Dragon's Wrath 2017

Thought this might be of interest to some (maybe can use a translator app) …………...   Link:    

I remember this incident very well.  I used Google translation and this is the result ( with allowances for direct translation and thank you to Matthias Ferago.)

Winter fact in the DrakensbergOctober 4, 2018
Some adventures take time to tell. I feel it was yesterday, and yet the following took three years to come to an honest narration. The project was crazy, the adventure incredible, the outcome happy.Summer 2015 so. I can not bring myself to wait until the northern winter for my next Nordic skiing. Totally inexperienced and under-equipped, I travel to Johannesburg with Nordic hiking skis and small hiking equipment. A first bus brings me to Harrismith, where I can begin the approach. The following is romantic.
Approach technique
After the all-comfort bus line, I take a bus with more local colors. Along the way, one observes my pale and naive face with a great astonishment and stifled laughter. I do not realize yet that whites and blacks do not mix in South Africa, even twenty years after the official end of apartheid! A security guard warns me against criminals, while the driver recommends hiding me in a grocery store in the huge slum of Phuthaditjhaba.Yet I have the impression that origins in North Africa make my presence legitimate in South Africa. In the back shop of the grocery store I finally prefer the taxi cab, where a driver agrees to go for the last kilometers to the foot of the Drakensberg. 
Mont-Aux-Sources
At the entrance of the natural park I sign the register of visitors, under the incredulous eye of the guards. On the narrow path that leads to Mont-aux-Sources, I meet columns of hikers in a row of onions left for the day. I am willing to linger with the last human souls that I have to work with for days.
The Wuthering Heights
A shelter of rangers shelters me a first night. For hours the wind lifts and slams the roof plate violently. On these high plateaux the wind blows your ear to madness, and makes you want to scream with all your might. This is not a problem in itself as the neighborhood is non-existent ...So far, so good…On the lookout for rare shelters, I spent the second night in the minimalist box of a shepherd. In the early morning, the roof pierced from side to side lets pass the snow, which falls gently on the down.Apart from the snow that is too low to ski, things are going well as expected. For a precipitate reason - the new loneliness, a panic wind, what do I know? - I feel like going down the next valley, rather than pushing up to Cathedral Peak. That day I take two bad decisions.
1st wrong decision (non-blocking anomaly)
The highlands are flanked by narrow passes like the loopholes of a long wall. The promise of finding the floor of the cows that can already be seen in the distance is enticing, so I decide to take this pass:I do not know if in my readiness I read the second card badly, or if I did not consult it at that moment. Still, Fangs Pass is not passable and a forbidden meaning makes it clear on the second card. I'm sure I'm at Hwanga Pass, a pass away, probably because of the changes in scale and orientation between the two maps. In hindsight I'm not proud of this mistake!Follows an indefatigable descent of a thousand vertical meters. There is no more snow at this altitude, and the rocks give way to abundant vegetation. On the way I find the meal bag of a hiker who lies (the bag ...) in a modest cavity. Has he slept (the hiker ...) against the bitter rock, or has he wisely turned around? A chamois observes me with a perplexed look from an overhang: even he does not venture here. Contemplation gives way to amazement when I realize that a rock the size of a three-storey building blocks the way
2nd wrong decision (blocking anomaly)
It's a basic rule that is still unknown to me: to go down only if you are sure you can go back! Unfortunately I am not seriously studying the option to turn around. I rather review the possibilities to go down:
Perform a tactical fall of several meters and trust the gravity, inflatable mattress in front and backpack behind?
Attempt a descent to the left of the rock by wedging me between two walls like Splinter Cell?
Get down with bare hands by the right wall?
I spend the most dreadful night of my life: poorly installed between two rocks, I'm hot, I'm cold and I tremble with fear thinking about what awaits me the next day. At the first rays of the sun I start on the right, the bag of shipping still on the back. On the other hand I abandon the cover of the skis by hanging on the wall, because if I see them tumbling down my body will follow for sure, as if caught in the emptiness!By what miracle did I manage to descend a vertical wall of fifteen meters by grasping all my weight to tufts of grass? I discover that the body is capable of superhuman efforts when it is filled with adrenaline by the prospect of impending death. The respite is short-lived. A little further, it is an impassable precipice that puts a final stop to my progress
.In the direction of the river
Like a requiem in the shape of a novel photo, I see my life scrolling at full speed. It's not just an expression! Quickly I consider all the possible ends:Water flows from the mountain in abundance, so I can not be dehydrated. I will be able to finish my supplies and then wait to die of hunger, but it will take weeks.I will be able to throw myself in this precipice if the wait is too painful, although base jump without parachute is a little unnatural!I will still be able to slice one vein or another in the direction of the length ("down the river, not across the street" as I learned later).Then a voice hammers gently in my head: "continue to live to embrace mine". Incredible as it is easy to say that we love in a moment of great danger. I leave my phone from his watch and ... something unexpected I weakly capture a network, even the mobile Internet! I hardly have a few calls to emergency numbers, I contact an angel-guardian by SMS relay to the Embassy of France. I also end up getting my GPS coordinates. While waiting for possible help, I set up the tent and I sleep so as not to feel the funk, nor my body which liquefies.
The ride of the Valkyries
Delivery is gradual and each decompression stage brings a lot of emotions:36 hours after the SOS, I hear the first helicopter miles from my position. He does not have the right coordinates yet and is looking in a nearby valley, but at least I know the message is over.I see a helicopter pass high in the sky. He does not see me.I am in contact with the Chief of Rescue on board one of the aircraft. He knows where I am thanks to new GPS coordinates, accurate this time!Two helicopters are hovering in front of me, and confirm the eye contact. The approach is slow and dangerous because of strong winds.In its whirlwind the rope of the winch pulled me out of this closed door. I see in turn the abandoned material, the rocky peak of my booth, and the tent canvas driven away by the breath of the helicopter. We land on a first base at the foot of the mountain. There we pose in front of the helicopters to immortalize the success of the mission. What a memorable photo it must be, hanging in the office of the rescuers, alongside other survivors. While I had no idea of ​​the quality of the relief in South Africa, it was a reconnaissance helicopter, two Super Puma helicopters, half a dozen rescuers, and dozens of South African Air Force soldiers. have participated directly in the relief. The helicopter flight was so expensive that no organization charged me or even asked for any insurance.
I stay at the beach
The army and rescue workers drop me off in Durban after an unexpected helicopter baptism. In the morning in the mountains, and in the evening by the ocean! I am a little shocked by the events and respond evasively to journalists who contact me. The next day in town, some newspapers make their winter One, and placards promote it.
Embarrassing embassy
The following week, back in Johannesburg I am received by the French Consul in person. While we debrief in his office, the chief of the rescue calls at the same time! And an embarrassing question comes back: how did I get there? I still can not answer clearly why even several years after the incident. Things do not happen by chance, but I did not want to put myself in such a situation either. I wanted to ski in the highlands ...
Africa is not for sissies
mprudence is paying dearly, as we are reminded by infamous stories: Gabriel and the mountain in the same region of the globe, Into the Wild, which I watched only a few days before leaving ... These stories warn us as much as they do. inspire usIn the days following this misadventure, articles on the Internet take over the news. "Africa is not for princesses!" People said to me. I salute the courage of rescuers who regularly put themselves in danger to save lives, and the finesse they show to not make you feel more guilty.For those who survive, the lesson is learned and is self-sufficient. This does not mean to stop the raids alone, but to redouble caution: humble attitude, strict route, satellite phone, solar charger, doubling of equipment, etc. Our smartphones are riddled with sensors, yet we must be able to use them when the time comes! Do not wait any longer to need to install applications that can save us: GPS coordinates display, compass, altimeter, luxmeter at least.

Relax Shakespeare,  Google translate is not a threat!  I have to go back to Mont-aux-sauces as I seemed to have missed the row of onions.