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Post by Host Brandon on Oct 22, 2015 19:50:38 GMT -5
 Come on in guys! Welcome to your next Survival Challenge and congrats again on top 6!  Tonight, you will compete in a race. For the first 15 minutes of this challenge, you will be given time to read a story - a legend - about Table Mountain (the mountain overlooking the Cape of Good Hope). Once 15 minutes are up, I will open up the hidden boards. Each board has a password which comes from the story you previously read. Once inside each board, there will be a task. Once you complete the task, you can move on to the next board. You do not need to go in order. The one rule is that the final task MUST be done last.
The first person to enter all the boards and complete all the tasks will win survival and will earn a spot in the final FIVE! Good luck!
 •The final task must be done last.
•All passwords will be one word and all lowercase. ~This challenge will take place LIVE on Thursday 10/21~ |
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Post by Host Brandon on Oct 22, 2015 19:59:35 GMT -5
How the Mountain Got Its Tablecloth
No tale about Table Mountain could be better known than that of the confirmed old smoker and retired pirate, Van Hunks. Van Hunks's haunt is the prominent clump of rocks standing in the saddle of land that connects Devil's Peak to Table Mountain, "Breakfast rocks". His actual home is said to have been in Cape Town, and several houses long since demolished, were thought to have been his original abode.
Sitting in the lee of breakfast rock on the saddle when the south-easter starts blowing and watching the fabled table cloth cascading over the face of Table Mountain, one can almost picture the following scene taking place. . . .
It seems that Van Hunks suffered one thing in common with another famous compatriot of his, Rip van Winkle: they were both afflicted by nagging wives. in Rip's case, he was driven out by his wife because as he was a young and able bodied man, she felt he should help more with the chores around the house. In escaping these wearisome tasks he took refuge in the Catskill Mountains where he fell into his celebrated sleep.
Van Hunks on the other hand was no longer young when he took to the mountians to get away from the sharp tongue of his wife. Although he had been a rogue and a fearless villian all his pirating days, the sound of his wife bearing down in a rage aroused more fear in him than the shadow of the gallows tree! He was no match against a broadside from her fiery tongue. The trouble was that she could not stand the smell of his old pipe and the strong shag with which he filled it. If he dared to light up this beloved comforter in the vicinity of her nostrils, out he went, willy-nilly! he only climbed the mountain in summer; the cold spray from the seven seas had seeped into his bones and in winter he would take his aching joints into the taverns instead.
But in good weather, high on the saddle of land on the mountain, he would light up his old clay pipe and settle himself comfortably on a warm boulder, and send clouds of blue smoke wafting up from the old pipe, a small keg of the best black shag tobacco cradled between his knees.
One day he was slightly disturbed to find his solitude invaded by a rather odd looking figure who was climbing the mountain towards him. The stranger seemed to have some difficulty walking - as though his boots were a size too small for him. An old black frieze coat hung to his knees, almost brushing the heads of the purple bushes of erica as he shuffled upwards, and an old wool hat was pulled well down over his eyes.
He dropped down on a comfortable rock next to Van Hunks, and mopped his brow. Van Hunks thought he saw steam emanating from under the brim of his wool hat.
Sit down a moment and cool off matey,' said Van Hunks kindly. It's warm enough for the Devil himself today!'
The stranger gave him a peculiar stare from beneath his slanting eyebrows, but said nothing. Van Hunks puffed awhile in silence. The stranger puzzled him. Surely he had seen him before somewhere? Unaccountably Van Hunks was reminded of some of the worst scenes from his pirating days: he seemed to hear the screams of the chained slaves as the great Spanish galleasses sank below the shark infested waves of Hispaniola, and the gurgle of a captive swinging rom the yard arm; the reek of gunpowder was in his nostrils as he led his whooping, blood-stained pack over the side of a reeling, desperate galleon, death-locked with grapnels to his own looming ship. and through it all - a press of contorted faces and screaming mouths - hovered into view while the face of this stranger now sitting so peacefully beside him looked on.....
Van hunks started, as if awakening from a bad dream. The noise of battle and sudden death sank to mere whispers amid the silver trees; then the lonely cry of a wheeling seagull was the only sound.
The stranger spoke in a deep voice.
Well mynheer Van Hunks', he said affably. 'It is good to sit here and smoke. It soothes the nerves and clouds old unpleasant memories. Unfortunately I have run out of tobacco, or I would join you'. He tapped the bowl end of a large black pipe which stuck out of his back pocket.
You know my name? said Van Hunks suspiciously.
Oh I know everyone,' replied the stranger sweepingly. 'Don't worry, as for you, I like what I know. You are a man after my own heart.' Van Hunks, relieved, pushed the keg of shag towards the stranger. Fill up, mate,' he growled. 'The past is past and I've no quarrels left with anyone. I've lived a full life and enjoyed every minute of it. This tobacco is the best and I smoke more of it, Mynheer, than any man alive.' 'A great statement,' said the stranger mildly, digging into the keg with his long sinewy fingers. 'In the port that I hail from we smoke day and night and I'll wager you here and now that I can smoke more than you at a single sitting!.
Now if there was one thing that could make Van Hunks sit up and take notice, it was the chance of a good wager. 'What stakes, What stakes? The old pirate growled eagerly.
The stranger leaned forward.
'Your soul against a barquentine of red gold,' he whispered evilly, his reddish eyes glinting.
Van Hunks roared in his beard, 'You're a rum cove! My soul went by the board years ago matey! And as for your red gold. I've enough hid away for many a rainy Cape winter yet. However, a bet is a bet and I will smoke against you for the sheer love of the thing!'
Then Van Hunks upended his Keg of strong black shag and poured the leaf into two equal heaps on a convenient flat rock. 'Share and share alike,' he grunted. 'I think you will find we are equal.'
'Fair and generous,' agreed the stranger. Let us begin.'
A long silence followed, broken only by the steady puffing of the Clay pipes and an occasional gurgle as a pull was taken of Van Hunk's flask to wet a dry gullet.
Soon, down went the sun behind the mountains, and the moon came up behind the Tygerberg, lighting the waves to a silver shimmer below them; but on they puffed, neither one giving way to the other. And gradually, a choking white cloud grew around them.
By morning the entire top of Table Mountain was hidden beneath billowing folds. The cloud poured down the rock faces like a white waterfall and the burghers below closed their doors and windows and sat indoors in wonderment. The wind tossed the huge cloud about and roared with glee. Never had a south-easter such as this descended on the city of Cape Town since Van Riebeeck first planted his hedge of Almond trees in Kirstenbosch!
Still the two smoked on, and the cloud grew. The bristly face of Van Hunks had grown red and sweaty, and his breathing was laboured; but his companion was in a far worse state: his sinister countenance had first turned white, then green, and at last he rolled off his boulder seat with a terrible groan, 'Brimestone and sulphur are as nothing to this truly devilish poison,' he gasped.'Quick give me a drink - I burn, I burn!
Van Hunks sympathetically passed his flask across. There what did I tell you? No one can stand up to an old roaring rover like Van Hunks!' The stranger threw back his head and took a long pull. The liquor sizzeled and smoked as it went down his throat, and his wool hat fell off!
Van Hunks found himself staring at two sharp horns that adorned the strangers head.
'Horns!' he gasped. Old scratch, as I'm a sinner!
The very devil himself!'
With a screech, the creature jumped out of his coat, boots and all, and exposed himself in his full rightful regalia of pointed tail and cloven hooves. 'Right again, Van Hunks,' he crowed, and I don't like to play a losing game!'
There was a great blaze of lightening, and a smell of sulphur, and the white cloud was momentarily illuminated by a red glow - then it whirled skywards in blinding fragments. Finally, the tumult ceased and the mist cleared, rolling away to reveal neither the stranger, nor Van Hunks - only a bare patch of scorched earth where they had sat, the charred remains of two pipes, and an empty keg of black shag tobacco . . .
From that day, the area became know as Devil's Peak. When the south-easter blows, those who are old and wise will look up at the tumbling white cloud and say, 'The Devil and Van Hunks are at it again!' |
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