I wondered what the first British and Dutch settlers had thought when they had seen this magnificent mountain range. Laden as they were with clumsy ox-drawn wagons, had they appreciated the beauty or wished for a flatter less challenging land to conquer?
My thoughts drifted to Josh’s tale of the fish-people as I watched a breeze ripple through the lush emerald grass that coated the mountain like fur.
What mysteries had these mountains seen unfold, I wondered. What inconsequential humans – or others – had played out the drama of their lives within her shadowed valleys or on her sunlit plains?
My eyes drifted with a few summer swallows, tracing their darting excitable flight. A hawk of sorts hung, seemingly motionless, in the sky as if from an invisible string, watching its unsuspecting prey, before dropping like a stone into the dark green of a valley.
What would it be like to live in these mountains, I wondered. To have no thought of money, or school, or complicated family scenarios… The simplicity of a life like that was alluring.
The river split into three large streams ahead of us, each of them winding their way back into the face of the mountain through densely wooded valleys.
We stopped to have a drink and decide which route to take.
“Let’s take the middle one,” Josh suggested. “Lower Injisuthi cave is about half an hour’s walk over the top of that waterfall.”
“I’ve done that walk with my Dad,” Luke replied, “there’s nothing interesting there. Why not take the furthest one and work backwards? That way, we’ll be able to cover all of them in one trip. Who knows when we’ll be allowed back into these mountains after this? And if my folks find out that we ran away…” He shook his head and laughed. “I’ll never see the outside of my bedroom again.”
I gazed at the valley Luke had been talking about. The trees seemed darker and bigger in that valley than in the nearer ones. The waterfall was also more pronounced, falling in a silvery streak down a sheer rock face. It was the most intriguing of all the valleys, an ancient, magical-looking place. A place where you’d expect to find something out of the ordinary like dwarves, or hobbits, or maybe even a mystical tribe of “fish-people”.
“So which one will it be, Alex?” Luke’s asked pointing at the valleys.
“Let’s go to that one.” I pointed to the furthest valley, excitement tingling in my fingertips. Luke grinned.
Josh growled and muttered something about girly daydreaming before picking up his backpack and stomping off.
Had I realised how far the valley was, I’m sure I would’ve chosen a different one.
We eventually reached a strange, sharply sloped field of spikily succulent aloe plants, the last hurdle before reaching the valley mouth. Water and wind erosion had washed most of the soil away leaving pocked, jagged rock exposed. The aloes rose from the reddish rock, like dead men’s fingers, into a perfectly blue sky.
We spread out in an uneven line picking our way through the rocky scrub, the midday sun beating relentlessly on our heads and shoulders. The breeze, which had been a welcome relief from the heat earlier, whistled and wailed eerily across the arid landscape like the hot breath of some ancient and terrifying creature of the deep.
The dust and heat chafed my cheeks, forcing me to focus on the ground a few paces ahead of me rather than out at the scenery.
Dappled shade invited us into the mouth of the valley. The waterfall I’d glimpsed earlier cut a white foaming gash into the mountain cliff in the distance. We followed the river, now just an energetically burbling stream, into the mouth of the valley.
We didn’t talk much as we picked our way along the riverbed. This place discouraged talking, as if the sound of human voices had been absent so long that breaking the silence would be almost disrespectful.
It was easy to move with the river at first, skirting glass-still pools, where the shallow water formed a skating rink for dozens of busy insects, and a resin-like resting place for tree roots and old leaves.
As we moved further and further into the valley it became more difficult to walk, the path choked with exploring tree roots and slippery loose soil, forcing us higher up the banks, clutching at the ancient tree trunks as we walked to keep from slipping into the river.
Eventually the valley floor flattened enough for us to scramble, slipping and sliding from tree root to tree root back to the river bed. It ebbed away from stream to trickle until all that was left was a tumble of fallen boulders, some as large as cars, all in varying shades of brown and even pale grey and greeny blue.
I hardly noticed the fringing of ferns and dusting of moss that carpeted the valley in little rivulets of greenery, as the day’s walk caught up with me, and I was no longer entranced by the beauty or mystery the valley had held.
Luke turned to look at us, grinning as he wiped sweat from his forehead.
“Let’s carry on until we reach the waterfall,” he suggested.
Only once he’d suggested it did the sound register. The distant echo of falling water floated on the still, green air. Josh and I agreed and picked up our pace, challenging Luke to a boulder-hopping race as the sound of the waterfall intensified.
The sides of the valley tightened around us like a drawstring bag. Great leafy trees intertwined their branches above our heads ominously, as our enthusiasm was dampened by exhaustion and the eerie light.
The green-tinged air felt older here. The trees seemed to have seen too much.
The echoed sound of our breathing and crunch of our footsteps added to the strange atmosphere of apprehension.
Rounding a bend in the valley brought us to the opening of the most magical place I’d ever seen.
Smooth curved cliff face swirled upward, the rock streaked in delicate shades of green and grey lichen, forming a bowl the only entrance to which we were standing in.
The waterfall dove in an angry froth down the cliff face pummelling already submissively smooth boulders at its base. Ferns, grasses and spongy moss spilled out from the bottom of the waterfall interspersed occasionally with tiny white-flowered plants to frame a pool of astonishingly blue, rippling water.
The scene, which would have made a great postcard, was made even more breathtaking by the sapphire-blue colouring of the water of the pool. The colour intensified towards its centre to a dark jade green. The sides of the pool looked granite-smooth and almost see-through which made the water sparkle, iridescent and inviting. It felt like it was drawing me forward and I realised as I moved that Luke and Josh were moving forward in the same dream-like state.
We stripped to our costumes and the boys raced for the waterfall where they squawked as the icy mountain water stung their effort-warmed skin. I slipped quietly into the other end of the sapphire pool, my breath catching as the cold water shocked me all over.
It was utterly delicious.
For the first time in over three years, I was really enjoying water again. To adjust better I steeled myself against the instinctive fear and dove beneath the surface, opening my eyes, amazed at how crystal clear it was. Even with the water distortion I could clearly make out the shape of the pool all the way around, along with smooth boulders and pebbles that tumbled, at the waterfall side of the pool, towards the bottom which was inky with depth.
Coming up for air I floated on my back, relishing the cool water and weightlessness it offered, at peace for the first time in years. I’d drifted to the middle of the pool watching Josh and Luke taking turns to see who could stand under the force of the waterfall the longest, when something long and slippery slithered around my ankle.
Immediately the fear that had haunted me incapacitated me for a few moments. The nightmare and memories sprang to forefront of my mind and panic shot through