The Portuguese poet Luiz Vaz de Camoes was first to mention the awesome character Adamastor in the 16th Century but Andre Brink, the great Afrikaans author of the 20th Century, discerned the spirit of Adamastor in Table Maintain and wrote about it in his novella, The First Life of Adamastor.
I have known this quaint bit of history since my school days and it has always coloured my view of Table Mountain, the most visible manifestation of the Cape of Good Hope.
I had parked at the Nek and I took the Pipe Track, which would lead me below the towering mass of the Twelve Apostles and out in the direction of Hout Bay. Behind my right shoulder was Lions Head, and beyond that lay Signal Hill. To my left, towering even higher, was the great bulk of Table Mountain's central table itself. From my position I couldn't actually see it but large objects have an energy and a presence which is not entirely dependent on line of sight. I just knew it was there. I could feel it's presence. The great spirit of Adamastor was all around me.
"O great Adamastor!"
It was a hot spring afternoon, the mountain slope and the path that I was on were bathed in the golden light of the afternoon sun. The path was empty. I was the only one there.
After my exclamation a hush fell over the mountain, as if it was listening. The light breeze dropped, the air became still.
"Adamastor, great, mighty, and ancient, what will become of me, with my bruised and broken heart, and with my few remaining years, tell me, because I'm hurting, and I need to know!"
But I did not get an answer. The air was very still. The myriads of insects who buzz and flit and chirp among the foliage all seemed to have frozen in anticipation of an answer. Like them I had frozen in anticipation.
Then a breeze moved through the leaves and branches of the tall trees, like the body of an animal pushing it's way carelessly through vegetation.
"Son of man, way do you bother me here at my work? Son of man, can you not see that I must be ever vigilant against the attacks of the reckless crews who would drive their ships onto my rocks, against the millions of sea creatures who swim at my feet without a whit of understanding, against the clumsiness and ineptitude of your kind, who falter even as they try to fit a harness and a noose to my untameable shore."
"O Adamastor, do you remember a time, nigh on 50 years ago now, when a young man full of despair came to you for counsel, and you counseled him and comforted him so by the time he turned to leave, his despair had lifted? Do you remember that, great Adamastor?"
Once again a great silence fell on the deep green slope, and it was as if the two voices had never spoken.
Then, "Yes, I remember" boomed the voice of Adamastor, like rolling thunder in the crags of the mountain.
"I am that young man, Adamastor. Fifty years is but a moment to you, but it has been most of my lifetime, and now once again I come to you for advice"
A very long silence then ensued. I began to think that perhaps he did not consider my question to be sufficiently important to merit an answer.
Then once again the breeze moved the foliage and I knew that he was still with me.
"Summers follow winters"
Adamastor said,
"After grief there will be joy
After mourning there will be rejoicing
Consider my brother, the great ocean
Who plays at my feet
Does he have only one mood?
No! He lives in parts
Some are violent
Some are placid
Some are in darkness
Some are in sunlight
Some are frozen
Others boil.
Your own great poet Walt Whitman said,
'Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself.
I am large, I contain multitudes.'
So bear your sorrows like badges of glory
They are the proof that you lived.
One day you will watch your last sunset
Unknowing that it is your last
Then you will wake from the dream of life
And become part of me
Rolled round with rocks and stones
In Earth's diurnal course
And standing with Old King Solomon
You will agree that it was all vanity"
"Go now in peace, son of man,
Enjoy your last few years
For nothing lasts forever"
I saluted Adamastor and left that mountain
Who knows if I'll speak to him again
But his words will stay with me
Because truth endures.
