Table Topper

Today we set off bright and early in our nice new rented car (for the week) as we set off to climb Table Mountain. As I've been getting up usually at around 10 / 11 (standard), the 7 o'clock start (after not getting much sleep as I was trying to watch Waterloo Road on a hooky internet feed that kept crashing) was a bit of a shock to the system, but off we went to the mountain.

Higher than anything in Britain, Table Mountain looks down on Cape Town, giving some fantastic views. While there is a cable car, I suggested we walked up (it would take a couple of hours) and get the cable car back down. This was agreed upon, so last night we looked up the relevant routes and dug out walking equipment. While for dad and myself this meant putting on relevant trainers, for Molly it wasn't so much. I would describe her shoes as 'slippers', whereas dad favoured 'espadrilles'. Either way, they didn't look as though they'd be able to traverse the steep climb that getting up the mountain required.

The climb started with a very steep rocky step thing that went straight up for a couple of kilometres. It was basically like climbing a massive rocky staircase for about 45 minutes. About 10-15 minutes in, and with Molly and mum already lagging well behind, they decided to turn back, realising if they couldn't handle the first part of the climb, they'd never be able to deal with the much greater challenges that lay ahead.

So after taking the wallet and the car keys, they set off back down the slope, and went to the beach. Dad and I trekked on.

After the initial steep climb, it all flattened out, and there was a long, straight walk around the side of the mountain to take us to a gorge. This was great, as it allowed us to get our breath back, and get into the walk. Slowly but surely, we started to see the car park and cable car station disappear further away, and the gorge come ever closer.

By now we were about 2/5s up the mountain, and at the bottom of the rather steep gorge. To get up it, we had to pretty much scale the sheer face of the mountain. The previously tricky 'staircase' at the beginning paled into comparison with the challenge of the gorge, with clambering up boulders the only way to get higher.

As gravity dictates that we couldn't really go straight up, we had to take a windy windy path on the rocks to get higher and higher. By now we'd been walking for about an hour, and it was getting tough. We had to keep stopping for increasingly regular breaks, first every 15 minutes, but by the end it was after every 15 steps. It was gruelling.

While I was able to stick in my headphones and listen to some music to sort-of distract me, dad didn't have that luxury, so we had to keep encouraging each other to keep us going. It was getting harder and harder, and dad was clearly feeling it. Slowly but surely the top got ever closer, and the fact that we were overtaking other climbers showed that we were going at a fair pace.

Much of doing what we did is a mental thing, and we kept having to break it down into small chunks. Towards the end, we were only really able to go for about 10 metres at a time, but every 10 metres we climbed was another goal checked off, and another 10 metres closer to the summit.

As I said, I'd had my iPhone in my ears, and on shuffle. While I'd sort of been zoning in and out of what was playing, after however long of climbing, I distinctly heard one song end and another start. It was (embarrasingly) Glee - with their cover of "Don't Stop Believin'". By now I was within touching distance of the top, and thought about having another break, but the sounds of New Directions powered me on to the top. With a second wind, and the cramps in my legs ignored, I burst towards the line, and made it.

I stood for a moment looking down at what I'd achieved, before I noticed dad. In my Glee filled moment of euphoria, I'd forgotten that I'd sort of left him gasping for air a bit further down, but seeing me on the top, he powered through his discomfort to join me on the top of the table. After posing for the obligatory photos on top of the mountain, we wandered over to the cafe for a fry-up, before catching the cable car down.

Or so we planned.

As we got into the cafe (it annoyed us that people were sitting there happily having got the cable car up, having struggled to climb it ourselves), dad realised that when mum and Molly had left our ascent party, they'd taken his wallet so they could hire some sun loungers. He checked in his pockets, and found he had 100 rands (about 10 pounds). For one adult to get down the cable car (which we needed to go home), it's 180 rands. So breakfast was out of the equation.

For a childs (under 18 ticket), it was 90. The plan was for me to go down, find mum and Molly, get the money and take it back up to him. For much of my time being 18 (as well as the 17 years before it), people haven't believed me when I say that I am 18. So convincing the lady who sells cable car tickets that I need a childs ticket shouldn't be a problem. She looked at me, and immediately said that I wasn't a child.

She is literally the first person ever to think that I am over 18 from looking at me, and with no money to get down, she was the worst person to start. Using all of my powers of persuasion and blagging skills, I somehow managed to convince her that I wasn't 18, and was actually 17. Somehow.

After asking me for ID to prove that I was under 18 (which I couldn't, as all the ID I have proves I'm over 18) I told her that "I don't have any ID as I haven't passed my driving test yet as I'm only 17". I'm very proud of that out and out lie which was thought very quickly on my feet. After she then asked me for my date of birth, I told her it was the 4th November 1993. She then said "so you must be 18 then, as this is 2011. 1993 was 18 years ago". I panicked - had I picked the wrong year? Then I realised, I was born in 1992 and I'm 18. My "18th birthday" will be in November. I pointed this out to her, and she gave me a childs ticket. As I took the cable car down, I smiled at the irony of the situation. I've sat in pubs aged 17 trying to convince people that I'm 18, but as soon as I'm 18 I'm trying to convince people I'm 17.

Anyway, after a bit of wrangling (I didn't need to get back into the cable car, a ticket was bought for dad on the ground and he came down pretty easily after), we set off home, and I slept for ages. I was knackered. We then had my first braai in South Africa, and now I'm writing this. For those of you who were wondering, thinking there was a difference between a barbecue and a braai - there isn't. Braai is just the Afrikaans word for barbecue. Which was a shame, as I thought there'd be something cool, new and exciting about having a braai. But it was literally just a barbecue. Nice though.

Until next time, Will