I have no idea how to rob a beehive, but the nagging honeyguide off to our left doesn’t know this. This ingenious little bird must miss the hunter-gatherers who once lived here and who knew how to gather honey.

The four of us don’t need honey, though. We’re armed with one of each of the energy bars that were on offer at the Spar in Cradock. Joining me on the hike is my friend JP, his wife Hester and their friend Sophia. They’re all from Grahamstown, so it was easy for them to drive up to the Mountain Zebra National Park for the weekend.

Impofu means “eland” and we’re pretty confident we’ll see these beautiful antelope as they’re plentiful in the park. We’re also bound to see mountain reedbuck, grey rhebuck, kudu and of course mountain zebras.

There are buffalo in the park too these days, but to be honest I hope we don’t run into them. Buffalo are notoriously short-fused. Imagine if John McEnroe weighed a ton and just hated that line call you just made.

Luckily the trail sticks largely to the mountains and the buffalo prefer dense thickets at the bottom of the kloofs, so we’ll only skirt their habitat on the final morning of the hike.

Just before we set out, Robyn Wood, the park’s senior section ranger, shows us a presentation on how to behave around wild animals we might encounter. She keeps using a steenbok as the example, but we are much more interested in the how-to-deal-with-buffalo tips.

“Are you supposed to stand dead still?” I venture a guess, but I’m wrong. Apparently that’s what you do when a lion charges at you (there are no lions here though).

“I think you’re supposed to avoid eye contact and pretend not to see them,” JP tries a nervous joke.

Hester is in no mood for jokes. She wants to know. Robyn explains that buffalo don’t stop once they’ve begun their charge – there’s no mock charge. You should basically get out of the way as soon as possible: Climb a tree, hide behind or on top of a large boulder or move to higher ground.

We start walking without any worries, though. We’re following a jeep track and the terrain is fairly open. Across the kloof from us we soon see red hartebeest, kudu, eland, mountain reedbuck and some mountain zebra. It’s easy going and as we’re all big twitchers we stop frequently to look at birds – like the honey guide.

As we reach the top of the kloof the path changes direction, roughly to the west. Over the next couple of days we’ll complete a big circle and finish back where we started at the main camp. We’re now right in line with a huge gash in the hillside left behind when a boulder slid down the mountain back in 1974. Apparently it took the enormous chunk of dolerite about half an hour to slide down – the grinding noise could be heard 13 km away in Cradock, where it sounded like thunder. We scramble up the Big Rock. It’s as big as a house.

The jeep track has ended and we start up the first proper slope of the hike, following a footpath. Just as well we’re not in a rush, for the trail isn’t that well marked on the ground – but the map provided is very good (it also includes GPS coordinates) so we always find our way again. We drop down into Fonteinkloof and join another jeep track up the next slope. When we reach a plateau we return to a footpath and then start the steep descent towards where our first overnight hut is still hidden from view.

Threatening clouds – which might bring cold or rain – have appeared to the northwest, so we step up the pace. It’s already after 4pm and the winter sun sets early in these mountains.
We’ve heard the alarm whistles of mountain reedbuck intermittently all afternoon, but when we hear clattering stones we stop and scan the slopes for the source of the commotion.

A small herd of mountain zebra appear on a ridge, making perfect silhouettes against the late afternoon light. There’s a foal too, and for a few seconds they gallop all along the ridge before dropping out of sight. It’s a lovely sight.

The Olien Hut is virtually surrounded by mountains, with just the kloof’s opening somewhere around the corner. When we arrive we immediately start making a fire, because we’ve brought meat for a first-night braai. We also stoke the donkey so that we can have hot showers. Bakkie lights come bouncing up the kloof – it’s a ranger who has come to check on us.

The jackals start their nightly yelping contest just as we settle down to eat. The Karoo night is nippy and we’re all wearing more layers now too. When we go to bed it’s so quiet it sounds like it’s snowing outside. But it isn’t, it’s just snowing silence and darkness.

Last night we had some baboons as neighbours and they’re now slowly warming themselves up on a nearby cliff. The young ones are fooling around, annoying the grumpy adults who give them a what-for every now and then.

Just as JP gets the fire started to boil water for our coffee, we hear more clattering rocks nearby. This time it’s three eland that stroll past, scarcely 50 m from us. Apparently it’s not just the loose stones you hear when you hear eland walking. They’ve also got particularly loud knee-joints. It sounds just like someone making dents in a plastic bottle.

Eland are my favourite antelope. There’s something so gracious about them despite their cattle-like size. A bull can reach a mammoth 900 kg and even young ones can grow to a weight of 450 kg within their first year!

We only have 9 km to go today, but we want to get started early so that we won’t get caught by the dark while up in the mountains. We’re heading almost straight up today and the top of the mountains are covered in mist.

We retrace our steps up the steep slope and then rejoin the jeep track on its course up the ridge. We stop to rest where the jeep track runs out. Sophia’s heels are sore (she’s got new hiking boots) and she’s making some running repairs.

Soon we’re off again and as the trail switches further to the west, we head into the mist. Suddenly the view is gone. White envelopes us and visibility is barely 100 m. Luckily the worst of the climb is behind us and we’re following a gentler contour now (about 1800 m above sea level) just under the huge dolerite cliffs, like fortress ramparts guarding this border of the park.

This is the highest section of the Impofu Trail and Bankberg (1927 m) and Bakenkop (1957 m) are on our left for the next couple of hours. When the trail reaches a small plateau just before Bakenkop we rest behind the wind shield formed by an old stone wall.

There are signs of porcupine all over the place – droppings, diggings, leftovers, spoor. We’re right on the park’s border fence now and we see the start of the Swaershoek mountains which lie between Cradock and Somerset East. There’s also a smidgen of cellphone signal, so I quickly make some calls.

The trail now winds through a series of big boulders, scattered around like errant chess pieces. The mist begins to clear and we can see better. We startle some mountain zebra as we begin to descend again. They bark their alarm call and then scatter their stripes downhill at full speed.

The trail slowly takes us into Langkloof and the closer we get to the bottom, there’s evidence of buffalo. We’re at full alert – the spoor and dung look fresh enough to demand some concern. Our nervous banter makes way for relief when the overnight hut, Karee, comes into view. An old karee (Rhus lancea) gives the hut its name – the tree is so old that its branches rest on the ground, like a golden oldie scrum of sorts, struggling to get up from hands and knees and elbows.

The trail huts are neat and tidy and contain all the basics – pots, plates and cutlery (although Olien Hut didn’t have cutlery for some reason). Something’s up with the donkey though – I lit it but when I tried the water the tap just spluttered. There’s an airlock in the pipe somewhere and no water is reaching the shower. Our drinking water is further down the same pipe and luckily there’s still enough water in that section of the pipe. Tonight there’s no sign of a ranger, so we just forget about showering. We’ll report it when we get back to the main rest camp.

JP and Hester don’t mess around. They quickly rustle up a delicious seafood pasta. I have some Old Brown Sherry left, so we sit around the fire until the bottle is empty. The night around us is anything but quiet. Besides the ubiquitous jackals of the early evening, there’s also other movement, bigger things. We check with our torches, but it’s just kudu browsing.

I’ve spent the night on the bottom bunk. When I open my eyes I make out some writing on the underside of the bunk above which wasn’t visible in the darkness. “Hi, I’m James. I’m sore.” That’s all it says. And I feel sympathy this morning because I’m also stiff all over.

Thankfully Impofu is one of those great trails which has a mellow last day. Today’s hike is the shortest at just 7 km and we’re not climbing at all, merely following the course of the Wilgerboom River until we reach the main camp again. But the riverine bush here what the buffalo favour, so we are extra vigilant. Every now and then we stop to listen as it’s not that easy to hear vital warning sounds (like something huge crashing through branches) when you’re walking.

We see buffalo dung and spoor everywhere. As we cross the Weltevredespruit, we lose the trail again. We walk this way and that looking for a trail marker and then we suddenly hear breaking branches! It’s the buffalo! Luckily they’re about 200 m away and they’re running away from us.

It’s nice to have seen them, but we’re all a little shaken up. The park also has some black rhino (also temperamental brutes) but they’re seldom seen.

Opposite the Doornhoek Dam we lose the trail yet again, so we just head down to the game viewing road which runs pretty much parallel to the trail for the last few kilometres.
It’s lunchtime when we arrive back at the rest camp and we promptly find a table in the restaurant to celebrate. After the meal we say our goodbyes, as the others must head back to Grahamstown. I’m staying for another two nights to see what else the park has to offer.

Because I grew up around here the landscape was familiar to me. But what I really liked about the Impofu Trail is that it showed me what this district used to look like before the advent of modern livestock farming. The veld is in beautiful condition and the game viewing is great too. It’s so much more thrilling seeing game on foot than from a car… aside from the buffalo (I think I’d prefer to view them from a car).

The Mountain Zebra National Park offers a totally different wilderness experience to something like the Kruger. There aren’t any lions or elephants, so it’s a lot safer and possible to explore it on your own, on foot. You also set the pace here. The walking is vigorous but not intense. It leaves plenty of time to stop and stoop to take macro shots of succulents, for example. You hear everything too, as the sounds aren’t drowned out by the sound of your car’s engine or aircon. You hear the alarm calls, the clatter of hooves, the knock-knees of the eland. And you smell: mist, soil, grasses on the wind.

But the best thing about a hike like this is that feeling you get when you and your friends rejoin civilisation after a few days in the mountains. Suddenly you’re back among people, cars and shops. But you’re different now; you now share a bond. You have something that the ordinary visitors to the park don’t have. You’ve seen what they won’t see.

Yes, hiking makes you a bit smug, but sometimes it’s okay to be smug.

Equipment that worked for us:
“Bioderma’s 100% SPF sunscreen. It costs about R150 but it’s worth the money if you don’t want to take chances.” - Hester Jordaan

“I always carry my small, light Swiss army knife. You can open a tin, turn the chops and clean your nails...” (hopefully in that order – Ed) - JP du Toit

“A roll of Elastoplast Flexible Fabric Roll. It stretches very well and covers everything as it can be wound around and around as needed. It also sticks properly, it doesn’t fall off.” - Sophia van Tonder