What happens when a crew of top climbers travels halfway around the world to visit the boulders of South Africa’s famed Rocklands? Read on. …

‘If Salvador Dali and Dr. Seuss got together to make a bouldering area, it would look something like this,’ I think as I caress a wild, extruding chickenhead. Suddenly, from around the edge of a sandstone block, a huge baboon leaps into view, lets loose a soul-shattering scream, and then dynos 15 feet up and sideways to the lip of an exposed roof. Hanging from one hand over a death fall, it shakes a fist in our direction, and then mantles out of view. I’ve just witnessed a V17 dyno.

Welcome to the Rocklands, the internationally famous, world-class bouldering destination that most Americans have heard of, but few have visited. This could very well be the world’s best — and biggest — bouldering area. It is but a miniscule chunk of the greater Cederberg mountain range, which stretches along the western coast of South Africa for nearly 50 miles and is strewn with bullet-hard sandstone blocks for its entire length. It is a land of infinite bouldering possibilities — a land of orange groves, Rooibos tea, and Pinotage vineyards, where you’ll find a grape that grows only in South Africa. When I was invited to spend two months here, in the summer of 2006, with a crew of North America’s best boulderers, I just couldn’t say no.

I arrive solo, a week later than the rest of the crew. In a daze, I navigate my rattly beater of a rental car (the “White Lightning,” or the “Mazdaratti” as one friend comes to call it) through hectic Capetown traffic. I wheeze and putt my way to our converted farmhouse rental and am greeted by the “full two-month commitment” posse: Andy Raether, filmmaker Chuck Fryberger, cook and soundman Andy Mann, and photographer Keith Ladzinski. Lisa Rands (with her husband, Wills Young) and Daniel Woods are to arrive a few weeks later, along with the talented boulderers Sarah Marvez and Steph Foster.
The next day I wander, developing an immediate infatuation with the stone. The rock is a vibrant orange with aesthetic gray and black streaks, and through the magic of erosion forms totally bugged-out chickenheads, laser-cut arêtes, wave-like overhangs, surprisingly solid wafer-thin flakes, and natural arches. The texture is friendly, and the moves gymnastic and unique. Best of all, while I had heard much about the V-impossibles developed by the likes of Fred Nicole, Klem Loskot, and Bernd Zangerl, I find that for every V13 there are a hundred V3s. I will happily spend entire days climbing V0s and doing moderate highballs.
Though many climbers stay in the local campground, we opt for a roof over our heads, and by the sheer randomness of good fortune end up at the Travelers Rest. With tips from the friendly and knowledgeable caretaker, Lafranz, and his charming wife, Morayca, and an invaluable 4WD tour, we discover one of the best, most concentrated areas in the Rocklands — the Sassies, named after our vacation rental. We spend more than two weeks here, at the back of the huge Strauss Farm, picking plums left and right. We even show it to Nicole, who puts up a new V14 — in a day. Soon, word has spread to the campground, and in a matter of weeks the area has more than a hundred problems.
This is not a puritan’s pursuit, however — some evenings the wine flows freely, and often we don’t reach the boulders until noon. I rally the White Lightning hard, practicing e-brake slides and other stunt maneuvers on the dirt roads that snake through the Rocklands. Indeed, good times are plentiful. On one rest day we roll over to nearby Lamberts Bay and just stare at the ocean. Another time, we visit a game reserve and go into the cage with a baby lion. We explore rock-art sites and generally enjoy ourselves. And we boulder — a lot.