The Otter Trail — shedding life’s baggage in a world of beauty and wonder

South Africa’s iconic trail started like a whirlwind of pent-up energy with nowhere to go, hovering and appearing mischievously in small details that set us back, made us anxious and delayed our start. We were still caught up in the drama of life and it would be days of walking in coastal forest and along a rocky coastline punctuated by inviting turquoise gullies before it would dissipate entirely and leave us washed clean. 

The Otter Trail does that to you.

As the playful elves of fate would have it, the strap on my backpack sheared off on the first morning of the trail. My friend wasn’t faring any better and, after parking our car and taking the shuttle from Nature’s Valley to the start of the trail at Storms River, discovered that she’d left her obligatory medical certificate in the car, 30km away. 

There was a bit of mad panic before a kindly hiker drove her to the nearest police station to sign an affidavit. The weigh-in of the packs didn’t lighten our moods as they were extremely overweight. Heavy packs – or not – we were finally on our way, walking down through the forest to the sea, past bracket fungi growing on tree stumps like creatures from another galaxy, hinting of the otherworldly beauty that awaited us as we stepped into a magical realm, a world of beauty and wonder. 

At the first massive rock pool, fed by a high waterfall, we splashed and cavorted like children, letting the strong tumbling water thud onto our heads and shoulders as we began to release all our worldly baggage, bit by bit. It was just the beginning. 

We battled with our heavy packs for the rest of the way to the first night’s huts where we met our fellow hikers who were making headway through the heaviest of their food and drinking the last of their wine, the weighty luxuries of civilisation. 

There was a heaven-full of stars to light up the night and a thundering sea to sing us to sleep.

I woke at first light the next morning with a throbbing head, feeling like I had been out on the town. Things were already catching up with me. It hadn’t taken long. While everyone was still snuggled in their sleeping bags in the huts, I walked over rounded pebbles and climbed over rocks to a small rock pool, where I shed my clothes and immersed in the salty water, careful to avoid both the bluebottles that floated on the surface and the sea urchins that clung threateningly to the rocks below. 

They seemed to represent all the obstacles in my life that I was carefully manoeuvring through. I climbed safely out, shook my hair like a wet and happy dog, thinking that there’s nothing like a skinny dip to set the world right.

And then, with a clear blue sky up above, I joined the others to begin the day’s walk, climbing and dipping with the contours of the path through the forest with the shimmering blue sea beckoning intermittently from between the trees. 

We left packs to climb up the Skilderkrans rock formation for a grand view of the dramatic rocky coastline and the route ahead, over the wooded mountains and down into the river gorges, to Blue Bay, our final stop for the day in the distance, surrounded by lush indigenous forest. A fish eagle called, the red wings of a Knysna turaco flashed above. A forest pool decorated with waterlilies and a swirl of forest tannins provided a refreshing dip. We lay back in the water and looked up at the sky, with dragonflies flitting around us, and then lay back on a log in the warm sun like big fat lizards. 

Late in the day, we negotiated the steep climb we’ve dubbed “Stairway to heaven” over the years for obvious reasons before descending to the overnight huts. 

A cold shower, heated rehydrated meal and the wonderful opportunity to fall asleep with the sound of the crashing sea and clear stars up above ended the full and fun-filled day with a pure Otter Trail flourish.

I woke up again with the feeling that the world had caught up with me. Life’s challenges were reluctant to leave. My mood lifted like the soaring seagulls in the sky above as we walked and spotted a large sea gully, a deep blue jewel of sea water that called us with its shimmering allure. 

We dropped packs and made our way over the rocks. We had reached Nirvana and the door was open to us. We swam and floated, and dried off, then did it all again, laughing like children. When we caught up to our hiking companions later in the day, they told us that two ragged-tooth sharks had also been enjoying the gully, as seen from the cliffs above. 

It was high tide by the time we reached Elandsbos River, where we had our first chance to try out our survival bags, sliding our heavy packs into them and floating them across the river before picnicking on the other side. 

Then it was one of the ascents that the roller coaster Otter path regularly presents you with, which tests your leg strength and endurance, again and again. At the top of the cliff the wooden overnight huts were visible across the Lottering River gorge. The tide was now in our favour and we could easily wade across the river before trudging up towards the huts, set on the rocks above the sea. 

A lone male baboon had taken over the camp and was on the lookout for any hikers not keeping an eye on their rapidly diminishing supplies. After two hot, humid days the clouds were gathering above the large crashing waves and a stiff breeze was coming in. 

The remaining daylight gave me an opportunity to reinforce my old pack’s waistband that was also threatening to shear off. It seemed that not only did I need a new perspective on life, I needed a new pack. 

The waves pounded against the rocks, the sun appeared between the clouds to colour the coast in gold before calling it a night and leaving the stage. Soon after, we followed suit, having an early night before the long and anticipated day ahead, with the notorious Bloukrans River crossing.

Everyone was more motivated than usual in the morning, with the crossing planned for the late afternoon just before low tide. The route over the rocks along the coast provided a workout, finding all the places in our bodies that hadn’t as yet been challenged, and we pulled ourselves up and over rock after rock until, exhausted, we stopped for lunch when we finally reached the shade of the forest, slumping onto the moist ground. 

Flowers, birdsong, forest delights and some nourishment provided sustenance for the route ahead. We came across the rest of the group at “Infinity Pool”, another well-given name, where a small pool on the edge of the cliff is held gracefully in rocky hands before a long drop to the ocean far below – and you know the saying: “If you’re not living on the edge, you’re taking up far too much room.” 

A few kilometres later we were looking down onto the daunting Bloukrans River gorge, the water still in the throes of high tide. We joined our concerned friends down below who were sitting and watching the water, trying to figure out the best way to cross. 

It would be a while, so we took out our cookers, made some soup and chatted until the fading light called us to action. 

We could wait no longer. The first intrepid hikers padded out, pulling their packs tightly secured in survival bags, braving the small waves that were still coming in. 

Then it was our turn for the hair-raising walk through the waves into the slipway where the strong current pummelled us into the rocks before depositing us on the shore. Finally, with the last light we negotiated the chains up the rocks and made our way with head-torches through the forest and up to the ridge for a few kilometres to the huts. Weary and wet, we got ready for bed and sleep that was calling loudly from the other side.

The peace of the morning greeted me at first light. The oystercatchers debated among themselves, clothes were drying on all the surfaces, survival bags scattered about. 

I woke early to the scene and walked across the rocky shore to sit and gather my thoughts and feelings about the trail. The hard work, the stunning natural beauty, the friendly group from all walks of life putting their own issues aside to help others, and everyone bonding in the process. 

It was a pocket of time that we’d entered, everyone choosing to be self-sufficient and away from the busy-ness and trappings of the world for five days. And during those days, we had been immersed in beauty and had been challenged, not only physically but also challenged to extend ourselves, to push our boundaries, and to extend a hand and show human goodness, and in so doing make the world a better place.

We took the last ascent from the hut at a fast pace, our legs now stronger than before, our packs and beings lighter, and walked on top of the ridge, looking down onto the vast ocean. Dolphins leapt in the waves, the sea shimmered. We soaked it all in. 

All too soon we were looking onto the Nature’s Valley beach, holidaymakers and civilisation, the trail a dream of beauty in our wake. DM