Karoo-Erdvark Hiking Trail | Five Days on South Africa’s Hidden Green Karoo Adventure
Discover the Karoo-Erdvark Hiking Trail at Rooiheuwel Farm in the Western Cape. A five-day hiking adventure through a surprisingly green Karoo with rivers, waterfalls, farm hospitality and unforgettable scenery.
The Karoo... But Not As You Know It
Mention the Karoo and most people picture endless horizons painted in shades of brown. Dust. Dry riverbeds. Hardy sheep nibbling at thorn bushes while the sun does its best to melt your hiking boots.
That’s exactly what I expected.
The Karoo had other ideas.
Thanks to exceptional autumn rains, we were about to spend five days walking through a landscape dressed in every shade of green imaginable.
Rivers that had been dry for years were flowing. Waterfalls tumbled over rock faces. Valleys shimmered in emerald. The locals couldn’t stop talking about it, and neither could we.
This wasn’t the Karoo I’d imagined.
It was better.
What is the Karoo-Erdvark Hiking Trail?
Tucked away on Rooiheuwel Farm, between Beaufort West and the Nuweveld Mountains, lies one of the Western Cape’s best-kept hiking secrets.
The Karoo-Erdvark Hiking Trail is a five-day slackpacking adventure that winds through deep gorges, mountain ridges, river valleys and working farmland before returning to where it all began.
Unlike many multi-day hikes, this one isn’t about racing from hut to hut.
It’s about slowing down.
Looking up.
Listening to the silence.
Then laughing with friends around a fire long after the sun has disappeared behind the mountains.
It also tells a beautiful story.
The trail was designed by the late Flip Viviers, whose vision was to share this remarkable landscape with hikers while preserving the character of the farm he loved. Today his wife, Margie Viviers, continues that legacy with infectious enthusiasm, incredible hospitality and an obvious love for every guest who arrives at Rooiheuwel.
You’ll arrive as hikers.
You’ll leave feeling like old friends.
The Journey Begins
Our adventure actually started several hours before we laced up our boots.
After making excellent time from Cape Town, we reached Beaufort West just in time for Jumu’ah prayers before grabbing a quick lunch in the Shoprite parking lot.
As hikers do, we immediately scattered in different directions.
Some were hunting for Imodium.
Others needed superglue.
Someone disappeared into PEP. (If you know…you know.)
Unfortunately, I wasn’t feeling great.
I’d picked up a particularly unpleasant tummy bug. Food had completely lost its appeal, and I was surviving more on optimism than calories.
Not exactly ideal preparation for five days of hiking.
Fortunately, the Karoo has a wonderful habit of making you forget your problems.
Meeting Margie
We rolled into Rooiheuwel Farm shortly after 4 pm and were welcomed by Margie Viviers.
Calling Margie “our host” somehow feels inadequate.
She’s farmer.
Manager.
Storyteller.
Problem solver.
Tour guide.
Accommodation manager.
And quite capable of driving a bakkie through flooded rivers without raising her pulse above resting heart rate.
She introduced us to Grootdroom, our home for the night.
If farmhouse comfort had a dictionary definition, Grootdroom would probably be photographed beside it.
Warm.
Comfortable.
Beautifully restored.
Filled with thoughtful touches that immediately made us feel at home.
Although my tummy still wasn’t playing along, I managed what little I could before surrendering to one of the best night’s sleeps I’ve had in years.
Sometimes your body knows exactly what it needs.
Mine simply wanted to sleep.
Day One: Grootdroom to Boplaas
13.5 kilometres (or 15.5 according to Garmin… but who’s counting?)
We eventually left Grootdroom at the almost scandalously late hour of 9 am.
By our standards, that practically counted as a lie-in.
The morning greeted us with crisp air hovering around 7°C.
Perfect hiking weather.
What wasn’t perfect, by Karoo standards, was how green everything looked.
Every bend in the trail seemed determined to challenge everything I’d ever believed about the Karoo.
Margie later explained why.
The farm had received around 150 millimetres of rain in only three weeks. In an area where annual rainfall is normally a fraction of that, it had transformed the landscape completely.
Locals spoke about rivers that hadn’t flowed in years.
We were about to meet several of them.
Only a hundred metres from Grootdroom came our first obstacle.
Off came the boots.
Across the river we went.
Nobody complained.
This is simply what hikers do.
We followed the river upstream through a gorge where wet rocks demanded a little more concentration than usual.
The recent floods had left everything beautifully polished… and wonderfully slippery.
The views were magnificent.
The air was fresh.
The only thing refusing to cooperate was my stomach.
Because a few of us were under the weather, we made the sensible decision to bypass Tafelberg, a distinctive mountain named for its resemblance to Cape Town’s famous Table Mountain.
Sometimes hiking isn’t about conquering every summit.
Sometimes it’s about making the smart decision so you can enjoy tomorrow.
We paused for lunch before continuing over terrain made noticeably harder by loose rocks that the storms had scattered across the trail.
Every step demanded attention.
Every corner revealed another astonishing view.
Then, almost without warning, we discovered Piekniek Waterval.
Hidden away like one of the Karoo’s best-kept secrets, the little waterfall quietly tumbled over the rocks as though it had been waiting just for us.
It’s one of those places no photograph can truly capture.
You simply have to stand there.
Listen.
Smile.
Then reluctantly carry on.
Three kilometres later we arrived at Boplaas.
Calling it a hiking hut hardly seems fair.
It had every comfort we could have wished for after a day on the trail.
There was hot food.
Comfortable beds.
Warm conversation.
And another excellent night’s sleep.
Apparently the rest of the group stayed up chatting long into the evening.
I have absolutely no idea.
I was unconscious before dessert.
Day Two: Boplaas to Middelplaas (15km)
The morning dawned cold once again, hovering around 7°C, but the heavy cloud of the previous day had started to lift. The forecast promised sunshine later and, with full stomachs and happy legs, we packed our bags for another day in the Green Karoo.
Leaving Boplaas wasn’t as easy as we’d expected.
It wasn’t just because we’d slept well.
It was because we’d already started forming little connections with farm life.
The previous evening I’d discovered, much to everyone’s amusement, that I’d forgotten to pack onions.
Around our hiking group, onions are considered a basic human right, so disaster was looming until our neighbouring farmers came to the rescue when we bartered burgers for onions.
Crisis averted.
Supper was saved.
The first few kilometres lulled us into a false sense of security. Compared with Day One, the walking was relatively flat and the footing much kinder.
That wouldn’t last.
Soon we reached another river crossing.
This one came complete with what can only be described as an engineering experiment involving old pipes masquerading as a ladder.
Crossing it wasn’t particularly difficult.
Looking graceful while crossing it… that was another matter entirely.
Especially if you were trying to take photographs at the same time.
The recent rains had once again transformed the landscape.
Water tumbled down a little waterfall that had probably spent much of its life waiting patiently for moments exactly like these. Moss clung to damp rocks, tiny flowers appeared where none should logically exist, and every slippery surface seemed determined to remind us that gravity remains undefeated.
The climb that followed rewarded us generously.
We gained a ridge overlooking a landscape so vast it almost defied description.
Green valleys rolled endlessly towards distant mountains.
Deep gorges sliced through the earth.
The silence stretched for kilometres.
Then, almost on cue, an eagle launched itself from the cliffs below us.
We stood watching as it effortlessly rode invisible currents of air, climbing higher and higher until it became nothing more than a dark silhouette against the blue Karoo sky.
That single moment became one of the highlights of my entire hike.
The trail now hugged the edge of the gorge.
It demanded just enough concentration to keep your feet honest.
Loose gravel.
Occasional scree.
A narrow path.
Yet every instinct told you to stop walking because the scenery was simply too magnificent to hurry through.
You’re watching your footing while simultaneously trying to absorb the endless views surrounding you.
It’s a difficult balance.
We had countless “stop and stare” moments.
Those are the moments that never appear on Strava.
No personal bests.
No achievements unlocked.
Just a group of ordinary people standing quietly in extraordinary places.
That’s hiking.
People often ask me why I spend so much time in the mountains.
The answer isn’t always the summit.
Sometimes it’s the conversations.
Sometimes it’s the laughter echoing through a valley.
Sometimes it’s the complete silence when everyone drifts into their own thoughts.
Hiking has an uncanny ability to slow life down.
Out there, deadlines don’t matter.
Emails don’t matter.
Nobody is interested in your social media following.
The mountain quietly strips life back to the essentials.
Walk.
Breathe.
Look around.
Be grateful.
After a relaxed lunch stop we descended into another spectacular gorge before finally reaching Middelplaas.
If Boplaas felt like a comfortable farmhouse, Middelplaas felt like stepping into an old hunter’s lodge.
Mounted antelope heads watched our arrival with permanent expressions of surprise.
There was even a warthog.
I must admit those trophies made me a little sad.
“Pippa would have something to say about this,” I laughed.
We arrived at around 2:45 pm, which left plenty of afternoon to enjoy exactly what hiking should include.
Hot soup.
Sunshine.
Absolutely nothing.
Well…
Almost nothing.
Our neighbours soon introduced themselves.
There were sheep.
Some curious antelope.
And a family of enormous gemsbok.
Every few minutes one particularly determined mother gemsbok would thunder into the fence trying to reach another animal grazing in a neighbouring camp.
The entire cabin shook.
Every single time.
The first crash sent us all scrambling outside thinking we’d experienced a small earthquake.
Nope.
Just Mama Gemsbok trying another strategy.
She somehow failed to notice the perfectly open gate a few metres away.
Each unsuccessful charge produced another round of laughter from our increasingly entertained hiking group.
By bedtime we were almost disappointed whenever the fence remained standing.
It had been another wonderful day in the Karoo.
Day Three: Middelplaas to Arendsnes (9km)
Our third morning began with unusual instructions from Margie.
“Sleep in.”
Not words hikers hear very often.
She had three excellent reasons.
Firstly, this would be our shortest hiking day.
Secondly, the recent floods had made two river crossings unsafe.
And thirdly…
She wanted us to slow down and actually enjoy the trail.
Words to live by.
Before long Margie arrived with her team and invited us aboard her trusty farm bakkie.
Now let me just say this…
There is something undeniably impressive about a woman confidently driving a bakkie through flooded rivers.
The recent storms hadn’t simply filled the river.
They’d created an entirely new channel beside it.
What had once been one crossing had become two.
Margie eased us through both with the calm confidence of someone who’d done it a hundred times before.
We, on the other hand, quietly hoped she had.
Not far from the river Papa Grizzly suggested we build a little cairn garden in memory of Flip Viviers, whose vision created the Karoo-Erdvark Hiking Trail.
It was a simple moment.
Quiet.
Respectful.
The sort of moment that reminds you every trail has a story long before hikers arrive.
As the morning unfolded, so did the sunshine.
For the first time all week the Karoo stood proudly beneath clear blue skies.
If the previous two days had been beautiful, today was breathtaking.
The sunlight danced across hills now dressed in vibrant shades of green.
It honestly looked as though the Karoo had put on a brand-new frock purely to show off.
The walking itself was wonderfully relaxed.
A few gentle climbs.
Nothing particularly demanding.
Time to chat.
Time to wander.
Time simply to appreciate where we were.
After lunch we stopped for what turned into a highly entertaining navigation lesson.
Our hike leader produced the map.
Questions were asked.
Answers were confidently supplied.
Most of them turned out to be spectacularly wrong.
Let’s just say none of us will be replacing professional mountain guides anytime soon.
Thankfully, map-reading ability wasn’t required to find Arendsnes.
Because suddenly…
There it was.
Perched above a waterfall like something from the pages of a lifestyle magazine.
Arendsnes.
Or Eagle’s Nest.
We were its very first guests.
Built almost entirely from local stone, the house blended so naturally into the mountainside that it looked as though it had always belonged there.
Inside was every modern comfort you could imagine.
Outside…
Well…
Outside there was a hot tub overlooking one of the finest views on the entire trail.
I immediately announced that they might have to legally evict me the following morning.
I wasn’t joking.
After supper someone suggested karaoke.
I’ll simply say this.
What happens at karaoke…
Stays at karaoke.
Day Four: Arendsnes to Rietvlei 15.5 km
If someone asked me to describe Day Four in four words, it would be this:
Longest. Toughest. Beautifulest. Favourite.
We left Arendsnes reluctantly at 8:30 that morning. Nobody wanted to say goodbye to that magnificent stone house perched above the waterfall. If Margie had offered us permanent residency, I suspect there would have been six very awkward phone calls home.
The trail wasted no time reminding us we still had a hike to complete.
It climbed immediately behind the house, scrambling up beside the waterfall before winding through a narrow gorge. For the first time all week the Karoo greeted us with uninterrupted sunshine.
The transformation was breathtaking.
The same valleys we’d admired under grey skies now glowed emerald beneath a brilliant blue sky. It was as though someone had turned the saturation up on the entire landscape.
The climb eventually eased onto a plateau where we found ourselves walking between two ridges… and two rival troops of baboons.
One troop barked from the ridge to our left.
The other answered from somewhere across the valley.
It felt like we’d accidentally wandered into a neighbourhood dispute.
Thankfully, neither side seemed interested in involving the hikers.
The next section became one of my favourite stretches of trail.
Above us rose towering columns of rock known locally as orrels because they resemble the pipes of a church organ. They lined the ridge in perfect formation while our narrow footpath threaded its way beneath them through fynbos and Karoo scrub.
The trail was slightly overgrown.
Wonderfully quiet.
And spectacularly beautiful.
Nobody hurried.
We simply walked.
Sometimes talking.
Sometimes saying nothing at all.
Every now and then we’d stop to watch another eagle circling effortlessly overhead before continuing.
Kareemah quietly stole the show that morning.
The previous day she’d stepped on an Acacia thorn.
If you’ve ever seen one of those thorns, you’ll know they’re less “thorn” and more “medieval weapon.”
Her foot was swollen and sore.
Yet she never complained.
She simply kept walking.
One careful step after another.
Proper hiking spirit.
Everyone did brilliantly.
After lunch the character of the hike changed completely.
We descended towards the Koekemoer River.
Or rather…
Towards where the trail used to be.
The floods had erased almost every trace of it.
No cairns.
No markers.
Nothing.
Nature had quietly hit the reset button.
For a while we simply trusted our hike leader as he picked his way downstream.
Eventually, like greeting an old friend, the familiar trail markers reappeared.
The route had survived after all.
The river, however, wasn’t quite finished entertaining us.
The next hour became an endless cycle of…
Take boots off.
Cross river.
Dry feet.
Put boots back on.
Walk.
Repeat.
The first crossing felt refreshing.
The second was still enjoyable.
By the fourth we’d become a remarkably efficient boot-removal team.
By the fifth I happily rock-hopped wherever possible in a desperate attempt to avoid another costume change.
By now the afternoon light was beginning to soften.
We still had a fair distance to cover.
At around five o’clock we finally arrived at Rietvlei.
If Arendsnes had been boutique mountain luxury, Rietvlei was honest Karoo simplicity.
A converted schoolhouse.
A donkey boiler.
Gas.
Solar power.
Comfortable beds.
No unnecessary frills.
Just everything you actually needed.
The old building held the winter cold surprisingly well, but nothing cures chilly bones quite like a hot shower after fifteen kilometres on the trail.
That night I climbed into my sleeping bag with two liners.
Everyone else produced hot-water bottles.
Outside the Karoo settled into another freezing winter evening.
Inside we slept like hikers always do…
Very well.
Day Five: Rietvlei to Grootdroom (15km)
Our final morning began with mixed emotions.
Everyone was smiling.
Everyone wanted one more day on the trail.
Unfortunately, not everyone would be hiking it.
Kareemah’s foot had swollen considerably overnight and she couldn’t put any weight on it.
Without hesitation, Ruwayda volunteered to stay behind with her.
That’s one of the things I love about hiking.
No one gets left behind.
After breakfast the remaining six of us shouldered our packs and set off.
Five hundred metres later…
Off came the boots.
Again.
The river crossing was now becoming something of a morning ritual.
Once we’d crossed and laced our boots back up, we spent a few minutes searching for the next trail marker among loose scree and flood debris.
Then everything happened at once.
“Rock!”
Fareed’s warning echoed across the slope.
A dull thud.
Silence.
Dara had fallen.
Later we pieced together what had happened.
He’d reached for what looked like a solid handhold.
Instead it was a loose rock shelf weakened by the recent storms.
The entire section broke away beneath him.
Instinctively Dara threw himself backwards and slightly to his right as he fell.
Below him, Maan reacted instantly, lunging forward to try and help.
The rock Dara had dislodged missed Maan’s head by centimetres before smashing into his knee.
For a few seconds nobody moved.
Shock.
Experience.
Instinct.
Whatever it was, everyone stayed remarkably calm.
Dara had rolled roughly three metres down the slope.
He was scraped, bleeding and badly winded.
His ankle was already beginning to swell.
Maan wasn’t in much better shape.
He examined his rapidly swelling knee before delivering what was probably the understatement of the entire trip.
“I need my knee guard.”
Even now that line still makes me smile.
Fortunately we spotted the slackpacking bakkie making its way towards Rietvlei.
Abu somehow danced across the river in full hiking boots to flag it down.
We’d just acquired another patient.
Although adrenaline was doing an admirable job of convincing Dara he could continue hiking, we’d all reached the same conclusion.
He was getting into the bakkie.
There would be no debate.
As we waited, the cold river water became nature’s first-aid kit.
Dara soaked his swollen ankle while we reassessed the situation.
Later Kat and Trompie suggested the heavy rains had probably loosened the rock shelf, explaining why it failed so suddenly.
It was a sobering reminder that mountains are constantly changing.
The important thing was this.
It could have been so much worse.
The Legendary Plaas Bakkie
With our injured hikers safely aboard, we climbed into what can only be described as a proper plaas bakkie.
Not a city bakkie.
A farm bakkie.
There’s a difference.
A plaas bakkie is licensed.
Roadworthy is another discussion entirely.
The tyres looked suspiciously smooth.
Side mirrors appeared to be optional.
Every panel wore dents, scratches and stories.
Rust had claimed several small victories.
The instructions were wonderfully simple.
“Don’t stand on the tailgate.”
“Put your weight on the towbar.”
Comforting.
The next thirty minutes felt less like transport and more like an amusement park ride designed by farmers.
Acacia branches reached enthusiastically for our faces.
We lurched through muddy tracks.
Splashed through rivers.
Leaned at angles that felt scientifically questionable.
Every now and then someone would disappear sideways into a fellow passenger before dissolving into laughter.
It was absolutely brilliant.
Kat eventually dropped us near the trail and after we bandaged Dara’s ankle, before continuing to Grootdroom with our casualties.
Then there were five.
Not long afterwards…
Another river crossing.
We simply looked at each other.
Shrugged.
Removed our boots.
Again.
We crossed.
Dried our feet.
Pulled our boots back on.
Then Fareed quietly announced he’d left one of his trekking poles on the opposite bank.
Nobody even groaned.
We just laughed.
Off came the boots.
Again.
Back across the river he went.
Retrieved the pole.
Crossed back.
Booted up.
Again.
It was that kind of day.
And somehow…
That made it perfect.
The final kilometres passed through a Karoo unlike any I’d ever imagined.
Green grass rippled in the breeze.
Water sparkled through rivers that, according to Trompie, had been bone dry before the storms.
The floods had certainly caused enormous damage across the farm.
They’d washed away cairns.
Destroyed sections of trail.
Shifted rocks.
Created new river channels.
Yet they’d also given us a priceless gift.
The chance to experience a Green Karoo that very few people will ever see.
As Grootdroom finally came into view, I found myself walking a little slower.
Not because I was tired.
Because I wasn’t quite ready for the journey to end.
Final Thoughts
People will inevitably ask me whether the Karoo-Erdvark Hiking Trail is worth doing.
Absolutely.
But perhaps not for the reasons you expect.
If you’re chasing towering peaks, endless scrambling and bragging rights, there are plenty of other trails.
The Karoo-Erdvark offers something quieter.
It offers space.
Silence.
Unexpected beauty.
Working farms where hospitality still matters.
Evenings around a table with friends.
Stories shared over supper.
The occasional karaoke performance that should never be spoken of again.
And landscapes that quietly remind you how wonderfully unpredictable nature can be.
I arrived expecting a brown Karoo.
I left having fallen in love with a green one.
Perhaps that’s the greatest lesson of hiking.
The mountain rarely gives you what you expect.
More often than not…
It gives you exactly what you need.
Things to Know Before You Go
Trail: Karoo-Erdvark Hiking Trail
Duration: 5 days / 4 nights
Location: Rooiheuwel Farm near Beaufort West, Western Cape
Accommodation: Excellent throughout, ranging from beautifully restored farmhouses to a converted schoolhouse, with the unforgettable Arendsnes stealing the show.
Difficulty: Moderate. Most hikers with a reasonable level of fitness will comfortably complete it. Expect uneven terrain, loose rocks, river crossings and a few sustained climbs.
Best Time: Winter and spring. If you’re incredibly lucky, you may even experience the Karoo after exceptional rains.
Trail Banter
Most-used phrase: “Boots off!”
Most forgotten item: Onions.
Biggest surprise: Just how green the Karoo can become.
Best accommodation: Arendsnes. (No competition.)
Most entertaining wildlife: Mama Gemsbok.
Most memorable transport: Kat’s legendary plaas bakkie.
Cast of Crazies
Thank You
A heartfelt thank you to everyone who shared photographs, videos and memories from the trail. Every image helped tell the story of a very special week.
To Margie, Kat and Trompie, thank you for your warmth, your stories, your generosity and for allowing us to experience your remarkable corner of the Karoo.
And to Flip Viviers, whose vision created this trail, thank you for leaving behind a legacy that encourages others to slow down, explore and fall in love with these mountains.
Mountain Rating
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ (5/5)
Not because it’s the hardest trail I’ve ever walked.
Not because it’s the most luxurious.
But because it surprised me.
Sometimes that’s the greatest gift a trail can give.
Trail Ledger
Distance walked: Approximately 65 kilometres.
River crossings: Too many to count.
Boot removals: Definitely too many to count.
Laughs shared: Countless.
Memories made: Priceless.
Until the next adventure…
Happy hiking.
Spectacular sites and stunning pics. You definitely captured the beauty of it.
Awesome read.
Awesome Read. Stunning pictures
Spectacular Sites