Reaching the Waterfall. Part 1: Into the Ravine.

Top of the ravine. (Courtesy of Vuyo’s phone.)

Pondoland is the part of Transkei that you arrive in first if you are coming from the north. You cross the bridge over the Mthamvuna River at Port Edward and straight away you know that you are in Transkei. It’s not just that the countryside has become dotted with huts and animals or that the road is more twisty and potholed. It’s a knowledge almost like a sensation that washes slowly over you; a kind of inadvertent readjustment to a slower pace. You must amble carelessly around like the sheep and cattle; not rush headlong at life, expecting rivers to part just because you are there. As you gaze inland at the distant mountains and seawards to the dark blue stripe of horizon, it’s easy to be mesmerised by the landscape of gently rolling green hills and abundant indigenous forests. But do not be deceived; this is wild and rugged terrain, some of it well beyond the reach of conveniences such as roads, electricity and schools. The lush countryside is dissected by ravines that plunge 200 meters and more into narrow river valleys; their almost permanently shady cliff faces home to rare and beautiful botanical treasures and other ecological marvels.

I have a friend - Jacque - who has been visiting one particular ravine in Pondoland for about 20 years. It is for him a kind of pilgrimage. He climbs down into the ravine and sets up camp in a small nook that was once a flattish clearing in the forest that grows thickly along both sides of the ravine. Over the years he has levelled it out a bit more, cleared the undergrowth and lugged rocks around to make a fireplace. He keeps a pot, braaigrid and some other utensils under a rocky overhang. In the morning he takes LSD and walks upstream to the Waterfall. Jacque does not always embark upon these pilgrimages alone; they are a kind of initiation through which he takes his friends. Having once sampled the ravine and tried to reach the Waterfall, some become devotees of his little cult. I am one of newest converts.

You cannot go into the ravine if it is raining or if it might rain. The ravine walls will be too slippery either to descend or ascend and if it rains a lot, there are additional hazards such as possible landslides or flash floods. About a month ago, circumstance and weather finally cooperated in making it possible for me to join Jacque and others in the ravine. He was walking from the mouth of the Mthamvuna along the Wild Coast with his niece and her friend and they needed somebody to fetch them at the end of their hike which was - naturally - the ravine. I and two other friends - one already initiated; the other, like me, a virgin - were assigned the role of meeting the intrepid hikers. We would meet at the camp in the ravine on Friday and go to the Waterfall the following day.

The three of us eventually arrived at the little village perched on the flatland at the top of the ravine at about 5.30 in the afternoon. If it hadn’t been for Nozi who has accompanied Jacque more than once before, we would never have found our way through the stony, muddy backroads that led to the village, let alone down into the ravine. We left the bakkie at a homestead near the edge and had to hurry because going down in the dark is not a good idea. The path is steep and narrow; it zig zags back and forth across the almost vertical incline and all you can see is the forest, all you can smell and hear is the forest. Nothing but trees, vines and bushes above, below and all around; dead leaves underfoot and little scurries of forest life acting itself out in the undergrowth. Clinging to small trees, branches and fallen tree trunks, searching for footholds among loose stones and on convenient roots, we made our way down as quickly as we could. Eventually we heard the river and before long we saw it; crashing over or around huge boulders and sliding through pretty pools on the last leg of its journey. We crossed and trudged our weary way some distance upstream until we came to the little haven of Jacque’s camp. There was only just enough light left to collect some wood and make a fire. Preparing a welcome home meal for Jacque and the girls, we waited until well after 10 before we saw their head-lamps bouncing along in the dense darkness that until then had only been broken by an occasional firefly.

Camp.