A WORLD OF INDESCRIBABLE BEAUTY AND EVER-CHANGING SPLENDOR, OF BASALT GIANTS THAT STAND AS SENTINELS ON THE ROOF OF SOUTH AFRICA……………
Jurassic Park
Lotheni - Drakensberg
A story from many years ago...
I have hiked the Emandundwini Trail many times over the years. It remains one of my favorite routes because it winds through magnificent forests, crystal-clear rivers and some of the most beautiful scenery in the Drakensberg. The first half of the trail is demanding, but every step is rewarded by breathtaking views and unforgettable wilderness.
On one particular hike, my attention was drawn to a side valley that I noticed from higher up on the trail. At the point where two rivers met, I could see what appeared to be a beautiful forest with a river rushing out from beneath its canopy. Towering above the forest stood an immense cliff face, decorated with strange rock formations. More mountain than cliff, it looked completely unclimbable.
Leaving the trail behind, I made my way towards the valley. As I stood at its entrance for a moment, I was immediately struck by how prehistoric it looked. It seemed like exactly the sort of place where dinosaurs and dragons might still roam. Since the valley had no name, I promptly christened it Jurassic Park.
It was an extraordinarily beautiful place.
Tall grass and dense vegetation covered the valley floor, while enormous boulders lay scattered everywhere as though giants had thrown them around in anger. The deeper I ventured, the more difficult the going became. The valley was steep and narrow, with the river flowing through a thick forest on one side.
Stopping to catch my breath, I looked up towards the cliffs and noticed a dense patch of bushes, perhaps ten meters across, clinging to the mountainside. By then I had begun to recognize the tell-tale signs that often indicated the presence of a cave. I became convinced those bushes were hiding one.
Caves had always fascinated me, especially those containing San rock art.
Although the climb would be difficult, curiosity got the better of me.
Numerous streams cascaded down the cliff face, creating a marshy terrace covered in long grass. The streams disappeared underground, leaving deep holes filled with flowing water hidden beneath the grass. The danger was almost invisible.
Before long, I would become intimately acquainted with one of those holes. Eventually I reached the bushes, and to my delight they concealed a large cave. Stepping inside, I experienced one of the greatest moments of my hiking life. Covering the walls were my very first San rock paintings.
Every difficult step had suddenly become worthwhile. For nearly an hour I photographed the paintings before finally sitting down on the cave floor, tired but completely content. The cave even had its own fresh water supply.
As I rested, I gazed out across Jurassic Park and the surrounding valleys. Looking down over the forest canopy, my imagination drifted backwards through time. I could almost see the San people who had once called this place home.
Children ran laughing down to the river to swim while watchful mothers kept an eye on them. Women gathered herbs and edible plants along the valley floor. As darkness fell, families gathered around a warm fire inside the cave. I could almost hear their conversations and see the dancers moving in the flickering firelight while an artist carefully painted the cave walls.
They lived in harmony with nature when the wilderness was even more untouched than it is today.
It is sad that such a way of life eventually came to an end. Returning to reality, I continued exploring.
To my surprise, another cave stood immediately beside the first, and it too contained paintings. Nearby I even discovered a painted boulder. The higher I explored, the more caves I found.
It was astonishing. There wasn't just one cave; there was an entire complex of caves scattered across the mountainside. Many contained rock art.
It felt like discovering a forgotten San suburb—a city in the mountains. With daylight fading, I returned to the first cave, as it provided the safest route back down into the valley.
The marsh crossing demanded extreme caution. One careless step into one of the concealed underground river holes could easily result in broken legs. Unfortunately, that warning soon became very personal.
I tripped over the marsh grass right beside a hole nearly three meters deep and fell forward. Trying desperately to avoid falling into it, I twisted onto my back. That single movement was enough.
Suddenly I was airborne. My backpack acted like a giant spring, launching me into a series of uncontrollable somersaults down the steep mountainside. Every time I landed on my back, the backpack bounced me into the air again.
Between each somersault I desperately grabbed at grass, bushes—anything that might stop me. Nothing did. After tumbling nearly forty meters, my final somersault ended with me plunging headfirst into a two-meter-deep underground river hole.
Only my boots remained sticking out above the grass. The fall had stopped. Now I had a different problem. I was hanging upside down in flowing water. It took every ounce of strength I possessed to pull myself out of the hole. Sitting beside it afterwards, soaked and bruised, I expressed a few very colorful opinions about the entire experience.
But beneath the frustration was immense gratitude. I could easily have been seriously injured—or killed.
Eventually I left Jurassic Park and, after several kilometers, rejoined the hiking trail. Only then did I notice something missing. My hat. It suddenly dawned on me that it had almost certainly been left behind in the very hole where my dramatic descent had ended.
I looked back towards Jurassic Park. There was absolutely no chance I was going back through that terrain just to retrieve a hat.
Or so I thought.
That evening my mind replayed everything I had experienced that day—the caves, the paintings, the spectacular valley. I was tired, happy and deeply content.
Except...
I couldn't stop thinking about my hat. Oddly enough, losing the hat bothered me far more than tumbling down a mountain. I told myself it had simply become a donation to the mountain gods and that buying a new one would be far easier than making the journey again.
Yet by sunrise the following morning, my decision had been made. I wanted my hat back.
At first light I retraced my route. Four hours later I was once again climbing back towards Jurassic Park.
Fortunately, I had marked the location of my fall on my GPS the previous day. Searching around the hidden river holes, I eventually located the exact one where my descent had ended. Carefully parting the long marsh grass, I looked down.
There it was.
Lying upside down at the bottom of the hole was my faithful old hat, exactly where it had been left behind. I laughed out loud. Mission accomplished.
As I rested nearby, however, my attention kept drifting back towards the forest below. Since I was already there, I decided I might as well explore it.
Finding a way through the dense vegetation, I finally reached the river. It was one of the most beautiful forests I have ever entered. Massive yellowwood trees towered overhead while the river tumbled over boulders, waterfalls and crystal-clear pools. Tiny moss gardens decorated the rocks, creating scenes that seemed almost unreal.
Almost immediately I noticed something else. In the damp sand lay the fresh spoor of a large leopard.
Needless to say, I became considerably more cautious. The only way through the forest was to follow the river itself. Where the rocks became impassable, I had to wade through icy pools and scramble around rapids. The going was difficult, slow and occasionally hazardous.
Had it been the rainy season, entering this forest would have been impossible—and probably fatal. Fortunately, it was midwinter, and the river levels were low enough to allow safe passage.
For nearly two hours I made my way downstream through what remains one of the most magical places I have ever visited. The images of that forest have stayed with me ever since.
Eventually I emerged from the trees, made my way back to the trail and returned to camp.
I was a very happy man.
I had recovered my hat...
...and discovered one of nature's hidden masterpieces.
That day marked my very first encounter with the San people through the places they once lived and the art they left behind.
It was a remarkable meeting.
And it was only the beginning.
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.
