If there's one thing that everybody knows about Cape Town, it's Table Mountain. Pictures of it plaster tourist brochures for a reason; From every aspect of the city, suburbs, beaches and squares, you can look up and see her wrapped around and above it all. It's everywhere and it's beautiful. A stroll down government avenue means that immaculate colonial buildings have a mountain backdrop. From the industrial waterfront, sky scrapers are diminutive beneath it. From the botanical gardens and beaches it towers above and from the suburbs, it gives the entire city a giant bear hug. Sometimes, the mountain is draped in the 'table cloth' - an impressive bank of cloud that shrouds her entirely, but leaves everything else untouched. Mostly though she's standing tall and proud in the sunshine. Begging to be climbed. Friday was climbing day. We'd scoped out the requirements and had the movements down to a fine art: 107 bus, 110 bus, bring water and start early. As we set off, those in the giant cable car were whisked right above - waving down at us on their journey upwards. Our journey was also going upwards, but there was not so much grinning and waving. The wind had stopped and the sun was out. Shrubs on the mountain are small so shade was none. It's summer here. On top of that, Nikita's hiking skill decreases exponentially as elevation increases. Hot
and sweaty. A significant number of breaks were being had and water bottles were rapidly defrosting. We were overtaken by a perky little Asian woman with a mammoth baby belly at around the half way mark. Old plodalong encouraged Vincent to stretch his legs and set his own pace, but he stayed true to form and plodded too. We settled into a little cat and mouse routine with a Dutch couple. We'd pass them, get a few meters above, stop to breathe and they'd pass us. Occasionally one of us found a shady little niche in the rocks. Usually when the other couple caught us, we were crouching in such a niche and they'd chuckle "Always sitting in the shade!". Truth is, the sun wasn't quitting and burning isn't a good look! (And Nikita was getting tired and hungry.) 3/4 gone and we met a middle aged, overweight and pallid British guy. Sweating profusely, he claimed that "Climbing Kilimanjaro was easier than this". Whether it's true is questionable, but about an hour past him we hit the top, and it was definitely cause for celebrations befitting a much taller mountain. Celebrating is easy when they've put a bar up there too!! So we settled in to drink in the views (stunning), the cider (delicious) and thoughts of a job well done (proud). Then we caught the cable car back down.