29. Mthakati River Mouth to Mdumbi River Mouth
7 - 9 February 2024
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29. Mthakati RIver Mouth to Mdumbi River Mouth
07 - 09 February 2024
a new entry point
a new frontier...
Wednesday: 07 February 2024
Yesterday, on a whim and without taking leave from work, I left PE around noon. My friend, Leon and two of his friends were heading to Mdumbi on the Transkei coast for a fishing trip. I was invited along and had requested that they would take me to Mtakathi River Mouth during our stay. From there, I could hike back to Mdumbi Beach, a stretch of coastline that normally marks day 4 of the official PSJ to Coffee Bay hike. I had already hiked the day 5 section from Mdumbi Beach to Coffee Bay on 18 June 2021 (Chapter 19).
I woke up at Leon Hechter’s Cove Rock house before sunrise, had a shower, and made my bed. We packed Leon’s Ford Ranger and hooked up a small Venter trailer, as we were four men in the front—Leon, Renier, Johan Petzer, and myself. We also had Thobela, a laborer, two dogs with their sleeping baskets, fishing gear, cooler boxes, and four 25-liter empty petrol containers. We didn’t leave East London until 11:30, and we finally arrived at Mdumbi well after 17:00, after stopping at Ngcwanguba Shopping Centre for petrol and a visit to the bottle store. We had a lovely braai, and Leon’s brother, Hein, joined us for some fun and laughter around the fire. The flames danced as we remembered former glories.
Thursday: 08 February 2024
At 05:00, the house was buzzing with activity. Leon and Thobela were carrying petrol, batteries, and fishing gear to the boat. Johan was packing vetkoek, leftover braai meat, and cool drinks, while Renier tried to find a signal on his phone to check the weather forecast. I was making coffee for everyone. At 05:30, I filmed a video of the boat being hooked to the bakkie as the sun rose on the horizon. At 06:10, I filmed another video of them setting off to the deep sea after a successful launch. This video was well received, and that evening, some fellow ski boaters joined us at the braai to fine us all with heavy mixed drinks for not wearing life jackets during the launch.
I had stayed home, as I tend to get seasick and can’t spend long hours out on the open sea in a ski boat. Now, in everyone’s "happy" frame of mind, the focus shifted to me, and it was decided they would not take me to Mtakathi by road, but by sea! The weather and sea currents were too good to pass up on deep-sea fishing the next day. I could hike while they fished—a win-win plan that prevented another "wasted" day for me.
Friday: 09 February 2024
Everyone was up at 05:00 again. While Leon, Renier, and Johan sorted the boat, I repacked my rucksack. I placed all my clothes, shoes, and food inside a double black refuse bag and sealed the Tupperware with my cell phone inside. Leon insisted I take his big swimming flippers. Although they were too big, he gave me final instructions: "Just pull the straps tight."
At 06:00, I was helped onto the yellow ski boat with my rucksack and walking stick, and off we went. However, I was in for a surprise. First, they wanted to catch live bait, and then they planned to drop me off 10 km up the coast behind the breakers. The sea was calm, but the boat rocked from side to side each time we stopped to put the "Uzuris" down for live bait. I didn’t participate, instead holding onto the cabin rail, hoping I wouldn’t feel seasick.
Just as I thought I was going to be sick, Leon indicated it was time to drop me off. I strapped my rucksack on, Johan tied my "kierie" (walking stick) to the bag, and I hastily slipped into the flippers. Without hesitation, I was told to fall backwards into the water. As I popped up, a wave washed over me, and one flipper came off. I panicked for a moment, but luckily the flipper surfaced in front of me. As I tried to get my balance, I realized the other flipper was slipping off too, but that one also surfaced. Concerned that a current could pull me out to sea, I was relieved when the guys stayed close by, guiding me towards the beach. I grabbed the flippers and began to paddle, but each wave pushed me back, and I lost my footing several times. After about five long minutes, I finally reached dry land and waved to the boat to signal I was okay.
I walked past some cows on the long beach toward some flat rocks, where I unpacked everything. To my surprise, everything inside the black bag was dry—my towel, socks, walking shoes, shirt, even toilet paper. I spent about 15 minutes drying my feet, putting on socks and shoes, and eating an energy bar while taking a few photos.
It was 07:45 when I started my walk up a steep hill and saw their yellow ski boat heading out to the deep sea. With no signal and about 12-15 km to go, I was on my own. Luckily, the flippers fit perfectly in the elastic tie-back space of my rucksack, but the extra weight was immediately noticeable. The first hill was steeper than it looked from below, and two more followed. The temperature rose to 30°C, and I drank more water than expected. I knew Pressley's Bay was nearby and looked forward to refill my water reserves.
At 10:45, I walked through a unique tree entrance to Pressley's Bay beach, then up a very steep sandy slope toward the cottages. I found some builders at a house, refilled my containers, and sought shade. I lay down under a deck on smooth grass, ate a vetkoek, and stayed there for almost an hour to recover. From there, I walked on the road between the sea and cottages, passed some white cement benches, crossed rocks, and finally reached a long beach stretch. I passed more cottages (Lwandile perhaps?) and two shallow rivers before facing another big hill. It was now just after 1pm, and I tried contacting Leon, but had no signal. I knew I was falling behind my schedule and was only about halfway through the distance. The previous night’s party, the swim, the heat, and the steep hills were taking their toll.
I took a video of a beautiful river halfway up the hill, expressing my concern about my energy levels. I was now in survival mode — not fun anymore. But I had been here before.
Once on top of the hill, I followed a path down a valley for about 2 km, still winding up and down, crossing small dongas. I stopped several times to rest my legs, especially after the downhills. An hour later, I was back on the coastline, the sea far below me. The view was stunning, and I could finally see Mdumbi Point in the distance. A young black teenager appeared out of nowhere and offered to carry my bag for R50. I didn’t mention any money or valuables but, sensing my struggle, he decided just to walk with me and show me the way.
We walked along a narrow footpath, descended to a beach where boys were playing soccer, and I realized we were near Wild Coast Secrets and Sleepy Hollow cottages. With all the hills behind me, the terrain was now flat, and Mdumbi was within reach. My casual accomplice, Nkozi, bid me farewell, and I rested in the shade before gearing up for the last 3 km at 15:30.
I climbed a small rock face and reached a flat grass path along the sea. I managed to get in touch with Leon, and we arranged for him to fetch me at the boat launch site where we had left early that morning.
I reached the river at 16:30, only to find that the tide was turning. It was spring tide, and the narrow channel had become a wide river mouth. I saw Leon arriving in his bakkie and spoke to three boys fishing in the river. I filmed the river with a "pray for me" comment, perhaps overly confident that the black bag would keep everything dry—including my cell phone, once again in Tupperware.
I entered the water, and almost immediately, I was swimming. With my rucksack and flippers on my back, I couldn’t swim normally, so I turned onto my back and kept kicking, letting the current take me. I started about 500 meters upstream but could see how I drifted past the first, then second tree I had used as markers. I whistled and shouted to Leon, but he didn’t see me. Panicked, I realized I was entering small waves from the sea, splashing water over my face. I kicked harder and tried standing up to see if I could touch the ground. Miraculously, my toes touched the sand. I dug in, fought the current, and waited for a wave to push me forward until I was waist-deep in water.
I finally reached the beach and collapsed, exhausted, on my knees. I had spent about 10 minutes in the water, but it had felt like an hour or more. Ironically, I had "beached" past where Leon and the dogs were walking. Leon had to turn back and carry my waterlogged bag to his vehicle. I rested at the lifesaver stand on the beach, a beer in hand, grateful for my friend by my side.
This hike proved expensive, as everything in my bag got wet—my phone, headlamp, wallet etc. But I had spent money on worse memories before.
