James from the Sling plane factory was sitting on the edge of his office chair chatting with excitement “Climbing the Blouberg, now that’s one of the most mystical places you can climb.”

Relatively young, undiscovered and wonderfully rural - this is the climbing scene I found in my home country South Africa. It was the first time that I tapped into South African climbing, as I had only started climbing earlier this year and finally I was back home for the holidays!

Allow me to first induge in a tangent about home. Some of the best thing about home is family*, marmite**, rusks***, nature**** and my gosh, the sun.
I was born and grew up in Johannesburg, a city which can thank its existence to the discovery of the Witwatersrand gold reef in 1886: the rich silt of an age-old massive lake had revealed itself to the Western world. And a rapidly growing existence it was, as within just 2 years, the number of brothels in town had grown to 97 (a population of dominantly male gold-diggers meant the city grew up suckling on hard liquor and prostitution). Long before Jo’burg was founded, the seams of segregration were stitched over the entire country through laws. But the type of people that were attracted to the gold-mining community - wordly entrepeneurs, fortune-seekers and migrant workers - meant that here in reality people of all races lived integrated lives in the bowls of Jo’burg, working hard to make a good living. Soon of course, the rich became very rich, and the poor sunk deeper into poverty. Apartheid dozer-loaded this bleeding gash more.
And so Jo’burg has always been a two-sided coin, ahead in business, most liberal, industrious, innovative, lively, and bustling (and often overlooked by tourists who tend to skip over to Cape Town instead for the beaches and vineyards – and for some reason the penguins? – they saw in the magazine).
Yet it remains undeniably crime-ridden and fractured by an immense poverty gap. Jo’burg never lets you forget to appreciate the privileged, comfortable life you have.

When Dan came to visit for a couple of weeks, I was determined to show him the many fascinating aspects of Johannesburg and of South Africa outside the popular tourist spots - and also to grab him to go climb my home country!

^Dan getting an aerial view of Johannesburg and its slime dams in the Sling with my dad.

The Sling airplane factory turned out to be a great first stop before our road trip equipped with climbing gear.

“Look, I will call up a friend who can send you a few GPS coordinates to help you find your way. When I went we had it easy, we just landed right on top of the mountain, haha.”

“It’s easy to get lost. But once you get there, there is a cave you can camp out in. And hit the face the next day. …Ag man, I wish I was still as young and free as you, and can just take off on an adventure whenever I want!”

It was easy to get swept away by Jame’s enthusiasm for adventure. However, the Blouberg, like most places in SA, is unbolted and so Dan and I decided to put a pin in the Blouberg idea for now. Instead we headed for the most popular sport climbing nook in SA - Waterval Boven.

We almost missed the climbing store in the town Engwenya due to the very faded sign. But the climbing equipment within was shining in contrast. Alex, a French climber who married one of the most well-known SA climbers, Gustav, and together we have them to thank for the sport climbing here, gives us directions to the camping site on top, “boven”. Arriving a little too late in the day to do any climbing, we instead decide to see what Dan would make of bully beef and then hit the sleeping bags. The bully beef went down well. It felt good to be camping again!

The next day we set off to one of the sectors.

Waterval Boven is a wild haven of thick bush, cacti trees, and quartzite. You descend from the plateau and walk and walk along the cliff, enveloped by a shroud of cricket chorus and baboon cries as thick as the surrounding vegetation. That day we hit the sunny Tranquilitas Crags. This is one of the more moderate sectors, but not without some tricky bits I found. A fun mellow one was “Jacky Chan” (I think it was called?) which required one to climb out of a bouldery alcolve onto a roof and then up on over the overhanging main face.

Towards the end of the day we decided to give Baboon Buttress a go. Dan gunned up a crack, the “Grizzly Behr”. It may have been “Thorn between the Roses” that for some reason gave me the creeps. I was already a good way up, but the entire way I felt like the rock was trying to push me off. At an interesting crack bit, where the bolts were particulary far apart, I suddenly didn’t feel right. It didn’t help that at this stage the mental picture of my parent’s worried looks before we left were still plaguing me - something I never had to deal with when ever I had been climbing in Europe. I called down to Dan that I was going to come back down again, although I probably could have made it. It was the first time I realised how also the bolt placing could determine the mental difficulty of a climb.

At dusk we returned to the camp site - famished as we had neglected to eat all day. Enter our sandwich of the blog (drum roll please): braaied ostrich burgers!

It was more than hilarious to watch Dan hungrily wait for the ostrich patties to cook. We had cut up the avo and tomato, prepared the buns, had meticulously laid out the plates and cutlery, all long before the coals were finally down to glowing warmly. Then Dan intently watched the meat get cooked. There was initially some small talk between us and another group of climbers - some Joburg outskirt youth, their circle filled with non-stop chatter, mostly chummy teasing, and not too concerned with forcing a conversation with us. Dan and I were both too fixated on our food slowly becoming edible to be concerned with this either. Man, those ostrich burgers were lekker.

The next day we hit the Hallucinogen Wall. We ran into Alex-from-Fontainebleau down there who was taking an Australian couple out for climbing. She recommended some beautiful climbs for that section. This day was going much better for me, mentally, after nailing a row of grade 4s and 5s with no issue, the queasiness of pushing rocks and my parents’ faces already much faded. Our last climb of the day was “Angel of Mercy” - Dan lead climbed and I top roped it. It was a playful crack enjoyable to climb. It was the last bit that made me glad I was top roping it though, as it was a flat slab with little hand or foot hold.

^Angel of Mercy

There were some beautiful climbs with overhangs that Dan thought would be nice to keep in mind for a return trip. At lunch time, Dan and I left the crags to continue our road trip north through Mpumalanga and into the hills of Limpopo, for which I will simply let a few photos and captions speak for themselves.

^Me and Kaapsehehoop. I add this solely so I that I can express what an immensly satisfying pancake I had in this old miner’s town: Never had I imagined how well biltong, avo and anchovies rock together!

^Rocks for God’s window.

^The Sunland Baobab - the most massive (in girth) baobab tree you ever will see. Its 1000 years of age took its toll just several months previously when it cracked open with sounds like a shattering thunderclap.

^Marakele National Park where we drove the windy mountain road up to reach the vultures, and saw a grand male Kudu later too.

^dirty dirty car.

After reflecting on the bit of climbing we got to do, and James’ enthusiastic narration, we began to mentally plan SA Climbing Trip - Part II. Waterval Boven had much more for us to discover, the story of the Blouberg, where the vultures soar, has also captivated us, and if we endeavour to achieve the Blouberg, why not Spitzkoppe in Namibia too?

First thing’s first then: get into trad climbing!

The weekend after we shot James an email about our trip. He ony replied on Monday: he had been out base jumping in the Southern Free State all weekend. Well, when the adventure grips you… ;D

* My mom and dad may fight a lot, but they claim this is how they show their love, which means they seem to understand each other better than we do! My brother is one of the most chilled dudes I know. Sometimes I think he has life all figured out, in the way he e.g. opted to live close to home so my mom can continue to do his washing and feed him over weekends. Really, why ever leave home?
** Love it or hate it, it’s definitely good for you.
*** A dry-as-hell biscuit. we gleefully explain to foreigners that these should be dunked in your instant coffee or rooibos tea but secretly us South Africans go mad munching a box down dry too.
**** Man, I hadn’t realised how spoiled I had been with space and remote nature until I moved to Europe.