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I guess since it is the end of the year, it is only customary to look back on the days gone by, take stock and evaluate one's life up to this point. It has definitely been a hectic year for me and the path was filled with roses and rose thorns.

The last couple of weeks I've been thinking, and reliving, a lot of the events of the past year. And with each memory that surfaces, I ask myself: What did I learn? Did I grow? Did I handle each event according to my moral principals? What could I have done differently? But I think the most important question off all of these, to me, is: Did I grow? Happily, the answer to this question is yes.

I think I will liken this past year to being in a tumble dryer, strapped to a rolercoaster. Out of the good things that have happened this year I would count: getting my masters degree (finally), falling in love, going overseas, earning my independence ( i.e. getting a job), discovering three new activities (rock climbing, ballroom dancing & Ultimate Frisbee), doubling the amount of friends I have, earning the respect of my parents and not going insane :-) But of the above, one stands out above the rest, namely my friends. I do not have a lot of friends, it just isn't in my nature. But those that I count as friends I consider to be closer than blood. But there is one level above even that. It is the kind of person that I trust enough to put my life in their hands, and vice versa. Up until this year there has only ever been one person that I have shared that kind of bond with. So I truly count myself as blessed when I can say that that number of persons has now risen to two.

Fortunately, life is not just made up of good and orderly events. It is through the chaos and hardships in our lives that our mettle is tested and that we are presented with the opportunities to grow. Truyly, there were times this year when I had felt the jaws of true despair closing on me. I learned of setbacks, boredom, frustration, heartache, death, loss, failure, exhaustion (physical, mental, emotional), disappointment (in myself and others) and anger.

Happily I got through it all, the good and the bad. And in such a way that I can look myself in the eyes in the mirror each night. I learned three very important things this year. I would rather die than give up, what it takes to be a man and lastly what makes me happy.

And that is about it, I guess. Time for a new year.

-- Ruadh gu brath!

1 Down, 4 2 Go

It's official, the first of my cousins is down and out of the bachelor's life. On Sunday, at 17:23, my cousin and his lovely bride said their vows and were officially joined in the holy state of matrimony in the eyes of God and country. And then the party started :-)

Actually, the whole weekend was one HUGE party. Oh my word, but those westcoasters know how to have a good time. We, meaning Rosalind and I, left Stellies at about 15:10 on Friday afternoon and tackled the 300 odd kilometers to Lambertsbaai. Now off the bat, let me say this. I love to drive. And I really love to drive my dad's car. It's a Golf 4 1800cc and it is one lovely ride. There are reasons why the guys at Top Gear Extra made it their car of the year (hell, they even hit the thing with lightning, and not only did the presenter survive, the car started without a hitch; but that is a story for another time). And those reasons are power, comfort and safety. And it was the safety bit that really got tested on the trip. About 10 k's out of Lambertsbaai I had to pass a big 18 wheeler. But just as I was about to reach the cabin part of the rig, a gust of wind pushed the truck into my lane. Options: get ridden over or go off-road. Fortunately for us the side of the road consisted of gravel, so I was able to pull the car over and drive with only two wheels off of the tarmac. Unfortunately, due to the fact that the wheels on the left side of the car had more traction than the wheels on the right side, the car started spinning out to the right. All I will say is, thank God for German engineering and hours spent playing Mobil Rally 2004 (where, incidentally one of the rally cars is a Golf 4). All I had to do was gently pull the steering to the left to get back on the road surface and then push the accelerator to the floor. The car responded beautifully and pulled itself back into a straight line. But as scary as that was, it was nothing compared to the adrenaline rush that I experienced later in the weekend.

That evening we went to a restaurant called Muisbosskerm. True to African style, it had huge cook fires in the center, and was surrounded by a 7 foot tall boma to keep out the icy cold west coast winds. The menu consisted of fish, fish, more fish and freshly baked bread. All I will say is that good food, great people and a bit of alcohol goes a long way to soothe a man's soul. But the most impressive 'aspect' of the evening was Rosalind. Despite not being able to speak Afrikaans, she quickly won over the members of my family with her charm and genuine warmth.

The wedding was scheduled for 17:00 on Saturday afternoon. So we basically had the whole day to lounge around, go to the beach and generally relax. While my poor cousin got more nervous by the second and it fell to his younger brother to try and distract him. Finally, the moment of truth arrived and off we went to the church. I have NEVER seen my cousin so nervous. He is usually as steady as a rock, but for the last 30 minutes leading up to the whole ceremony, he looked decidedly freaked out. But let me point out. He did not look freaked out because he had second thoughts, he was just nervous because he wanted everything to go as planned. And in the end everything went off without a hitch. Although I do not think he or his bride heard much of the ceremony. Mostly they were staring into each other's eyes or grinning like idiots at each other :-D

The reception that followed the wedding was truly amazing. The hall was stunningly decorated and the amount of effort that went into every detail boggled the mind. Kudos for the bride's mother for pulling such a feat off. The reception followed the standard sequence of wedding receptions the world over. People getting settled, the men buying a first round of drinks, followed by speeches and toasts, followed by a bit of dancing, followed by a gargantuan five course meal, followed by more dancing, followed by some silly dancing. Thankfully, the speeches and toasts were short and sweet. Also of note, was my one younger cousin nearly nailing the DJ with a champagnes cork, from across the hall. Good shot lad, good shot.

But the best part of the evening was the dancing. Which is why it is getting a paragraph all of its own. True to a Afrikaner party, the dancing consisted mostly of the two-step, sokkie and boere-waltz. The first thing to note, was the fact that music for the boere-waltz is very similar to that of the Venice-waltz. So come the new year, I'm going to have to learn how to dance the bloody thing, without getting motion sick. Secondly, neither Rosalind nor I know how to sokkie, thank God. BUT. Among all of that music, during certain songs we were able to recognise the beat for dances such as the Rhythm Foxtrot and the Quick Step. So we were able to take a couple of turns around the dance floor. But the best came while dinner was being served. The DJ played nice and slow music, music that turned out to be perfect for dances such as the Rumba and the ballroom Waltz. Now for those of you who do not know me, these two dances are by far my favourite ones. So, while all of the people sat down to dinner, Rosalind and I got up and did a Rumba. It was ... stunning. We were in perfect sync, we followed the beat of the music without flaw and we pulled of each move with grace. Gladys would have been proud. That one dance will live in my memories till the day I die. When we got back to our table, the adrenaline hit us both so hard that I for one had trouble keeping my fork steady. Unfortunately, we did not get to dance a Waltz, because just before we finished our meal, my idiot cousin asked the DJ to play faster music. Bastard.

The rest of the evening flew by as we kuiered and laughed with the people at our table. And of course, true to form, the DJ started playing music from the sixties and seventies during the latter part of the evening. This suited Rosalind and me just fine, because then we were able to get really going with dances such as the Jive and the Boogey. I think I really like the Boogey.

At around one o'clock, the party started winding down. People said their goodbyes to each other and wished the happy couple the best of luck. My cousin said he has never kissed so many women in his life in one go and he was pretty sure he had every kind of lipstick on his lips after all was said and done. But the surprising thing was how many complete strangers (all women) came to Rosalind afterwards and told her how beautiful she looked and how amazingly she had danced. Now, I agree on the fact that she looked absolutely stunning in her red dress, but hey, she didn't dance alone. Grumble, grumble . . . *grin*. Nah, I'm just chuffed she had such a good time.

The journey home was uneventful, i.e. no near death experiences. I must say, there is something to be said for driving along at a steady clip, the road open before you, the tires happily crunching kilometer after kilometer and having good company to chat with. I think the most important thing for this weekend was the fact that my friendship with Rosalind has finally passed the stage where we just present our 'nice' faces to each other. Recently, a friend told me that if you can survive an extended journey with a person, your friendship will be that much stronger. That was certainly true for this trip, and I am glad I can now count Rosalind as a close and trusted friend.

Ultimate in 10 simple rules

1. The Field -- A rectangular shape with endzones at each end. A regulation field is 64m by 37m, with endzones 18m deep.
2. Initiate Play -- Each point begins with both teams lining up on the front of their respective endzone line. The defense throws ("pulls") the disc to the offense. A regulation game has seven players per team.
3. Scoring -- Each time the offense completes a pass in the defense's endzone, the offense scores a point. Play is initiated after each score.
4. Movement of the Disc -- The disc may be advanced in any direction by completing a pass to a teammate. Players may not run with the disc. The person with the disc ("thrower") has ten seconds to throw the disc. The defender guarding the thrower ("marker") counts out the stall count.
5. Change of possession -- When a pass in not completed (e.g. out of bounds, drop, block, interception), the defense immediately takes possession of the disc and becomes the offense.
6. Substitutions -- Players not in the game may replace players in the game after a score and during an injury timeout.
7. Non-contact -- No physical contact is allowed between players. Picks and screens are also prohibited. A foul occurs when contact is made.
8. Fouls -- When a player initiates contact on another player a foul occurs. When a foul disrupts possession, the play resumes as if the possession was retained. If the player committing the foul disagrees with the foul call, the play is redone.
9. Self-Refereeing -- Players are responsible for their own foul and line calls. Players resolve their own disputes.
10. Spirit of the Game -- Ultimate stresses sportsmanship and fair play. Competitive play is encouraged, but never at the expense of respect between players, adherence to the rules, and the basic joy of play.

(Original written by Steve Courlang)

Suicide Gorge

"Snake!", comes the call from behind me. I whip around. Fight or flee? Fight or flee? FIGHT OR FLEE? Jen stands frozen in place. Franticly I search the ground in front of her, but I can't see any movement or hear that telltale hissing sound. WHERE IS IT? "Oh no," Jen says, "it's dead. But you stepped on it Hendri." She laughs at the look of horror that crosses my face. I walk back and inspect the body that lies on the track, my footprint clearly etched across the center of its body. It's hard to tell what kind of snake it is, since something has chewed its head off. The coloring of the snake is yellow with black bands and it does not have the diamond patterned skin associated with an adder, must be a Cape Cobra. But the worst thing is how perfectly it blends with the track. Alive or dead, I would have stepped on it. Silently I thank whatever creature had killed it. I would not like to meet whatever animal is capable of eating a cobra's head off, but I am thankful that it did. I had stepped on the snake, mainly because I was looking at the stunning waterfalls that surrounded the valley we were hiking through. "So," I think to myself, "eyes on the trail from now on. Ignore the surrounding scenery." Thirty seconds later, Jen calls out: "Hendri, you just stepped on something again!" My heart does a flip flop. "Oh for #@&@'s sake," I think to myself, "How blind can a person BE?!?" I walk back...again. This time I had stepped on the body of a lizard, also perfectly blended into the trail. By now I'm kinda freaked out. I have to walk lead on this section of the hike, along a trail that is mostly obscured by overhanging vegetation. But, there is nothing for it, I'm responsible for this hike and I'll just have to suck it up. Fortunately, no more critters (alive or dead) appeared for the rest of the hike.

This Sunday past saw myself and three friends (Adriaan, Jen and Ben) hike from the Jonkershoek valley, up over the Kurktrekker, down Boegoekloof, down Suicide Gorge and over some or the other mountain to the Nuweberg forestry station. All in all, an epic hike that took over 9 hours to complete. Fortunately, the weather was absolutely perfect. It was nice and overcast while we had to complete the hot trek over the Kurktrekker. Going down Boegoekloof, the sun emerged from behind the clouds and by the time we had to brave the icy pools of Suicide Gorge, it was nice and warm. Hiking back in the afternoon to the Nuweberg station, the skies once more became cloudy and the hike was nice and cool. The only snag was that due to the lack of sunlight in the morning, the plants on the trail were moisture laden. Consequently, we were soaked through and through for most of the hike. And keeping your footing in slippery grass resulted in many hilarious incidents where one or more of us would suddenly loose their footing, do a funny jig of flying feet and flailing arms, before unceremoniously landing on your ass.

The hike down Boegoekloof was stunning. I have never seen that valley so full of water. Everywhere you looked, there were stunning waterfalls, the swimming pools in the river were full to the rim and the valley was covered in vibrant plant life. So except for the whole snake incident, it was one of the best hikes ever.

We reached Suicide Gorge just before 13:00. Here we decided to have a relaxing lunch before attempting the descent. After lunch, everybody stripped down to the bare minimum, namely shoes (in the case of Adriaan barefoot) and a swimming costume. Everything was packed securely into our backpacks, because the last thing you want is for your pack to burst open when it impacts the water. Oh yes, and a quick visit to the nearest bush, because by this time the adrenaline was coursing through my veins. Basically, Suicide Gorge works like this: Once your in, you can't turn back. So if you are afraid of heights or falling, I would not recommend it, unless you are trying to overcome your fear of heights and falling. Then this will be the perfect setting for you to face your fears. The first compulsory jump is about 6 meters high, a little higher than the diving platform at the Coetzenburg swimming pool. What makes that first jump scary is not so much the height, but the fact that the water is so dark that you have no clue where the bottom is. Here I learned the most important lesson when you want to jump. Under NO CIRCUMSTANCES are you to think. As soon as you think, survival instinct kicks in and you freeze into place. So, with a mind absolutely devoid of thought :-) I jumped. From there on in, we scrambled over boulders and jumped into deep icy pools. I think the worst part of jumping is when you throw your backpack over edge ahead of you. Because, firstly, you now HAVE to jump otherwise you lose your backpack. The second thing is the sound your bag makes when it hits the water. It's this deep WHUMP sound. And you know that in a couple of seconds, your body is going to make the same sound when it hits the water.

As you descend through the kloof, the jumps become progressively higher. 8 meters, 10 meters, 8 meters, and then the second last one is a compulsory jump of 12 meters. When you stand on that ledge, the water looks mighty dark and hard from up there. At this point you start to question your sanity, and whether you will actually survive the jump. Right before I jumped, I had a thought. Big mistake. At the last possible split second I felt my body freeze up. Suddenly I felt the edge yawning underneath me. My heart tried climbing out of my mouth and I went weak at the knees. Very unceremoniously I scrambled back from the ledge. It felt like hours before I could take myself in hand again and approach the ledge. This time I was very careful to keep my mind blank. Right after the edge, there is this steep ledge that is too steep to stand on, but makes for quite a nifty launch pad. So, stepping forward, I launched myself out into empty air. With no time to scream, I hit the water with a perfect splash. Oh yes, when you hit the water, remember to keep your hands to your sides when you hit the water, otherwise your hands are going to hurt from slapping the water. Reaching the other side of the pool, I spread myself on the warm rock next to Adriaan and waited for Jen to jump. It's interesting, when you watch someone who is about to do something extreme, you can see the thoughts flitting across there faces. First there is the wide eyed look, then panic as they realise what they are about to do, followed by a look of determination as they gather their courage for that leap of faith. Sometimes, the whole sequence of events is repeated as their survival instinct kicks in and they have to start from scratch. That is why I say, don't think when you must jump, thinking only gets in the way. Otherwise you have to find that split second where you have just fooled yourself into believing that you will survive the jump, and your mind going: "No bloody way".

For the last jump of the day, one is faced with a choice. Do a "normal" jump of about 10 meters, or climb to an outcropping a little higher; and do a 16 meter jump (which is about the height of the third story of the Engineering building). When I reached the ledge of the outcropping and looked down, I felt ill. Right there I decided that there was no way I would be able to do it, blank mind or not. I had already turned away to climb back down when a stray thought stopped me. "What if I actually managed to DO this?" I mean, no one would blame me for taking the lesser jump. After all, everyone else was taking the smaller jump. But this, this would be me screaming my defiance at death, laughing all the way. OK, a bit dramatic, I know. But have you ever been faced with your own mortality, and made a conscious decision to risk your own life? Believe me, when you have made that choice, I do not think your brain is functioning within normal parameters.

So I sent up a little prayer. It was a very basic plea, made by men throughout the ages to their deities. "Please God, don't let me die." So I stood on the ledge, looking down, thinking. I know, I said that under no circumstances must one think, but this was different. I started by doing the breathing exercises that Rosalind had taught me to relax and slow your heart down. Then, calmly, I stared at the roiling waters beneath me. I let the sounds of the insects behind me, and the thunder of the waterfall to my right wash over me. I could feel the warm sunlight caressing my back, and the spray of the water cooling my front. I'm not sure how to describe what happened next. It felt like the water surface beneath me was suddenly nearer. I could see every ripple and swirl. My mind felt suspended. I wasn't outside my body, but it definitely felt decidedly weird. Like my body and mind were two entities. I did not need to gather my courage, I simply stepped over the edge.

Previously, Adriaan and I had joked about how to measure the height of a jump. We measured it in the number of thoughts one has before hitting the surface. Up until now, most jumps had had a maximum of two thoughts. This one had four. They went like this: "Oh no, oh no, oh NO, OH CRAP!" WHAM! Notice the wording, not splash; wham. That's because when I was coming down, my body had started rotating forward. So instead of entering the water cleanly like Adriaan had advised me, that water hit me like I was a two bit hooker and it was my pimp. And because I was still trying to correct my fall, my arms had still been out to my sides, so my hands had slapped onto the water with searing effect. But the pain in my hands was nothing compared to the pain I felt in the left side of my upper torso. I clearly remember what my first thought was down in the dark icy depths of that pool. "Please God, don't let my ribs be broken." As I extended my left arm above my head to start clawing my way back to the surface, I felt a rush of relief as the resulting pain was only that of bruised muscles, and not the sharp pain of a rib poking into my lung.

The rest of the trip down the kloof was uneventful. The only really scary thing was when we stopped at the trail that takes one back to the Nuweberg forestry station. Here Jen took out some bananas that she had had in her bag. The bananas where pulp. Not bruised or just split open. They looked like they had been put through a grinder. So if that is what happens to bananas that have been securely packed in the middle of the backpack, what happens to a person's nice and soft organs when you hit the water?

The last bit of the hike was nice and quiet. Except for me. We were about an hour late and our lift was scheduled to arrive at the forest station at any minute. So, since I was the only one with a cellphone and Adriaan was the most experienced hiker, I had to run ahead to try and reach a point where I could phone our lift and tell him we were going to be late. All I will say is, it's not fun running with bruised chest muscles.

All of us finally reached the pickup point safely. It was a bunch of tired but satisfied hikers that climbed into my car and headed home. The Americans lasted about 5 minutes before falling asleep :-)

--
Ruadh gu brath!