You will never find a wilderness hiking partner as perfect as your own spirit.
(Unknown)
A
Solo Journey Through Silence,
Stone,
and Self
There is a certain kind of quiet you only find in the
Drakensberg — a silence so old it feels like it remembers you. A silence that
doesn’t need to speak to be understood. That is the silence I went looking for
when I set out on a seven-day solo hike through the Berg.
This is
the story of those seven days — woven through cliffs older than memory, valleys
that breathe like sleeping giants, and a waterfall that felt like a sanctuary
meant only for me.
Day 1 — Entering the Kingdom of Stone
The
Drakensberg always greets me like an old god: towering, indifferent, testing my
resolve. The basalt cliffs rose straight into the blue, jagged like broken
spears. I stopped often just to stare, letting the size of the place remind me
how small I truly am.
There’s
no audience on a solo hike.
No expectations.
No masks.
Just you…
and whatever you brought with you inside.
This
time, I brought longing.
Day 2 — Walking the Green Corridor
The next
morning opened into a world of rolling green slopes and drifting cloud. It felt
like walking through a great, breathing creature — alive, gentle, ancient.
This
valley doesn’t make noise.
It absorbs it.
Mist
curled around the hills, wrapping me in the kind of silence that turns thoughts
into travelling companions. Old hurts, old hopes, and unfinished stories walked
beside me. The Berg has a way of pulling them out whether you want it to or
not.
So I
walked slowly.
Because this place demands slowness.
And because rushing through beauty is a kind of disrespect.
Day 3 — The Waterfall Sanctuary
Rain came
during the night.
Soft at first.
Then steady.
Then absolutely committed.
I reached
a hidden waterfall by late morning — a sanctuary tucked behind rock and shadow,
its pool glowing a pale green under the overcast sky. Alone, soaked, and
laughing, I stepped into the icy water.
It bit.
Then numbed.
Then healed.
For that
brief moment, the world felt clean.
So did I.
Day 4 — The Ridge of Quiet Fear
The wind
arrived the next day — sharp, merciless, and very personal. Crossing a narrow
ridge above the waterfall made every step deliberate. The Berg whispered the
truth into my ear:
“You are
alone.
If you slip, no one is coming.”
But this
is why I hike solo.
To feel the risk.
To feel alive.
To remember that life is always a negotiation between caution and courage.
Day 5 — The Valley of Old Thoughts
The
clouds broke open on the fifth day, revealing bright grasslands stretching into
forever. I followed a narrow animal track down into a valley painted in greens,
golds, and soft shadow.
Here,
solitude stopped being a challenge and became a companion.
Memories rose up without invitation.
Questions I’d avoided for months demanded to be heard.
But the
mountains did not judge.
They simply held the silence around me like a blanket.
Day 6 — High Above the World
Climbing
toward the escarpment brought me back beneath the basalt sentinels from day one
— only now they towered even higher, their shadows colder, their presence
heavier.
Up there,
the world narrowed into rock, sky, and breath.
I sat on a boulder near the top and watched the valleys open beneath me in
layered greens.
So much
of life demands noise.
But the important things — the real things — always grow in silence.
Day 7 — The Descent Home
My final
morning was warm.
Birdsong drifted across the hills.
Mist peeled away slowly, revealing the way back to the world.
I walked
the last stretch with a familiar ache: the soft sadness of a journey ending.
The Drakensberg does this every time — strips me bare, then quietly puts me
back together in a different shape.
At the
bottom of the trail, I turned and looked back one last time.
Seven
days.
Three landscapes.
A thousand thoughts.
One soul a little less tangled.
The mountains remained, unchanged and unbothered — waiting for the next time the world becomes too loud and I need to return to the silence again.
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
