The combustible source engine from which recovery emanates often gives itself over to a recurrence, an idea refashioned by the lay days enforced by injury and illness. In the wallowing doldrums of reduced performance, the mind is given a chance to reassess, to reconfirm that the compass points correctly to a currently unavailable source of great immersion. It gives us a chance to apply corrective and beneficial means to reach the mythical end game of the rainbow.
We, humans, are not robots that are able to function with endless endurance. We grow older, more damaged and in some extremely rare circumstances more wise. Stuck in the hindbrain is a residual lure left there from previous excursions to keep the embers of motivation warm through the cold nights.
That said, on the most beautiful Cape winter’s day, we managed to choose the one location with absolutely, dismal weather. After we breached the fabled 1000 meters above sea level the nastiness loosened its grip on the day and we emerged into euphoria tinted peaks. Up there the walking is easy and the oxygen a kung pow punch towards invigoration. No man is an island, but temporary solitude is a natural occurrence.
While everywhere else was a windless, sunshine basted affair…
Slowly the altitude thinned out the mist, providing an added sense of dramatic eye candy.
Once you exit the valley the world starts opening up, almost spilling over with fizzy drink like splendour.
Man wants to fly, but he ain’t willing to get high.
We tried our hand at crafting some marching songs, but found Nazi WW2 chants to be tasteless.
Eventually the height starts putting some of our more iconic mountains to shame. Simonsberg in the distance, with Table Mountain sneaking behind.
Lovely moments at the edge of ancient ravines.
Some spaces feel almost unnatural to turn your back on, as if there is some magnetic connection tugging the spirit back in place.
Dislodge a pebble for the rebel spirit.
The top of the mountain makes for some glorious strolling, vibes peaking.
On the decent the earlier dreariness was ever present.
Trails so smooth it made me wish I had my mountain bike stashed somewhere in my backpack.
It got deceptively slippery in the mist, with some of the more rocky parts becoming fear inducing slippy slides.