On the 21st to the 24th May 2026, ten of us set out from Haenertsburg to escape into the mountains of the Wolkberg. In the three years since Ray Kröger first led us over these swathes of grassland guarded by cliffs, the Wolkberg Traverse has become an MCSA Limpopo classic. This year, to change things up a little, we reversed the route, starting from Wolkberg’s Mawetse Camp, and hiking to the Orrie Baragwanath pass in Lekgalameetse Nature Reserve.
After gathering in the early morning, we were dropped on the road to the Mohlapitse Valley, just where the boulders become too big for bakkies. We hitched up our backpacks and walked past LEDET’s Mawetse Camp, signing our lives away in anticipation of four stunning days. From there on, the path followed the Mawetse River (Trout Stream) up and over pristine pools, waterfalls and forests strung with lichen and awash with mist. That night we laughed at ourselves for trying so valiantly to keep our feet dry for our first three streams. After watching countless rivers running over our feet, we’d had to give up and splashed through crossing after crossing with shoes filled with crystal water. Up past the bum slides, which on a warm day would’ve had us slipping and sliding, we slowly picked our way round the edge of the valley and into the gum plantations above. On the last stretch, our group looked reminiscent of the Mammoth Hunters, with all of us dragging long gum poles in anticipation of a cosy fire at the MCSA hut that night.
A cosy fire it was, but after a night of smoke and warmth, the mist was still hanging around, hugging the valleys and teasing us with glimpses of the Wolkberg Sisters the next morning. We wondered what kind of a passage we would be facing through the high rock band of the Knuckles. Our route took us beneath the Horns, but all we could sense of the beauty of the view was the sound of the long, clean waterfall at Cleopatra’s Pools. The mist was thick on the edge of the escarpment and jealously guarded Serala’s Peak. We zigzagged up Kruger’s Nose, watching as clouds lifted and dropped like ragged curtains in the wind. The Devil’s Knuckles would tantalisingly appear, and then, just as we were figuring out exactly where our path would ascend, it would all close up again, leaving us to wonder.
Creeping down Kruger’s nose, we grabbed for rocks, ropes and fellow hiker’s hands, arriving in a huddle in the Wonderwoud below, hoping for a clear path through the forest and up the grassy ridge below the Knuckles. Like a faithful dog, the mist kept track with us, swirling around and obscuring the fact of exactly how high we were ascending on grassy tussocks and rickety rocks.
Three quarters up, the mist cleared for an instant and, like a magician, Ray pointed to a gully, flimsily clad in green. The only pathway through a formidable band of grey rock, it was a ribbon running up to the sky. The route is not ridiculous, but it is high and it does rely on steady, unshakeable feet, and hands that can grab and pull on chains, rocks and the odd slender tree trunk; it is not just another walk in the park. Ray kindly led the way, and placed the rope he had rescued from a Kruger’s nose Aloe over a stout boulder to give us extra traction. Scrambling up a gully is fun, but the mist and our teetering backpacks added a more serious dimension, amplifying the vertigo-inducing height.
But what a view when on top! Mist behind us hid the horns at our backs, but rolling hills stretched to the other horizon and we could see across to the dome of Marake which overlooked Lekgalameetse and our final destination. Thabina, which was to be our campsite for the night, lured us down the back of the knuckles on a seemingly seamless route of soft green velvet. The velvet turned into tussocks hiding, of all great surprises, three berg adders out and about and enjoying the mist! A few hundred meters later and we bumped into a Chaemosaura, or legless lizard, masquerading as some kind of stripey snake. That night, after a Roman bath to top all Roman baths, we forced ourselves to stay awake until the ungodly hour of 19h00, after which, darkness and our cosy sleeping bags claimed our attention.
Day three was, aptly named by Ray, a waffle of a walk. No big cliffs, no steep undercuts, just view upon view of hills and horizons. It was a time warp back to when a mosaic of grassland and forest was thrown over the land and left to fire, wind and water, to seed and soak the soil into a quilt of many colours. Nowadays, our usual mountain view, is of pine and gum plantations interspersed with orchards. They are green and lush, but depauperate in species, and therefore much less robust in the face of our changing and disrupted climate than an indigenous floral landscape. It was thus a privilege to see this part of Africa through our ancestor’s eyes.
Our last night was a chilled river site next to a plunge pool that was quite literally, plunging off the edge of the escarpment! Designed by Heaven and crafted by nature, it was the perfect ending to a magnificent day. That night we watched the stars multiply under the lens of Ray’s binoculars, aware of how many more billions there were beyond even this magnified light. And behind us, below the ridge of the mountains, they were echoed in the lights of Letsitele, Lenyenye and Thabina. Billions of stars lighting billions of planets and a myriad of lights lighting the lives of the people below us. Our position, high on the edge of a planet spinning its lonely orbit in the dark, was both an honour and a responsibility. In days when beauty is a thumb click away from a viewing, we can forget that it takes aeons for it to form and just days to destroy. We can forget that beauty is not just pleasing to the eye, but that it is also a sign of health. The health of a body, the health of a mind, and the health of a planet upon which our very lives rely.
Our last day was a walk filled with jagged rocks and slippery slopes. Some sneaked up Marake Peak for a last look at the landscape we had traversed, but tired legs were now wobbly and prone to finding interesting footholds. On the last slope of our last day, Ellen stepped on a snake, which reacted in a very snake like and un-lizardly manner! The snake and Ellen parted ways with neither party harmed. But it was a reminder that mountains, no matter their beauty, will always hold danger, and never to take them for granted, even when one’s end-of-the-journey transport is in sight!
Thank you to Ray, Walt, Zelda, Rhuandi, Nelis, Sarah, Ellen, Kyra and Neil for the laughs and leadership, and for teaching me about fortitude, guts and willingness in the face of uncertainty. Thank you to Vince, Sylvia, Michael and Sam for the driving, dropping and collecting that made magic possible for us. To LEDET who look after these mountains, all strength! And may the mountains themselves, forever be there to inspire us.
Written by: Bronwyn Egan
