Hannah and I went to Cobham all on our own, two nearly 29-year-olds lost in the wilds of the lower Drakensberg.
Hannah packed a sleeping bag which she believed to be of ‘sub-zero’ capabilities, which turned out to be very incorrect as when it reached 4 C she was tying towels and jackets around the exterior of the bag – and beginning to panic. It was blerrie cold. I wrapped my whole head in a scarf and actually enjoyed the claustrophobia and drops of dew that kept pooling up above my lip. Continue reading
