Heights, Frights and the Delights of Quite a Hike

by Malekgetho Thekiso (United States of America)

I didn't expect to find South Africa

Things had gotten interesting. One: the sun was setting. The consequence (one of many, as below) of starting a four hour hike at 1pm. Two: it was early September, a South African spring in the Free State, meaning mornings and evenings were arctic and I was dressed in flimsy workout gear. Three: I was only nearing the top of what must have been the highest mountain on the planet! No? Well, when you're on (four) a very solo hike, freezing, unable to locate a water source and you haven't even started the descent, the Golden Gate Highlands National Park offerings start to look more and more like Everest. Also, my Nikes couldn’t hack it and my phone was dead. It was my umpteenth hike alone and a gigantic jump up towards the apex of stupidity. Clarens known as the 'Jewel of the Eastern Free State' is comfortably nestled within the Northern Drakensberg. Named after an equally small village in Switzerland, Clarens is situated at the base of the Maluti Mountains, which is precisely why I couldn't pass up the chance to go exploring. The drive from Johannesburg to the tiny town had me squealing, delighted that I'd packed my ‘hiking shoes'. The land is yellow, dry. While other parts of South Africa are verdant it feels right that Clarens and its surrounding areas are mostly golden. Complex Mama Africa must show you what a rainless winter does to her. Also, her people are hard to come by as you pass a town only now and then. No signs of abandonment though, a defunct mine perhaps but it isn’t a deserted location. It’s a tranquil den thought highly enough to leave alone. In and around the Golden Gate Hotel and Chalets nooks, crannies and what I like to call ‘baby mountains', are aplenty. Luckily, I had enough sense to know that I couldn’t go out just then but even so, the views from the first floor were astounding. The hills seemed to go on forever, rolling endlessly into the nothingness of a clear, cloudless sky. After two days of mild, backyard trekking, I decided I’d take on the (supposedly) four hour Wodehouse Peak Trail. Just as you approach the trail, located in the Park’s campsite, you’re presented with other routes. These are shorter. Less arduous. The big kahuna, however, is anything but. The trail starts off in a lush, densely vegetated part of Wodehouse Peak. It’s a short and shady introduction to a fascinatingly long dip into an extremely vacant clearing. I love a good mystery and the sandstone rock formations ahead, offer just that. I wondered if they’d been painted on by a long forgotten Sesotho tribe. Turns out the rocks bleed a story that states otherwise. Truly enchanting. It's after these formations that the trail gets sketchy and the map becomes almost entirely unusable. The markings don’t make sense of the forks and the forks don’t care to explain themselves. I’m almost certain I took a wrong turn. I didn’t mind it then. Experiencing the mountainside leaves you overwhelmed in its glory. The trail is formidable not only in losing your sense of direction but the dips and inclines tend to be very steep. After a good two hours of hard meandering, I found myself approaching the true pinnacle in earnest. Grand and terrifying, you’re so high up, you must be seeing every part of the Northern Drakensberg and Julie would sing for its life! On the side where you begin the descent, there’s a stretch of rock in the ground where previous hikers have etched their names. With my phone dead and the sun starting its betrayal, I had to add my name. You know. Just in case. It’s steep, winding and a lot of ground to cover. The downward climb takes you through mud, forest, rock and every other type of terrain you can imagine. This is the most difficult part of any hike and I will admit, the tears of raw, unfiltered fear threatened to pour out. Wodehouse style. I found myself on that hike. How could I have left? Fortunately, I made it back by twilight and hopefully, you do too.