Ain’t No Mountain Low Enough

…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 

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!)

A Short Boat Ride to Prison

When I’m not reading arts textbooks, emailing teachers and cornering scared high school students at their openings, I’m doing one “touristy” thing a week. My first week, I went to a place made famous by Nelson Mandela’s imprisonment there, Robben Island.

 

V&A Waterfront

The penguins and I had the opposite reaction to the boat ride over there. While they were jumping and playing I was standing (and kneeling) watching the waves swell and occasionally go over the side of the boat.

View of Table Mountain from the boat

Once on the island we were herded into a bus and taken to the various sites. By far the most depressing for me was the limestone mine. There, political prisoners worked long shifts mining unusable (that just makes it worse) stone by hand.

Stone Quarry

Mandela's Cell

The tour concluded with a walkthrough given by a former prisoner. Most of the tour guides live on the island, right next to their former guards who still work there (though now in a different capacity.)

Exercise Yard

But both have quite a view.