Day 17: I have a special relationship with 17. It's my birthday date, and a prime number, and I love the peculiar indivisibility of primes.
My oldest friend, Lala, organised a special hike today, for the so-called Work Widows' club. You get the joining criteria. Other old friend Phillip joined us as an honorary member. The hike started at Constantia Neck, up into the Orangekloof valley, up Disa Gorge, to Woodhead Dam, and down Cecelia Buttress, good 5 hour walk. The special part is that Orangekloof is closed to the public, except with a permit and a guide, and has close to pristine fynbos and forests which have not seen fire since the 1930's.
Our superb chatty guide, Mark, shared amazing history of the botany, ecosystem and history of the mountain. He worked for Cape Nature Conservation for over 30 years, and is a passionate educator and environmentalist. Anyone looking for a mountain guide or a tour operator would be lucky to have him lead.
After climbing up the valley, we reached the base of Disa Gorge, where we dumped our backpacks and walked ten minutes downstream to see one of the openings of the Woodhead tunnel. Now disused, it runs 700 metres through the mountain to Slangolie ravine, piping water to the Cape Town of long ago. The stonework dates from the late 1800s, and was built by hand, using technology of chisels, hots coals and water to shatter the stone prior to dressing by Cornish, Irish and Scottish craftsmen. It took 5 years to build- and if I were a spy it would be a marvelous place to sneak into. Cold, with a strong draft, nothing would persuade me to stick any part of my anatomy in there.
Disa Gorge is densely forested, full of huge Rooiels and Yellowwoods, draped in lichens and old man's beard. Australian Blackwood trees, ringbarked 30 years ago, have fallen into the river gorge, but young Blackwoods still grow in the river bed.
The gorge ends with the incredible view of the masonry of the Woodhead Dam, and 100 stone steps (I counted) leading up to the left. At the base of the wall is what may be a pumphouse, with architectural detail beyond its function, I thought it a fairytale house.
We ate our lunch on the rocks next to Woodhead Dam on the lower table, and it was there that Mark mentioned the Tahr and pig sausage, made from Tahrs shot by rangers like himself. We didn't see any of the remaining elusive Tahrs. He spoke into being a visual picture of the landscape at the time of construction of the dams- some of which is evident in the former doctor and butchers houses, and the museum that houses the steam engine built in Scotland, which was carried up the mountain in pieces and reassembled on the top of the mountain so the dams could be built. Eating my lunch, I imagined a little village up there, sheep in a kraal to feed the men, and the landscape at the start of the gorge, full of disas, before it was flooded by water.
Special to walk with all of you- Lala, Andy, Phil, Theresa before she jets off to life in Pakistan for a while, and Mark, our brilliant guide. Just a few twinges in sore feet, otherwise all good.
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