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Seeking Snow in Capetown


Local skiers are self-taught, trading skill for panache. Copyright: Jacek Stankiewicz.When you think of wild Africa, what do you picture? Lions on the Serengeti? Gorillas in the Congo? Thorn trees stretching to the horizon? Snow-covered peaks alive with skiers?

 

What was that? Back up a minute.

No, you don't usually think of Africa and snow in the same breath, but at certain times of the year there are winter sports near Cape Town, the southern tip of the continent.

The city lies on the 34th parallel (south), the same latitude as Atlanta and Los Angeles north of the equator. Yet neither of these cities is known for its ski resorts. Cape Town is different. Just two hour's drive from the heart of the city, mountains up to 2,000 meters (6,000 feet) catch the cool trade winds off the Atlantic Ocean, turning the moisture into the magical white stuff.

As you'd expect, Cape skiing is different in several ways from the way the sport is practiced in North America and Europe. For a start, it takes place during our summer (their winter) in June-August. And it's informal, unlike the sophisticated packaging we are used to in the northern hemisphere. No hotels. No Jacuzzis. No nightclubs. No high speed quads. There aren’t even roads.

A map showing Capetown’s location on the African continent. Courtesy of Rick Hudson."Be prepared to climb," says my host, a bearded professor who is a member of the local university ski club. "From the cars, it's over a thousand meters to the hut."

A thousand meters? No lodge? No chalet? We're going to a hut. Well, I'm cool ... a hut sounds great to me. And once you are invited to stay there, it’s free. It's all part of Plan A (more about Plan B later).

"Bring food and drink," he advises, "and wear sensible boots." He has climbed extreme peaks around the world so I take his advice seriously. Sensible boots are ones that allow you to climb 3,000 feet on a steep trail, without getting blisters, and you can ski in them when you reach your destination. I guess I could wear hiking boots and take my Scarpas, but those plastic puppies weigh … a lot, and would fill up most of my pack.

The good news is, there's a little tow lift, and skis and poles at the hut, so we won't have to carry much. The bad news is, everyone gets off work late on Friday. We pile into cars and drive out to the mountains, crossing the twisting Bain's Kloof Pass in the dark. After turning off onto farm tracks we park our vehicles in a clearing in the bush, the only car park available.

"We walk from here," says my host. Two other skiers appear out of the gloom, packs already on. One leads us by flashlight along a shrubby path, which steepens after a short distance. Soon, it's a steady grind uphill. The moon sails into view over a black ridge and the valley is bathed in soft silvery light. Our pace is not fast, but steady. There are no stops until an hour later, when we arrive at a shack. This is Middle Hut. Nearby, there's a small brass plaque on the wall. By headlamp I read:

The way is high, and getting higher.
The road goes uphill all the way, and even further.
I wish you luck. You'll need it.

The way is dark, and getting darker.
The hut is high, and even higher.
I wish you luck. There is none.

"That doesn't sound too cheerful!"

 

"It's from James Thurber's The Thirteen Clocks," says the literary member of our group. "Sets the mood, doesn't it?"

Some distance above Middle Hut, the night air turns cold, and we meet our first patches of snow. There's excitement in the party. South African skiing is a hit-and-miss affair. Some years there's almost no snow; other years there are several good dumps over the winter and the action can last three months. Finding snow at this low altitude means there'll be plenty on top.

Pell's Hut on Waaihoek Mountain. Copyright: Jacek Stankiewicz.Soon, we're tramping through continuous powder. Tussocks of grass poke through, but the slope is getting smoother and whiter the higher we climb. The moon and snow make it unnecessary to use flashlights. It's a calm evening, and although it’s near midnight, I can think of nowhere else I'd rather be. The smells of earth and vegetation drift upwards on the night air from the valley.

At Point High, we cross the ridge. Just beyond lies our destination, Pell's Hut. The snow is deep, and crisp and even – the kind of powder Good King Wenceslas traipsed about in a millennium ago. There's a lantern burning in the window, and when the door opens, waves of warm air and hot food smells hit our frosty noses.

"Come in!" roars someone within, and we clamber over the others who are already packed into the tight confines of this stone-walled cabin. What the place lacks in sophistication, it makes up for in friendliness. Bottles appear from packs. In all my years of skiing, this is the only place where the avant-ski is as good as the aprés-ski.

The next morning it's clear and warm. The snow is smooth and icy in patches. There's no Monashee powder here. South Africans take what they can get, and the snow's often crusty first thing in the morning. With borrowed gear we ascend a further 150 meters (500 feet) to the summit of Waaihoek Mountain. The snow crunches under our boots. Far below, there are blossoms on the fruit trees in the Ceres Valley. We are in a world above, removed from the farms and forests below.

Top of the tow lift. Copyright: Jacek Stankiewicz.Most of the skiing takes place in an area known as Long Gully. The tow lift gets us to the top quickly, and by noon we've covered the area in tracks. The tow doesn't have a big height gain. It involves clipping on with a mechanical gripper, and then getting jerked forwards and being dragged up the slope on a rope. Considering that most of the local skiers are self-taught, it's amazing they manage to keep their balance during the sudden acceleration.

Still, it's the only place in the world I've skied for free (if you don't include the effort of carrying two liters of gas up a thousand meters for the lift motor part of the price). The air is warm, like the best spring skiing at Whistler (in June). Several people are in shorts and T-shirts, making the place look more like a beach than a winter wonderland. And you can't help noticing that one or two female students are working on their swimsuit tans, which adds to the illusion.

 

Which reminds me … as the afternoon progresses, it's time for Plan B. First, back to the hut, via Suicide Slope. The name is misleading. The locals, you understand, are not known for their prowess at the Winter Catching some air at Long Gully late in the season. Copyright: Jacek Stankiewicz.Olympics, so for them, skiing "the Slope" presents some challenges. But for a "northerner," Suicide is just a slalom between rocks (where the snow is thin) and some tight turns near the bottom.

Back at the hut, we grab a quick bite to eat, shoulder our packs, wave goodbye and head to the valley below. It's a half hour descent on pounding knees. Two hours later, under threatening clouds, we're at a vast, deserted beach.

Wriggle into wet suits, grab boards off the roof rack, and plunge into the waves. The wind is lifting and shaping the break perfectly. Once we're wet, what does it matter that the sun isn't out? As dusk falls we stumble back up the beach, with thoughts of a hot shower and warm bed to follow. What a climate! What a day!

Getting There:

 

From New York or Miami, South African Airways, Delta and Northwest fly direct to Cape Town. Or route via Europe using any of the trans-Atlantic carriers to London or Amsterdam or Frankfurt, and then use British Airways, South African Airways, Lufthanza or KLM to Cape Town.

For further reading, we recommend the Lonely Planet series. Relevant titles are: Cape Town; Africa – the South; and the Southern Africa Travel Atlas. They're packed with local information. On the web, there are numerous sites offering general and specialized information, such as www.sa-venues.com and www.shamwari.com. For flight deals, check out www.travelocity.com. Citizens of the USA, Canada and UK do not need a visa to visit for less than 90 days.

"That doesn't sound too cheerful!"

"It's from James Thurber's The Thirteen Clocks," says the literary member of our group. "Sets the mood, doesn't it?"

Some distance above Middle Hut, the night air turns cold, and we meet our first patches of snow. There's excitement in the party. South African skiing is a hit-and-miss affair. Some years there's almost no snow; other years there are several good dumps over the winter and the action can last three months. Finding snow at this low altitude means there'll be plenty on top.

Pell's Hut on Waaihoek Mountain. Copyright: Jacek Stankiewicz.Soon, we're tramping through continuous powder. Tussocks of grass poke through, but the slope is getting smoother and whiter the higher we climb. The moon and snow make it unnecessary to use flashlights. It's a calm evening, and although it’s near midnight, I can think of nowhere else I'd rather be. The smells of earth and vegetation drift upwards on the night air from the valley.

At Point High, we cross the ridge. Just beyond lies our destination, Pell's Hut. The snow is deep, and crisp and even – the kind of powder Good King Wenceslas traipsed about in a millennium ago. There's a lantern burning in the window, and when the door opens, waves of warm air and hot food smells hit our frosty noses.

"Come in!" roars someone within, and we clamber over the others who are already packed into the tight confines of this stone-walled cabin. What the place lacks in sophistication, it makes up for in friendliness. Bottles appear from packs. In all my years of skiing, this is the only place where the avant-ski is as good as the aprés-ski.

The next morning it's clear and warm. The snow is smooth and icy in patches. There's no Monashee powder here. South Africans take what they can get, and the snow's often crusty first thing in the morning. With borrowed gear we ascend a further 150 meters (500 feet) to the summit of Waaihoek Mountain. The snow crunches under our boots. Far below, there are blossoms on the fruit trees in the Ceres Valley. We are in a world above, removed from the farms and forests below.

Top of the tow lift. Copyright: Jacek Stankiewicz.Most of the skiing takes place in an area known as Long Gully. The tow lift gets us to the top quickly, and by noon we've covered the area in tracks. The tow doesn't have a big height gain. It involves clipping on with a mechanical gripper, and then getting jerked forwards and being dragged up the slope on a rope. Considering that most of the local skiers are self-taught, it's amazing they manage to keep their balance during the sudden acceleration.

Still, it's the only place in the world I've skied for free (if you don't include the effort of carrying two liters of gas up a thousand meters for the lift motor part of the price). The air is warm, like the best spring skiing at Whistler (in June). Several people are in shorts and T-shirts, making the place look more like a beach than a winter wonderland. And you can't help noticing that one or two female students are working on their swimsuit tans, which adds to the illusion.

Which reminds me … as the afternoon progresses, it's time for Plan B. First, back to the hut, via Suicide Slope. The name is misleading. The locals, you understand, are not known for their prowess at the Winter Catching some air at Long Gully late in the season. Copyright: Jacek Stankiewicz.Olympics, so for them, skiing "the Slope" presents some challenges. But for a "northerner," Suicide is just a slalom between rocks (where the snow is thin) and some tight turns near the bottom.

Back at the hut, we grab a quick bite to eat, shoulder our packs, wave goodbye and head to the valley below. It's a half hour descent on pounding knees. Two hours later, under threatening clouds, we're at a vast, deserted beach.

Wriggle into wet suits, grab boards off the roof rack, and plunge into the waves. The wind is lifting and shaping the break perfectly. Once we're wet, what does it matter that the sun isn't out? As dusk falls we stumble back up the beach, with thoughts of a hot shower and warm bed to follow. What a climate! What a day!

Getting There:

From New York or Miami, South African Airways, Delta and Northwest fly direct to Cape Town. Or route via Europe using any of the trans-Atlantic carriers to London or Amsterdam or Frankfurt, and then use British Airways, South African Airways, Lufthanza or KLM to Cape Town.

For further reading, we recommend the Lonely Planet series. Relevant titles are: Cape Town; Africa – the South; and the Southern Africa Travel Atlas. They're packed with local information. On the web, there are numerous sites offering general and specialized information, such as www.sa-venues.com and www.shamwari.com. For flight deals, check out www.travelocity.com. Citizens of the USA, Canada and UK do not need a visa to visit for less than 90 days.