Mountaintop Lessons for the Valley Below

The tallest peaks I have ever seen belonged to mountains that made me. How I used to curse those steep slopes that taught me to touch stars.

-Jody Lynn-

It had been far too long since I last got high… on a mountain. The original plan was to ascend Sentinel Peak via the chain ladders and camp above Tugela Falls—reputedly the tallest waterfall in the world. I had actually hiked to the base of the falls just two weeks prior while camping at Mahai with the family. The hike from Sentinel car park to the top is the easiest way onto the escarpment without a helicopter. The trail is well-maintained and sees plenty of foot traffic. So, a WhatsApp group was created, 22 people were added, and the plan was announced. But alas, two weddings scheduled for that weekend kept many away (honestly, who plans a wedding over a prime hiking weekend?). Others bailed at the thought of the cold. Justine and I were still keen, but after chatting to Robs B—who was home from Croatia—we decided to try something none of us had done before. After tossing around a few ideas, we settled on Twins Cave in the Cathedral area, which had long been on our bucket list.

The Journey Begins

We spent Friday evening at Justine's—eating curry, catching up, and pouring over maps. That night, as I lay in bed, the early signs of a cold crept in. I even had a dream that I had to drop out of the hike. But no way was that happening. I was far too excited, and with just the three of us, I couldn’t in good concience leave the girls to go alone. Three feels like the magic number—wise, even. At 4:30 a.m. on Saturday, we were up and by 5, on our way to Didima camp. We signed the register at 7:15 a.m. and began our hike from Cathedral Peak Hotel at 8. As we left the hotel, a woman approached us, curious about our plans. Apparently, three girls with big packs heading into the mountains in mid-winter raises eyebrows. When we told her we were hiking “somewhere between 11–14 km,” she looked puzzled, like we were overpacked for such a short distance. But anyone who hikes knows that 1 + 1 often equals 5—distance rarely tells the full story of a hike’s difficulty. The first part of the hike was familiar, as we’d all done the route to Xeni Cave before.

Lost, Found, and Off-Trail

Here’s where things got interesting.

We were supposed to take a left onto the contour path at the river, before Neptune Pools and Marble Baths (not to be confused with the popular Injasuthi Marble Baths). But… we missed it. Instead, we found ourselves rock-hopping up the river. At first, we thought this detour was a great idea—we’d get to see Neptune Pools and Marble Baths and surely reconnect with the contour path afterward. Wrong. After a near tumble involving Robs B and a wobbly rock, we decided to leave the riverbed and bushwhack up a steep hill in hopes of rejoining the trail. We completely underestimated the hill. We huffed and puffed through long, dry grass, constantly thinking we’d reached the top—only to be wrong again and again. Justine got there first, then me, then Robs. It was the perfect spot for a lunch break and a much-needed breather. We spend so much time staring at our boots or the legs of the person ahead on these hikes, it’s easy to forget to look up and soak in the views.

The Giant: Mlambonja Pass

After a gentler meander along the contour path, we were treated to views of Mlambonja Pass—our giant. We saw two passes and, with my stellar sense of direction, I confidently pointed to the one on the left as our route. I was wrong again. Thankfully, that pass didn’t have a trail, and bundu-bashing was off the cards after our earlier scramble. Eventually, we found the correct path that skirted around a ridge and led us upward. Standing at the base, we braced ourselves. There were a few “I’m already buggered” comments, but we had a plan and daylight on our side. We weren’t turning back. The climb was long and steep. The initial section followed an overgrown trail beside the river, crossing it several times—sometimes because the path led that way, other times because erosion made the original route unsafe. All the while, we kept our eyes peeled for our cave. I’d seen photos of the cave and knew we needed to take a right before the top of the pass according to the map. Mlambonja (also known as Umlambonya Pass) means “hungry dog,” named for the lack of wildlife found there. At 3 km long with a 1000 m elevation gain, it's one of the longer passes in the Berg and certainly not for the faint-hearted. Hotel staff had warned us of icy patches and the possibility of snow, which added a sliver of apprehension. But the fresh mountain air soon melted that fear.

The Balance of Fear and Awe

You need both respect and confidence in the mountains. It’s taken me many trips to feel at home in this kind of terrain, but I’m under no illusion—one misstep can change everything. The wilderness holds unknowns that have cost even the most experienced adventurers their lives. Still, you can't live in fear. I’d rather have fewer years filled with life, challenge, and awe, than 85 years of playing it safe. As the quote goes: “It’s not about the days in your life, but the life in your days.” One of my mottos is “do dangerous things in a safe way.” I feel this is also a tactic that should be used in child rearing (not that I have any personal experience), but parents have taken on this “helicopter” style of parenting that I do not believe is truly in the child' s best interests, well-meaning as they may be. Children who never learn to climb trees, hop down a river on the rocks or even learn the right way to make a bonfire and to keep it from spreading, grow up with an irrational, and frankly unnecessary fear for these things that would actually enrich their lives, not to mention help with their cognitive development and physical capabilities, but I digress.

The Final Push

That final stretch of ascent really pushed me. I usually cope by looking around and soaking in the scenery, but with a sore throat and burning legs, that wasn’t cutting it. My pack felt Everest-sized with the 4.5L of water I was carrying. I whispered a prayer: “Lord, please give me the strength to get to this cave… and make it soon.” Justine, though small, is tough as nails. She quietly pressed on, map in hand, offering encouragement every few meters. She's one of those people who brings calm strength wherever she goes. Then came the shout I’d been waiting for: “I found the path to the cave!”

I followed her over the ridge and into the next valley—there it was, Twins Cave. Not quite where I’d imagined it, but exactly where it needed to be. Robs called from above, “Where are you guys?!” “Down to the right!” we yelled. We got to setting up camp as the sun dipped behind the mountains. Justine boiled water for coffee while Robs and I pitched the tents. I slept solo—trying to spare the others my sniffles and coughing fits.

Sunsets, Devotionals, and Gratitude

Two-minute noodles never taste better than on a hike. We slurped our supper, sipped coffee, and nibbled chocolate while watching the sun disappear behind the cliffs. The struggle softened. Gratitude took over. That night, I read a devotional I had saved for the hike. It spoke of how God often meets His people on the mountain—but also reminds us we’re not meant to stay there. We must take what we’ve learned back to the valleys, into the world, and be His hands and feet. It hit home. I tend to live from mountaintop to mountaintop and forget the in-between. But the in-between is life.

The Descent

We woke to hectic winds and a magnificent sunrise. After a quick breakfast and pack-up, we made our way down. Back at the hotel, looking decidedly unwashed, we got a few stares from the clean and cozy day hikers and guests. But nothing beats that moment when the boots come off and your feet finally breathe again. We cruised home, dreaming of future missions and giving thanks for this one—grateful for wild places and good friends.