Hiking Olifanstriverdome – Koue Bokkeveldiking

Olifantsriverdome is the distinctive peak seen from the valley above Porterville, driving towards the Citrusdal. But the best way to access it is on an intricate route from the other side and approximately 75km north of Ceres.

Olifantsriverdome is on my Big Five Peaks of the Western Cape. It’s not an easy route to find but is a challenge for those adventurous, experienced mountaineers.

The last time I’d been there was in October 1998 when we thought we had arrived at the Dome but could not find the final rock scrambling ascent to the summit.

Because of the full day required to reach the peak and the long drive from Cape Town I put it on the calendar of the Stellenbosch section of the MC. Numbers on meets have been dwindling over the past year or more, so imagine my surprise when the final tally was 12 with another two being unable to join us because of transport problems.

Nico and Jeanette Holtzhausen, Riaan and Corrie Doorduin and me from Ste-section, Sandy Macdonald, Richard and Kathryn Lowndes (CT-section) and guests Edy and Ernst Burgi, Steve Wilson and John Spotton.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen it on the Cape Town section calendar,” said co-leader Sandy MacDonald. This was his first visit to the area but with his mountain savvy and route finding, not to mention his company; it was reassuring to have him along.

The weather report wasn’t bad, no rain or wind predicted but cool daytime temperatures and very cold on Saturday night, fine weather but windy on Monday.

After typing my fingerprints off and doing 1½ jobs for the past few week, I was in need of some R&R, but this was not to be.

First problem was that John (Spot) car broke down on the turn-off from the N1 to Wellington. An over-heated engine is serious so we hastily reversed our tracks making way to Sandy. After numerous phone calls we arranged alternative transport for the three of us.

Safely on the road again and driving through the scenic Bain’s Kloof Pass we came across a burning Golf. It must have started burning seconds before we arrived. Steve was incredible. Into the inferno he dived to rescue a woman who was either drunk, drugged or in severe shock.

I went to his aid and we physically restrained her from going to the car. With tyres exploding from the heat and flame we were concerned that the woman was trying to rescue someone inside the vehicle. Another car was just ahead of us and the male occupant, Stephen, called 101777 to be diverted to the area from the central point.

Within minutes of his call, a fire fighting vehicle came along and put out the fire. At the same time, a car arrived from the farm, the occupants had a fire hydrant and First Aid equipment and we placed an emergency blanket over the woman.

With nothing more to be done we set off to meet the four Stellenbosch section members, already more than an hour late.

Arriving in busy Ceres, our companions weren’t concerned about our late arrival because they used the time to visit friends.

The next concern was finding the right farm. Being an ex-Brit I’d had to find Afrikaanse-speaking colleagues to help me ask the farmer for directions. Normally I wouldn’t be concerned about this but two of the party, the Swiss Edy and Ernst, had planned to arrive late due to a previous engagement and I needed to give them clear directions. But, what with access being a “hot MCSA potato” what with increasing crime etc, I wasn’t keen on “pestering” the guy with numerous phone calls.

The farm wasn’t anything like what I remembered but fortunately the route was. And, as luck would have it, the two latecomers arrived just after we did.

“Shouldn’t we wait for them,” said Riaan as we found ourselves “slightly” off course in the riverbed on the ascent.

“Why,” thought I, “they don’t need a chaperone.” But inside, my sheepdog-leader instincts made me look back for them. Eventually and with a huge sigh I was happy when they were visible.

The slope was rugged but dotted with Cyclopia genistoides honeybush in full brilliant yellow bloom filling the air with fragrance.

John, Steve and I were in front and it was with “magnetite on the brain” that I came across the Chicken Coop. this was later dubbed the “honeymoon suite” by a certain Swiss charmer. This corrugated iron shelter, once enclosed by wire fencing, the remains of which can still be seen, was our godsend.

A river nearby and a few rocks to shelter us from strong, cold wind, the rest of the party set up a mini village of brightly coloured tents. (Why is it that people tend to camp next to each other? Apparently there were two snorers that night!!!!).

Once Steve, John and I had set up base in the chicken coop we made our way through a bottle (and I’m talking glass bottle, two of them in fact) of wine and Steve’s famous sample battles, this time not filled with olive oil but, thankfully, brandy. Oh yes, and supper was good too, cooked on Richard’s stove because I’d left my flame-throwing valve at home.

Woken during the night to affixation from being squashed between two men (I’m not complaining), imagine my surprise when I heard rain on the tin roof. “Surely not,” thought I, “Cape Town International airport can’t be wrong.” They’ve given me thunder and lightning predictions in the past, which I’ve almost-ignored only to find them spot on.

Saturday – a day in bed, just what the doctor ordered for this overworked journalist. “How can they be so wrong, with all that expensive equipment,” thought I watching the distant mountains fade and clear with rain squalls. We even had fine hail during the day!

For me, even going to the lou was a mission, held off for as long as possible, snug in my sleeping bag and sandwiched between two males. Eat your heart out gals!

Throughout the day we were entertained to a picture show of Spot’s holiday pictures of Ireland and Canada and Sandy’s verbal account of his trip “down under”. We read titbits from the Weekend Argus, later to be frozen, the Daily Telegraph and the more contentious Mountain Ears.

Plan b was to abort and go to Du Toit’s Kloof hut for a fire and a little comfort, but the feedback from the group wasn’t so good.

Eventually, around 2pm the four Stellenbosch section members announced that they were going down and “can’t make a commitment Spot” joined them. Thankfully he left the second bottle of wine and Steve and I soon set into our “stash” at 4.30pm.

Sandy spent most of the day sleeping. This we knew because of the gentle purr coming from his Bibler. Kathyrn and Richard spent much time with us, as did Ernst who, when asked about christening his new tent mumbled something about “too many clothes,” in his come-to-bed sexy accent.

Sunday – the night had been cold, in fact there was frost on the tents, but it was time to get the remaining six people on the road.

A 7am start was the goal but, as they stood around yakking, this was not to be. At 7.20 Steve and I set out, determined to find the way.

As we reached a sort-of plateau 30min later I did a little victory dance at finding the crucial point of the route - no GPS for this gal!

From here the fun starts, up, over, around mini-domes, misleading and tantalising. No wonder we thought we were at the Dome in 1998 - they all look the same. But with Sandy along, we realised that we weren’t at the correct Dome, which turned out to be a further two hours away from where we decided to turn back.

The group weren’t disappointed because the mountains were amazing, what with the route finding, the rock formations, the views. Yes, it’s a place to come back to, over and over again. It’s a place where no-one ever comes to. A place of exceptional route-finding, as shown by the people who found the route initially, and people like Kathryn who have been in these mountains most of their lives, people I admire.

Ok so we didn’t summit but we had fun, we relaxed, we experienced stuff.

Returning to camp Kathryn and I had our first “swim” of the season, although a very chilly one.

Back to camp to pack and eat whatever was left before the final descent and for some a quick dip. Welcome cold grapefruit and Hunter’s drinks provided by the Burgi’s before we parted company. Richard, Kathryn, Sandy, Steve and I stopped at the Prince Alfred Hamlet Hotel. The original plan was to hike the nearby Christie Prins Trail – another time……………………

For Sandy's pics visit

Some pix of the trip - for internet only, as on my site: sandyhikes.atspace.com /Olifants%20River%20Dome %20area%2022%20to%2024 %20Septem ber%202007/index.html There are a couple of other shots which I can forward to you (those that the Sniksy Censor Board would not pass for WWW publication....)