cable car is round the corner. Back in 1503, Platteklip Gorge was a very different proposition. While we dodge traffic and pedestrians today on our way to the start, Saldanha and his men had to dodge lions, hippos and an unknown indigenous tribe – all the way from the coast (and sea level). There was no path, needless to say, so they had to battle their way through dense vegetation for much of the way. Most hikers nowadays opt to take the cable car down. Saldanha didn’t have that luxury; after a gruelling ascent, they faced an equally gruelling descent. One wonders what they had to say about the view on reaching the summit.

Just for the record, the first woman to climb Table Mountain was Lady Anne Barnard. Along with Sir John Barrow, two naval officers, her maid, a couple of servants and several slaves (straining under the weight of cold meats, Port, Madeira and Cape wine), she set out up Platteklip Gorge in July 1797, dressed in her husband’s trousers, her shoes tied on with tape and carrying an umbrella. They reached the summit after a five-hour slog, feasted on their cold meat and drank a toast to the king. Unlike other early travellers who climbed Table Mountain, they opted to stay overnight on the summit, only descending the next day the way they had come, Lady Anne sliding down most of the way on her rear. Although Hike Table Mountain offers hikes up Platteklip Gorge as their easiest half-day option, we only pack Port and wine on very special occasions.

(c) Riaan Vorster

The Twelve Apostles

When viewed from above, the Table Mountain massif resembles a molar (tooth) in shape, the flat-topped summit – also referred to as the Table – forming the crown and the Suburban buttresses and Twelve Apostles the two roots respectively. No discussion about Table Mountain can be complete without reference to the Twelve Apostles. Bastion to the crenellated and castellated Table Mountain proper, this string of peaks extends south from the Table, covering a distance of about 6 km and comprising 18 peaks in total.

So what qualifies as an ‘Apostle’? A peak alone; or a peak with a buttress? Or just a buttress? It can all get quite confusing when you take examples like Blinkwater Peak, a distinct peak without its own buttress; and Porcupine Buttress, a distinct buttress without its own peak. Which is eligible to be called an Apostle? Not wanting to perpetuate that particular raging debate, let’s just settle on South African National Parks’ non-definitive list of Apostles (from north to south), who chose buttresses to define an Apostle: Porcupine Buttress, Jubilee Buttress, Barrier Buttress, Valken Buttress, Kasteels Buttress, Postern Buttress, Woody Buttress, Spring Buttress, Slangolie Buttress, Corridor Buttress, Kleinkop Buttress, Grootkop Buttress, Separation Buttress, Grove Buttress and Llandudno Corner (a ridge).

Back in the day when the Cape was still Dutch (pre-1795), the Apostles were known as the Kasteelbergen (Castle Mountains) and Gewelbergen (Gable Mountains). Only two peaks / buttresses bear the names of actual apostles: Judas Peak at the southernmost tip, and St Paul, the most imposing of all the Apostles, now known by the prosaic name of Corridor Buttress. Some of the buttresses’ names suggests their resemblance to a castle, like Kasteels Buttress and Postern Buttress (‘postern’ meaning the lesser or back entrance to a castle). The most popular hiking route up the Apostles is called Kasteelspoort (Castle’s Portal), flanked by the above two buttresses.

While not quite as high as the Table (averages 1060m), the Twelve Apostles, averaging around 750m, are in some ways more impressive. Dissected by ravines and gullies, and featured with crags, spires and ridges, they present a mouth-watering prospect to the hiker and climber. Not surprising that more than 26 hiking routes have been opened on the Apostles over the years, although only about 10 of them are done on a regular basis nowadays. A few more sees the odd intrepid hiker; the rest are never done and only a few lone, moss-covered cairns bear testimony to their existence. Needless then to say that the Twelve Apostles offers some of the best hiking on Table Mountain. Routes can be combined to make a hike harder or easier, longer or shorter – and all of them offer sea views. Often, the boom of surf drifts up from far below, an unusual sound to hear when you’re climbing a mountain and therefore very special. The area also offers interesting titbits in the way of history: there used to be a small settlement on the summit, complete with its own little cable car and locomotive, erected during the construction of the reservoirs in the 1890s; and no less than two tunnels lead through the mountain. Then there’s the geology, featuring caves, pinnacles, wind-sculpted rocks and august crags – even a subterranean stream. Whatever your particular interests, the Twelve Apostles never disappoints. Join Hike Table Mountain on an exploration of these majestic peaks.

(c) Riaan Vorster

The Tablecloth of Table Mountain

Of all the cloud formations occurring on Table Mountain, the famous ‘tablecloth’ must rank as the most dramatic. In its perfect form, it resembles an immense waterfall pouring over the flat-topped summit. Sometimes it is distorted, appearing as a shapeless bank of cloud stacked up over the summit, dark and forbidding; at other times it creeps over the summit edge like a ghostly veil.

So how does the tablecloth form? This was the subject of much debate among the early Cape inhabitants. They had no way of explaining the phenomenon unfolding in their backyard on a more or less weekly basis during the summer months. All they knew was that the Southeaster had to blow – and blow hard, as it usually does – for the tablecloth to form. Also known as the Cape Doctor (in former times, believed to clear the air of disease; nowadays, its role in ridding the city of smog perpetuates the name), the Southeaster sweeps across the Cape Peninsula from around October through to March. As the prevailing wind in summer, it never brings rain to the Cape, only clear skies and usually the tablecloth. Sometimes the tablecloth is so heavy and dense that it precipitates rain, which is then blown onto the lower slopes of the mountain; on such days, the Southeaster is referred to as a black Southeaster. The tablecloth has its beginnings as moisture-laden air blown in from the Atlantic against the eastern slopes of Table Mountain, where it is forced to rise. The air condenses on contact with the cooler summit air, forming cloud. The cloud is blown over the mountain and down the front, where it dissipates on contact with warmer air at around 500 m above sea level, more or less halfway down Table Mountain.

The tablecloth plays a vital role in sustaining the flora of the summit plateau. In any given year, cloud precipitation on the summit is nearly double the precipitation from rainfall. The many plant species thriving on the summit owe their survival to the tablecloth, which provides them with moisture during the long, dry summer. The leaves and stems of some are uniquely adapted in shape and arrangement to capture the maximum amount of moisture.

With regards to hiking, the tablecloth presents a few challenges and opportunities. The main challenges are lack of visibility (which could get you lost) and drop of temperature, which could lead to hypothermia – a potentially fatal condition. Getting lost on the mountain is easy enough in clear conditions, so when the tablecloth boils up out of nowhere and restricts visibility to a few meters, you better know the way like the back of your hand. Route-finding in the cloud is virtually impossible if you don’t know the mountain, and know it well. Many an unwary hiker over the years have fallen victim to cloud blotting out the landscape in the time it took him to gulp down a sandwich and take a few pictures. But the complications do not end there for our unwary hiker. While the city bakes in the summer heat under a serene sky, the temperature on the dripping, wind-swept and fog-bound summit of Table Mountain approaches freezing. Suffice it to say that the tablecloth is a weather phenomenon to be reckoned with.

As far as opportunities go, the tablecloth can provide the hiker with surreal sights and unique experiences. One of the best has got to be seeing the leading edge of the tablecloth race towards you as you wait for it on the front edge of the summit and then watching it plunge down the sheer cliffs in a graceful arc. Your timing’s got to be impeccable; and even then, the tablecloth might show up in clumps of clouds scudding helter-skelter across the summit. But when it blows in textbook and trim, it makes for a sight that will stay with you for years to come. With Hike Table Mountain, you can experience the beauty and raw energy of the tablecloth up close and in safety.

(c) Riaan Vorster