ARANGIESKOP HIKING TRAIL
The two-day Arangieskop Trail near Robertson, nicknamed Kilimanjaro of the Cape, is a tough route that has reached cult status among hikers. Are you up for the challenge?
“Sunlight filters through ferns, and through trees overgrown with old man’s beard. The coffee aroma of rotten wood and wet soil hangs in the air. Stones crunch beneath my boots and the sound bounces around under the canopy.”
We’ve only covered 5 km and already we’ve gone up and down three, four, maybe five big hills. I’ve stopped counting. There are more up ahead. Robertson is behind us, forgotten, and Arangieskop towers ahead, quiet and majestic.
“I’m sure this trail has made many a hiker give up his hobby,” says Wadda Louw, echoing my sentiments.
Arangieskop, in the Dassieshoek Nature Reserve, is part of the Langeberg range, and its slopes offer an abundance of natural scenery: fields of sugarbush, forests, ferns, murmuring streams, dizzying heights, and a howling wind at the top.
I’m hiking with Wadda, Charl de Wit, Roland Truter, Gerrit van Deventer and Francois Albertyn. We’re nowhere near as brave as the travellers in the The Lord of the Rings, who journeyed to Mordor to throw a ring into the fires of Mount Doom, yet it feels like our group of old school friends is also on an epic journey – our own baptism of fire.
Day 1: 10 km
It’s a chilly Saturday morning. We left Cape Town early so that we could start hiking by
9 am. It should take five to eight hours to get to the overnight hut near the summit, which is 10 km away.
The trailhead is at the Dassieshoek 1 Hut, and the first 2 km section from there into the nature reserve is a good warm-up. I move a water bottle that’s jutting into my ribs.
We cross a girder bridge. At a yellow route marker, we start going up the first hill at a snail’s pace. Barely a kilometre further, we stop to take off our jackets. I’m grateful for the cooler weather – it must be a sweaty slog if the sun is out in full force.
The sugarbushes next to the first part of the trail still show damage from a veld fire in 2017, but the other fynbos plants wave in the breeze. Almost an hour after we started, we reach a plateau and the hut at the trailhead disappears from view.
Some mountains are more impressive than others. Arangieskop, with its steep slopes and sharp peaks, is a giant of a mountain at 1 698 m
high. The peak is known as the Kilimanjaro of the Cape, not just because of its height, but also thanks to the sudden and steep 10 km climb to the summit.
The website Hiking South Africa gives the trail a difficulty rating of 8 out of 10. “If this trail is an 8, what does a 10 look like?” asks Charl, eyeing the crags at the top. “There must be ropes and harnesses involved…”
Choosing a breakfast spot on a hike is like choosing a stand in a campsite – everyone has an opinion. “That’s a nice spot,” says Roland. “No, wait, let’s climb that hill first,” the others protest.
After only 3 km, just over “that” hill, we throw down our backpacks and dig out the biltong and nuts.
I feel guilty resting before we’re even halfway, but the climb up to this point has been challenging. As hiking legend Mike Lundy said about Arangieskop: “It is neither for the faint of heart nor the weak of limb.”
We all agree that our limbs deserve a break, especially considering the strenuous 7 km that lie ahead. The late-morning sun burns from behind the mountain and casts the peak in ominous shadow.
An unexpected sharp descent only five minutes later catches me off guard, like an obscure question in your final English exam. The descent takes us about 700 m to the bottom of Watervalkloof. We follow the slippery, rocky path and climb down further, using a ladder and chains to get to a stream and a rock pool. The water looks enticing, but it’s much too cold to swim.
Sunlight filters through ferns, and through trees overgrown with old man’s beard. The coffee aroma of rotten wood and wet soil hangs in the air. Stones crunch beneath my boots and the sound bounces around under the canopy. We pass more rock pools, climb out of the kloof, and walk through a relatively level grass field. For the first time we can make small talk like you usually do on a hike.
Most of the hills have a spot with a view where you can rest, and before long Wadda takes out his stove to boil water. “What’s a hike without noodles?” he asks. Clearly, it’s time for our second break.
Charl and I climbed Arangieskop for the first time when we were in Grade 7 and we’ve forgotten how tough it is. Twenty years later we’re back, slower and with more wrinkles. From our al fresco restaurant, the trail veers left then right and heads straight up the mountain. The final 2 km section to the hut is the most difficult part of the trail. The route is marked out on the rocks in white paint: white feet on the first day; yellow feet on the second. Here we are: Mordor. Jagged rocks stand two storeys high among the grass and we crawl up the path on our hands and feet. Just as one uphill ends, the next begins. “Do you have painkillers?” Roland shouts from the back. Later, Charl tells us he “got to know himself better” on the challenging climb.
Finally, we arrive in a clearing and follow the trail along level terrain to the hut, which is camouflaged among the rocks. For the first time we can see Arangieskop in profile – it looks like a big shark’s tooth.
Francois and I arrive at about 2 pm and drink a well-earned beer. Roland, Charl, Gerrit and Wadda show up about an hour later and do the same thing.
It’s a typical hiking hut with a donkey boiler for hot water and a fireplace (with more than enough firewood) in the middle. There are three single beds in the living room on the bottom floor, and three rooms with bunk beds on the top floor. The hut sleeps 23 people in total – fortunately we’re the only hikers tonight.
I’m relieved that the trail didn’t go all the way to the summit today. All I want now is to shower, light the fire, lie down on the lawn and gaze at the Koo Valley far below.
Day 2: 11 km
The second day also starts with a climb. “Are we really going right to the top?” Roland asks nervously. We’re all thinking the same thing. It’s 2 km to the summit, and it looks steep.
I’m fairly fit, but my legs are tired and it takes a while for my body to find its rhythm. Luckily my backpack is much lighter after last night’s braai…
The trail passes the hut on the left, with the Koo Valley in front and Arangieskop to the right. Just before the summit, there are a few cement steps to the right of the path, which
lead to a viewpoint on a cliff. For the first time we can see why yesterday was such a tough slog: We literally climbed a mountain!
By now, each of us feels as if he knows Arangies, but we’re in for a surprise on the summit. There are meteorological gadgets up there to measure wind and weather. It was quiet down at the hut; up here a strong wind rips at our clothes. We take a few photos and start the descent as quickly as possible. (It’s about a 40-minute hike from the hut to the peak – something to keep in mind if you want to catch the sunrise.)
Going down, the terrain is rugged and uneven. A few of us choose to slide down the rocks on our bums. If you thought going down would be easier than coming up, think again. It takes us an hour longer than it took to ascend. Hoëpuntkloof swallows us whole. The relentless slope tests my knees and my sense of humour. We’re deep in the folds of the Langeberg, which means relentless up- and downhills.
The fynbos of the first day has been replaced by forest – stronger hikers take the lead and remove branches and other debris from the path.
About 4 km below the summit, we enter a dense forest where we have to scramble over rocks the size of a Polo. A Cape batis calls from somewhere in the green.
Deeper and deeper we go into Hoëpuntkloof, until we come to a particularly gnarly climb – a rock face seemingly without end. Francois goes first, using the chain attached to the wall, and I follow. It’s not too steep, but I make sure there’s no sunscreen on my hands. This is not a place where you want to lose your grip.
If you want a summary of the descent of Arangieskop, it goes like this: Down a ravine to a stream, then up and out of the ravine. On repeat.
Dassieshoek Dam glints in the distance, and next to it our cars – sparkling dots of promise. But there’s still one more downhill to go. My legs are tired – I’m sure everyone’s are – and the chatter of the first day has vanished. Everyone is quiet, eyes trained on the ground, probably also “getting to know themselves better”.
Finally, we reach the bottom and I look up at Arangieskop one last time. Yesterday there was a mountain in front us, today it’s behind us. Victory!