Top of the Rock, Eagle's Rock, that is...

Reid on the Top of the Rock

I’ve learned to control – most of the time – the panic attacks I experience whenever I’m in an elevator, but I still avoid them, preferring to climb innumerable flights of stairs instead. I don’t really know why except when I was a young girl, one of my cousins enjoyed scaring us, stopping the elevators in between floors, pushing the red buttons with gusto, and sounding the alarms until we were eventually stuck. This same cousin once showed my two young sons a decomposed body in the funeral home during my grandmother’s viewing and then chased them around with his eyelids flipped up, Frankenstein-style. If I heard my boys screaming, I knew it probably had to do with my cousin, the comedienne, as we ironically, yet affectionately called him. Anyway, I don’t like elevators. Not one bit.

So, it was more than a little bit ironic when we bundled up in warm, winter clothes and resolutely travelled toward the herds of antelopes, grazing high in the mountain tops surrounding Samara, in an open-air vehicle with only a thin cloth top protecting our heads and hot water bottles warming our legs. Ironic because I didn’t panic, but relished the somewhat wet, windy drive as Shakemore, our trusty guide, confidently maneuvered up the narrow, one-lane, rocky road through the muddy and slippery slopes, roads with nothing to keep us spiraling over the sides except the grace of God and the skill of Shakemore. Perplexed, Ian was puzzled at how or why his somewhat skittish and sometimes fearful wife loved this wild ride so much. I think it was because this new adventure was too spectacular to miss, and if I’ve learned anything in South Africa, it’s that every moment can bring an unexpected gift of delight and that fearful respect is different from fear itself. Plus, Shakemore was trained, capable, and cautious, so we knew he was taking no chances.

After several hours, we reached the mountain top where we respectfully gazed with delight as the diverse herds leaped and jumped and bounded across the quiet, prairie plains. Black wildebeest, orange-brown eland, and white-faced blesbok sauntered across the red-grassed land, sometimes single-file, inspiring us to prayerful silence for we did feel, in fact, quite blessed to see sites so obviously blessed by the touch of God, spectacular sites that overwhelmed our son, who has been on countless game drives. And when one huge eland buck trailed a herd of graceful blesbok and then chased away a wandering wildebeest intent on joining their party, we understood the emotion behind the power of a simple three-letter word: “Wow!”

And even though we only saw two zebra, not the dazzle we expected, one more thing I’ve learned on this trip is that you don’t worry about what you miss because there are too many surprises in front of you to be disappointed. Ever!

And in yet another surprise, Shakemore-style, our fabulous guide stopped the land cruiser and once more pointed to a path for us to follow. The last time he did this, a perfect South African, culinary spread awaited us; this time the surprise was even more delicious for as we rounded the rocky corner, trekking higher up the mountain on foot, we soon found ourselves standing on top of a magnificent rock cliff called Eagle’s Rock overlooking the entire valley. And as we caught our breaths and reverently paused, immediately -- as if on cue -- a powerful black eagle soared by, spreading his wings and swooping past us so surprisingly that we missed an amazing photo opportunity for we were too overcome to unpack our equipment in time. We didn’t capture the moment on camera, but the majestic eagle captured our hearts and we’ll never forget that black eagle’s splendid, authoritative presence over this blessed land.

Before our Ker & Downey South African trip was over, we would have flown in six commercial flights, one small aircraft, and a helicopter, and yet our experience on top of Eagle’s Rock was one of the greatest highs of all.