April 2025 | 74 km | 6 Days | Free State to KwaZulu-Natal
Into the Heart of the Dragon
The mountains had been calling for a while. Not just any mountains—the mighty Drakensberg, a spine of basalt rising up between South Africa and Lesotho like the jagged vertebrae of a slumbering beast.
When we finally committed to hiking the Northern Traverse over the first week of April 2025, we knew we were signing up for something demanding, remote, and mythic. What we didn’t know was just how much the mountains would dictate the terms.
The plan: six days, 74 kilometres, a route that would take us from Sentinel Peak in the Free State, up past the chain ladders to the high escarpment, along the Lesotho border, past remote caves and granite spires, across the airy Bell Traverse, and finally down to the Cathedral Peak Hotel in KwaZulu-Natal. That was the plan. The reality? Well, the Dragon had other ideas.
This blog recounts what we intended, and what actually unfolded. It’s a tale of contrasts—planned vs. experienced—and a reminder that the Berg is as unpredictable as it is breathtaking.
Disclaimer: The photos don’t do it justice.
The Drakensberg: Land of Legend and Stone
Known locally as uKhahlamba—”Barrier of Spears”—the Drakensberg range has long loomed large in South African folklore and history. To the Zulu people, these mountains are sacred. To geologists, they are a million-year-old monument to erosion and uplift. And to hikers, they’re a test of endurance and awe.
There’s something otherworldly about the escarpment: a high-altitude wilderness with no roads, no cell signal, no fences. Just sky and stone, sheep trails and storm clouds. You walk through weather, across borders, and sometimes—if you’re lucky—through history. Rock art by the San people (which we didn’t witness, but its there apparently) hide in the caves. Stories swirl in the mist.
And then there are the infamous Chain Ladders.
No matter how many photos you’ve seen, they don’t prepare you for the real thing. These metal ladders cling to a sheer cliff near the Sentinel car park, and they are your gateway to the roof of Southern Africa. For most of us, they were both thrilling and terrifying.
Welcome to Day One.
Our Cast of Crazies
Our Uber Guide
Our Zulu Warriors
Day 1 – Rain, Chain Ladders, and Unexpected Shelter
Planned: Sentinel Car Park to Bilanjil Falls | 7.5 km | 600m gain
Reality: Sentinel Car Park to a researcher’s cabin (approx. 7.5 km, wet and cold)
After flying into Johannesburg from Cape Town and shuttling to Sentinel Car Park, the adventure was meant to begin with a climb up the Chain Ladders to Bilanjil Falls.
But Mother Nature had other plans.
Our adventure began at Witsieshoek Mountain Lodge, the last outpost of comfort before the wilderness.
Here we loaded into a 4×4 vehicle for the rough ride up to Sentinel Car Park, our official starting point.
The pass was steep, twisting, and narrow—cut along the edge of the mountain like something out of an adventure film. I got car sick during the ride, and just as we neared the top, the skies began to darken ominously.
Thunder cracked, lightning flashed across the peaks, and a cold wind swept up from the valley. Then came the rain, turning the landscape slick and moody. We hadn’t even started walking yet.
Rain fell steadily as we arrived.
Mist draped the cliffs in fog, rendering the already daunting Chain Ladders slippery and eerie.
Each rung was climbed with utmost care, nerves stretched tight.
Although we saw Eland Falls as we crested the top, we missed Tugela Falls entirely on Day 1—our planned detour to Bilanjil Falls had to be abandoned.
Instead, we followed a soggy detour to a nearby researcher’s cabin, used by scientists studying climate change and its impact on alpine vegetation.
Their work focuses on how certain endemic plants are responding to the warming earth—whether they’re migrating upslope, declining, or adapting to temperature shifts.
Fifteen of us squeezed into the small hut—grateful, damp, and already bonded by the elements.
It was a blessing. This decision, however, meant that Day 2 would be significantly longer.
Day 2 – Sunshine, Waterfalls, and 18 Kilometres at Altitude
Planned: Bilanjil Falls to Madonna and Her Worshippers | 14 km | 600m gain
Reality: Researcher’s cabin to Madonna and Her Worshippers | 20 km | 600m gain
The rain had stopped and the skies cleared, and we finally glimpsed the vast plateau in all its glory.
Spirits lifted, and with clear views, we began the long haul to catch up with our original itinerary. The day’s trek was tough—nearly 18 km at altitude—but glorious. Gloriously long.
Before we passed into Lesotho, where we would spend most of the next four days, we saw it: The highest waterfall in the world: Tugela Falls.
We pushed up Stimela Ridge with sore legs and full hearts. A group of local shepherds watched us curiously—as if we were creatures from another world.
They begged us for food, but we hesitated. It felt wrong to say no, but also wrong to encourage an expectation for the next group. Were we changing future behaviour with our choices? Creating a kind of high-altitude ‘chumming’? It was a moment that left us all quiet and conflicted.
The final approach to the eerie rock formations known as Madonna and Her Worshippers was surreal—jagged spires silhouetted by the late afternoon sun.
Day 3 – Wandering Through a Whiteout
Planned: To North Peak Camp | 14 km | 400m gain
Reality: As planned, but visibility near zero
Today should have been all about the iconic Mnweni Pinnacles and epic escarpment views. But the Berg had other ideas. Mist rolled in early and stayed all day. Visibility dropped to near zero. The landscape vanished, and even nearby hikers turned ghostly.
Still, we stayed on course, following our guide’s knowledge and proper GPS. A phone with a GPS is inadequate for the conditions on the Berg. Especially in dodgy weather. So grateful our guide, Patrick The Young, had the best tools in his arsenal, including a sat phone and proper GPS.
We passed our intended campsite near North Peak, hoping to save some miles on Day 4. There was another rain storm predicted.
The Pinnacles? Never saw them. But the silence, the mist, and the feeling of walking through the clouds offered their own kind of magic.
It was also on this day, crossing a small stream near the source of the mighty Orange River, that I slipped and fell. No harm done—just a bruised ego and a splash—but there was something poetic about it.
The Orange River, South Africa’s longest river, begins right there on that high Lesotho plateau, before winding its way for over 2,000 kilometres to the Atlantic Ocean.
From mist to desert.
Day 4 – The Deluge
Planned: To Twins Cave | 15 km | 400m gain
Reality: 9 km to the flattest patch we could find and set up camp in the storm
Just as we made camp on Day 3 the rain returned with a vengeance. And didn’t stop till dawn on Day 5.
Everything we owned was soaked. Trails turned to rivulets. Cold crept into fingers and toes. We didn’t make it to Twins Cave. The visibility was too poor, the trail too wet, the morale too fragile.
We hiked about 9 km before surrendering to the elements, setting up camp on the flattest piece of earth we could find.
Our Zulu warrior porters saved the day—pitching tents swiftly while we huddled for warmth in the mess tent.
Comfort was a distant memory; dry clothes an abstract dream. But teamwork kept spirits alive.
Day 5 – No Bell Traverse, No Roland’s Cave
Planned: Bell Traverse to Cathedral Base | 8 km | 250m gain
Reality: High escarpment route via Cleft Peak; missed Roland’s Cave due to mist
This was meant to be the highlight—the spectacular Bell Traverse, with its jaw-dropping drops and rope-assisted paths. But the rain had made the route too treacherous. Safety came first.
Instead, we followed a high route past Cleft Peak, pushing through wind and fog. Originally, we hoped to spend the night in Roland’s Cave—a legendary perch over the cliffs. But the mist was thick, and navigating the narrow ledge to reach it was out of the question. We made camp nearby in wild conditions.
We trekked for 16 kms on Day 5, almost double what we planned, walking slowly in the mist so we didn’t lose anyone.
We considered going down Xeni Pass, but the descent was daunting, so our guide, Patrick, decided to pass. Pardon the pun.
Instead we took a longer, lesser travelled route, making camp about 2 kms from Organ Pipes Pass. It had been a long day climbing many steep hills with a temperamental GPS, unforgiving mist, and daylight fading.
Even so, we made camp in front of a hidden Buddha in the rock in front of a spectacular waterfall, which shall remain nameless for now.
But it had stopped raining. We have to thank our good Catholic girls for their prayers!
Day 6 – Descending into the Light
Planned: Cathedral Peak Hotel via Orange Peel Gap | 8 km | 50m gain
Reality: Cathedral Peak Hotel via Organ Pipes Pass | 12 km | 1700m descent
My favourite day, without a doubt. It started spectacularly.
Spirits were high in the mess tent at breakfast because a) it wasn’t raining b) it was the final day c) last day in wet boots, wet socks and wet everything else d) descent (although we would be rue-ing that pretty soon)
We descended via Organ Pipes Pass, bypassing the Bell Traverse entirely. It was longer and far more technical than expected—over 1,700 meters of rocky, knee-jarring descent
But the clouds parted. The sun poured down.
And as we dropped lower, the first signs of civilization greeted us.
Cathedral Peak Hotel was a beacon.
We were nearly there. But we had a long long way (1700m or thereabouts) still to go!
The Climb
I can almost see it
That dream I’m dreaming
But there’s a voice inside my head saying
You’ll never reach it
Every step I’m taking
Every move I make feels
Lost with no direction
My faith is shaking
But I, I gotta keep trying
Gotta keep my head held high
There’s always gonna be another mountain
I’m always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be an uphill battle
Sometimes I’m gonna have to lose
Ain’t about how fast I get there
Ain’t about what’s waiting on the other side
It’s the climb
The struggles I’m facing
The chances I’m taking
Sometimes might knock me down, but
No, I’m not breaking
I may not know it
But these are the moments, that
I’m gonna remember most, yeah
Just gotta keep going
And I, I gotta be strong
Just keep pushing on, ’cause
Keep on moving, keep climbing
Keep the faith, baby
It’s all about, it’s all about the climb
Keep your faith, keep your faith
There’s always gonna be another mountain
I’m always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be an uphill battle
Sometimes you’re gonna have to lose
Ain’t about how fast I get there
Ain’t about what’s waiting on the other side
It’s the climb
Reflections from the Roof of Southern Africa
Except for the first and last days, we were walking mostly in Lesotho—a wild, windblown kingdom of ridgelines and valleys.
Despite rumours of smugglers and AK47-toting border patrols, we encountered neither. Perhaps we had the weather to thank. Still, the presence of shepherds and their quiet gazes added a human dimension to this high-altitude journey.
The Drakensberg doesn’t hand out easy victories. It makes you earn them—with soaked gear, long climbs, wild weather, and unexpected detours. But in exchange, it gives you something far richer: solitude, beauty, and connection. To the land, to your crew, and to something older than all of us.
If you’re considering the Northern Traverse, pack for all seasons, prepare to adapt, and bring your best sense of humour.
The Dragon doesn’t follow a script. But it will change you.
Part Two
Everything you need to know about hiking the Drakensberg Traverse: essential gear, mountain meals, team dynamics, and lessons from six days at altitude can be found (coming soon)
Thank You
What an amazing bunch of people to have shared this adventure with!
Our Old Soul Guide, Patrick – couldnt have done it without you.
And to our amazing Zulu warriors – we’ll be back for the Grand!
Photo credits and videos as always remain the property of everyone who so generously shared theirs, viz
Bapoo
Basheera
Ellen
Tina
Wasielah
‘The Climb’ lyrics by Miley Cyrus
True grit…wow ☺️ wow. You guys were awesome…
Well written. Was there with you…
Well written. You guys were awesome. Well done to all …
Your writing is epic. I felt like I was experiencing this journey with you. Retold and relived with such vigour. Well done to all of you and more particularly to your guide Patrick!