The Garden Route still holds secrets we have long forgotten about. Nature still has the upper hand here and once you’re off the N2 (that nearly stretches straight through the middle of the Garden Route) kilometers of untouched forests, oceans and mountains unfold. A playground so rich in diversity you can’t be bored even if you tried, one that still demands a compass and a map for safety precautions at the best of times. One forest path easily looks like the next and getting lost, although a minute or two from civilization, is a sobering reality. Not to mention the animals that still wander these vast landscapes.
The Garden Route has a way of dishing up abundant pockets of remote wilderness spaces. Have you ever driven the N2 between Knysna and Natures valley? The amount of dirt roads leading to the greater Knysna, Harkerville, Plettenberg Bay and Crags area can’t be counted on one hand and once you turn off on one of them a network of secret adventures unfold. You won’t see the N2 anytime soon, whole days can be spent driving zigzags across remote landscapes without seeing another soul. The Garden Route really comes into its own when you approach it with a curiosity killed the cat attitude and loose plans (or none) just choose a general direction instead. Plans are bound to change and you are most likely to end up taking part in an activity you didn’t see coming when you left the house this morning at 5am. Live a little I’d say. Who knows, you might end up abseiling down a cliff in your Sunday best or running a really good trail you stumbled upon in your beach and snorkel gear, you might even end up in some interesting situations with the locals around these parts. The Garden Route might have a lot of touristy things on the internet, but the real secrets are shared among the locals who live there and by locals I mean the fauna and flora too. For these secrets to find you, you have to relinquish control, take it real slow and become a participant of your surroundings. Take that turn off.
Running has been a part of my life since childhood. It all started with winning a few sprint races at school. At a later stage my love for longer distances surfaced and realizing that both long distance and sprinting was something I enjoyed was a welcome discovery. The rush of sprinting, the strategy and planning of long distance. It also gave me hours of training time to just be in my head. Socializing didn’t come easy, so training was my preferred diversion. Over the years running has taken me to some incredible places and those places were explored and discovered on foot – it’s the best way to get to know a place intimately because its slow, steady and within ones own capacity. Get dropped off somewhere and run your way home, it’s a great way to settle your inner compass geographically or get horribly lost, fun either way.
Coming to Knysna, a familiar playground, over the December holiday period makes it easy to know which trails to do when, in order to skip the crowds and still know every drop, uphill and turn on the route as if no time has passed. The trails here, the landscape, the fauna and the flora has settled in my bones. My lungs breathe deeper, my heart beats slower and a peacefulness cloaks my being. On my way back from visiting friends one afternoon, I stopped over at an all time favorite trail called Perdekop. A 9.5km forest meander and the following story came to mind.
About four or five years ago, maybe six the love for trail running brought some pretty rad humans into my life while living in Knysna. On a Friday afternoon after work a bunch of us would head out to Die Kringe in die Bos trail, a 9km indigenous forest hiking trail in the heart of the Knysna forest. This 9km trail became our weekly trail running time trial and a brilliant way to end the week and start the weekend. A gathering of like-minded people with a love for the outdoors and running. Beers and banter was part and parcel afterwards. Come rain or shine, summer or winter, light or dark we gathered and ran. A more neighbourly, wholesome and caring running community I haven’t met and it’s something I miss dearly. I’ve been a solo runner for most of my time I have spent running trails, but living in Knysna and the Garden Route changed that. Moving to Cape Town has instilled that solo running notion once again, so its without question that I make use of my time here on the Garden Route properly.
Most of us were fortunate enough to run our own businesses, which meant taking the time to run the time trial was seldom missed. We lived for this get together. Families, singles, couples and farmers all joined in, in hindsight I distinctly recall a lady from a near by farm expressing her gratitude for this time trial get together as she can’t run here on her own after a full day of work on the farm. With a curious look on my face I asked why and she said: “After dark leopards still roam here”. Needless to say I stuck closely to the guy in front of me that evening.
A few weeks later, the stories of roaming leopards were long forgotten. The time trial was well on its way to becoming second nature, by now we knew the trail so well the only thing we had to think of was chasing down PBs on pristine forest singletrack. On this particular afternoon, due to deadlines and last minute clients popping in at my jewellery studio and shop on Thesen Island, Knysna I got away later than desired. I made a calculated decision to get there anyway even though seasons were changing and long sunny afternoons were shortening plus, a forest gets darker sooner than the last light fading on the horizon. Half an hour drive to get there, twenty minutes if I push it, I seldom push it time wise, I moved to the Garden Route for the slow life remember. I was already wearing my headlamp and pack, the logic behind it was shaving minutes off the phaffing part of getting ready and geared up but it just turned out to be a rather uncomfortable drive, haha. The car park was eerily empty, everyone already running their little hearts out. Dusk was lurking across the forest canopy. Last light whispers: “After dark leopards still roam here”. I wasn’t entirely comfortable setting off but convinced myself that the rest of the crew being out there is enough of a safety precaution. Here in the Garden Route its not the people we are cautious of on trail but the animals that roam these parts, so wonderfully wild that this ratio still exists.
The trail starts with a jeep track leading in the direction of the river, a few meters in branches crack within in ear shot, I can’t see any movement but elephants come to mind (it is the Kringe in die Bos trail after all, if you haven’t read the book, you should!). The sound of a bigger than usual life form moving through its terrain. The sound went over my head and carried into the sky. I decide density is safer somehow and carried on running to find the single track leading down to meet the river. By now the adrenalin was pumping, on edge and desperate to turn around and accept defeat, I push on.
Night falls, I have a good rhythm going, headlamp lighting my way and I am in single track heaven. Dense forest on either side, brushing the skin on my arms and legs every now and then. Forest floor under foot, each step kicking up layers of indigenous mulch. My breathing settles, my feet and breath align. At night the forest levels the playing field by closing in on me, the world becomes small and intense I think to myself. We are brave and bold in our forward motions when we can see our way ahead, timid and cautious in the face of the unknown. I felt small, outnumbered and alone. I try focus on the moment, the only thing I can see, the single track in front of me. Having spent a lot of time running solo, I have become accustomed to the sounds my feet, the clothes on my skin and my breath makes when I run. The sounds under foot in forest, mountain, sand or gravel. Running is a rather holistic activity for me, it really takes the collective to run with rhythmic ease.
So imagine my surprise when a sound I haven’t heard before makes its way into my sound sphere, on the left of me. A feeling I can only describe as familiar but I truly have only experienced it in the ocean when a shark swims by. It’s not a sudden panic, it’s a colossal dense cloak of encapsulating soberness, a deep knowing that I just lost my spot at the top of the food chain. The knowing is a feeling and this feeling sits in the body, the body is no liar. Everything becomes crystal clear and instinct cuts the air with higher grade precision. I tried not vary from the rhythm I was keeping partly to stay present, keep myself from lung collapsing panic and partly to figure out if I was imagining things. My brain was grabbing at solutions, trying to draw those lines to match a picture of an animal to the sound it makes in coloring books (shows you where I learnt my survival skills). The tough part was that this animal wasn’t making a sound, all I knew for sure was that I just stepped into the presence of something majestic. It was stealthy, moving effortlessly through the dense forest. Almost no sound to its footsteps. It knew its terrain well. I noticed the sound for the first time when my running shorts sounded extra frictiony, a sound my brain put into pictures as a royal four footed animals fur touching as the animals legs move past it’s chest and pelvis area as it jogs along. Fur friction. When my brain made that connection I knew the saying of leopards roaming here after dark was about to become a reality.
I could hear it running next to me, an extra swoosh and slight brush of undergrowth that couldn’t come from me. A buck would move erratically at the sound of my presence, so would a bush pig and most certainly be slightly scared of me. Prey protects itself, stop in its tracks and turn around to create distance between us. A hunter moves in. I was the prey in this equation, how to put buck like space between us, I wasn’t sure. These were the theories running through my mind. I kept pace as best I could, zoned into the sound to make sure I am hearing everything. I stop. The presence stops. My heart beat pounds in my ears. I am high on adrenalin. I run. The presence runs. I stop. It stops. I run. It runs. I stopped, put my headlamp off, then remembered these majestic beasts can see in the dark, it’s a cat Stef put your headlamp back on, the only real space I could create between us was to blind it if it came to that. I didn’t dare look in the direction of it, in fear the light catching its eyes and then I would know for sure. By now the halfway mark just passed me. I was in the middle of the trail with a possible leopard sizing me up. I wanted to disappear into thin air. I just stepped into a situation I have never experienced before, no memory bank to pull from, pure instinct and the stench of fear.
I forced myself to stop and stand to regulate my breath. To decide what I needed to do. I was halfway from anywhere. Start and finish. I didn’t have a choice. I had to get myself out of there and the only way to do that was to keep running, gently and slow. At that point the animal moved closer, I could hear it to the left of me, the forest gently caressing its fur, pushing through the undergrowth. It came closer but stayed hidden. The sound of its movements were fading forward, away from me. As if desiring to cross the path but not quite sure if it should risk the clearing and be seen. I stood for a long while, logic and imagination having a good old boxing match. I made my decision. I needed to keep running. I couldn’t make a noise and shout for help, instinct asked me not to, there was only enough air for breath in my lungs anyway. I looked back, looked forward, took a deep breath and as I was about to start running my headlamp caught the spots. The leopard braved the clearing and crossed the path. I had four and a half kilometers still to cover, now was a good time to get going. I ran slow and steady. The sound of the leopard running now shifted to my right, I ran rhythmically alongside it, how I am not sure but it happened, for a moment we shared the forest in complete rhythmic unison. Then I was alone. I just stood there, bewildered, mystified, in awe. My legs felt like jelly and the night more wild and alive than ever before.
I ran back to the start, adrenalin fading fast and my legs felt like lead. I stumbled over every root and stone, clumsy and out of sorts. I heard my name being called in the distance, it pulled me right out of from my overridden imaginative fearful state as if abruptly woken from a dream. One of the crew got worried and back tracked the trail to come find me. Once he reached me my eyes were wide as saucers and I was white as a sheet, I couldn’t get the words out. He gave me one look, asked if I was ok, I nodded and he paced us back to the car park. I love my running crew.
The privilege of this experience still humbles me to the core. Was it real or was it make-believe. If elephants can disappear here for weeks or months or years imagine the life a leopard lives without being known to man. I salute the Garden Route.
2 responses to “GARDEN ROUTE ENIGMAS”
Oh wow – heartvstoppingly beautifull!!
What an experience…..
Wow! How incredible.