25/04/2025
Ever wonder who protects the mountain after dark?
SUMMIT 729 – The Stretch, the Spark, and the Silhouettes
Before I begin each summit, there’s a ritual I never skip: stretching at the base of the trail. It’s not a performance — it’s a necessity. Still, people often give me that look — like I’ve just landed from another planet. I get it. To the casual observer, it might seem odd. But what they don’t realise is what awaits them halfway up the mountain: steep inclines, unpredictable terrain, and the realisation that their body isn’t as ready as they thought.
With the number of injuries I’ve had to recover from over the years — ankle damage, tendon issues, back strain — I’ve learned that stretching isn’t just part of the warm-up. It’s about longevity. It’s about respecting the journey. Especially when the goal is 1,000 summits.
As I was stretching today, I noticed a couple sitting nearby. The man lit a cigarette. My first instinct was concern. Not judgement — concern. The fynbos is bone-dry this time of year, and just a little wind, a tiny lapse in attention, and we’re talking about the kind of fire that devastates ecosystems and risks lives. So I approached him and gently asked him to be mindful in this area. I know, I know — “protect your peace, pick your battles,” right? I’m working on that. But sometimes, responsibility speaks louder than comfort.
To my surprise, he responded kindly. And then came the unexpected connection — he’s Greek, living in Bremen, Germany. And here’s the twist: his origin is Kavala, the same town my father comes from. What are the chances?
And it doesn’t end there. At the end of December last year, I bumped into a couple from Greece at the summit of Lion’s Head — they were from Crete, where my mom is from. Different days, different people, same mountain. It feels like the universe is playing its own game of breadcrumb trails — tying me back to my roots in unexpected moments.
I ascended the trail with a bit more pace than yesterday. Felt solid. Reached the summit, soaked in the views, and captured a few photos — for memories and for proof, in case Strava ever decides not to log the climb.
The descent was steady. I made a conscious effort not to overdo it — preserving the knees is a big part of this long-haul mission. When you're chasing a 1,000-summit goal, it's not about going hard every time. It's about being smart. Efficient. Sustainable. This challenge is a marathon, not a sprint. Treat it accordingly.
As I made my way down the jeep track just after sunset, two figures appeared ahead of me — dressed in camouflage, silent, alert. Two members of the SANParks SEAM Team. I couldn’t help but smile.
These guys are part of SANParks’ Special Operations unit. The real mountain guardians. They’re the ones out here when the rest of the city has gone quiet — patrolling, protecting, responding. They are the backbone of real-time conservation and safety on this mountain.
And let me be clear: despite what some might think, I have no issue with SANParks Rangers. Quite the opposite. My respect for the rangers who are on the ground, day and night, is immense. These are the ones walking the trails. Taking the risks. Engaging the public. They are kind. Brave. Curious. Protective. Willing to learn and grow. They are in the trenches, doing the real work.
The frustration lies higher up the ladder — with those who control the policies, the resources, and the optics. Decision-makers who are more concerned with publicity than performance. Who deflect, block, or victimize themselves the moment the public raises concerns or offers ideas. I've dealt with this for eight years now. I’ve seen the pattern.
And here’s the truth: with the insight, care, and support of many others who’ve experienced the same, I believe we could help the leadership of SANParks — specifically at Table Mountain National Park — actually turn things around. Repair trust. Improve processes. Shift the focus back to what matters: conservation, safety, and community connection. All without the need for media spin.
Maybe one day I’ll write that article. Maybe a media house will give us the space to speak truth to power with the dignity the issue deserves.
But for now?
The focus is the next summit.
Eyes on 750.
One climb at a time.
Oh — and about those SEAM rangers? I took a silhouette photo of them as they walked into the fading light. That’s all I could capture — they need to protect their identities, and rightfully so. When I showed them the photo, they lit up. They were genuinely happy. They felt appreciated. And they deserve that moment of recognition.
So here’s to them — the ones who walk the mountain when the rest of the city sleeps.
Here’s to showing up when no one’s watching.
Here’s to the journey, and the lessons it brings — one summit at a time.
