Day 2: Maritzboshut – Stableshut, 14 km
When the first sunrays have warmed us up somewhat, we cross the stream and follow the way markers into a deciduous forest. This at least is a true hiking trail, small and winding, soft earth beneath my feet. I feel elated, this is the kind of hiking I love. From a distance we follow the water upstream until the trail leads us to a bridge. It’s the first of many, every few hundred meters we switch banks. First the bridges consist of two logs with wooden boards. Most are fairly level and have only a few rotten boards, although they all bounce nicely. As we get further bridges become more scarce and we cross the water via stones, sometimes aided by a steel cable. Slowly high rocks close in on us, until we are in a gully. When we suddenly round a corner two ibises flee clucking loudly. It’s a sound I have come to associate with South Africa, because ibises are as common here as our pigeons. A fair number of bends and climbs later we reach Cathedral Falls, plunging into a pool from a great height across a rock face. After a short break and  some licorice we cross a wooden bridge and start a nasty climb. In a short span of time we gain serious height and I feel like I have to catch my breath every ten minutes or so. Large rocks are on the trail regularly and I have to be careful where to plant my feet. With my broken left wrist still in a sling my balance is not as reliable as I am used to and I have just my right trekking pole for support. Now and again there’s a tree across the trail and when I am climbing over a big one and slightly lose my balance for a second, I can feel my left arm protesting the injustice. We reach another waterfall, a pool of clear water. High above it a rock is jammed between the sides of a gully. Now I understand why it is called Chokestone Falls. The rock itself has vegetation on it and not just grass and moss. A whole tree has made the rock home, but where it finds nutrients is anyone’s guess. We press on, up and down. Despite the gully’s cooling shade I am quite warm. And then I see a tree moving more than wind could cause and I forget all about the heat. Brown fur shoots down. Monkeys! While the little ones flee, one remains close, an alarm call like a primal cry. We scour the dense vegetation, but the sound is hard to locate. Eventually I discover the shape of a monkey with a long, dark tail much further away than I thought. He is standing up and holding a branch with one arm. Just as I found him, he decides the danger has passed and moves to join the rest of his troupe, deep in the forest below us, hidden by vegetation. A South African grivet according to David, because baboons have no tail. How lucky are we! When do you ever encounter monkeys on a hike?

We climb further until it gets lighter and we step into the sun. A few meters more and we approach the tree line, with only dwarf pines lower on the slopes. A cairn signals the summits, a proud exclamation mark, although I regret the champagne bottle between the trees. We are surrounded by undulating brown mountains. In the distance I see Sabie, with 9.000 inhabitants it was built after a gold rush in the area. From the cairn we walk to a gravel road winding across the hills. Soon we reach a junction not shown on the map. The road leads directly to the Stables Hut,  but we choose the variant along a last waterfall. We climb a bit, but it’s no longer hard. A small trail guides us trough yellow, arid grass around hills with rocks. We don’t see any wildlife, but do notice excrement. Then we overlook a gully and two waterbucks flee each in a different direction. Where the gully starts there’s a small waterfall no more than a trickle of water along moss in a clear pool. Countless beetles glide across the water in which I see tadpoles on drowned rocks. A wonderful place to swim, if not for my bandages which cannot get wet. Just getting my feet wet, David suggests. But when he falls on a slippery rock, I know I did well to remain on the grass. After a late lunch we continue on. Some more grassland, a bit of forest and a gravel road to the hut, where a deer flees quickly. The hut is surrounded by plantations and looks out on the mountains in the distance, which take on a purple hue as the afternoon shifts toward evening. Soon we are joined by an South African family. The father is a photographer and that night takes a spectacular picture of the milky way that would not be amiss in National Geographic.

Day 3: Stableshut – Mac Machut, 16 km
The first trucks have passed the hut already on their way to collect a load of wood when we say goodbye to our hut mates and head out. We do not hike through the grasslands in front of the hut as I expected. Instead we take the gravel road and quickly eat up for kilometers. We enjoy the blue mountains, a sheer endless mosaic of overlapping fingers. Where the road bends towards Sabie, we climb on. We end up on a hill with golden grass and rocks. And although I followed a clear trail, we soon discover we are off the trail. Fortunately we can see the right trail a bit below us and we descend carefully. With our eyes we follow the route across a ridge. Much better than a boring gravel road. Sometimes we have to pay attention, but in general the trail is not hard. To our right Sabie lies in the valley,  much larger than we imagined. The air is hazy. To our left it’s clear and forest plantations lie amid a spider’s web of brown gravel roads with those gorgeous blue mountains behind them. An eagle flies past, not too close. Sometime later we are walking on the ridge we admired earlier. I thought we would stay there just about all day, but trees grow in gullies and in one of these forests the trail descends. From a distance I can hear birdsong, a welcome sound after plantations’ boring silence. Although the dry pine needles are slippery beneath our feet, the shade is most welcome. Deep within the forest we find a gurgling waterfall, a thin stream feeding a clear pool. It’s a peaceful sound, just soft enough to serve as a relaxing YouTube-clip. We rest for a bit, but continue when we get chilled. The climb out of the forest is much steeper than the descent. It takes awhile, but then we are in the grassland and the sun again. Our attention is drawn by a tree with gorgeous red flowers, aptly called Flamboyant. Just as I am taking a picture, a bird lands near the flower, which reminds me of a hummingbird because of its beautiful colors and curved beak. But this bird is much larger and reaches the nectar with its long beak from the branch, without having to hover. Although I am not sure it just might be an oranjeborstsuikerbekkie (orangebreastedsuggarbeaky). And even if it’s not, the name is just to fantastical not to sneak into my hiking story. (Eventually Google decides it’s a Southern double-collared sunbird).

We wind on, over and around hills. New trees appear along the trail, different than the Flamboyant but with red flowers as well. David doesn’t know the name, but does know that their seeds only germinate after a fire. Some trees have blackened trunks which contrast beautifully with the red flowers. Signs that fire is a regular occurrence here are all around us. A hill appears with the left side green and the right side brown. A controlled fire stopped at the firebreak right at the top. Most fires are caused by lightning of course, but controlled fires pave the way for new, green grass. While we look out over the strange hill, we hear a strange bark David recognizes immediately as a baboon’s alarm call. For a moment we see nothing, then I spot a grey shape at the forest edge. Through my zoom lens I spot more. They are at the limit of what my camera can handle. Because the trail brings us closer anyway we continue our hike. As we approach the point where we saw the baboons, they appear to have gone. Still we are glad to have seen them. We hike on, hear a bark again and now a whole troupe appears. Three make themselves comfortable on a rock and through my zoom lens I see them grooming each other. A large male mounts a much smaller female and has his way with her. On arms and legs they walk through the grass until they disappear behind a hill. I don’t want to continue, want to see more and more over: close up. Despite enjoying myself I have not been able to take a decent picture. In the shade of a few pine trees we rest, keeping a close eye on the rocks where we hope to see the baboons again. But after the guard barks one last time it gets quiet and we don’t see anything anymore. With half a liter in my Camelback we hike on. The path winds so much I give up on guessing which direction the path will take us. We descend to green hills and see two oribi’s flee, small antelopes with modest horns. In the small valley I enjoy my surroundings. No work of art can surpass nature. It undulates like a frozen sea, atop one hill there’s one perfectly formed tree. That surprises us, because usually trees like that are misshapen by the wind. When we get closer we notice more trees , which were inconspicuous as they did not stand out against the sky. Somehow they detract from the perfect picture we just saw. At the end of the valley again tree ferns and the sound of water flowing. The vegetation is so dense there’s only the sound of it. Later we enter the forest, which is much less peaceful than the earlier one. Trees are uprooted and criss-crossed atop each other and a small landslide has exposed barren rock. We can just squeeze by them and further on it’s doesn’t get any more cheerful. Wooden bridges span dry creeks and a third creek we cross without minding the rocks serving as stepping stones in better days. Once out of the forest we are expecting to see the hut soon but it takes a few winds and climbs more before we can take our backpacks off at Mac Mac Hut. This looks out on plantations and is positioned on the hills in such a way that the wind has free rein. But the mattresses in the bunk beds are soft and the solar panels provide light when the sun sets at 17.39 hours.

Day 4: Mac Machut – Graskophut, 12 km
From the hut we climb to a gravel road which leads us into the plantation. This pine forest is old and feels somewhat natural, although we barely hear any birds. Along the road ferns grow and some trees have been stripped of bark. Eventually the road ends at a small forest path which after a short climb ends up at the bottom of a hill. There’s been a fire here in recent years, because along the trail upwards there are blackened trees while fresh vegetation seizes their opportunity in the cleared space. After a fierce climb a gate with three boards bars our way. The top one hangs loosely in a iron wire loop and I can easily step over the remaining two. We step onto a gravel road which turns into a path through a tunnel  of pleasantly dark deciduous forest. Then the sky opens up again, a gravel road winding along the hills. To the right in the depths civilization imposes itself on us. Power lines cut through the landscape and in the distance we can see Graskop’s first houses, which started out round 1880 as a camp for a nearby goldmine. No, the view to the left is much more appealing. Green and grey, grass and rocks, with a striking peak called The Bonnet. Now and again we encounter cow pies and later we spot a bunch of red-brown beef cows, ruminating calmly. Then David spots an eagle above a forest and from the canopy a monkey sounds the alarm. Later two eagles circle the thermals, beautiful! We swap out the gravel road for a zigzagging path which hastily brings us to a picnic spot next to a highway. We follow the white footed way markers  and in those few hundred meters along the tarmac I see more litter than the past four days combined. We cross an intersection and descend along a steep hill to a next plantation. There we follow wide sandy paths between the trees rigidly standing at attention, although one has not stuck to the script and, like a candle holder holds four trunks. In the sand we see numerous caterpillars and their tracks. Between the trees people are gathering medicinal plants of pine cones. After a few bends we reach the hut. One door is open and provides access to a small room with six bunk beds without a mattress. Another door is closed with a padlock. A note indicates the gear can be picked up at Sabie. Huh? When David calls the museum that manages the trail, it turns out yesterday hikers slept in the hut without a permit. That is not appreciated here. After awhile  the foreman of a group of forest workers brings the key we will leave for him tomorrow underneath a decorative rock. After we have dumped our backpacks, he offers us a ride to Graskop in his ‘bakkie’, the back of his pick-up truck, in between the tools and resting workers. At least I have traveled like a South African once!    

Graskop is small, hardly 4.000 inhabitants and a tourist town. “Authentic” African art in stuffed stores and street vendors selling nuts, fruit of wooden giraffes and birds. There are wonderful pancake restaurants too and we enjoy a delicious lunch. Then I start thinking about hiking again, what else? Today was a short and hardly strenuous day and the afternoon looms before us long and boring. Surely there’s a short hike to fill the time with? There is one and it’s even more beautiful than this leg of the Fanie Botha Trail.   

Jock of the Bushveld Trail, 8 km
The hike starts at the office of a holiday park where we pay 15 rand for a sketchy map with the route. A nice employee walks us to the grim cottages and the dilapidated pool to the start of the trail, which we would never have found ourselves. Markers shaped like a yellow ibis and a white sheep guide us through yellow grasslands. Now and again there’s a pole with a tile carrying a footprint and a number, which corresponds with our map. I am much more at ease here than in the village, with a clear path to follow and nature around me. Slowly rocks appear and against a backdrop of blue mountains it’s beautiful. The rocks are whimsically shaped and according to David they are Table Mountain Sandstone. A bit further, where one trail slithers in between the rocks and another veers around them, we lose our way. At first we follow the trail in between the rocks, but soon it disappears. The path around the rocks is clearer and we follow it until we look out on a spectacular, deep gorge. Amazing and then we are not even close enough to the edge to see the bottom. But the gorge blocks our path, so the loop we were expecting to make, is not happening here. Reluctantly we turn back and encounter weathered white feet from the Fanie Botha Trail, this trail used to be part of. Just shy of tile four we cut to the left through the tall grass and encounter the right trail again, where tile 5 and a white sheep confirms we are at the right spot. When I look closely I notice the sheep was supposed to be some kind of buck, but it doesn’t look like one at all. More grassland follows, more rocks and for the first time we are seeing something other than clear blue sky. Dark clouds promising rain contrast beautifully against the yellow grass. We lose the route once more, but by then we are close enough to the pool to find our way back. Now that’s a well-spent afternoon and those 8 kilometers where certainly worthwhile.      

Day 5: Mac Machut – President Burderhut, 21 km
The last day is the longest and, according to the map, the hardest too. From the hut we follow the sandy road through the plantation. The yellow feet of a day hike accompany us. We cross a small gully with a stream, water lilies and tree ferns on the other side a path between the trees awaits.  Eventually we end up at a gravel road, which we follow effortlessly. We reach a hill of golden-yellow grass with a nice view of the mountains. Behind us we can see Graskop and ahead Sabie presents itself already. When we press on more and more weathered rocks appear. The path runs through a small passage between the rocks and by the scratches in the soft sandstone David can tell someone rode here with his motorcycle. Amazed we look at the trees that made the rocks their home, reaching the earth with long roots. There’s a nice winding path through a plantation with tree stubbles and dead wood from the last harvest. We continue on the gravel road on the edge of the valley, but it’s not boring for a second. A sea of hills and valleys, Krüger Park in the distance. Closer we notice how the vegetation has recovered after a small landslide, a bright green spot on a dark green slope. A bird of prey appears and this time it’s not a black eagle. The wingtips are rounded and I am seeing browns and white. But we do not find out which bird it is. Then downwards, into a gully and cooling shade. Immediately we notice by the birdsong this is natural deciduous forest. We hear and see a woodpecker, busily looking for insects. We descend further, short and not very steep, until we reach a suspension bridge across the Mac Mac river, a steel cable serves as a handrail. It doesn’t feel entirely safe, but that doesn’t stop me from taking some pictures on the middle of the bridge. On the other side we start climbing, not steeply but for a few hours straight.  I am pouring sweat. Because we can’t find a suitable picnic spot, we rest on a rock next to the path. The licorice I bought in Graskop disappears rapidly. Refreshed we continue our hike, the path undulates along the slope and climbs steadily. Along the path there are vines with sharp thorns as big as my thumb. So that’s why Tarzan screamed while he swung through the trees! Slowly the sunlight gets brighter. After a last climb we emerge from the forest, again with a lovely view of the hills. There is no other reward, no spectacular rocks to celebrate our effort with. The wide grassy path looks quite ordinary and to our right to road to Sabie appears, which we will cross somewhere today. But first we head to the Mac Mac Pools. When gold was first found in 1873 at the Geelhoutboomfarm president Burgers called the area Caledonic Goldfields, but because of the many Scottish prospectors the name Mac Mac came in use fairly quickly.

When we see a small building to our left we turn into a side path. It’s not at all what I expected. The building contains toilets you wouldn’t wish on your mother-in-law, picnic benches are surrounded by weeds and the pool is a shallow puddle behind a concrete dam. Had there not been a sign saying swimming is at your own risk I would not have believed this to be the swimming lake listed on my map. Years ago this might have been a popular swimming spot, but surely not now? We eat our lunch at a bench and because it’s clouded I put on my jacket for the first time in South Africa. Back to the grassy path and beyond. We cross a stream at a stone canal. Fortunately it’s winter and water levels are low. Rain is not expected until September and this arid landscape will turn into a green oasis again. On the other side the part of Mac Mac pools that is maintained shines. A parking lot, covered picnic benches and clean, working toilets. But the pool is the most impressive feature. Crystal clear water between beautiful rocks. A South African who is visiting because of a school reunion tells his wife how he came here to swim as a young lad. Downstream the river is even more beautiful. The water wrenches itself between a obstacle course of whimsical shaped rocks. Carefully I balance on a stone in the middle of the stream for the best picture, so much fun! We follow the water downstream, where we cross the stream again. I am being distracted by the rocks, where he stone has worn away and slivers of iron protrude in fascinating patterns. Not much further the stream disappears in the deep and suddenly we are walking at the edge of a massive gorge. We have made an U-turn and across the gorge we can see the grasslands where we hiked to our lunch, without a hint of a suspicion this gorge existed. It’s not far to the next highlight of today, the Mac Mac Falls, a sizable tourist attraction. From the sandy path we step through a gate on pavement. A full parking lot and South Africans who non-intrusively try to sell painted cloths and wooden statues. It’s busy, such a strange feeling after all these days with just the two of us. I quickly hike towards the lookout and this waterfall is unique! Where usually you are at the foot of it, now we are looking down on it. .
We can see the waterfall’s full length, the full monty. The man-sized fence is a disappointment though, sharp iron spikes protecting tourists as they attempt to make a selfie. Fortunately my camera fits in between the bars, so I have an unrestricted view of the waterfall. After awhile I make room for other tourists and up some stairs we reach a road we cross in between wood laden trucks. We are entering yet another plantation, but this one is different from the others. A barely recognizable path zigzags between the trees. Aides by numerous blazes we find our way. We end up at a trail which calmly climbs to a dilapidated railway. Most sleepers are gone and will now be serving as furniture. Only the rotting and concrete sleepers remain, sometimes beside the rails instead of underneath. We hike across track ballast for a bit for a bit, but fortunately after a short stretch there’s a maintenance road alongside the track. At the forest edge we find a buck’s skull, completely white with the horns still attached. We cross the track and hike through the plantation until we come across some cottages. The third is the President Burger Hut, the most neglected hut so far. But with one bonus: electricity. After five days I do long for a warm shower. It’s also the end of this trail. Tomorrow we will get a ride back to Sabie. I am still not sure this South Africa’s most beautiful trail, but it sure is worthwhile.