Rocklands V.2

What an amazing long weekend, spent in the Rocklands (part of the Cedarberg mountains). Opportunities to boulder were endless, with some world-renowned crags spotted all over the place. I did a bit of sport climbing, which was amazing (albeit the terribly rough rock and the freezing conditions). Andrew and I headed up with some climbing mates, Johnny and Nadine, where we met up with more climbers the next day. It was a fantastic weekend, filled with tough climbs, interesting personalities, potjies, braais and jokes. The weather did zone in on us up at The Pass however, but we wrapped up warmly in our 'downies' and beanies. A night spent sleeping in an open cave was rather exciting, and the local baboons barked all night. These are a few of the tidbits that are flooding into my mind after the weekend. A mate, Morne Uys, makes the most delicious craft beer at his home, and we were lucky enough to enjoy a couple of his 'brewkis' after a long day climbing. I am rather stoked that I have made friends with such interesting, diverse and cool people. A couple of pics to illustrate the weekend's activities...

 'Trapping" off to the crags, as Morne would say.

Johnny working a 21. 

Andrew powering up a boulder in the late afternoon.

Nadine on the same boulder. Not much mercy was shown. 

Go Johnny go!

Me - working a 17. 

My boy and me :)

A bit of excitement with Jacques up on the wall. 

Love this one. Johnny landing hard on the mat after working the 'Girl on our Mind' boulder. 

Pat's plane

I found this on my computer, not too sure when I took it but it's a photo of my dad's friend light aircraft. He often flies it over my farmhouse and waves from above. I like the light distribution and the movement of the clouds.

Shitty Tuesday

I was rather irked today. Trying to find a parking on campus is one of the most tiresome and frustrating things about this town. So when I found one, which looked just about big enough to fit my car (Nissan Micra), I attempted to park. When I was three-quarters in, I thought I would be able to just squeeze my car in further, but I was wrong. So after reversing as far back as I could, I felt the gentle bump of my back bumper touching the front bumper of the car behind me. I didn't hit it hard, and barely felt it, so I tried again. After realising my attempts were futile, I gave up on the parking. Driving out slowly, a random woman ran out of a nearby building. I opened my window to see what she wanted, only to find that she was in fact the parking police in citizen form. In a heavy Afrikaans accent she said to me (with much condescension), "I see you have bumped into that car twice." So I asked if she knew whose it was. "No", she said, "but I think you should write a note on their car".

I mean SERIOUSLY!? What has it got to do with her, and what arbitrary secretarial job did she have that allowed her the time to watch students trying to park their cars? I was so irritated that she had the audacity to tell me what she thinks I should do. And then after the wonderful words of advice, she ran back into her little old building.

On a lighter note, the cops put their siren on as I was idling illegally on the wrong side of the road, about to jump out and check the other goddamn car. So I hot-footed in to the parking lot, didn't pay the meter, checked the other car for dents (zero) and strolled into class.

What a flipping story.

You know you have arrived in the Eastern Cape when...

So a few friends and I road-tripped home for the short September holidays last week. We cruised home in an old Ford Tracer, year unknown but definitely older than 15 years. Tim, the owner of the car, needed to bring his surfboard home, so it was tied to the roof of the car. After travelling about 10km out of Stellenbosch, we realised that the wind was not agreeing with the board, as there was this high-pitched sound coming from the car. With three engineers in the car, a plan was made to stuff an orange under the ropes and 'absorb the friction' or something...So we missioned the 1100km over the decent Western Cape without a problem. It was only when we drove in through the 'real Eastern Cape' that we noticed the difference. The roads were dotted with potholes, the lines were faded and things were generally wild. Driving through Grahamstown was another story, and as we drove out, it became apparent of the 'ruralness' of out surroundings. Cows were happily munching grass in people's backyards, litter decorated the fences and men walked around with heavy things balanced on their heads. I knew I was home ;) For now that is the only difference I would like to note between the EC and the WC, although after living in Stellenbosch for fours years and frequently heading back to my little old town of East London, I am sure that there are many more.

Situ Island, Mozambique
Early morning sunrise