Snowberg ....

Yes - it's ANOTHER shot of iNhlosane, and even though the snows have almost melted (this was taken last week Wednesday) I'm sure you'll agree this is an image too good to not share. Taken on that road trip where I braved the muddy, icy roads of the Dargle / Impendle route, this shot reminds me of one I took of the Matterhorn near Zermat in Switzerland some years ago. Both mountains dominate their region, and although I could not claim that iNhlosane has anything like the scale of the Horn, and it certainly poses no equal challenge to mountaineers, I took both photos across a valley that helped to give them an exaggerated appearance of height. (I was a little underwhelmed by the appearance of the Matterhorn - which despite its reputation and altitude of 4478 metres I somehow imagined would be more impressive. iNhlosane in comparison comes in at a modest 1977 metres).

Some photographers would have wait twenty years to get a shot like this. How fortunate I am to have had the chance in my first year in the Midlands. Co-incidentally a rare Johannesburg snowfall occurred the year I moved there - in 1981.

Snow seen.....

I believe it is the heaviest snow to have fallen in the area in twenty years. This was the view of iNhlosane and her mountains I awakened to this morning - and it was magnificent. The weather has however wreaked havoc with the local roads this week with the main N3 highway between Durban and Johannesburg having been closed since the heavy snow falls of Monday. We're simply not equipped to cope with this European type weather in these parts and the latest traffic reports spoke of a fifteen kilometre backlog of stationary traffic queued up at Van Reenen's Pass waiting for conditions to improve to continue on their journey. Stuck in sub zero temperatures, and totally unprepared for the enforced and unplanned stopover, my heart goes out to those poor drivers enduring this. I risked a drive out through the Dargle Valley closer to the mountains, and the iced over roads were treacherous - thank goodness for the quattro drive on my Audi - many other vehicles were slip-sliding across the slush and ice.

The rising sun reflected magically off the white of the snow capped hills, with the valley still sleeping in the early morning chill.

How now ...

Taking a round trip from Howick through the Dargle Valley and then onwards via Boston and back along the R617, takes one very close (again) to the omnipresent iNhlosane. I had no intention of capturing yet another shot of the mountain, but my eye was caught by this herd of cattle – mostly young Angus stock I’m guessing from their reddish brown coats. In their number was a solitary white specimen – an obvious subject to try and capture. At first, as I got out of my car, he managed to get himself lost in the deep midst of his russet coloured brethren, but after my patiently waiting and calling in my best imitation of bovine lowing he slowly made his way to the front ranks of the herd for literally a minute before disappearing shyly back into the background. Patience (again) rewarded!

I increasingly understand the time and effort which goes into capturing those seemingly “in the right place at the right time” images we all find so amazing and appealing. A bit like overnight success – it takes a lot of waiting, patience and effort, but when you get the shot you hoped for it’s all worth the while.

Twilight time …

I’m sure at some point in its life every camera gets aimed at a sunset scene – they’re the kind of settings that, like snow covered land or cityscapes, somehow create the most magical and dramatic pictures from what would otherwise be the ordinary and the everyday. Add in a silhouette, or water reflecting the light and you have an instant subject. Last evening, after a strangely cloudy day (it had been a beautiful clear and sunny late autumn weekend), I looked out from the patio at the Midlands landscape that is my daily inspiration and noticed the first tinges of pink starting to highlight the clouds. I must confess – I have never really done sunsets before – somehow they’re too predictable a subject. As iNhlosane became a mere outline (my silhouette) I fetched the camera.

I learned yesterday that with sunsets, when the light strikes just right you have to seize the moment – and pronto. Hardly had I had time to check the lens (an atom of lens dust can ruin a shot that depends on lighting), and camera settings – ASA, exposure compensation, sharpness, white balance, F Stop, focal length (infinity), colour depth (vivid) – when I knew it was time to shoot. After a mere ten minutes the sky had darkened, and the moment was over.

iNhlosane ...

On a clear day there is a mountain that dominates the horizonal skyline from our lounge window. Not as tall or majestic as some of the peaks in the nearby Drakensberg range it still somehow makes its presence felt from almost any location within a fairly large radius of our home. A quick visit to the nearby Hilton College - and there it is. From the Karkloof hills - it is present again. From Curry's Post and of course throughout the drive to Dargle this peak is the dominant landform in the valley. It is iNhlosane, the Maiden's Breast, named for its resemblance, as it rises to its rock-clad nipple-like crest to just such a shape. For a somewhat more fanciful explanation of the name you can read the legend of iNhlosane here. Many scholars at the well known Michaelhouse College in the Midlands will be familiar with the mountain - for it is a right of passage for many new entrants to the school to take a day's hike the twenty five or so kilometers from the school precincts to iNhlosane's peak. 

I wanted to capture a clean and simple shot of the mountain, not over exaggerating it's height or scale, and yet still showing how it manages to make its presence felt. So here it is - the Maiden's Breast.