'The one who is afraid of the sun'

I’m not really into frogs. I love their croaking – especially in misty conditions on the mountain, when it lends an air of mystery to the landscape – but otherwise I am not particularly impressed by them. That all changes when it comes to Heleophryne rosei, commonly known as the Table Mountain ghost frog, one of 19 frog and toad species on the mountain.

So what makes the ghost frog so special? Primarily, its distribution: it lives only in the swift-flowing sections of seven perennial streams on Table Mountain (all on the south and east side), nowhere else on earth. That’s an area of about eight square kilometres. One of only two vertebrates endemic to the Cape Peninsula (the other also a frog), the ghost frog can truly be called a child of Table Mountain.

Heleophryne (Latin for ‘the one who is afraid of the sun’) rosei is one of the most ancient frog species, having split off from its closest ancestors more than 160 million years ago. Its solitary evolution on Table Mountain spans millions of years and gave it the niche habitat of swift-flowing streams by endowing it with suction pads on their toes, tiny skin projections that grip like Velcro, flattened bodies and highly webbed feet. Even the tadpoles are adapted to life in the fast lane, possessing sucker-like mouthparts that prevent them from being swept away by the current.

One of the coolest things about ghost frogs is their translucent belly through which the innards can be seen. This together with its scarcity and secretive nature accounts for its name. In fact, you’re almost more likely to come across a real ghost on Table Mountain than one of these guys. Two decades of hiking the mountain and I’ve only ever chanced upon one. They spend much of the day underwater, ensconced in crevices, only emerging at night to feed on insects.

So how will you recognize one? If you find yourself along a fast-flowing stream on the south or east side of Table Mountain at dusk – or at night with a headlamp – and you come across a frog five to six centimeters long with enlarged toes and a striking skin coloration (pale green with purple spots) perched streamside on a mossy rock, then you’re most likely looking at a ghost frog. Congratulations. However, non-breeding adults occasionally do stray from streams and venture into bogs and caves.

Sadly, the ghost frog is set to become even more elusive, and might even face total extinction. Tadpole numbers in Skeleton Gorge (one of its habitats) have dropped by an estimated 50% since 1980. Not surprising that it’s listed as Critically Endangered. With an area occupancy of less than 10 square kilometers and a continuing decline in the extent and quality of its habitat, extinction is a very real possibility. In fact, it has already become extinct in some parts of the mountain. The main threats are the spread of invasive alien (non-indigenous) vegetation, frequent fires and reservoirs (affect the consistency of stream-flow). Furthermore, poor forestry practices also contribute to the clogging of streams.

On a brighter note, Table Mountain National Parks is committed to the eradication of alien plants on the mountain – an ongoing programme that will benefit not only the ghost frog, but many other native plant and animal species.

We at Hike Table Mountain actively involve ourselves in the fight against aliens (of the terrestrial kind!) through the cutting down of cluster-pines (saplings), one of the most invasive aliens on the mountain. Please feel free to contact us should you wish to join our next outing.

Mountains are not forever

All around the globe, the erosive forces of nature – wind, rain, rivers, oceans, glaciers, earthquakes – are at work on mountains, whittling them down grain by grain, reducing them to the very sediment they were created from. Dust to dust, and mountains are not exempt. Like humans, they also have a lifespan.

Table Mountain has stood up well against the ravages of time. Seven times older than the mighty Himalayas (8 times older than the Alps and Andes; 4 times older than the Rockies), it still stands proud in its 3.6 millionth human lifetime. At the current rate of erosion, Table Mountain has another 10 million years left before it will have been reduced to beach sand.  But the latest geological research on the mountain has revealed a decreased rate of erosion. Scientists used a new dating technique that relies on cosmic particles to calculate the erosion rate. It’s complicated, so I won’t go there, but what it comes down to is that Table Mountain will be in existence a lot longer than previously believed. About 10 times longer. Based on the latest calculations, the mountain erodes 1 centimeter every 1000 years. So Table Mountain is about 5 millimeters slimmer than in 1503, when the first European climbed to the summit. At this rate, Table Mountain should still be here after the Himalayas have disappeared.

Most erosion takes place over time and on a near microscopic level. We know it's happening, but can't see it. Every trickle of water, every flurry of wind contributes, wearing away innumerable rock particles day after day, week in and week out. Rivers draining Table Mountain, an area of 57 square kliometers, remove around 30 tons of sediment per year from each square kilometer of mountain.

But sometimes erosion is less subtle. Landslides and rockfalls do accur on the mountain, mostly during winter, when cliffs are battered by storms and streams gush in full spate down the ravines. Thunder also plays a role in erosion, usually as the final agent in a series of erosive forces. In April 2009, during a heavy thunderstorm, a huge chunk of rock broke off from a cliff overlooking Woody Ravine (a popular route up the 12 Apostles), razing a patch of indigenous forest and destroying a section of the path. I was climbing on the adjacent buttress earlier that day (dodging lightning bolts!) and came upon the devastation only hours after it had happened. The acrid smell generated from rock gnashed against rock, reminiscent of cordite, still lingered, and sap was still oozing from the trunks of small trees, snapped like matchwood. This is a rare occurrence; in all the years of hiking on Table Mountain, I have never witnessed a rockfall or landslide - but I have occasionally come across fresh ones, like the one in Woody Ravine. Ironically, the piece of cliff that broke away formed part of a climbing route opened in the early 1900s. To think climbers once scaled those cliffs, trusting the rock with their lives - rock now scattered and shattered in the ravine bed far below.

On the subject of erosion, I recall an amusing incident a few years ago while descending Dark Gorge, a ravine leading up to the Saddle from the east. A friend and I were seated on a rock, resting our weary legs while savoring the setting: the ravine's beetling sidewalls, the stillness, the mysterious gloom of the forest further down. So when a pebble dropped a short distance higher up, seemingly of its own volition, we could clearly hear it clatter down the rocky slope. My friend, lost in thought and staring into space, remarked in a reverential voice, "Wow, it's so quiet, you can even hear the mountain eroding," only to have his remark rudely refuted by a lagging friend who had    snuck up on us: "It was me, you damn fool."

So, with all the erosion taking place, whether from wind, water, lightning or the foot of man, it makes sense to hike Table Mountain while it’s still around. But no need to rush up. Like a German put it when I told him about it while hiking up the mountain: “Gutt, zen wie hav time enough!”

Skeleton Gorge: To do or not to do

I’m often amazed at how many people, even non-hikers, know about the existence of Skeleton Gorge. In some ways, it has achieved brand status when it comes to hiking on Table Mountain. Certainly, most literature and websites featuring an article remotely related to Table Mountain hasten to sing its praises. This might explain why the words ‘Skeleton Gorge’ would ring a bell to even the most inveterate mall-rat or sofa-slug; and who then claims to have done it at some point in the distant past.  

Let me first qualify what exactly constitutes the Skeleton Gorge route: Skeleton Gorge is a ravine on Table Mountain, the top of which is far from the actual tabletop summit of Table Mountain. From the head of this ravine / gorge, one latches onto a path known as the Smuts Track that leads to Maclear’s Beacon, the highest point on the mountain. And from there, one traverses the entire summit plateau to the upper cable station (by which time you readily opt to ride down in the cablecar as opposed to walking down). For the purposes of this article, ‘Skeleton Gorge’ includes all three segments mentioned above: the actual ravine known as Skeleton Gorge, the Smuts Track and the traverse across the summit. Many people assume the route name ‘Skeleton Gorge’ to include all three segments, as they are often strung together to form a single route. Nothing wrong with that; one just need to be aware of the distinction.

Rivalled only by Platteklip Gorge in renown, Skeleton Gorge ranks as one of the main routes up Table Mountain. In this article, which I intend to be definitive in its assessment of the route, I will cut through all the clutter and noise surrounding the route, from rose-tinted reviews to slapdash articles written by hiking neophytes and those professing to know Table Mountain.

Skeleton Gorge is like a good book in that you’ll find those who wax lyrical about it, while others dismiss it as so-so. But overall it’s a ‘good book’. Not for everyone, but a good read – a readable tale. The route has merit, no doubt about that, but it still might not be the best route for you. To gain some objectivity, let’s take a closer look at some aspects of the route and how they can be a determining factor in your overall enjoyment of it.

Length: Skeleton Gorge is a strenuous route. Starting out on the southeast slopes of the mountain and meandering across to the northwest corner, it covers a distance of about 6.2 km (3,8 miles) and gains around 930 meters (3100 feet) in elevation. If your fitness is below average, you will take some degree of strain. Even so, if you’re out to push yourself, then no problem. But if you have a leisurely walk in mind without breaking much of a sweat, then you’re in for a rude awakening.

Vegetation: The first half of the route (more or less) follows a forested ravine. If you’re not a forest person, or you live in a forested area back home and don’t care much for them while on holiday, or you want views on the way to the top, then half the route will be disappointing. But if you enjoy forests, or perhaps want to experience Table Mountain’s unique Afro-montane forest (reminiscent of some types of jungle in the Amazon rainforest), you will enjoy the first half of the route. Some people love forests, others find them claustrophobic, sinister and boring. If you’re the latter type, then the route is not for you.

Character: Skeleton Gorge takes in all the floral zones on the mountain. And by the time you reach the upper cable station, you will have had views in all directions. It also leads through some of the less-visited parts of the mountain and offers interesting asides like the Table Mountain reservoirs. If you’re a peak-bagger (someone whose principal goal is the attainment of a summit), or you don’t want to walk more than 3 hours, or you couldn’t care much about nature and solitude, then Skeleton Gorge will fail to impress. Furthermore, the route offers little in the way of scrambling and exposure to heights (low adventure factor), so if you’re an adrenalin-junky or something of an Indiana Jones, then Skeleton Gorge is bound to leave you disenchanted and dissatisfied.

But like Dan Brown’s best-selling novel, The Da Vinci Code (not everyone’s definition of a good read), Skeleton Gorge has mass appeal. It ticks most boxes of what the majority of hikers want out of a route. It’s a deservedly popular route that does justice to the beauty and diversity of Table Mountain. And the route’s positives (full range of views, all floral zones, relative solitude) measures up well against the negatives (no views along first half, strenuous and verging on monotonous along the middle stretches).

Not sure this route is for you? Allow the professionals at Hike Table Mountain to match you with the right route. We realize the importance of route-selection in the overall experience of Table Mountain and therefore take the time to learn more about you – your fitness level, experience, preferences, interests, sense of adventure, expectations, principal reason for wanting to hike Table Mountain, etc. – before suggesting a route.  Different strokes for different folks, as the saying goes, and we subscribe to that.

One question that begs to be answered is how Skeleton Gorge got its name. The anti-climactic answer is, no one knows for sure. Whereas we know the origin of almost all the route names on Table Mountain, this one remains shrouded in mystery. It’s a very old route and has been known by its present name since the late 1800s; so one can only assume that a skeleton was found somewhere in the gorge around that time. A German with a strong accent on a hike with me some time ago thought he knew the answer when he asked me if the skeleton of a man called George was discovered in Skeleton Gorge. Maybe we should just go along with that.

The highest point on Table Mountain

Despite its flat summit, Table Mountain does have a high point. Not exactly a peak or lofty spire, but a humble outcrop elevated 20-odd meters above the surrounding landscape. Marking the spot is a 3-meter-high stone cairn known as Maclear’s Beacon.

With most of Table Mountain’s summit plateau located at around 1065 meters (3500 ft) above sea level, the terrain at Maclear’s Beacon ticks up to 1088 m (not including the cairn), making it the official summit of Table Mountain as well as the highest point on the Cape Peninsula. Its location near the eastern edge of the ‘Table’ – about 40 minutes’ walk from the upper cable station – means that very few visitors to Table Mountain actually get round to it.

Despite the unremarkable topography around Maclear’s Beacon, the place offers exceptional views not seen from the upper cable station. The view across the tabletop reveals the lie of the summit and gives one an appreciation of how flat it really is.

So who was Maclear? In 1834, Irish astronomer Sir Thomas Maclear (1794 – 1879) was appointed Astronomer Royal at the Cape. In 1844, as part of his measurement of the Meridian Arc, he supervised the construction of a rock beacon at the highest point on Table Mountain. It formed one of his three major survey points and was painted lamp-black to make it more visible.  

In subsequent years, the conical beacon crumbled into a shapeless heap, but was restored in 1979 (using the original stones) to commemorate the centenary of Maclear’s death and has since been declared a National Monument. Nearby is a brass toposcope as well as the Mountain Club of South Africa War Memorial that commemorates the nine Club members who died in the First World War.

Maclear’s Beacon serves as a fitting climax to a hike up Table Mountain. Most routes on the mountain can be altered or extended (by less than an hour) to include this superb vantage point. Views aside, it symbolizes a sense of achievement – a point of reference to our efforts at scaling a mountain. Then there is the spiritual dimension of beacons, as the following passage from the 1938 Journal of the Mountain Club of South Africa reminds us:

“If weather and other circumstances permit, time must be spent at a beacon. The outstanding days are those when we have eaten, and lazed, and sunbathed at the beacon itself for two or three hours. A vivid memory is associated with three and a half hours spent on a high summit on a calm, silent, perfect day. The summit beacon is a special place with a special atmosphere, and to understand that atmosphere we must be still and take time to receive what the mountains have to give us. There, in a special way, our beings become saturated with what has so often been described as the Spirit of the Mountains.”

Hike Table Mountain offers hikes to the summits of all the peaks on the Table Mountain massif, and there are many. Whether you’re in it for the views, the challenge or the ambience, setting foot on some of Table Mountain’s summits is an experience not to be missed.

Table Mountain's most common mammal

Mammals used to be a common sight on Table Mountain back in the day, but man’s encroachment reduced them in numbers and species. Except for one: the ubiquitous Rock Hyrax, locally known as the Dassie (from Old Dutch dasje, meaning ‘badger’) – a brown, furry creature resembling an earless rabbit, and therefore also referred to as a Rock Rabbit.

Despite their nondescript appearance, these squat little mammals should not be dismissed as a mere mutant rodent or feral guinea-pig. For starters, they’re the closest living relative to the modern-day elephant and sea cow. All three animal groups – elephants, sea cows and Dassies – descended from a common ancestor millions of years ago and therefore share physiological similarities in teeth, leg and foot bones. Not surprising then that the Dassie was awarded its own order (Hyracoidea).

Rock Hyraxes occur in rocky habitats across Southern Africa, North Africa and the Middle East. The nooks and crannies of Table Mountain provide the perfect habitat, offering easy escape from their arch-enemy, the Black Eagle. They live in colonies of up to 80 individuals, divided into several families (harems) comprising 3 to 15 adult females, a single dominant male and several young. Several colonies inhabit the rock ledges around the upper cable station, where they are often seen basking in the morning sun. Older individuals have become tame from long exposure to humans and human feeding. It is not allowed to feed the Dassies; their habitat contains ample food sources (flowers, bulbs, roots, grass, sometimes insects and grubs) and they don’t need the likes of crisps, sweets and bread for sustenance. They can survive for weeks without water in that their fluid requirements are largely met by their diet.

The Rock Hyrax’s plump appearance belies its agility. Sure-footed and endowed with a good head for heights, they can often be seen scurrying up near-vertical terrain and across exposed ledges with consummate ease, seemingly insensible to the risk of falling. The soles of their feet consist of soft pads kept moist with a sticky secretion that facilitates heat loss and provides traction on rock surfaces, aiding in their agility.

Dassies love to bask in the morning sun due to poor heat-regulation and a low metabolism. They rely on sentries, posted on vantage points, to warn them against danger. A sentry’s high-pitched bark sends the colony scurrying for safety among nooks and crannies. Black-eagles pose the greatest threat and usually attack from the direction of the sun, making use of the blinding light to avoid detection. Evolution has provided Dassies with a unique membrane over the eye that shields the pupil against the sun, enabling them to spot attacking eagles. The Hyrax’s unusually long gestation period (230 days; compared to the much larger Impala’s 196 days) suggests that Hyraxes the size of oxen once roamed the earth – hardly prey for an eagle.

Rock Hyraxes produce large amounts of hyraceum, a sticky mass made up of dung and urine. This petrifies over thousands of years into a rock-like material known as Africa Stone, used in traditional South African medicine for treating epilepsy and seizures. It is also used in perfumery for its complex, fermented scent combining elements of musk, civet, tobacco and agarwood.

Rock of ages

Mountains are often thought of as timeless; unchanged by the passage of time, impervious to the ravages of the elements. But the reality is they age as much as we do, just on a much slower scale.

Table Mountain is no exception. Time is fast running out for this crumbling relic of a mountain. Composed largely of sandstone deposited 540 million years ago by large rivers and inland seas, the mountain first came into being when the supercontinent of Pangaea scrunched into an unknown continent about 360 million years ago, uplifting the sedimentary rock around the Cape in a concertina-like formation that reached heights of about 3000 meters. Back then, Table Mountain formed part of a much larger mountain range, and it would take 300 million years of erosion to reduce it to its current shape and size. So the mountain as we see it today, with its distinctive tabletop, is only about 60 million years old – still a venerable age compared to that of the Alps (32 million years) and the Himalayas (40 million years), and bearing in mind the age of the rock itself (540 million years).

Table Mountain is actively eroding. Proof of this can be found on any hike up the mountain, where boulders the size of houses can be seen perched precariously on cliffside ledges. Another 10 million years or so will see Table Mountain reduced to an inconspicuous hillock. Wind and rain combine to wear away the sandstone layers. Expansion cracks form as the mountain sheds weight, aiding the erosive action of the elements. On a human scale, with 70 taken as the average life-expectancy, Table Mountain (in its current shape and size) has attained the ripe age of 60. Still 142 857 human lifetimes to go.

There is no better way to acquaint yourself with the geology of Table Mountain than on foot. Join Hike Table Mountain on a hike to discover some of the mountain’s weird rock-formations, caves and striking topographical features.

Forthcoming blog: ‘Why is Table Mountain flat?’

Happy 2012 to all. Make it count. Make it happen. Make time to connect with nature.

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.