Day 2

Tuesday, October 8

Schoenstatt to Silver Tree Estate

30k/18mi, 9 hours

Sunny & Pleasant

 

Today was the hike up Elephant’s Eye, a sacred cave at the end of a very challenging trail. Cynthia and I had both been concerned about doing such a long and rigorous hike on the second day of our pilgrimage before we had a chance to settle into our pilgrim bodies and rhythms. When I walked two years previously, we saw Elephant’s Eye in the far distance. It looks like an elephant’s head, the cave its eye. Because it was a sacred site for the original indigenous people of the area, it seemed like it would be a good addition to the Cape Camino route. In my research before the walk, I read the hike was easy on one route, moderate on another. That it would take a couple of hours. That it was child friendly. When I received the itinerary from Cape Camino and it said the day would be 27k, I was confused. Cynthia was concerned enough she contacted them, wondering if it was a mistake. 

 

Because the day was forecast to be hot, and because it was going to be a long walk, Faizel met us at 6:30 a.m. It was still comfortably cool, shirtsleeve weather, as we started out. We walked through very fancy neighborhoods and lush urban trails as we approached the foot of the mountain. There was one bathroom stop at a coffee shop on the way. I would have loved to stop, get a real coffee and a pastry, to fortify before the hike. Because we didn’t want to be hiking up in the heat, that didn’t happen.

 

As we approached the bottom of the mountain, we could see clouds swirling at the top. We couldn’t see the eye for the mist. Faizel was a little concerned about the safety of hiking in the fog, but we proceeded hoping it would clear. Just before we arrived at the entrance to the trailhead, a baboon ran across the road right in front of us. Everyone stopped to watch it, not showing much concern. The people working on the side of the road said it was a common sight as there was a troop living in the area. It was 8:30. We had been walking for two hours before we even started up the mountain. 

 

Faizel was enjoying the build-up to the hike, making it sound harder than hard, laughing at us when we looked up the beginning of the trail and groaned. Straight up. Well, not straight up, but steep enough that we knew we were in for some pain and sweat. He had chosen the longest and steepest route for us, not either of the two easier ones I’d read about. He had no answer for why we weren’t doing one of those, except to say he was doing what Cape Camino asked. I was torn between wanting the fog to stick so we’d have to turn around, and not wanting to miss out on finishing. 

 

The climb was steady and steep, often very rocky and uneven. We had to use our hands to assist more than once. The fog began to dissipate and was always in front of us. It did keep the air cool so our sweating was from exertion and not the sun. Every so often we’d emerge at a road that offered the hope of some flat walking, only to be directed with a fair amount of glee to the trail that continued up. It was hard. But it was also fun. My body was fine, remembering the steep hikes I’d done the summer before. The views were incredible, even though it was very misty in the distance. A lizard eyed us suspiciously as we passed him. The plants were interesting and at one point we found one single brilliant fuchsia flower shining at the side of the trail. 

 

We stopped to rest at a crossroads. Faizel pointed out the path to the easier start. We asked if we could go down that way and at first he refused saying we had to go down the way we came up. Both Cynthia and I were concerned about the steepness of the descent done on tired legs, especially knowing our walk wouldn’t be finished at the bottom, so we pushed. We didn’t care it would add 3k to the day, figuring it would ultimately save time, and possibly our lives. He eventually gave in, and said we could go down the easier way.  Somehow knowing we had that ease to look forward to made the rest of the hike up a little less daunting. 

We only saw two other people on the trail, and they were coming in from the easy start. As we got close to the cave, we saw two young men seated at easels just off the trail, painting the cave. The cave itself was tall and narrow, very rocky and smelling deeply earthen and ancient. We congratulated ourselves at getting there in one piece, and marveled at the wonder of the place. Faizel told the legend of Elephant’s Eye as we sat catching our breath and letting the sweat cool. His version of the story involves a princess kept in the cave by her father away from the man she loved. Her grief was so great her tears formed two streams that flowed down the mountain to form Princess Vlei, a tear-drop shaped lake at the foot of the mountain. 

 

While Faizel and Cynthia rested and chatted, I climbed up into the cave. There was nothing extraordinary to be found, but I was happy for the scramble and that I had the energy for it. We ate our lunches overlooking the city, contented in that singular way you get after a hard hike accomplished. When we headed back down, I stopped and chatted a bit with the artists. Both seemed talented to me and I was impressed with their styles, and wished, not for the first time, that I had enough artistic talent to do what they were doing. 

 

The descent was pleasant and short. Once we reached the alternate path, we got to walk flat for a while, but then found ourselves climbing again. The terrain was easy, but our legs were not happy with more climbing. Eventually we arrived at the trailhead at Tokai Park where most people begin the hike. What we didn’t realize right away was that we still had 5k to go and most of it was on a busy winding highway with narrow shoulders and no shade. That it was downhill seemed little consolation as trucks and cars came roaring at us while we stayed as far at the edge of the tar as we could. The blind curves were the scariest. The blasts of wind caused by the speeding vehicles only made the heat worse. By the time we reached the town of Silver Lake below, I was sweaty, tired and grumpy, all the fun completely leached out of the day. 

 

As we trudged our way toward a destination that seemed never to grow closer, I quietly fumed. It was only the second day of the walk and already it felt like Cape Camino had not thought out the route very well. My unwavering faith in them had been dented even before the walk when I learned that I was only getting 37 days instead of the promised and advertised 40. Faizel’s making fun of us felt more pointed than playful. All of my pre-pilgrimage commitments to not try to shape events to my preference, to accept whatever came my way as teacher, to meet adversity cheerfully, seemed naïve and ridiculous in that scorching, scary, frustrating hour it took us to finally arrive at our destination. I even considered ending the pilgrimage there, spending the rest of my time in South Africa visiting with friends and exploring on my own. And telling travel stories on Facebook. 

 

Our place for the night was in a gated and high security community. Once the uniformed and unsmiling security guys let us through and gave us the luggage that had been dropped at the gate, we made our way into the high-end neighborhood, hauling our suitcases behind. Faizel left us at the gate and promised to meet us there in the morning. It was unclear whether he wasn’t allowed in, or whether he was as finished with the walk as we were. We were given verbal instructions at the gate about how to find our house, and an address. The first house we stopped at with the correct number turned out to be on the wrong street. The next house with the right number was the right house, we hoped. No one was home and there was no note. The doors and windows were all open, so we went in. After exploring a bit, and unsure what we were meant to do, we settled ourselves on the patio and messaged Cape Camino for help. 

 

It turned out our host, Shiela, had WhatsApped Cynthia earlier in the day with clear directions to the house and all we needed to know about settling in. Cynthia was having battery issues and hadn’t checked her messages all day. Eventually we accessed the message and got ourselves sorted. We were in a beautiful light and airy home that felt like a retreat. There was a sweet little garden to wander and gorgeous outside seating areas. We each had our own room and bathroom with luxurious linens. We spied a washing machine and wondered if we’d be able to use it as we both had been traveling for nearly a week without laundry access. 

 

In that space of time between our arrival and Sheila’s, I wanted to get on Facebook so badly it surprised me. I recognized I was looking for comfort, some form of normal, to ease the discomforts of the day. Not the physical discomfort so much as the turmoil rattling my insides. It’s possible I was also looking for allies, for someone to tell me I was right about the unreasonableness of the structure of the day’s walk. I resisted. I rested (legs up the wall). I read (No Two Persons by Erica Bauermeister – a novel that would turn out to be an important part of this pilgrimage experience). 

 

We had been told there were restaurants within walking distance outside the gates of the neighborhood. However, we were tired and it was hot and we didn’t want to risk walking in a strange neighborhood at night, or run the gauntlet of the security back in. So we decided to make do with leftover pizza from the night before and the snacks we each had in our packs. 

 

Sheila, our host for the night, arrived as we were settling in. It turned out she lived in the home; her bedroom was the locked room at the back of the house. She was warm and welcoming, a gentle soul. She allowed us to use her washer, and gave us space on her clothesline to hang our wash. I had set the leftover pizza on the counter, preparing to warm it for our dinner once we were clean and rested. When she saw that, she seemed shocked that was our meal choice, and invited us to join her for her dinner. 

 

That act of kindness brought me to tears. On the Peninsula leg of the Camino, pilgrims are expected to find their own dinners. On the rest of the Camino, the hosts provide dinner. It was one of the things I struggled with the first time I walked. That time I did the Peninsula at the end of the walk, which is how Cape Camino has it set up. After weeks of being hosted with incredible generosity and care, it was a real challenge to switch to the self-sufficiency and energy necessary to find food after a long walking day. Sheila’s offering of mercy, on this day especially, was no small thing.

 

The dinner turned out to be a miracle of connection and comfort, and one of the enduring memories of the walk. We ate at her outside table, the warm evening air losing light gradually as our conversation flowed. The simple meal of fresh bread, homemade kombucha, green salad and tuna salad was nourishing for both body and soul. Sheila revealed herself to be a yoga teacher, a retreat leader, a person much like Cynthia and Caroline with a strong service orientation. Listening to them talk about the ways they were working to bring light and peace to South Africa was a comfort and a privilege. They are both strongly Catholic and found a firm foundation in their faith. That religious security is not something I have, and I was fascinated how it fed them and their efforts. 

 

When it got too dark to see each other at all, we cleared the table and went inside. Vanilla ice cream cones for dessert, a simple childhood pleasure, seemed the perfect end to a complex and confusing day. We took our not-quite-dry laundry from the line so Sheila could hang her own laundry. I draped clothes everywhere in my room, enjoying the smell and the little bit of pioneer feeling it gave me. Bedtime was just as simple. I slipped between crisp sun-smelling sheets and fell asleep, utterly exhausted and completely spent, without reading or wishing for anything other than what I had in that moment.