New Hats And Old Bats - Hiking The Whale Trail

Hiking the whale trail has been a dream for many years.  When the opportunity presented itself, we said yes without missing a beat. One of the most picturesque hikes in the Western Cape (possibly even the world, when the whales are frolicking in the breakers) and probably the most booked-up route too.

Reservations are hard to obtain and must be made well in advance. Beggars can't be choosers here. We were lucky 6 months ago: when Mariclaire enquired, there were two vacant spots, either in March or April. We were fortunate with the weather, but I think autumn is upon us, and nights could already be cold until after spring. 

Groups motored from various towns to meet in Bredasdorp, another surprise, worth a visit, with many eateries, quaint shops, revamped Victorian homesteads and the pottery factory.

Finding 12 hikers was the easy part; disappointing friends by not making the cut was difficult. I had the privilege of inviting four of my very best friends. Sadly, Butch had to cancel at the last moment for work commitments, but my sister-in-law enthusiastically filled the slot within minutes. What an achievement!

Of course, you must be fit to hike, and this was the motivation we needed to get back on the road again and resume our Tuesday and Thursday morning walks. My feet are my Achilles' heel, and I dreaded the thought of getting blistered, swollen feet, as I’ve had recently. Advice comes liberally from all corners, and as soon as I mention hiking, someone has a great idea about footwear.

 Walking in flip-flops was my idea of doing it, but I knew it would be impractical, so I opted for a “hiking sandal”—a good choice. I shod myself with a pair of Rockies and went galloping off a few weeks before departure to “test” them. I must confess I did blister, but I applied the Elastoplast immediately and have since walked with a bandaged toe. I think it’s going to stay that way. 

My feet were a dream. No blisters. Mind you, I slipped while not concentrating on the path and did a very gentle, ladylike “bollemakiesie” (somersault) in slow motion, hitting my head and shoulder and scraping my foot! Sue was of no help at all; she couldn’t contain herself and just laughed! Thank goodness the path was rocky, and a boulder stopped me from going down a sheer drop into the ravine.

Cape Nature gets all the praise. Although making a booking is a mission, once we’d paid our fees and secured our booking, we could download clear, concise instructions for every aspect of the hike. Maps are up to date, distances are accurate, and all hazards are clearly marked. 10/10 Cape Nature.

We did “slack packing,” which meant we had portage and could carry light day packs while our heavy sleeping bags, beverages, and food were carted from one hut to the next. Bliss!

Having a chef on board meant our main meals were taken care of. Mariclaire served a beautifully prepared meal every night; some were pre-cooked, e.g. pork belly, chicken thighs, and a most delicious Cape Malay Mutton Curry. These were frozen beforehand and kept in a large cool box. On our third evening, we served vacuum-packed Texan steaks, and for the remaining three nights she used chorizo, smoked chicken breasts, and bacon in one-pot dishes. Not only was it great to share our meals, but we also sat down to supper each evening and enjoyed each other’s company.  

Trying to travel light is always difficult, even with ample warning, perfectly crafted lists, and horror stories to the contrary; any lady worth her salt would find it staggering to think she might have to wear one ensemble for five days! My daughter, for one, would be horrified if she knew I washed and wore the same shorts for a week, and I'm proud of it!

The hiker’s cottages are fantastic. Situated in beautiful surroundings, you reach them just as you’re about to drop. They’re charming. The accommodation is for 12 hikers, and all amenities are spot on. The showers were always hot; the communal bathrooms were spotless and spacious, too. Sharing sleeping space can be tricky at our age, as we all have our peculiarities and many of us are set in our ways and find it difficult to share. I find it hard to encroach on someone’s personal space and have become claustrophobic to boot, so an open window or door must be my escape route if dark spaces start closing in on me in the dead of night! 

Of course, I have an endearing, gentle purr too, which makes the Peters of the world get out of bed on the wrong foot! Occasionally, I, along with a few others, opted for the balcony or veranda. Pure joy! To hear the waves crashing while counting falling stars is pure magic.

It's very rare to spot whales in March. We knew that, but we thought it would be milder than April, our alternative date. We were not disappointed. The landscape is magnificent. We set off in the mist, which occasionally turned into light showers. We could do a rain dance; we were so delighted. The sun didn’t show itself for three days, which is a hiker's dream: not too hot and rarely too cold once the blood was flowing.

Wind follows inclement weather, and occasionally we had to slip into our down puffer jackets, rain gear or warm tops. I relished the cooler weather, as I’m sure other post-menopausal souls did.

The fynbos was on show, and the rain quickly transformed the dry earth, saturating the surrounding colours. The Giant King Proteas were beginning to bloom, which was very special, and someone even remarked that they were so much prettier in the wild, which put an end to her penchant for keeping them in a vase in future.

We were treated to a sighting of Cape Vultures circling and riding thermals to their hunting grounds—a rare and beautiful sight. We only spotted a few lizards later, but overall I was disappointed by the lack of wildlife. Even the birdlife was quiet, aside from coastal birds such as the Black Oystercatcher, tiny double-banded plovers, and gulls.

While hiking along the spine of the mountains, we enjoyed the seascape on one side and the gentle meander of the Breede River on the other. In spring, when the canola and wheat fields are in full bloom, it must be spectacular to walk there.

Hiking along the beach is always a highlight; that’s when I relish my bare feet and tackle the sand with gusto. Soft sand has its disadvantages: sore Achilles and calves, but a good leg needs an exercised calf muscle, no?

Cliffs high as can be line the coast as we meandered along our way, at times taking us back off the sand and onto the ridges, but that makes whale watching possible when they’re in the bay, scraping their barnacles on the jagged rocks and sand ridges. 

Were it not for the fact that this stretch of coastline was a nature reserve, we might’ve been hard-pressed to resist the abundance of coastal seafood. Foraging would be a dream at low tide; black mussels paint the rocks black as they cling to them, and for kilometres we tread gently to avoid the open oyster beds, drawing our hands over the greenest kelp and seaweed, and dune asparagus and dune spinach growing abundantly on the white dunes. In tiny pools, tiny fish swim, waiting for the incoming tides to carry them out to sea.

Like me, crabs scurry back and forth, unsure whether they’re land or sea creatures, as the tides dictate their moods.

As we hiked, we chatted and encouraged one another; small groups dotted the path, while others relaxed, cooled their feet, or enjoyed a snack, breakfast, or lunch in a shady spot, in the most perfect setting.

It was on the beach that we encountered man’s destructive, greedy and most foul ways. The beaches were littered with debris, buoys, ropes and lines, plastic in all its forms and glass with its cutting edge. Toothbrushes littered the beaches everywhere; do cleaning crews shamelessly toss all toothbrushes overboard willy-nilly, forgetting that the tides bring them all to shore?

Routine soon caught on; we’d drop our bags on the veranda, then rush into the cottages to check out the scene, always surprised by how comfortable each unique cottage was. Afterwards, we’d slump onto our bunks, some to rest or kick off their shoes for a gentle massage. After we’d all showered and recouped our energy, we’d gather to rehash the day’s adventures, play games or take a nap.  

While I showered, a game of Yahtzee started up. The first obstacle was a die short, then came the rules. Everyone, including those who’d never played the game, had their two cents’ worth, and it was hilarious. Like magpies, they went at it, continuing long after I’d dressed and sat down with my drink. Rules were loose, varied and very flexible if it suited the majority!

One evening, we stuck bits of paper to our foreheads and played “Who am I?” It really put one’s celebrity knowledge to the test, and I’m afraid I would never have guessed that I had Claus Kinsky stuck to my head. But fortunately, my wily opponent didn’t know he was Sylvester Stallone either. Sue quickly got my larger-than-life hint... Dolly Parton.

As the hours melted into days, we all relaxed, shortened our steps, took deeper breaths, told our stories, and shared a few secrets, knowing they were safe. We showed our vulnerabilities and shortcomings, and if someone was observant or cared enough, our frailties became apparent.

I am the lucky one. 12 people have become my friends. They all share these qualities: kindness, compassion, integrity, a love of nature, and a commitment to staying alive and to being mentally and physically healthy. They are the brightest buttons around. They are seriously smart and successful; some achieve their goals through sheer stubbornness and resilience, while others are brutally honest about themselves and their opinions. They are all refreshingly funny, unfazed, and comfortable in their own skin.  

Among the many things we have in common, I think realising we are all human, imperfect yet happy with our peculiarities, makes it easy to accept one another. We’ve all had our share of disappointment, pain, and confusion, but we’ve worked it out, for now! With this lot, I could walk a thousand miles or more. To all my friends on the hike, I say thank you; once again, you enriched my life, made me laugh, and restored my faith in friendship. I returned home tanned (very important), toned, and thankful.

I would love to do another Whale Coast walk, maybe next year. If I can, I’d urge you to do it too. To Sue, Bronny, Lorraine, Bee, Peter, Tammy, Tweet, Peter, Mariclaire, Juanita, and Frank, thank you for an unforgettable time.

For more information, go to:

www.dehoopcollection.com/project/hiking-whale-trail/   

I showcase some of my favourite photographs in chronological order and include a short YouTube video, enjoy the music if nothing else!