MALOLOTJA – A WORLD OF DREAMS
April 27th to May 1st 2006
By Dave Barry
Kevin, Cynthia and I set off first thing in the morning for Swaziland on a road shrouded with a mist that stayed with us most of the way to Ermelo. By the time we reached Oshoek the skies were completely clear – and they stayed that way for the whole weekend. We were indeed blessed with glorious weather throughout; the only wet was from the heavy dew that fell during the night.
This was my first visit to Malolotja. I had heard so much about it from Kevin beforehand, so I was dead keen. The long walk out to the View Point on our first day was uneventful, apart from herds of blesbok and zebra and a few skittish black wildebeest. On the way up to the View Point I was wondering what all Kevin’s hype had been about. What I had seen thus far was dead boring. Then at long last we arrived at the Slotfwane View Point. And there stretched out before us in all its splendour like a forgotten valley was the Malolotja I had heard so much about.
Quickly we descended into the valley as we needed to pitch tents before the light started disappearing at about 4pm, when the sides of the valley would blot out the sun. Each step we took put civilisation that much further behind us; a gratifying experience. We reached Camp 10 (Mbulukudvu) just in time to pitch tents, collect wood, and bath in the freezing cold stream.
Next morning the dew had fallen so heavily we had to wait until the flysheets had dried off. Steve slept outside and was drenched with dew. Setting out across the flood plains I wondered why Kevin was eager I should take the lead, seeing that I was clad in long trousers and long-sleeved shirt. The long grass was sopping with dew and almost completely covered the trail in certain areas. Coursing through the wet rather like an ice breaker, I managed to pick up most of the wet and eventually emerged drenched from top to toe. Apart from the game near the entrance we hardly saw anything in the valley. But that morning Kevin and Steve startled a family of Bush Pig that rushed off into the safety of a wooded valley nearby.
We had hoped to cross the Nkomati River on our second day, but the Park Officials had warned us the river was in full spate and not navigable. So we had had settled for Camp 13 instead for our second night, and decided to visit Camp 12 on the way seeing it had a beautiful view of the Mahulungwane Falls with its own natural Jacuzzi caused by the churning waters. Camp 12 had been chosen by Don Forrester’s group and after seeing how damp the ground was on the site even at midday we were relieved to repair to our drier site at Camp 13 (Lower Malolotja Camp). The idea was to pitch the tents and then push on down to the Lower Komati. Kevin, Steve and I sallied forth but were soon fraught by heavy undergrowth and a path that eventually disappeared into a thicket of thorn bushes. I persevered and eventually found a way through, but the others were not keen to carry on so I had to turn back as well.
After all the rain Malolotja’s paths had almost completely disappeared in the lower reaches. And the river crossings were no longer mere boulder hoppings, but meant plenty of careful wading in strops. We counted 19 river crossings in all.Our third and final night in the valley was supposed to be at Camp 9, as we decided to spend our last night back at the main camping ground, so we would not have to scale the valley on the last day. Camp 9 (Malolotja Camp) looked more like a thoroughfare than a camping site – and it was riddled with mosquitoes that were already biting us in the middle of the day. We all decided that we wanted a good night’s sleep without the frustration of warding off insects, so we pushed on to Majolomba Camp (Camp 8). Next morning we set off at a respectable hour to tackle the climb out of the valley. To me this was the highlight of the trip, as the views in the morning light were breathtaking. The initial climb was done in full sight of the Malolotja Falls. All this time we had been extremely fortunate with the weather. The nights were dry enough for Steve to sleep outside, whilst the rest of us preferred the comforts of a tent. From the Logwaja Viewpoint where a memorial stone had been laid in honour of Malolotja’s founder, Patrick Richard Forsyth-Thompson, we had our last view of the valleys that looked like something from prehistoric times.
Then we began the long drudge back to the cars. And I say drudge as that is what the last bit from the view point amounts to: bleak scenery along a gravel road. It would be wonderful if the park had the good sense to allow backpackers to park at the viewpoints, so as to eliminate the boring bits! But even this could not detract from what turned out to be a glorious time. By the time we had reached the cars the weather was beginning to turn. The high altitude clouds we had seen earlier realised our suspicions of a cold front moving in with speed. Within an hour the temperature had dropped by over five degrees. We were all unanimous in our decision to drive back to Gauteng with good memories, rather than mar these with a cold night in the camping ground.
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