Stop being afraid of what could go wrong and start being excited about what could go right.
(Unknown)
Seven Days Alone in
the Drakensberg
(A Survival Guide
for People With Poor Impulse Control)
Because sometimes the mountain trip you planned
becomes the mountain lesson you survive.
Day One: “How
Hard Can It Be?”
Spoiler:
harder than your ex, harder than your job, harder than pretending you’re fine
at family gatherings.
I started the hike like a hero.
The mountain looked at me and said: “Cute.”
By the
first ridge I was breathing like a buffalo giving birth.
But hey — the views were stunning and so was my denial.
Day Two: “I’m Not Lost, I’m Locationally
Creative.”
Fog
dropped so thick I could’ve been inside a Tupperware container.
Map said one thing.
GPS said another.
My brain said: “Panic.”
I
followed the river like a good little survival manual reader — until I realised
rivers meander like drunk toddlers.
Spent two hours arguing with myself.
Lost. Won. Lost again.
Day Three: “Gravity Wants Me Dead.”
Walking
on wet rocks:
Step… slide… spin…
I performed ballet no human should ever attempt.
One rock
betrayed me so badly I considered suing it.
Safety
tip: If the rock is shiny, step elsewhere unless you're emotionally ready to
die.
Day Four: “Wind Advisory: Everything Is
Now a Kite.”
Winds
reached what I can only describe as “unholy.”
Tent almost left for Lesotho without me.
Sleeping bag nearly became airborne.
My dignity? Already gone.
I
anchored my tent with the desperation of a man who has known fear.
Day Five: “The Wildlife Union Has Filed
a Complaint.”
Saw a
troop of baboons.
They looked at me with the judgment of twelve angry mothers-in-law.
One big male grunted as if to say,
“Run your little blog, human. We run this valley.”
I nodded
respectfully and left their kingdom with all due humility.
Day Six: “End-of-Hike Brain Rot.”
By now I
was sunburnt, half-feral, and speaking in accents.
Every rock looked like a potential chair.
Every cloud looked like a message from God.
Then came
the cliff — the one that appears right when your brain decides to stop working.
One wrong step and it’s helicopter time.
(If they can even find your body. Which they won’t. Because you didn’t tell
anyone your exact route.)
Tell. Someone. Your. Route.
Day Seven: “The Final Humbling.”
Descending…
dreaming of hot showers, cold Coke, and human civilization…
Then I tripped on a root and nearly rolled 200m like a loose tyre.
I
survived only because I grabbed a tuft of grass
— which may now legally be my emotional support plant.
The Moral of the Story
The
Drakensberg is extraordinary.
Sacred.
Wild.
Indifferent.
It will
give you peace if you respect it,
and give you hell if you don’t.
So:
- Plan properly
- Pack properly
- Don’t hike alone unless you
actually know what you’re doing
- Don’t trust weather apps
- Don’t trust rocks
- Don’t trust your fitness
- And definitely don’t trust
“it’s just a short climb.”
Return grateful.
Live to hike another day.
We as hikers, explorers, and adventurers have the absolute duty to respect and protect our Wildernesses.
Nobody else will do it for us. Take ownership!
The End.
Safe Hiking.
References and Acknowledgements
Photos – Willem Pelser
Written and Compiled by Willem Pelser
