Tribute to Table Mountain

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• 2 February 2012

Table Mountain, the only one of the provisional New7Wonders of Nature located in a city, holds a special place in the hearts of many Capetonians. This writer shares intimate childhood memories of Table Mountain. Here we publish an excerpt of her blog which was originally published on Alive East Bay.

My years on mother mountain

by Anita Venezia

I have a deep connection with Table Mountain – I was born and bred on her lower slopes.

My childhood years were spent as student boarder at a sandstone Catholic convent on Devil’s Peak, nestled in the mountain’s evening shadows. I had a front-row view of her magnificence, and still cherish My Mountain. It was recently voted one of the New7Wonders of Nature. Fancy that!

I remember a night there was a fire on the mountain – we girls were enthralled by the danger so close to us, watching flames silhouette burning trees as the fire licked cypress-covered slopes, consuming everything like a hungry monster. High winds whistled through our building’s cracks, and smoke filled the dormitories. The nuns told us to pray.

Evacuees arrived, telling us how bad it was. The sandstone school became a crowded refuge for strangers; it was all very exciting and dramatic, and we were mesmerised by the scorching mountain. The high winds finally died, fire brigades put out the rogue fires, the evacuees left and we schoolgirls talked about it for years.

The mountain constantly brandished her incredible splendour within arm’s reach; years in her evening shadows anchored me with a very powerful sense of place. From the playfield, I was starkly aware of her majestic presence – memorising ridges, gorges and iconic contours with my eyes, sketching her outline in my brain – now etched forever in my mind’s eye.

I finally hiked to the summit from Platteklip Gorge, trekking the path, anticipating the thrill, ready to purge my acrophobic fears and complete my quest.

Dare this writer attempt to describe the sensation of her first summit? It was awesome. Up until then, I had only seen the mountain from below. But I knew the legends, and when I stood on the vertiginous edge, my insides somersaulting, the ecstasy was beyond words – I had reached my own personal Everest.

I went to the plateau summit many times in my youth, by cable car and foot, but the most poignant trip was on the Kasteelspoort trail. I trekked with my friend, Midge (also born on the mountain), specifically to bid farewell to our beloved Cape Town. We had booked ship’s passage to England and were leaving.

My last journey before departure for Europe was emotional. Overlooking the most beautiful city, from the most magnificent mountain in the world, I was brought to tears as I bid Table Mountain goodbye.
As I embarked on a life of romantic wanderlust, I could only imagine what wonders lay on my own horizon. I bid my mountain birthplace and family a bittersweet farewell, and by year’s end I would turn 21 on the other side of the world.

Table Mountain was my last vision as the ship sailed north-west from Cape Town harbour, the sentinel fading and vanishing into mist, swallowed by distance, the tearful departure from my homeland serving as a metaphor for a new life.

Two decades later I returned to Table Mountain, a quasi-pilgrimage lending renewed poignancy to my birthplace milieu, evoking daydreams of my youth. Today I celebrate Table Mountain’s magnificence with the world, the storied marvel of South Africa’s Mother City – Cape Town’s own wonder of the natural world.