…to get me from gettin’ winded, babe.
Last weekend I channeled my inner-Elli and climbed a mountain. I’m not quite sure Table Mountain is truly classified as a mountain, but it’s in the name so it counts in my books. Plus, as I learned on the plane coming here-- more people die climbing Table Mountain each year than Everest. Considering the types of people climbing (ie. me) that’s not surprising in the least. I went with Janice, an American currently living in Madagascar who had just climbed up Mt. Kilimanjaro the week before. She was so nice—letting me stop after almost every ladder, boulder climb, ect. Despite everyone’s warnings, we weren’t mugged, for which I am very thankful. I would have been at a distinct disadvantage with a mountainside mugger. Though that would have been a great blog post “Mattie and the Mountainside Mugging” like my version of Nancy Drew.
The trip took us 3.5 hours to get up, 30 minutes to walk around and then a few more hours since the gondola back down lost power.
The climb was like real life shoots and ladders. Shoots being boulders I slipped on while climbing and ladders being, well, ladders.
The view from the back of Table Mountain
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| The most in shape I will probably ever look ...if only I wasn't wearing that sweater |
(Sorry for the bad quality of the pictures, to get them to load to my blog I have to take screenshots!)
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