... and ended with snow, boots so frozen there was no getting your feet in them; and minus 9 degrees inside the tent...

It started with the whim of an almost 41-year-old wanting to revisit the pleasure of hiking as a 'Varsity student for her 41st birthday; it grew to a group of eight keen to experience nature; endured pre-hike meetings, pre-hike training and even a pre-hike dress rehearsal all overseen with the confidence of a past University hiking officer who had been on and lead numerous hikes into the 'berg some twenty years previously and a fair bit of input from others on the trip with hiking experience.

Having kept my hand in with the odd moderate hike in between, I decided that this was the time for a serious adventure... and planned to do the northern traverse - Mount Aux Sources / Amphitheatre to Organ Pipes in the Cathedral area. With transport logistics finally sorted out enabling us to start and finish at different points with a minimum of fuss, we set off really early for five days of adventure on April 18 - to a weather forecast that predicted two fine days followed by a day of rain and then fine weather again.

We were on the road bright and early with two vehicles - destination Amphitheatre Backpackers by 6am - we made it despite both cars independently missing the Winterton turnoff. There we would leave our cars and get a lift to the Sentinel car park to start our walk. Somewhat strung up from a lack of nicotine Adrian drove us up through the picturesque Olivier's Hoek pass joking about the vehicle's lack of power - laden with eight people, plus packs and a driver.

We got to our starting point a little after the planned 8am. Filled in the mountain register, paid our hiking fees and set off on a bright warm sunny day - remembering to dab suntan lotion on the sensitive spots - like the back of the knees.

Bob and Jason head up the chains

Then it was a case of trusting ones ability to simply climb, with the nagging weight of a pack, up the 100 or so rungs of the two sets of ladders. It was my third time up the ladders and I tried to ooze confidence as I headed up, to encourage a few more reluctant looking members - but despite knowing I could do it, there was still a distinct adrenalin rush.

Finally the climb was over and was followed by an early lunch stop by the river. It turned out to be protracted as Bob wanted to get to the very top of Mount Aux Sources, so five energetic souls pushed up - or rather Tasmi and I puffed and panted our way (counting 50 steps) behind a blazing trial headed by Bob, followed keenly by Jason and then Mik.

We were back down by 2pm and headed off to explore the Tugela falls with the plan to make some headway towards Stimela Valley. I had realised much earlier on that we would  never make our initial overnight stop, but I was keen to make at least some headway towards out goal... but what I did not realise is that Bob had ignored the advice dished out by both of us to everyone else, and was carrying almost 30kgs and had worn himself out with no sleep the night before, driving up and carrying way to much and then pushing for a really fast summit of Mount Aux Sources.

So... after a few tense moments of miscommunication we pitched tent on a flat but rocky spot virtually on the edge of the escarpment with views to die for. Mik and Jason thought there tent was a bit dodge as it flapped all night in a brisk breeze. We set up a nightwatch in case of prowling Basotho, but not a soul was seen by the light of a very bright full moon.

We were up early, but it seemed to  take ages to get eight diverse people breakfasted, ablutioned and packed... but we did finally head off, determined to make up for lost kilometres the day before.If one goes on the assumption that the destination is everything, we were way to determined and headed in what seemed like the right direction without consulting the map... until I started to get that uneasy feeling.

The sort of uneasy feeling that says that you don't really see that many (not many but a few) Basotho dwellings right near the escarpment... and grew to include: Hang on a minute! We're following a river that is running downstream, but should be heading towards the escarpment... and unless gravity works as poorly as my breathing up here, there is something distinctly wrong with this picture. 

We consulted the map - and probably in desperation figured we could be at such and such a spot - but it wasn't until we were about to pitch tents in a secluded river bed some 15km deep into Lesotho that Bob conceded that we had take a wrong turn. He worked out from the direction of the setting sun that we were indeed walking in the wrong direction -  we were in fact well off the map we were carrying, deep into the spectacular scenery of Lesotho and were in a word: lost. 

Mik's GPS would not switch on. Not that much of a problem. We would have to forgo any thoughts of completing the traverse, all we need do is backtrack... easier said than done, but it was a feat we managed to accomplish the next day. I'd not lost the good habit of remembering to look back over the way I have come so that it can be recognised from both directions and that did help in certain spots.

Mik and Jason discovered that there tent was in fact quite cool and had all the bells and whistles they needed (even snow flaps) - and it did not flap anymore (which had nothing to do with the fact that there was less of a breeze). We repeated out night watch system and not a soul was to be seen.

Day three was scheduled to be our inclement weather day. We had a monkey's wedding, we had rain, we had wind, we had hail (small stones fortunately). We even had a monkey's wedding with hail and then some idiot happened to comment (in obvious earshot of the Gods) that we've had every type of weather except snow... it took a few hours for the Gods to muster up the snow to prove them wrong - but prove them wrong with copious amounts, they did.

After a forced lunch stop in the lee of a tiny overhang I was confident that we had backtracked  reliably not to be too lost, and as we were about to join a path we had followed the previous day, a dense mist came down making it impossible  to move any further. We were in a flat spot, close to a river - and simply pitched tent there and then.

It rained intermittently into the evening. The quality of the sound of rain falling on the tent changed. I wondered distractedly in a half daze if it was snow, twisted about uncomfortably in my down sleeping bag and drifted back to sleep. I wasn't sure if Bob had moved into my space or if the tent was shrinking, but there seemed to be less space to move in the tent. As my awareness of this grew, there was a sharp noise and the tent collapsed down, almost sitting on top of me. I woke Bob, realised it must be snow and pushed vigorously upward - relieved to see the sprung steel poles pop back up - not quite undented from their exposure, but looking more or less as they should.

Bob got up and woke everyone else - in part to appreciate the snow but mostly to knock the snow off their tents before they had tents collapse on them too. It  snowed through the night and we woke to a white wonderland in the morning, accompanied by still dark and ominous looking clouds and a howling wind.

Not 100% certain of exactly where we were (although from the map I had figured we were adjacent the far buttress) Sergio and I set off to try and find a cellphone signal with two purposes in mind. To advise Adrian not to fetch us from the Cathedral area, and to try and get a reliable weather forecast as the conditions looked unpredictable.

We had no joy in finding a signal, despite virtually walking to the edge of the escarpment. But we did see the welcome black hulk of the Sentinel in the distance and a shape of Mount Amry pointing out over the escarpment edge and could at least report that all was found  and not lost.

The Gods had been generous with the amount of snow they offered - mostly just below knee deep, above knees in some places, and up to chest deep on me if I picked the wrong spot.

As the weather slowly cleared, figures ventured out to admire the white landscape, build a snow Buddhess and explore a little. Bob and I built our own version of the wall of China as a windbreak around our tent. It was above waist height, but the cold wind still managed to whistle in under the tent flaps.

In the afternoon Bob led a group up a nearby mountain with a collection of our motley group's cell phones and was able to get a signal on just one phone only (in this case viva MTN). By now the weather had stabilsed and all we needed to do was contact Adrian to arrange for a collection at the Sentinel car park. This and a few other personal calls were made, followed by preparations to try and avoid our boots freezing over as they had the night before.

The antifreeze preparations did not work. It was minus 9 in the tent when we woke up on the morning of my birthday. We got up at 5 for breakfast (followed by birthday After 8 mint chocolates - well before 8) and for the second morning set about thawing our boots by placing them close to the gas camping stove while we made tea for Bob, cuppachino for me, followed that by soup, hot water, chocolate brownies... 

The day dawned clear and full of promise, but took a full four hours before we worked out cold-stiff fingers through the regime of packing. Having battled in the biting wind the day before I set off wearing way to much, and was soon stripped down to walking in a T-shirt with the thermal longs and rain pants being too difficult to remove.

I soon discovered the hardships of walking though snow. It not so much the extra effort that it takes to make forward progress - it's what happens when the sun comes out! Mik was kind enough to offer timeshare rights to his sunglasses enabling me to work my way through our well ploughed trail without major overall discomfort - but it was scary to note that those without glasses would not have been able to continue walking for a second day.

The second factor I had discounted was the extent of snowburn - far more fierce than normal sunburn.

Anyway - Bob lead the way out - in inimitable style, going up and down over at  least three high ridges rather than take the easier route (I don't care if it is longer - it would have been easier) of traversing through the valley. We then misjudged the position of the top of the ladders and had to search for the welcome site of the huge cairn, before taking our turn clinging to the icy cold rungs.

Once having climbed the ladders Sergio was somewhat driven to reach the Cathedral Peak area, as there was no way on this earth he intended to go back down those slim steel bars that shift suddenly as they take your weight... but home beckoned and down he went with no more than a momentary whimper (and a promise of chocolate cake for Bob if he made it alive - which has since been delivered and devoured).

The path down was filled with slushy snow and was treacherously slippery but we made it down without incident - although Mik had a few hair raising moments on a short section of exposed rock face...

We had called Adrian from the top of the ladders and beat him to the Sentinel car park by a good 15 minutes. We collapsed in the car park somewhat euphoric at  the successful completion of an adventure. We took the obligatory after photographs, remembered to sign out on the mountain register, phoned home and climbed eagerly into the car for the long drive back home. 

It wasn't a textbook hike - and we did not manage our planned traverse - but we did get to revel in nature and learn a lot about ourselves. About what we do and think in the long hours of darkness, how we cope with group dynamics and physical hardship... and most importantly that the important part of life is most certainly in the journey and not the destination.