HANTAM KAROO
The Hantam Hike is a 100 km walk that loops around the Hantamberg, starting and ending just outside Calvinia. It’s got all the beauty and barrenness of the Karoo, but you don’t have to be an endurance athlete to take part.
Do the five-day Hantam Hike near Calvinia for scenery, silence and lots of Karoo lamb!
We’re huddled in the lounge of a farmhouse outside Calvinia. The farm is called Toekoms and it belongs to Ita van Niekerk. There are 19 hikers in total, from as far afield as Thabazimbi, Omaruru and Wellington. Coincidentally, we’re all women. We’re about to set off on a 100 km, five-day walk around the Hantamberg. Cois Nel is holding fort at the braai, along with Edwin Bradley of Klipwerf Orkes fame. Cois and Edwin are our back-up support team: They’ll drive the trucks with all our gear, and help set up each night’s camp. By way of getting to know each other, the hikers begin talking about their previous experiences. You’d only need to eavesdrop for a few minutes to confirm that most people have done every hike there is: the Otter Trail, the Fish River Canyon, the Whale Trail, Caminos all over, even the odd Himalayan trek. There’s heated discussion about which watch is better, Garmin or Fitbit. I’ve never owned either! I’m starting to get a bit nervous. Not for the first time on assignment for this magazine, I wonder what I’ve got myself into… Edwin senses my anxiety. With a grilled chop hanging from his tongs, he points towards the Hantamberg. “Don’t worry,” he says. “That mountain gives you peace of mind.” He slaps the chop back on the grid to render what he calls the “white meat”. I hope he’s right…
Day 1: Finding cruise control
I awake to creaking floorboards and a singing kettle. It’s time to lace up those shoes. We eat leftover chops and wors and load ourselves and our bags onto a sheep truck, which will take us to the start – the R355 dirt road that leads from Calvinia to Loeriesfontein. We’ll be on that road for a while before turning off onto a smaller farm road to begin circling the mountain. The route is worked out perfectly: We’ll walk about 20 km each day and we’ll stay over on farms – either in the farmer’s home or in our tents on their land. Luxuries like a comfy mattress and a hot shower are never too far away. This is the inaugural Hantam Hike – the latest offering from Silent Steps, who are well known for their Shoreline of the San trail along the West Coast. Their plan was to try and include as many farmers in the process as possible, to alleviate some of the financial burden of the drought that has plagued the region. They ended up raising just short of R8 000, which was spent on mielies from the co-op and donated to the farmers we visited.
Right now, the drought seems far away. The ground is soft from rain that fell a week ago – the first in ages. It feels like I’m walking on marshmallows. The sheep seem to have a skip in their step; I’m sure the farmers do, too. I pass the usual flotsam of a dusty Karoo road: mangled tyres, bottles bleached by the sun, empty tortoise shells. After a kilometre or two, everyone finds their stride. Our first rest stop is just past the 5 km mark. This is where the pros reveal themselves. By pros, I mean not me. I take out my packet of mini Marie biscuits and a sarong to sit on. Others have portable chairs and coffee makers – for cappuccinos nogal! Everything folds up ridiculously small. The second stretch is when I realise what I’ve signed up for. The ache starts to set in. Having only ever done one other monstrous walk in my life – the Tankwa Camino, which starts just south of Calvinia – I resort to a tactic I learnt there: one foot in front of the other. Repeat. It worked then, it will work now. The squeak from my daypack, which normally annoys me, becomes soothing. I slip into fifth gear, then cruise control. Cruise control is what I need, because some time in the dying moments of that first day, I realise the Karoo is not flat, contrary to what many people think. It’s the opposite. We walk up and down hills covered in melkbos, a landscape of Pierneef colours, and it takes what seems like an eternity to reach our home for the night: a sheep shearing shed belonging to Bertie and Anna Visagie on their farm Paardekraal. As far as hiking accommodation goes, it’s perfect. Some of us set up our mattresses inside the shed; others pitch tents outside. The sunset is that mix of orange and pink that the Karoo does so well. The light finds its way through the broken-glass windows of the shed and lights up filaments of wool left behind by shorn sheep – the previous inhabitants of our bedrooms. My aching body sends me to bed earlier than the rest. I fall asleep to the laughter of
the Visagie family and our troupe, as stories are swapped around the fire.
Day 2: Making friends
By the time the sleeping bags have been rolled up and tents have been dismantled, the dust from Tannie Anna’s bakkie can be seen approaching – and with it, the best roosterkoek I’ve ever eaten. Add some butter and homemade jam and you have a culinary trifecta. There are leftover lamb chops, too. (I sense a theme developing…) It’s hotter today and the kilometres feel longer – not because the terrain is more difficult but because my body is adjusting to life on the trail. It’s a good feeling, though. The road takes us past working farms where sheep are crowded around water troughs like punters jostling for the barman’s attention. The 20 of us are spread out, each one walking at her own pace. I fall in and out with different groups. I walk for a while with the posse from Wellington, then I spend some time with the ladies from the West Coast. Tannie Anna drives past on her way to town, one hand out of the window waving, the other punching the hooter. Other farmers slow down to offer us water, a lift or a joke about how crazy we are. At lunch I take cover from the Karoo sun in another old shearing shed. There are little lines etched into the walls and crossed out, where shearers of years gone by tallied up the number of sheep sheared.
There’s a “cheat” option today. Our destination – the farm Groot Toren – is only 15 km into the day’s 20 km. Those who want to stay put can do so; those who want to walk the full day’s allotment can go past the farm and be transported back by bakkie. Not only do I stop, but after coffee with owners Harry and Renska Burnett, I consider never leaving! At 78 years old, Harry is the ninthgeneration farmer at Groot Toren. His enthusiasm for the land is contagious. After a hot shower (bliss!), he shows us the main house, which he’s kept exactly like it was when his parents still lived there. It’s a living museum, complete with original furniture, yellowing photographs and the musty smell of a Karoo farmhouse that’s been locked up for a while.
Fireside stories go back to the times of the trekboere, and the people who found shelter on the farm, which has a permanent spring, from as early as 1717. The fire crackles and the sunset paints the Hantamberg a scalding red, adding atmosphere to Oom Harry’s stories of murder and mystery. We hang onto his every word. I lean back in my chair, take a sip of wine, and – not for the first time – realise it’s the little things that make this walk special. Later, we all squeeze into the Burnetts’ kitchen for home-made venison pie and koeksisters, before a night’s sleep in real beds.
Day 3: Sheep gossip
It takes us ages to leave in the morning, either because each of us gets a long – and in some cases, tearful – goodbye hug from our hosts, or because the koeksisters, farm bread and fresh honey are starting to coagulate in our veins… With the Hantamberg on our right, the scenery starts to change: Outcrops of red rock stack up next to the road and go all the way into the foothills. The stresses of everyday life are starting to melt away and I have Karoo air in my lungs. My feet move effortlessly, only pausing when a tortoise peeks out from behind a bush, or a lizard dashes across the path. Along with Elsa Spiess – an airline pilot by profession – I have the luxury of getting a lift for a few kilometres so I can ready a drone to take some photographs. While we wait for the walkers, we lie on the hot, red rocks and pretend we’re dassies. We’ve been on the AP 2286 farm road for the past two days. Now we hook a left onto the farm Groot Rivier, which belongs to Nico and Carlo Visagie. From the turn-off, it’s still 7 km to the farmhouse. Being on a private farm road is special – we go through gate after gate, one of the advantages of being on foot and not in a car!
The sheep look at us quizzically. Imagine what they must be thinking! Out of nowhere, 19 women, some with long sticks in their hands, stroll past with humps on their backs. The sheep bleat in the silence, gossiping among each other. On the itinerary, the plan for tonight is to “camp in the middle of nowhere” and it lives up to its promise. We finally come to our trusty sheep truck, which is parked next to a lonely windmill and long, dry dam. We set up our tents among evidence of the horrendous drought: gleaming white sheep bones and dying karee trees. Along with one or two others, I decide to unroll my mattress on the bed of the truck. Cois and Edwin have brought a trailer with a shower and a toilet. So, despite being surrounded by nothingness on all four sides, we do have an element of luxury. “Oooh die lewe is lekker in slippers!” coos Nadea Victor from Jacobsbaai as she emerges from her tent after a refreshing shower. She passes the “hospital tent”, where things aren’t as chipper. Mandy Minnaar, a seasoned hiker and the self-appointed nurse of the walk, is sorting out someone’s blisters. Blisters on a walk like this are a major talking point. But Mandy has the winning formula, and people queue up outside her tent at the end of each day. Don’t have a blister, but need a little massage? No problem. There’s someone for that, too. Elizabeth van der Merwe from Omaruru in Namibia is a trained therapist and masseuse. She’s more than happy to share her skills, which also makes her popular come afternoon time. Nico Visagie joins us at the campfire, just as the wind turns a nasty kind of Karoo cold. To keep warm, a bokdrol spitting competition ensues. An old sheep skull is found as a trophy, cellphone torches are used to light the playing field and everyone gives it a go. Things get serious; it’s each woman for herself. Elsa Spiess – the friendly pilot – takes the crown. We’d have carried on, but food arrives. It’s like the best Mr Delivery I’ve ever eaten. Cois’s wife Blom has spent the day cooking up a storm at their home in Calvinia – there’s enough lasagne to feed the Great Karoo.
Day 4: Tea with Johanna
I wake up to the coldest morning yet, and I start walking before anyone else. I realise why Anette Grobler calls her company “Silent Steps”. The sun lights up the tops of koppies, then dresses the whole slope, as I slowly shed layers of clothes. The road takes me into the mountains. It almost feels claustrophobic after days in the open. After a while, the road snakes onto a working farm. I come across a woman who introduces herself as Johanna, sitting in the sun on her small stoep. Two farm dogs bound up to greet me with a lick. She invites me in for a cup of tea and I sit for almost an hour as she tells me stories of her youth on the farm. She tells me how the farmer once bought her exercise books to teach her English, but she hid them under rocks when she tended the goats and played with sticks and stones instead, pulling the books out quickly when she saw the dust of the farmer’s bakkie approaching. She giggles naughtily, spilling her tea.
It’s still a long march to the day’s final resting place on the farm Vanrhynshoek. I say goodbye to Tannie Johanna and set off. One foot in front of the next. Repeat. My shadow is long when I arrive at Handvol Gruis Guesthouse, where we’ll be spending our last night. Handvol Gruis is an oasis, complete with scalding hot showers and comfortable beds. The guesthouse normally sleeps 10, but super-host Ronelle Nel managed to source enough mattresses for the rest of us. It’s time for our final braai at the main farmhouse, hosted by local legend and raconteur Oom Bassie Nel and his family. Make-up is even applied before dinner! The sound of a hairdryer whines across the Karoo plains.
Day 5: Hantam up high
With slightly throbbing heads, we head off for the final day’s walk – uphill, to the top of the Hantamberg. We’re slower than normal and more spread out, as most people – myself included – take in the final hours of silence in this beautiful place. A herd of sheep gives me a fright as they dash out of the bush, on their way to a water trough. I stop for a while to catch my breath and watch them. The sun is rising over the mountains behind me and the dust from a bakkie is lit up like diamonds on a chain. Ita van Niekerk, who has been behind the wheel of the back-up bakkie all week, gives some of us a lift up the worst part of the ascent. I jump in. Why not? It’s not a competition.
I can see a cellphone tower – the main one that serves Calvinia – in the valley below. That tower, and the beeps it facilitates on my phone, means the end is near. After another kilometre or two, just under the tower, Anette and her team welcome the walkers with high-fives and hugs. Oom Bassie has also driven up for the occasion. Bottles of champagne are popped and we drink out of colourful plastic flutes. We don’t linger for long. It’s windy and cold at the top of the Hantamberg. But we spend enough time to appreciate the moment and to take in the view of Calvinia and the pastel plains and the farms that surround the town. Then a shuttle takes us full circle, back to the farm Toekoms, back to the “future”, where the real world is waiting to greedily swallow us up again.