(parents if you are reading this please stop, I don’t want you to fret about my safety and if you are going to read it anyway just remember you raised me to be the daredevil idiot I am, so whose fault is it really?)
If I could change one thing about my South Africa adventure it would be that I spent more time in Cape Town. I only spent two nights in this beautiful city as I was due home just to be shipped off again to Bethlehem the next day. There is so much to do here and knowing I only got to experience a small portion of it makes it high on my list of places to return. What I did have time to do really gave me an insight to how amazing this place is, an amazing city, laying between the sea and the mountains.
We had left bright and early to commence the six hour drive from Oudtshoorn which really wasn’t too bad. The views we had were unbelievable, surrounded by mountains and valleys, its felt like our little minibus was driving into a new world. When we arrived we headed straight for Table Mountain and to put it nicely the weather was shit. We were actually unsure if the cable car would be working, however, our guide Jeff told us there wasn’t enough time to climb it. Luckily it was so we all crammed into this little car which spun round as it took us up the mountain, a little disorientating. No one was particularly wrapped up, I had a crop top and a thin jacket on, also sporting a pair of river island sunglasses on my head, nothing could seem more inappropriate as we reached the top of the mountain. The fog was so thick you couldn’t see you own hand, the rain was icy and soaked us through, the view below us was merely a mass of grey clouds and dullness. Table Mountain gets its name from its flat peak that stretches along, overlooking the city of Cape Town. The fog that often consumes the mountain is nicknamed ‘the table cloth,’ and we were very very consumed.
I had eagerly anticipated our trip up Table Mountain since arriving in Africa; I had been on a mission from day one, to capture the perfect new profile picture. In my head I was already planning when we would return with fingers crossed for better weather, it would be very difficult to squeeze into my short 48 hours in Cape Town. We hid in the café, hopelessly wishing that we would open the door and the sunlight would beam in. I can tell you now, it didn’t. Eventually we ventured out into the blizzard, hoods up and huddling for warmth, my whole body felt frozen as we followed the winding path back to the cable car. We trudged along, feeling defeated, heads down. When only moments later it hit us, it was clear, the fog had disappeared, although we were still all pretty frozen. The most phenomenal view sat below us, crystal blue water and tall white buildings all swallowed up in green, green grass. I quickly became excited, climbing over the rocks trying to find the perfect spot. Due to the fog the atmosphere could only be described as slippy and my friend Harriet grew into a state of panic shouting at me to get off the rocks.
(this is us freezing to death in the cafe)
Being the childish idiot that I am this only egged me on, jumping from rock to rock, getting further and further down. I don’t know why I am such an idiot, I like winding people up too much and the look on Harriet’s face was cracking me up. Also, I guess I had a little too much trust in my hiking boots. I slipped, I mean I didn’t fall far, but I hid the ground with a thud and rolled downhill for a bit, trying to protect my head with my hands. When I came to a halt I opened my eyes, assessed how I felt, which was surprisingly okay despite what a massive idiot I had been. Like literally how stupid, imagine if I’d fell off a different rock and been wiped off the mountain all together. I was in pain from two sources, my left ear and the tip of my middle finger on my left hand which was producing blood. I tried to keep my cool got up, wiped my finger on my trousers and continued my search for the perfect profile picture spot. Eventually I found it, the most picturesque view I could find, what I named, Louise’s ledge. I would like to point out that the rest of my gang got their photo taken here afterwards so it must have been a success. A success that a suffered to find. If you’re wondering, it is the featured image, scroll to the top and remind yourselves.
After a (kind of) success we wandered round the gift shop where I bought an adorable silver necklace I had been looking for since I got to Africa, just simple silver outline of the continent. I also bought a teddy bear lion holding a blanket for my new niece or nephew who was due any day. One thing I noticed, as I started to warm up in the shop I was getting a really bad throbbing pain in my finger. By the time we were in the cable car it had started to swell and discolour. Funniest part? It was at this point that I realised my travel insurance had run out four weeks earlier. Literally is there anyone stupider than me? When I had extended my trip at Kwantu I had forgot to book extra insurance. I was lucky enough to have some great friends who bandaged me up and kept reminding me to hold my hand up and prevent the swelling.
So, there is my story of how, by acting like a clown, a managed to break my finger whilst falling down Table Mountain. I just have to remember how it could have been so much worse and probably next time I will listen to my friends when they tell me to get down.