A few months back we snuck off to Alpine Heath with some friends for a long weekend. The plan was simple, lots of exercise during the day by way of hiking, swimming, tennis, fly fishing and squash followed by beers and a braai each night. No complaints there.
Alpine Heath nestled in the mountain.
Four of us arrived before the rest of the group and as the day was a postcard of bright sun and blue sky, we decided to dump the bags, take a hike and unpack when we got back.
Fairly open...
...and easy most of the way...
...with a sprinkling of rock jumping here and there.
Mother nature decided that it was time for a curve ball. What started out as a picture perfect day soon had us holding onto our hats and other body parts as some of the strongest winds I've felt in a while decided to pay us a visit.
The slicked back look sans gel.
The only part of the trip that left us scratching our head was the "No open fire" rule at Alpine Heath. This was a bit of a problem as all we had brought with us for supper was braaivleis. We were then told that we could hire a gas braai from them at a cost of R50 a night so we could at least cook our meat. Now, I'm not sure about you but having to braai on a gas braai is about as manly as going for a facial. Needless to say, our idea of a perfect night around a large open fire with guitars playing and sharing wild stories of our bravery during our hikes was reduced to 8 people crowded around a small plastic table with a candle as our only source of warmth.
The following day the eight of us set off to investigate the opposite mountains. I should have guessed something would go wrong due to the fact that Jimmy was on the hike with us. Picture a guy well over 6 foot who weighs over 100kgs and has more energy than a six year old toddler on a sugar high. A recipe for trouble indeed. What started out as a gentle stroll soon turned into a cross country sprint that would have made Gebrselassie proud. Luckily, my athletic, racing snake physique kept me just ahead of the big lug which was a good thing until I came across a snake on the path. I pulled up the proverbial handbrake and stopped just in time only to have Jimmy run straight into the back of me and edge me even closer to the savage beast. Fortunately it was only a Spotted Skaapsteker and apart from a sore bite did not pose too much of a threat. The ironic thing about this little incident is that it is usually the Gov who is like catnip for snakes as she has encountered snakes on our last 3 visits to the berg. At least I kept the tradition going.
Alpine is a pleasant spot to go to and has all the necessary bits and pieces for a decent family getaway but as the name of this blog suggests, I am a pyromaniac and a cold night in the berg without a wood fire just doesn't seem right and I'm sure it is actually illegal in some far off country somewhere.
No comments:
Post a Comment