Naukluft Hiking Trail #9 - Up a waterfall

The next morning a few of  us took the slight detour that leads to the base of the impressive Die Valle cliff before starting out on the day's hike. Only a thin, silver trickle of water was dripping its long way down to the pebble-strewn base of what must be a breathtaking waterfall to behold after heavy rains. The cliff is more than 200m high and almost as wide, which means an awe-inspiring curtain of water  tumbles down here after a good thunder shower, only to dissipate into the gravel within an hour or two and return the scenery to the waterless landscape it is most of the time.

This morning's climb included a challenging 500m uphill, first to the top of Die Valle waterfall and then further up the canyon to a small plateau.   The climb was, as I suspected, a very steep up and up, and to make it manageable I broke it into 50m sections, stopping for a minute or two at each point to catch my breath. Two or three times a deceptive ridge would make it look like I was nearing the summit, but each time I was fooled and another upward stretch showed itself.

The climb ended more or less right at the lip of the Die Valle waterfall. A large, clear rock pool enticed two or three of the braver walkers to shed their clothes, and in their undies wallow into the icy cold water for a few minutes before settling in the sun to dry out. Straight below us the extensive, flat valley we'd crossed the day stretched to the horizon.

The landscapes you see in Naukluft are as varied and unique as the time you spend there; no two vistas that unfold are ever the same. You may spend a few minutes admiring the view, walk a few hundred metres further, turn around, and what you see will have changed completely since you last looked.

It was only slightly past lunchtime when we started the steep downhill that led to the Tufa Shelter, tonight's stayover. The route wound its way along an old mountain pass that had been remarkably well laid out many, many years before, connecting a sheep faming outpost at the top of the mountain to the farmstead below. It was once well surfaced and bordered by a neat stone wall but now its gravel surface was deeply eroded and at places strewn with rocks that had tumbled down the mountainside.

After a while glances in the direction of the setting sun made us realise we had to step up the pace in order to reach the shelter before dusk. We'd totally under-estimated the time it would take to get to the bottom of the pass. I was a bit disappointed because not only do I dislike rushing a hike, especially one I'll probably never in my life do again, but also because the scenery along the way had a special ambience, imbued with a feeling of melancholy for the toil of the hardened farmers who tamed the land here for a while before it started slipping back into nature, as we saw now.

Once we reached the base of the mountain pass it took a while to locate the shelter - blame bad signage and the approaching nightfall. Thus far trail markings have been almost perfect, and in all the time we'd been walking we only missed the ubiquitous painted yellow footprint guiding us along on no more than on two or three occasions. All along it was clear that the trail was being well maintained and looked after.

Familiar foot marking hanging from a tree.

The mood at the shelter that night was slightly downbeat and less boisterous than before. Nothing had changed - the toilet was no more dodgy than before, and everyone was still getting along fine. But I could sense the six days of hard trekking was taking its toll. And, I discovered my first foot blister. Nothing to worry about, but there it was, covering half my left foot big toe. So far I'd managed to stay blister free, but due to the fast downhill pace through the mountain pass I'd pushed my feet a little too hard, and this was the consequence. I made a mental note to stick to a foot-friendly pace for the remainder of the trail. Last thing I want are feet that pack up with the trail end in sight. So I duly doctored the blister with a fancy zinc oxide plaster kindly donated by someone who had a few extra. It worked like a charm, because it never bothered me for the rest of the trail.

You can see all the pics from Naukluft in my Flickr gallery.

Naukluft Hiking Trail #6... Blisters

I left the camp, or rather the slab of concrete we called home the previous night still chewing frantically on a peanut bar, trying to get my energy levels up to a point where I'll be able to walk up the steep canyon for a few kilometers and scale a few chains inbetween. My normal, hearty breakfast consisting of coffee, a generous helping of Futurelife, and my blaster dosre of vitamin pills and energy sweets would have to wait until we reach the top of the canyon, 400 leg breaking meters above us, where we'd agreed to pause at a rock pool to eat and stock up our water supplies. I say 400m up, because the horizontal 14-17km we walked each day wasn't the issue, it was the daily slog of clambering in and out of canyons that took its toll.

On the way up we walked past the ubiquitous quiver trees flowering bright yellow bouquets, the first time I've ever seen them in bloom. Their flowers weren't unique; all along the drably coloured trail small splashes of colour decorated shrubs as if a giant artist spilled droplets of paint among the rocks and boulders that littered the way.

After about an hour of walking we reached the bottom of the first chain, the same one we'd used to descend into Ubisis Kloof the previous day. I felt a bit wobbly having had no meaningful sustenance but managed to heave myself and my kit up all of the chain sections, finally reaching a spot where, as usual, the fast walkers were already lighting their stoves and boiling water alongside a rock pool in the tiny stream that trickles along the base of the canyon.

Here's a tip on how to enjoy the Naukluft: Don't count kilometers. Day after day you'll be cris-crossing canyons that, if you're not careful, will feel like a never-ending rock-strewn eternity. Don't worry, they all do come to an end. And all have stunning landscapes that very few earthlings have ever visited and had the privilege to see. So make the most of your time there - stop often, enjoy the scenery, pause, be in the moment.

On most days the afternoon's hike is generally across flat plains, or runs down-hill. The designer of Naukluft, apart from being a chain fanatic, was also a master at understanding hike philosophy: Nothing breaks a hiker's spirit like a long uphill trudge climbat the end of the day when the hut is within sniffing distance. Here there are none of that, it's always a gentle roll up to the hut.

So it was a relatively easy walk across a few low rises to our next stop, Adelhorst Shelter. It was once again a roofed stone kraal, this time a round one with a hand crank water pump right next to it. By now stringing a washing line had sort of by default become my job at each stop-over, and within half an hour of it garments of all colours and shapes and sizes were fluttering in the wind.

It always strikes me how quickly daily rituals develop on hikes. One of the those on Naukluft  was the regular pre-dinner plaster session, bandaging up the day's blisters. And blisters there were aplenty, and they multiplied as the days went on. Of the eight hikers only two were blister-less by the end, and I wasn't one of them. Boulder-hopping, rocky canyons and sheer distance took it's toll.

Fortunately one forward-looking hiker brought along zinc oxide plasters, which kept the pain and agony at bay. And most importantly, she brought enough along to keep a small army marching. I salute your foresight and sharing spirit, Comrade.

You can see all the pics from Naukluft in my Flickr gallery.