Look out for the giant protea along the way.

While evidence of a recent flood is still visible in places, the town of Montagu is as pretty as ever set against a backdrop of vineyards and the towering sandstone peaks of the Langeberg.

It’s these peaks that have brought me and my hiking buddy Roger Diamond here – more specifically, Bloupunt, a 1 266 metre-high summit which stands sentinel over the town.

I’ve hiked the Bloupunt trail a number of times over the years, and it’s still a firm favourite. It’s a 16km hike with some steep climbs but you can easily do it in a day and has stunning views over the Breede River valley.
There is a hut on the trail, but we decide to pitch a tent at De Bos guest farm on the outskirts of the town. It’s a popular campsite for hikers and rock climbers, who come here to pit themselves against the sweeping orange cliff faces that are clearly visible on each side of the Cogmanskloof pass as you enter Montagu from the Ashton side.
There can be quite a buzz here, especially in the evenings when everybody gathers around the campfire.

While preparing our dinner we chat to a British climber called Steve. He’s been travelling solo around South Africa for four months and is keen to experience as much of the country as possible. Would it be alright if he joins us on the trail tomorrow?

Of course, we reply. The more, the merrier. That sorted, I set my alarm and crawl into bed for an early night.

The overnight hut can sleep 12 people. There are braai places, toilets and showers.

Not quite Mount Everest
At the start of the trail there’s a shady parking lot where you leave your car, and the office, where you must buy a permit and sign in to the hikers’ register. The office only opens at 8am but you can buy your permit the day before and leave earlier if you want to.

The first two kilometres follow a jeep track through stands of eucalyptus trees. It’s not particularly pretty, but the gradient is easy and the path is wide enough that all three of us can all walk side by side and chat.
It turns out our new friend Steve is quite the adventurer. A professional mountain guide, he’s climbed a number of the world’s highest peaks, including Mount Everest, and has visited both the North and South Poles. Now in his mid-fifties, he’s in better shape than Bryan Habana and is planning another trip to the Big E next year.

I crack a (weak) joke that he must tell us if the pace is too fast or he needs to stop and catch his breath; secretly I’m stressing that Roger and I won’t be able to keep up with him.

At 1,7 km you reach the hut, a basic stone and concrete affair with dorm-style accommodation for 12. Surrounded by steep-sided valley walls it doesn’t have much in the way of a view (and I find myself thinking that we’d made a wise choice opting to camp). But for larger groups it could work well. There’s a braai spot (the Montagu Municipality supply the firewood) and if you’ve got a 4x4 or bakkie you are even allowed to drive up to the hut and drop off all your kit.

Watsonias (Watsonia borbonica) often bloom in profusion after veld fires.

A step back into time
Soon after the hut the valley walls close in and the road narrows to a path. This is where the real hiking begins. The route now follows a dry river bed, criss-crossing the rocky watercourse. Watch your step here as it would be easy to twist an ankle.

At the 2,2 kilometre mark there’s a turn-off to the left for the Cogmanskloof trail. This is a shorter (12km), less demanding alternative to Bloupunt, but today we’ve got our eyes set on reaching the summit of the Big B.

We now find ourselves in a narrow gorge, with imposing cliffs on both sides. This is prime climbing territory, and if you’re lucky you might spot some “rock jocks” hanging by their fingertips like geckos.

Even if you’re not a climber it’s hard not to be impressed by these dramatic sandstone formations. Roger is a geologist and explains that the Montagu region is part of the Cape Fold Mountains, which were compressed and buckled into these weird and wonderful shapes during the formation of the ancient supercontinent of Pangaea about 300 million years ago.

Roger Diamond next to a type of daisy bush (Oldenburgia paradoxa).

Decisions, decisions
At the three kilometre mark we reach a fork in the path. The Bloupunt trail is a circular route, and we now need to decide if we want to hike the trail in a clockwise or anticlockwise direction.

Clockwise entails a slog in the beginning, but then ascends more gently to the summit. If we walk anticlockwise then we get to stay in the shade of the gorge for longer (a welcome thought given that the morning sun is already baking down on us), but then have to face the Stairmaster of Doom later on in the day when it’s even hotter.

We all agree that it makes sense to get the climbing over now while it’s cool, so we opt for the left-hand track.

Five minutes later I’m beginning to have regrets. From the fork the trail ascends steeply in a series of zigzags. I’m aware that there are beautiful vistas of the Little Karoo opening up behind me, but am too busy huffing and puffing to focus on anything other than getting to the top.

Fortunately it’s over quickly, and after 15 minutes the angle eases and we stop for a welcome water break. From here the path meanders along an undulating valley called Rietkloof towards an obvious nek in the distance. It’s much easier going now, and the only thing slowing us down is the odd fallen tree lying over the path. That said, the trail is in much better condition than when I last hiked it a few years ago, when this section of the route was sometimes completely obscured by vegetation. It’s encouraging to see that our permit money is being put to good use.

Steve Pinfield (left) and Roger Diamond on the summit. In the distance lies Montagu.

On top of the world
One of my favourite things about hiking is how quickly a vista can change. For the past hour we’ve been hemmed in by valley walls; I feel like I’m wearing blinkers.

But when we reach the nek, the mountainside suddenly drops away to reveal a patchwork quilt of orchards and vineyards below. This is the Breede River valley, one of the Cape’s most fertile wine and fruit-growing regions, and it’s jaw-droppingly beautiful.

My tummy’s started to grumble, so I declare a snack stop and we find a level spot to enjoy the view. We’ve been walking for two hours now and the summit still seems disappointingly far from reach. I check my altimeter – 750 metres above sea level – which means we’ve still got a full 500 metres more to climb to the top.

Bloupunt might be a day hike, but it’s certainly no cakewalk.
For Everest Steve, of course, this is like a gentle stroll to the corner café for a newspaper, and before long he’s champing at the bit to get going again. Reluctantly, Roger and I shoulder our backpacks.

From the nek the path climbs gently at first, getting steeper and steeper as you near the summit. Fortunately we’re still on the southern (shady) side of the mountain, so it’s reasonably cool. In places the fynbos is still jeweled with dewdrops.

Finally there are no more steps to climb. We’ve done it! Bloupunt stands over 1000 metres higher than Montagu, and from up here the town looks like it’s made from Lego pieces. There’s a metal disc bolted to the summit showing the cardinal points, as well as names of the key landmarks that are visible, and we spend a few minutes trying to locate them all before heading back down again.

Cool down in a mountain pool on your way back to your car.

It’s all downhill from here
It’s funny: hikers always pray for downhills... until we actually get one. Then you’re reminded what hard work they are. First there’s the risk of twisted ankles – if you stop concentrating for a nanosecond, invariably your foot will slip and you’ve got three weeks’ of physiotherapy to look forward to.

Secondly, the continuous stepping-down action is incredibly tiring for your quad muscles, and it usually doesn’t take long before I’m suffering from a bad case of jelly legs.

It’s also close to midday and the sun is baking down on us. Fortunately I know of a little detour to a waterfall and some pools, and when we reach the turn-off (at around 12 km) there’s no debate about what to do next. Five minutes later we’re splashing in a cool, dark mountain stream. The waterfall itself is not particularly impressive – it’s late summer and the flow is reduced to a trickle – but nobody’s complaining.

After our swim we feel rested and refreshed, and the worst of the downhill is over. Back on the main path our pace starts to increase, like horses returning to the stable. Soon we reach the original fork, and from here it’s an easy three kilometres back to Montagu. At the car park I check my watch. Exactly seven hours. Not bad given the heat. But then again I reckon Steve could have jogged the whole thing in half the time.

A paintbrush lily. Remember, no plant material may be removed by hikers.

• Carry a first aid kit and charged cellphone for emergencies.
• If nature calls, keep well away from the path and streams, and bury all the evidence.
• Pack a raincoat and some warm clothing, even in summer.
• Don’t make fires.
• Don’t take short cuts.
• Don’t pick or damage the vegetation.