A Sharp Decline

We have just been to Hel and back.  There is only one way in – a treacherous, seemingly never-ending, winding road with dangerous corners and ledges that are too close for comfort, and there is only one way out – returning up that self same dangerous route.

We journeyed there for a few reasons.  The scenery was, apparently, breathtakingly beautiful and the destination promised to be an oasis of tranquillity.  We were lured with images of complete sanctity, and of a challenge to travel a road fuelled by adrenalin.

The road to De Hel is only 37 km long.  There is a sign post at the start informing travellers that the route will take over 2 hours to complete. 37 km – that seemed doable.  The road is a rough stone path with a river or two to cross.  We lurched from side to side, inching forward for what seemed forever.  Just as we hopefully crested another pass, hoping to see the river bed, more mountain ranges and winding roads snatched all hope that the journey would ever end.  It did of course, after many false hopes and some despair.

The final pass, called Eland’s Pass, was the most harrowing (and breathtaking) of all.  Sheer cliff faces with hairpin bends made for a rapid descent and a sharp decline.  At this point we were grateful not to meet any other vehicles – someone would have to give way, and there was no place to go.

We stayed in the valley overnight at a Cape Nature cottage.  It was a further 10 kilometres into the reserve, but the end was in sight.  A handful of cottages have been restored sympathetically to their 1800s construction.  It is hard to believe anyone would choose to live there (a couple of families still do).

Cape Nature had left a few books in the living area of the cottage.  One was the visitors’ book, which warned guests about the danger of baboons invading the house if they smell food.  Another was a coffee table type book that explored the Karoo region.  The page about De Hel said something like:- If you have the time to go to De Hel, rather use that time more wisely and go somewhere else!!!

The trek out of the valley was less daunting.  We left behind the cries of the baboons, the arguments the other family staying near us had in loud voices, and the desolate environment.  We were familiar with the route and could look forward to a village stayover that evening in a more comfortable place.

The whole adventure is a metaphor for me.  The road into dark places is uncomfortable and dangerous.  There is no warm welcome at the bottom, and the only way out is to travel back along the same track, clinging on to familiar markers and hope of gentler place to stay when we emerge.

The best, of course, is to take the guide book’s advice and use the time more wisely by going somewhere else, but that is not always possible.  Use the hiking rules if you find yourself embarking on this journey – never ever travel alone, always tell a friend where you are going, keep three points of contact with the ground at all times, and take some warm clothing. 

Winding road down into De Hel valley

I am glad I have seen De Hel.  We can tick it off the bucket list.  It was not kind to glucose numbers (which may have been elevated to start with because of a zip line adventure at the Cango Caves earlier that day…..).But we took some photos of the stunningly beautiful nature and have lived to tell the tale.

In the next blog I will tell you all the wonderful things we did on this road trip.  I just had to get this out of my system first.......!

Slender threads

Until last Thursday, TD had long, long hair.  She cut it short after much anticipation (and some angst) and gave the pony tail to CANSA - the Cancer Association of South Africa.  They make wigs for people who lose their hair during chemo treatment.  She has wanted to do this for a couple of years now as a thoughtful, personal response to people living through cancer.  Most people  have been touched by cancer in some way - through a family member, friend or colleague.  Awareness about cancer and its treatment is growing, in part because the media have demythologised it, but mostly because people are less afraid to talk about it and more open hear what treatment is available.

Other equally potentially deadly diseases do not receive such attention.  Why do some illnesses still have stigmas attached to them, sometimes even blame.  Why are people quick to judge others who are ill, why do we even have a label called "Lifestyle diseases"?  Much publicity around diabetes  seems to have an admonishment with it.  A radio advert running on our airwaves at the moment says something like: "Do you have a glass of orange juice for breakfast, and energy drink on the way to the office, cola with your lunch?  Do you know you are setting yourself up for diabetes type 2?"  The advert is from the government justifying the proposed sugar tax.   People look at TD and assume unhealthy eating habits caused her pancreas to stop functioning.

Another illness that people don't want to talk about is depression.  Despite alarming statistics - about 7 out of 100 people suffer from depression at some time in their lives - it is whispered about with eyes averted as if it is something to be ashamed about.  I was thinking about this because depression, like cancer and diabetes, can be life threatening if not treated.  A week ago, a class mate of TD took her own life.  She was only 14.

We need to talk.  We need to destigmatise ALL illness.  We need to be more compassionate, less judgemental. We need to be kinder  - to others and ourselves.

Life can be a slender thread.  We can be hanging on,  hoping the thread holds, hoping others see that it is fraying.  Let's use our slender threads collectively to create a interwoven rope of support.

I hope whoever gets the wig made from TD's hair magically absorbs the love and support which comes with it. Every time I look at TD, I see strength and compassion and great beauty in her short hair.  And I want to hold her tightly and keep her safe.