Going to “Hell” with a Donkey – Crossing the Swartberg Mountain

Every now and then, I get asked to go on an adventure. Usually, it’s a day out experiencing a trail, a tree, a flight, a zipline, or something along those lines… but nothing prepared me for this one! I’m chuckling as I say this because I never thought I’d be this crazy. Unfit, still recovering from a broken leg after a paragliding accident last year, and under no circumstances prepared to hike at all… I agreed to do the Donkey Trail. Oops?!

Opportunities like this are few and far between, and missing out would have been bizarre. To top it all off, I invited one of my best friends along.
“Hi Glenda, bring a backpack, a few warm items, and hiking shoes… we’re doing this trail into the Swartberg mountain range. It’ll be fun…”
And, with complete trust, she agreed.

We met up in Mossel Bay and meandered our way through the back roads of the Klein Karoo. Our destination, Living Waters, is situated near a little dorpie called Calitzdorp. The dirt road between there and Oudtshoorn is a spectacular track, and we found ourselves gazing over the Red Stone Hills, well-kept farms, old cottages, and small communities of waving locals. The Klein Karoo is rich in history, and we passed the time chatting about the wealth created by the ostrich feather industry, the Boer War, and roosterkoek as we travelled along the dusty road.

As we neared the home of the Donkey Trail, nestled in the Groenfontein Valley at the foothills of the Swartberg Mountains, we found ourselves bouncing along a farm road that eventually led us to the old, restored country home of Erika. We had arrived.

A young man greeted us with abundant energy. “Hello, are you Rose?” he called as he skipped down the stairs.
“My name’s Andrew,” said the tanned, open-faced gentleman in front of me. “Let me show you to your cottage. It’s John’s Cottage, further down the road.”

The cottage seemed to lean slightly, perched on the side of a hill overlooking the valley. The soft Karoo evening air greeted us on the small stoep. We paused to take in the view before listening carefully to Andrew’s packing instructions for the next day’s journey. Glenda and I sifted through our luggage, selecting the essentials for our day packs: water bottles, cameras, and a change of clothing for our overnight stay in the mountains.

These tedious, head-scratching decisions worked up a thirst, so we dropped everything and headed back to the country homestead for our briefing. A wise decision! Barging in through the kitchen door, eager to meet Erika and the rest of the group, I happily accepted my first glass of wine and relaxed into cheerful chatter by the fireplace. There was a buzz of excitement as we got to know our fellow hikers while lounging on the comfortable sofas.

Erika carefully outlined the hike, along with the rules and regulations of the area. That familiar flicker of apprehension crept in again as I realised just how unprepared I was. I took a deep breath and glanced around for reassurance. The group seemed calm and even confident, and I made a firm decision: I would complete this, no matter what

Later that evening, while enjoying a delicious dinner prepared by Johan, I realised that even if I had to crawl up the mountain, at least I wouldn’t go hungry. Hallelujah

Our mellow Karoo evening dissolved into laughter as we were challenged to squeeze a note out of a kudu horn. Musical instruments are definitely not my forte, but making a fool of myself clearly is. The evening ended on a high note.

Still giggling, Glenda and I made our way back to the cottage, leaving behind warm goodnight wishes and lingering smiles. I glanced up at the looming mountain in the distance and wondered quietly, How on earth am I going to get over that…?

Morning broke, and we made a few final decisions about our gear. The chill lingered in the air, so we wrapped up warmly before heading back to the homestead for breakfast. A light nibble of fruit and a strong dose of coffee felt essential before making our way to the donkey kraal.

I I was eternally grateful to be relieved of the extra load by our long-eared companions, Buddy and Zuma. They stood patiently as they were prepared for the journey. The start lingered in the air until Erika addressed us one last time and ended reassuringly with, “Go to Hell.”
And we did.

An interesting fact: this trail is not new. It was travelled by residents of Gamkaskloof, later nicknamed “Die Hel” after stock inspector Piet Botha entered via the steep pass known as Die Leer. He described it as hell to get into the kloof, and the name stuck. The Donkey Trail follows the original route used until 1962, when the first road was built. People once used this path to trade goods, visit family, and even attend school.

Looking up at the mountain, I felt an overwhelming sense of respect. Life today is a breeze compared to back then. With that in mind, I lowered my head and began the 20 km climb up the second-highest mountain range in South Africa.

The rocky outcrops revealed a fascinating ecosystem of plants, insects, and animals. Every so often, Andrew would stop to point out the finer details.

The journey was slow and steady, with the pace set by the slowest hiker… or donkey, depending on the moment. The first three hours were a zigzag climb up the mountainside before narrowing into a single-track path. Eventually, it dipped into a gorge, where we dropped our packs, enjoyed cool spring water, had lunch, and caught our breath. Conversations flowed easily as we wondered how many travellers had walked this path before us.

Make no mistake, if I could hike this route in reverse, I would. The views are breathtaking, and you can’t help but pause in awe of nature’s scale and endless panoramas.

In the final hours, we climbed again, edging along the curved escarpment before ascending the “Dragon’s Back” into the teacup of the mountain saddle. It was tough. Fatigue had settled in, but step by step, we carried on. By now, I had fallen to the back of the group, with guide Joel by my side, encouraging me all the way.

Bursting with a mix of joy and exhaustion, I reached the top. The smile on my face must have been the widest it has ever been. I made it.
“Welcome to the top,” said Andrew, extending his hand.
“I don’t shake hands, but a kiss on the cheek will do just fine, thank you,” I replied.
We laughed and joined the others.

It took another 30 minutes to reach base camp. The chill in the wind hadn’t eased, and I was convinced it had snowed the day before. The fading light pushed us forward, and I couldn’t wait to swap my water bottle for a cup of coffee.

As we crossed the sunlit grasslands, I noticed the subtle shift in vegetation. Pin cushion proteas dotted the landscape, while sugarbirds chirped sharply as they fed on nectar.

It’s so gorgeous up there and it made the last footpath to camp a pleasure. The sight of a freshwater stream, tents poised on the rocky outcropped slopes and bustling camp sure was a welcoming sight. Sebastian handed me a cup of coffee and it was time to relax. My hands enfolded the rustic cup which I quickly brought to my lips and I literally let the warm liquid slide down my throat, this was pure bliss.

Base camp consisted of a kitchen tent, a dining tent, sleeping tents, and an outhouse… with a view. A clear mountain stream ran alongside the camp, providing drinking water (and a very tempting, but freezing, swim option).

As the sun set, the temperature dropped quickly. We managed a quick “bird bath” using warm water before bundling into our layers and heading to the kitchen tent for supper..

Dinner was a hearty “Pasta à la Boer,” the perfect end to the day. I devoured it gratefully, every bite a small celebration. After one more cup of coffee, I was handed a hot water bottle and sent to bed.
We zipped ourselves into the canvas cocoon of our tent, wriggled into our sleeping bags, and listened as the wind tugged and howled around us like a restless child. Safe and warm, I closed my eyes.
Tomorrow would bring another day…

to be continued…..

For more info please visit www.donkeytrail.com

or visit their Facebook Page The Donkey Trail