Delightful shade, footpaths and streams today are in stark contrast to yesterday’s glaring sun, forestry tracks and burnt trees.
The path winds uphill through indigenous forest in a kloof. Every once in a while a bridge that looks like a ladder laid down flat takes us across the stream.
“Now this is what a hiking trail should be like…” someone says from the back.
We reach a path splitting off from the main trail with a sign announcing the first waterfall of the day. We drop our backpacks and take the turn-off to the view site. The stream rumbles into a dark pool and leaves skitter from above like confetti.
Back on the main path we trudge uphill. Some distance further the path edges directly past the top of the next waterfall. We risk looking over the edge. The water tumbles down 10 m or more. I retreat quickly – slippery moss, gravity and a heavy backpack make this a bad idea.
Higher up we’re rewarded with the sight of two more waterfalls. At the Cathedral Falls the water tumbles down about 30 m into a pool straight out of a Timotei shampoo ad. There’s a boulder the size of a minibus wedged in a crevice above our heads at the smaller Chockstone Falls, so we’re not inclined to linger.
Step by step and breath by breath we hoist ourselves up the incline with our hiking poles. When, two hours later, I finally reach the top and blink in the bright light, I’m greeted by a burnt moonscape. But around the next bend we find ourselves on a grassy Highveld plain.
The silence is only broken by one of our companions who grew up on a farm pointing out zebra droppings and owl scat on the path. He’s the one who points out the Maritzbos Hut, which we left three hours ago, far below us, not much bigger than my thumbnail now.
At a lookout where hikers have built a cairn over the years you have a view of the brown, green, orange and black landscape, and in the distance there’s a shimmer that has to be sunlight reflected off the windows of Sabie’s houses.
We saunter along a jeep track for some distance, grateful to be walking on level ground. At a sign that indicates “Stables 6,3 km” a footpath veers off, leading us past rock columns and wabome. We plunge into a pool, with a few frogs and whirligig beetles our only company.
“I feel as if I’ve been away for a week, I’m so relaxed,” Madré says later while she takes pictures of the blue mountains below us.

No two people, and no two groups, hike in the same way.
Take, for instance, Teboho Mohajane from Bloemfontein and his two friends, who share the Stables Hut with us. It’s 6 am. From where I’m lying in my sleeping bag I can see their empty beds – they sneaked out of the hut before sunrise. They’re focused hikers who don’t linger between point A and B.
Then there’s the group of Potch students who make up the rest of the number in our hut. They’re also up at 6 am, but for every hiker in the group they take an extra 10 minutes to get going. This one’s looking for sunblock; that one has to first brush his teeth…
We are the late risers, but we know we’ll catch up with them at the first rest stop.
Today, we climb another 300 m right at the start. From the Stables Hut a forestry path twists to a viewpoint 2100 m above sea level. Before us lies the undulating Sabie valley, and behind us the hills roll to the horizon.
“I like going places you can only reach on foot,” says Jaco half an hour later when we take a break at the first tree on the peak. The words have barely left his mouth when three guys on quad bikes buzz to a halt somewhere lower down on the slope.
The path descends to a ridge, where the wind tugs at us like on a bad day at the seaside. Fortunately, we find shelter in a thickly wooded ravine, from where we clamber to a sheltered pool next to the path. The icy mountain water makes me gasp.
The Potch students – they’ve caught up with us again – are still swimming, eating and lounging around when we put on our boots and set off. The route profile on the map says it’s downhill from here. But we climb and climb.
Out of breath, we reach the foot of Mount Moodie, one of the highest landmarks in this region. Then we spot an enormous cloud of smoke to our right, near Graskop, on the edge of the Blyde River Canyon.
We swing downwards, winding our way down the folds of Mount Moodie. My water bottle is almost empty and there’s no water to be had, not even in the small clump of bush in the bottom of the kloof. Only a dry river bed. 
According to the map, the hut is still far away. I’m dying to make a cup of tea, but I don’t have enough water.
“Hey! There’s the hut!” someone calls out around the next bend. We’re only a few metres from the overnight stop. Either we are terrible map readers or the map is terribly misleading.
“This last stretch messed with my head a bit,” Teboho affirms. He’s lying flat on his back, reading a magazine. They’ve been hanging out at the hut since noon. An hour or so later the first of the Potch students start arriving.

Early morning it’s so foggy that you can’t see more than a few metres. But it’s more than fog – there’s also the smoke of a bush fire in the air.
While I’m making coffee, the others gradually get up to join me at the fireplace. Then the caretaker’s two-way radio crackles: “Visibility in the Mac-Mac region… deteriorated to 20 m… recommend they close the trail…”
Presumably the veld fire flared up again after last night’s wind. Will they allow us to finish?
Three members of our group turn off at the short cut to the President Burgers Hut, because they have to be back at work tomorrow.
Lawrette, Louis-Pieter and I start walking through a pine plantation along a forestry road.
It’s still hazy from the smoke. It’s difficult to find your bearings. The cliffs appear and disappear in the foggy smoke. Somewhere a train whistles three times. The veld is green and dotted with daisies.
We cross the tar road near the turn-off to Pilgrim’s Rest, where two men sit next to the road carving hornbills out of wood. The last 5 km to Graskop is along a forestry track. Here the plantation is also half-burnt.
In the years when this trail was designed, people thought hikers would enjoy walking through pine plantations. And although the trail has been changed over the years, they still haven’t managed to bypass the pines entirely.
Just before noon we arrive at the gate and take a nice, long nap. I find R40 in my backpack, which has travelled with me on quite a few hikes, and walk the kilometre to Graskop to buy each of us a beer. 
A fire helicopter thwack-thwack-thwacks overhead – somewhere, the fire is still burning. But the caretaker at the hut comes to tell us the trail is still open. And while we drink coffee after dinner, a few fine drops start to fall. I think only the firefighters are happier than we are – we can complete our hike!

It’s 6am when we pull on our raincoats and step outside. The fire is being well and truly doused by the downpour.
The last leg has a difficulty grading of 10 (according to the official grading system – hikers can be quite forensically-minded). On top of that, Lawrette, who has hiked the trail before, scared us with a story about the stretch where you drop down 400 m into the Mac-Mac valley, only to climb another 300 m on the other side.
In the rain the shimmering pines make me think of the Brothers Grimm’s enchanted forest. The pine needles gleam copper red, and the pitch-black tree trunks contrast with the bright green treetops. 
Then we enter a cloud of fog. With the raincoat’s hood framing my vision like a pair of diving goggles would it feels as if I’m snorkelling.
“Are you ready?” Lawrette asks before we take the first steps descending into the Mac-Mac valley. But it’s not that bad, perhaps because we can’t see what’s going on above or below us. Slipping and sliding, we reach the Mac-Mac River. Louis-Pieter is strolling across the bridge when his feet suddenly slide out from under him as if he’d stepped on a banana skin. 
Not much further we encounter six of the diehard Potch students. They’ve wrapped plastic shopping bags around their feet to keep the water out of their shoes.
At the Mac-Mac Pools we stop to make tea under a shelter – it’s the first time in five hours that we’re not getting rained on. Louis-Pieter discovers his cooking pots got dented when he fell. Just as we get going, he slips and falls again! The few sightseers at the Mac-Mac Falls shake their heads when they see the three of us traipse past.
Would I still recommend the Fanie Botha as a must-do hike? Even though it’s been raining and in spite of the fire damage, we’ve seen some spectacular views over the Lowveld as we traversed an unparalleled landscape of mountain, bush, plateau and valley.
When we arrive at the President Burgers Hut, we find it locked. It would have been nice to take a long, hot shower before the drive home. As I throw my wet stuff in the boot I wonder how I’m going to get my grimy, wet body in the car without getting dirt on everything.
I turn around to find a huge peacock standing next to the car. He spreads his turquoise feathers into a beautiful, enormous fan.
You’d be hard-pressed to find a prettier medal for a weary hiker.

In the 1960s, one Paul van Zyl did a master’s degree on the Appalachian Trail in the United States of America – a trail that stretches over 3500 km in the east of the country. On his return to South Africa he convinced Fanie Botha, then minister of forestry, that hiking trails were a way to make better use of plantations.
 Botha’s plan was to develop one long trail from the Soutpansberg all along the escarpment to the Cederberg in the Western Cape. This dream was never realised.
On 11 and 12 May 1973, about 30 hikers hiked the 45 km from the Lone Creek Falls over Mount Anderson to the Mac-Mac Falls, where Botha then officially opened the trail.
Botha promulgated legislation for the national hiking trail system and enabled the establishment of the National Hiking Trail Council in 1975. He could be called “the father of hiking” in South Africa.

Information: Leon Hugo, professor emeritus from the University of Pretoria.

Were you part of that first group? Send your story and pictures to editor@gomag.co.za.

I have only a weekend. Can I hike part of the trail?
Yes. Book the two-day Hartbeesvlakte Trail. Hike from the Ceylon to the Maritzbos Hut on Friday afternoon (8,7 km). Next morning, climb to the Stables Hut (13,3 km, difficulty: 9) and on Sunday take the short cut (8,5 km, difficulty: 3) back to Ceylon – and home.
There are two other two night trails, as well as a trail over three or four nights. The huts in the most scenic settings are Maritzbos, Stables and Mac-Mac; try to include one of them.

What are the facilities like?
The huts have bunk beds in open-plan rooms. Only the President Burgers and Ceylon have hot water. All the huts except Mac-Mac have flush toilets and showers.

What about the fires?
The entire trail was marked out again and cleaned up after the fires. The Graskop Hut was painted. The part between Ceylon and Maritzbos now runs through the forest again.

Do I have to carry everything with me?
You can walk to town from the Graskop Hut (Day 4) for a cooldrink or other supplies.

Would a young child cope?
The second and third legs are rough; consider it carefully.

Cost? R75 per person per night. The huts take a maximum of 24 people, so you may have to share with other groups.

How do I get there? From Gauteng, take the N4 to Nelspruit. Take the R539 to Sabie. Park at the Ceylon or President Burger’s Hut or leave your car at the Graskop police station.

Contact? Komatiland Eco-Tourism 013 754 2724; ecotour@klf.co.za; www.komatiecotourism.co.za

(Note: Prices accurate in May 2009)

Mountains
There are two prominent mountains on the Fanie Botha Trail:
Mount Anderson. At 2284 m, it was long thought to be the highest point in the former Transvaal, until a new survey showed De Berg (2331 m) in the Steenkamps range was higher. The mountain was named after an Irish surveyor for the ZAR government, WAB Anderson.
Mount Moodie. George Piggott Moodie was surveyor general of the former Transvaal from 1881 to 1884.

Waterfalls
On Day 5 you hike past the impressive Mac-Mac Falls. In 1873, President TF Burgers officially named the area between Sabie and Graskop the New Caledonian Gold Fields, but jokingly referred to it as Mac-Mac because there were so many Scots in the area. The name stuck.

Huts
There are four huts on the trail:
Ceylon Hut. This was the name of one of the first plantations in the former Transvaal.
Maritzbos Hut. It’s named after the Maritz family to which this piece of land once belonged. They felled trees to make supports for mine shafts.
Stables Hut. It used to be a mule stable. Mules are still used to drag out felled trees.
President Burgers Hut. It’s named after the president of the ZAR between 1872 and 1877.

Information: Willie Jacobs (www.sabie.co.za)

Jaco Loots, industrial psychologist
Spare your knees
“If I’d had R15 at the beginning of the trail I would’ve bought a hiking stick from one of the foresters; it would have worked better on the uphills than the length of bamboo I picked up.”

Madré Loots, teacher
Sleep soundly
“Pack a fitted sheet to pull over your mattress at the overnight huts.”

Teboho Mohajane, educational officer
Keep warm
“Polypropylene underwear makes the cold nights and mornings more bearable. Pack anti-inflammatories if you have weak knees, like I do.”

Rupert Richter, engineer
Get up early
“Start hiking early. The late-afternoon sun and still air in the kloofs can be tiring. A hiking pole could be more handy than you think – there are lots of snakes in the area!”

Selemela Khoele, quantity surveyor
Stay hydrated
“My Natural Instincts water bottle (about R75 from Cape Union Mart) was a winner; the wide mouth makes it easy to get water from a stream or add powder for mixing drinks.”

Elané Du Preez, graphic designer
Cash is king
“Take vacuum-packed meat; every overnight hut has wood and braai facilities. Keep some cash on you to buy meat and colddrinks near the President Burger’s Hut.”