Sentinel Peak, Angus Leppan route

Miki was feeling much better in the morning and our fears of malaria were evaporated by the rising sun. All the same, he wanted to get to Johannesburg and not climb the Sentinel. We agreed that he would take us to Durban and drive to Joburg the next day. So we took off toward the Indian Ocean again. As we arrived into the city, we quickly exited the first backpackers we randomly investigated. The owner was more eager to brag about nasty wounds in her soles than to show the rooms. Eventually we found ourselves in Happy Hippo which was big, cozy and imaginatively decorated. Beds in a dorm cost about 12 euros per person.

Taking a stroll on the beach in Durban

The original plan was to go diving with Sharks at Alley Wall; a very special spot for this kind of activity, but Joonas didn’t seem too eager after all and I was more interested in the mountains anyway. So we quickly abandoned the original plan and drove to the airport to rent another car. We were forced to surrender one of our team to the Babylonia (That’s what we called normal life) as Miki departed to Johannesburg. After enjoying a 5 second adrenaline rush at the Big Rush stadium swing, I and Joonas were also eager to leave the chaos of the city behind.

Joonas preparing to leap down

Conquering Sentinel peak was still in our minds and we decided to return to the Drakensberg. After getting some info from a climber at Bush and Buntu outdoor shop in Pietermaritzburg we drove to the border of Lesotho where the Mountain was located. Apparently a government owned cabin with bunk beds was located at Sentinel car park. “The road in in very bad condition!” – said a woman at the reception of a game lodge just before the road to Sentinel car park. It was already dark, but our options were limited. We decided to give our Datsun Go a challenge.

Stopped for some climbing action at Howick falls.
The route "Stage fright 6a" is on the red face just left from the falls

With me driving and Joonas checking our ground clearance with a flash light we slowly made our way toward the Mountain. Sharp rocks were sticking out everywhere and deep grooves made by rain water scarred the dirt road. We would have surely walked faster than we progressed on the first parts of the road. Constantly afraid of rocks screeching the bottom I drove in the darkness. The road was seven kilometres long and we only had to trust the words of ms. reception lady. “The beginning is the worst!” – echoed in my ears as I almost lost my hope getting stuck on a hill while avoiding head sized boulders. “We are not going back after making it this far” – I had to tell myself. After a deep sigh and some dodgy manoeuvres on the limits of our Datsun, we made it up. The road got slightly better and we were so relieved to find the yellow brick road at the end.

The cabin was very basic but we were happy to sleep in real beds instead of tents. The guards welcomed us in candle light and we quickly headed to bed. The peaceful atmosphere was nearing perfection as our dozing off was interrupted by two SUV:s blasting to the car park. Eager chatter, laughter and flashlights broke the silence. “Hello! How many are you here? I’ve got a bunch of nine teenagers and we’d like to stay the night” He was a hiking guide and they were on some kind of a field trip! We were too polite to show our disappointment as the youngsters rushed into the cabin. Luckily they were very well behaved and crawled into their own sleeping bags in a matter of minutes. It was a peaceful night after all.

Joonas cooking some veg stew at the Sentinel hut

The idea was to climb the mountain by a classic route called Angus Leppan. 6 pitches long and traditionally protected. It was graded something like 5b (the old grading system was pretty cryptic) but climbers we had talked to had told horror stories of loose rock and heavy exposure. A fistful of grass was told to be a good hold and an internet forum said “I wouldn’t bother taking gear. It’s mostly useless anyway” We weren’t sure what to expect.

A topo sketch of Angus Leppan route

The weather report was all stormy winds for the next day so we spent that one scouting our approach and hiking around the area. (A lesson learned from Eagle Mountain.) A good warm-up of 1000 vertical meters and 6 hours. We were wondering if the car park was always so busy during weekends, but the reason was revealed to us as we got talking to other hikers. Some crazy South Africans were having a wedding up on the plateau!

Preparing fot a wedding at 2800 something meters

The next morning we woke up at 5 am. It was still pitch black outside as we prepared our candle lit breakfast. The clouds were below us in the valley as we started our hike. The rough rectangular shape of Sentinel peak was painted orange by the sun as we made our way forward. The walk was just about one hour to the gully we needed to scramble to the base. Panting and sweating with the Sentinel Gendarme (whatever that is) on the left and the face of Sentinel peak on the right we made our way up. After a litre of sweat and a funky little solo climb we were nearing the saddle. The sun had been hidden during our safe approach and wind was non-existent. As we reached the highest point and the base of the climb, the environment suddenly felt a lot more hostile.

Sentinel peak. The route is on the shadowed corner on the right.

Joonas treading up the gully

The wind slapped our faces and the sun momentarily blinded us. After re-organizing our senses, we could see the clouds below us and the sun rising, blasting its rays straight onto the saddle. This was where we needed to start climbing. We geared and turned our gazes on the face of the Sentinel.

After figuring out that grass is truly a stable handhold and accepting the non-existence of gear placements, the first two pitches were pretty easy. Having to spend little time placing protection (We got a total of four pieces in the first two pitches!) our progress was fast and efficient.

Joonas enjoying the views

The meaning of exposure was carved into my frontal cortex as I started the climb on pitch three. A 20 meter traverse along a 20 cm ledge with a 500 meter drop below me. Clouds were still way below us and I could see people like ants hiking on the path we had taken the day before. With just one cam behind me, I could only hope the footholds were not Drakensberg quality. The face instead had “Made in Drakensberg” written all over it, as everything I touched crumbled off. Taking a step down to a 5 cm ledge I kept my nerves and breathed deep. Cross stepping with my right foot onto a stance and taking a deep sigh, I wiggled the flake on my right. I moved an inch or so, but I still decided to put a cam behind it. Psychological gear placement at its best.

I made my way up to the anchor and was happy to find bolts here too. The next pitch was supposed to be the classic scary airy traverse and Joonas was going for the lead. The internet guide told us of a single possible cam placement somewhere along the 10 meter traverse. Joonas decided to ignore that too as he ballet danced along the ledge to a small ridge. “Im attached to a bolted anchor! Nothing to worry about!” Good nerves I say. Climbing up the ridge, he found an old piton and backed it up with some cams to belay me up.

Clouds were racing up along the face of the mountain right beside us. We were hoping to reach the top before visibility would plummet down to zero. In the end, the technical execution of the climb was so casual that we made our way up quickly and didn’t have to worry. We were also very much enjoying the stomach gripping exposure and would have gladly climbed some extra pitches of this blissful mountain.

Having lunch with grand views just before the final pitch, we contemplated on the route. It’s funny how skills and experience enable you to enjoy such a potentially dangerous place. Climbing an almost vertical rock face up into the unknown without knowing exactly what you will find. With unwavering trust in your abilities, partner and gear, all that’s left is pure joy of discovery. An awe of having the possibility to come to such a place. This is adventure trad climbing at its best!

We reached the summit in about three hours from start of pitch one. The views were blocked by clouds now but the route had been extremely pleasant. Emphasis on the extreme. I smoked a victory cigar which Joonas refused of and we wrote our names and greetings to the summit log book.

The way down was by the standard route of Sentinel which was mostly scrambling or walking. We had scouted the descent during the previous day and saw that an abseil was inevitable at the end. We reached the spot that seemed best suited for a rappel and Joonas was just thinking out loud about how nice it would be to find a fixed anchor. And there it was. A large iron peg with a ring on it. Haha! Everything seemed a bit too easy. Or maybe we had learned our lessons.

The climb was a total success and all our fears of getting into trouble were obliterated. We walked back to the car park and packed our car for the exciting dirt road. We were to make our way four hours south to Bulwer to get one step closer to another dream. To be able to fly off the mountain rather than climbing down. We were about to have some air beneath us again!