“PROUD TO VISIT THE MARGINS OF DEATH”
ER
Legends of the Drakensberg
Once
in a while the mountaineering world throws up a climber who, with no
training or experience, produces the most sensational climbs from the
very start of his climbing career, individualists who break all the
rules, and yet who “get there”. Of such was George Thompson.
Thompson was
quite the most extraordinary climber ever to visit the KZN Drakensberg.
He was a New Zealander who came out to this country in the early
1940’s. Fair haired, wiry, tough, he pitched up one day at Cathedral
Peak Hotel and asked for a job. George was bricklayer by trade, and a
deal was made. The only problem was that he had a bad heart, but he set
to work. He was about 40 years of age.
George had
never climbed a mountain in his life before, though in New Zealand,
where he was a keen fisherman, he used to descend difficult rocks to
out-of-the-way fishing spots. In the intervals of building he would look
up at the majestic peaks around him, and he soon decided to have A
crack at them. He did not know the first thing about mountaineering. He
did not know that you should never climb alone. He did not even know
that you should always use a rope, especially for the descent, until the
fellows of the Natal Mountain Club got hold of him and taught him. But
he tackled alone, and without rope, and conquered, peak after peak in
the Drakensberg that had never been climbed before.
In spite
of his bad heart he had tremendous energy and stamina. He was known to
set out from the hotel at first light with a couple of companions, climb
several peaks steadily, and without a break throughout the day, and
arrive back just before dark. His companions were exhausted, but George
promptly attacked a four-course dinner, and then danced well on into the
small hours.
His most remarkable climb was undoubtedly that of the Column.
Have you ever seen the Column? It towers up, a terrifying 500 meters,
from the Tseketseke valley, 500 meters of sheer, incredible rock, like a
huge, protruding fang. Half-way up the face is protracted on all sides
by a tremendous overhang. It had never been climbed, and according to
every knowledgeable expert, never would be.
One day
in December 1945 George decided to have a go at it. He persuaded
another young fellow to go with him, and together they made their way to
the foot of the peak. Arrived there, his companion took one look at the
staggering precipices towering into the sky above them, and said “Not
on your life! You can break your neck if you want to, but not me!”
So George
proceeded to climb the peak alone, and without rope. Slowly, inch by
inch, he worked his way up the sheer face of the peak, up and over the
overhang, across the final slabs with scarcely a toe-hold, while his
friend watched, spell-bound, from down below. At last he heaved himself
over the final rocks on to the summit, and stood there, the first human
being to do so, a tiny speck against the sky.
If the
ascent had been extraordinary, the descent, without rope, must have
been terrifying, even for a man of George’s iron nerve. Soon after he
left the summit on the way down, he lost his route. He found himself on a
narrow ledge, less than a meter wide, with no way down from it and no
way of reversing his climb and climbing back. He was alone, on top of a
most exposed, detached peak, without a rope, and a sheer drop of 500
meters below him. The only hope was another ledge, about 3 meters below
him, equally narrow. He knew he would have to jump it, and he knew with
cold certainty, that it would be almost impossible to keep his balance
once he landed on the ledge. But below that was a small bush, in a
chimney, 12 meters down. He calculated that if he went over the ledge he
might manage a “controlled fall”, with arms and legs pressed against
the walls of the chimney, and that with luck he might be able to grab
the bush as he falls past it. He didn’t liked the look of it, but said
to himself, “George my boy, the longer you look at it, the worse it
gets, so – just you jump!” He jumped, landed on the ridge, grabbed at a
tuff of grass, which came away in his hand, and slid right down into the
chimney. But as he went down he was able to grab at the small bush, and
this saved him. He had sustained a nasty cut on the leg and was badly
shaken, but that didn’t worry George! Calmly he continued his descent.
His next
pitch was an “F” standard grass pitch, 45 meters long, and horribly
steep (an “F” standard grass pitch is more dangerous even than “F”
standard rock, for rock is at least firm, while a grass slope at that
angle offers neither foot nor hand-hold.). This was nearly as unpleasant
as the chimney down which he had fallen, but he managed it, and then
continued steadily on down severe rock until, several hours later, he
was down and off the mountain. Two years later Jannie Graaff called the Column “In all probability the most difficult peak in the country.” And it had been climbed by a novice, solo, and without a rope!
The Column taught George a lesson. It was after this that he began to learn the technique of roping, and soon he became an expert.
We
as hikers, explorers, and adventurers have the absolute duty to respect
and protect our Wildernesses. Nobody else will do it for us. Take
ownership!
The End.
Safe Hiking.
References and Acknowledgements
From the book – “Barrier of Spears” – RO Pearse
Photos: ©W Pelser
Compiled by: Willem Pelser
