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