julianiles.com

It was all set. I had printed my itinerary, healed from my last round of shots, and done plenty of pull-ups. I was about to embark on a lifelong dream to travel and climb in Africa when I received this email from my brother:

“Hi Jule, I just wanted to make sure you know about S. Africa right now. 50 murders a day. Lots of car hijackings, with fatalities often. Muggings, etc… Be careful if you’re still going. I don’t think I’d advise it to anyone. Love, -M”

He forwarded this information to the rest of my family, so there were many more statistics swimming in my head upon arrival at the Johannesburg airport. Between HIV, malaria, violent crime, and the puff-adder, I couldn’t figure out how everyone seemed so normal and relaxed. I wandered the airport waiting for Majka, another American mountain guide to pick me up, or for “Q” our photographer I had yet to meet to arrive by plane. Since Majka did not seem to be picking me up, I ruminated on the fact that I really did not know if Q would show up either. I tried to quell the panic that arose from the rare lack of laptop and cell phone. My own thoughts began to amuse me when I noticed people using the ATM’s without being robbed.

Q finally arrived- only two and a half hours late. It turns out that Majka e-mailed details about how to get a cab to where she was staying just after I went to bed the night before leaving the country. So with great relief, I settled into the backseat of the cab with Q on our way to our hosts’ abode.

Our hosts, a lovely local climbing couple with baby, Luca, opened their house for us. Sleepily, I wondered at the fortifications we had to cross to enter and what it would be like to get used to iron gates and security codes.
I always wanted to go to Africa- WILD Africa complete with exotic animals and tall, serene warriors: the Zulus inviting me to a dance of barefoot stomping waving decorated shields or running through plains with the creatures of Lion King. Despite my expectations of exotic Africa having faded before this trip, I found that through exploring the climbing culture of this distant country, the wilds still hold a supreme presence.

After spending time at a couple kloofs in South Africa, I have full respect for “country routes.” Alpine routes do not really exist as there are no glaciers and little snow in this region of the world. However, lack of crevasses is replaced with insane bushwacking. The cold is replaced by the sticky layer of dirt coating your skin by the time you reach the base of the route. The lack of smells is replaced by a strange array of sweet and pungent living plants and poop and creatures. We do not travel in the middle of the day because of the heat just like in snowy alpine. Most of all, the climbing is intriguing. The super hard quartzite is steep and roofed with tons of discontinuous cracks that force you to climb horizontally. It requires an intense confidence trusting that the route you chose will continue to produce holds.

A few famous South African climbers like Ed February, Andy DeKlerk, and Clinton Martinego have put up countless first ascents, but there are still many to pick. We went to an area called Blyde where we put up three first ascents and one first free ascent in a period of four days. We did, however, pay the South African toll: hot sun, rashes, liquid poo, and endless bushwacking. Our very first route turned out to be a perfect first ascent. We walked by a steep crack wondering if it was wide enough to climb. We kept going towards our original destination: a potential first free ascent that was around the corner. The hot sun and violent bush wacking melted our resolve, however, and we found ourselves back below the shaded crack. I decided to check it out. Upon arriving at the base, it looked perfect: steep with just enough wider pods to get locker hand jams. Majka and Q joined me for the experiment. The first moves were tricky, the crack was overhanging and too sharp for the finger jams that were required. Eventually, I found a way by stemming into it from the left. The uneven crack made it hard to trust the cams, yet it was too steep to hang out and fiddle with gear. Two-thirds of the way up, I was breathing hard and sweating. The glory of the first ascent is that you do not know what the next move will bring- will you find an impossible crux, or will you be able to keep going? I had gotten this far, I thought, I have to finish. So I pulled through a super-tight hand jam followed by a sharp fist jam. Finally, I stood on top, unable to speak due to the involuntary heavy breathing. I looked down at my hands, they were bleeding.

Then Majka sent it with similar drama. I ended up with harsh infections in my hands after rubbing my cuts with some wild aloe plant, but hey, it was worth it. Plus, now I now that the wild variety is different from my mom’s kind.

The climbing in South Africa is hard. We planned on warming up on “Armageddon Time” a ten pitch 23 (5.11c/d) at Du Toits Kloof. Our plan was to climb this one day then get on the harder route the next. Our local guide, David, kept his mouth shut despite his eyes widening at our lofty ambitions. Our one route ended up taking both days. We all were challenged, we all fell, and we all discovered our breaking point. We topped out just as it was getting dark to windy white-out conditions and a complicated descent. We got cliffed out twice. I forgot my headlamp. We discovered that steep grass is akin to steep snow- it would be nicer with an ice axe. Luckily David knew of an all night burger joint that would be open at two in the morning when we finally arrived back in Cape Town.

We spent our last weekend with Tristan. This South African is best described by negatives. He does not eat, does not sleep, and does not drink water or wine. I decided a closer look was warranted- he must eat sometime. I saw him all over the magazines, and he had an inspiring presence in the South African climbing video. He was born without a fully developed right arm or hand, yet you would never know it by the way he climbs. He blames his excellent footwork for his climbing prowess, yet I must credit his mighty will. Never tell this man he cannot do something. (Or tell him and ensure that it will be done.) He showed us the caves of Tafelburg where we set up camp for our last two days. My highlight was the first female ascent of a heady 23R route of which Tristan had boldly done the third ascent. I still cannot fathom trying to do it without the ability to crimp with my right hand. I, after working the moves and the gear, got on lead and still faltered under the high consequences. Finally after many minutes had ticked by and my shaking was about to end in testing the rare and tiny pieces of protection, something deep within launched me towards the jug. I sent. It was a great finale to an amazing climbing adventure in South Africa.

I do not think South Africa is a safer place after being there, but I have a different perspective on dangerous places. The hazards come from the select few extremists. Most people are generous and caring. I was driving our local friend, David’s ancient BMW to Du Toits Kloof where the other three were climbing. I got some stomach bug so had to catch up a day later. I was about one hour outside of Cape Town in a tiny rural area when the car just stopped. The battery went dead. I tried reconnecting it- nothing. It was getting dark fast. My apparent vulnerability had my heart pounding. I was young, white, female, and alone. Then a truck pulled up beside me. Two Asian men stepped out and let me use their cell phone. Then two Afrikaans boys pulled up and drove off in search of their mother’s jumper cables. A Black man stopped, pulled out his tools, tightened the bolts on the battery, and the car started. The man called me the next day just to make sure I had found my friends. We were high up on a wall. We all laughed at the marvelous kindness that came from this potentially freaky situation.

The specific moves of “Danger Mouse” will be forgotten. The cold belays on “Celestial Journey” will fade, but the incredible people and kindness will remain. Despite the trauma of the people of South Africa, of injured climbers, and of great loss, we all still earn for that innocent wild. These people have shown me how great odds can be overcome. Climbers cultivate the power to do this. Climbing provided a great lens through which to see South Africa.

For more photos go to http://jamesqmartin.com.