Table Mountain was not on our itinerary, not for that gorgeous day. After an emotionally charged visit to Robben Island, all we wanted to do was have a meal and take a nap.
But Ian, our guide, insisted. The weather was perfect, he said. There was no guarantee we’d have another one, best to take advantage. If the clouds came in, visibility on Table Mountain would be reduced. I know this mountain, he said. You only have five days, why wait for tomorrow when you could see something else? We’re so close.
We insisted. We huddled among ourselves. We were adamant. We didn’t want a tour guide to commandeer our vacation. After all, for more than a week, we’d had people telling us what to do and when do it. And after Cape Town, we’d have another tour guide shepherding us around. Independent people, we wanted our freedom or a least a little latitude.
I can’t remember now what Ian said that clinched it. But I’m glad he didn’t give up. It was the best decision we made that day. As it turned out, it rained all day the next day and for several days after that, Table mountain looked as if a crisp white tablecloth had been spread over it.
From that moment, we never objected to anything Ian recommended.