37. Dwesa Reception Offices to Dwesa Point

​​

28 - 29 August 2025

​​​​

​thresholds 

This section of coastline was the only outstanding gap between the starting point (Seal Lighthouse at Cape St Francis) and Mtakatyi River Mouth in the Transkei. Due to heavy rains, many river crossings, lack of emergency backup, and poor facilities, I had to set up a base camp in different locations in the last year — walking double the distance (to a destination and back again).

​

The bad roads and detours to the starting points took forever as I was traveling in a small new car, not in a required 4x4 vehicle. I had to divide the total distance (about 45 km along the coastline) between the Mazeppa Bay and The Haven Hotels into six different hikes.

​

Finding suitable weather and tides, securing safe vehicle parking, obtaining leave approval, etc., took extra time, and planning often had to be changed. My numb feet and lack of balance became a constant reminder that I was getting older yet still had “unfinished business”. That dots still needed connecting.

​

The passing of one of my best friends, Nicky van der Westhuizen, only a month ago (whom I shared and “carried” in my rucksack during the last three hikes in this area) became very meaningful after his wife and family entrusted me to scatter his ashes along the shoreline of the Wild Coast on my next hiking trip.

​

I became more driven by the day not to waste precious days doing nothing other than sitting on my ass, thinking and planning the same remaining “gaps” of this journey — over and over again.

​

To build grand plans in my mind is one thing. To actually walk - well that is another.

​

Thursday · 28 August

​

I left home in the dark at 06:00 and followed the sun as it rose until it became an orange fireball directly in the road ahead. At 13:00 I reached Willowvale and then the dreaded dirt road of only 35 kilometers that took 2 full hours to drive.

​

In some places you have to drive through the veld, through deep trenches, potholes, and broken cement crossings. The roads are so bad that nobody can speed beyond 20 km/h — not even the taxi operators use the road anymore. You drive anywhere you think is best, and when another vehicle comes into sight, you can pass or stop on any side of the road, simply hooting and smiling at fellow road users.

​

Finally, at 15:00 I stopped at the gate of Dwesa Nature Reserve Reception Offices and completed all documentation for my 1-night stay. Their entire housing facilities (chalets) are being upgraded and no accommodation is available other than camping (with no electricity, no water, only a toilet).

​

I had to write a statement indicating the reason for my visit and acknowledge the poor facilities. I still had to pay R450 before I was allowed to proceed to the campsite, where a huge crab welcomed me as I got out of the car. I pitched my small tent and decided to walk back towards the spot where my previous hike ended a month earlier (Chapter 35 - Nqabara Eco Lodge to Dwesa Reception Offices hike).

​

I followed the narrow road from the campsite back towards the offices and crossed a small wooden bridge that led to the beach. It was an overcast afternoon and Dwesa Point looked eerie, far, and intimidating on the horizon as I braved myself for the huge challenge that was going to come the next day.

​

My walk continued past some flat rocks and a well-kept pathway back through a playground all the way to the main entrance gate. It was almost 16:00 when I walked out the gate and the short distance of about 500 meters to a water pool where a few cows welcomed me at the point where I left my last footprint (on the previous hike).

​

On my return walk to the campsite, Dwesa Point looked even more intimidating in the distance and I dug deep into believing that I had not come all this way to be overcome with doubt and fear. I continued back via the small dirt roads and explored all the little campsites, signage boards, blind river lagoon, and wondered if the large troop of monkeys had discovered my small tent already. (Luckily it was still completely empty with all my provisions locked in the boot of the car whilst I went on this walk.)

​

I enjoyed a peaceful early supper while the sun set fast and made myself as comfortable as possible on the hard ground inside the small tent. I used all available blankets, pillows, and my spare rucksack as a makeshift mattress and crawled into my sleeping bag.

​

I lay awake for hours because I could not use my phone (battery was 42% and could only be charged if the car was idling). At about 01:00 I woke up when I heard raindrops on the tent. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled in the distance. At first I thought it might be a guard with a torch or a nearby lighthouse, but then I heard more thunder. I got up and moved everything into the car, spending the rest of the night in the passenger seat with very little sleep. Luckily it did not rain hard for long, but everything was wet when I got up around 05:30 to prepare for the day ahead.

​

The real reason and challenge for this trip had arrived — and I had no intention of quitting now, even after a terrible night’s sleep.

​

Friday · 29 August

​

I moved all my possessions to the boot and covered them with the wet tent before driving to the Reception Offices where I thought my car would be safe while I hiked. (I was the only visitor in the Reserve apart from construction staff and a few Parks Board Officers.) At 06:30 I set off towards the beach past the huge yellow photo frame with the rising sun captured in the middle. It was still slightly overcast but not raining as the sun battled to break through some clouds.

​

However, I followed the orange ball of fire as it rose and admired the breathtaking beauty of this calm morning. Not a sole in sight — just me with this vast open beach, the rising sun, small lazy waves, and the dark high Dwesa Point mountain on the horizon. My fear of what lay ahead had all disappeared. I felt alive, and the stiffness and aches of the night had disappeared. I was in paradise and could walk, talk, sing, smell, feel, and dream.

​

The sun threw a bright red and orange reflection across the shallow water as I followed its path towards the first blind corner I named “Rondavel Corner.” It was low tide, and I could easily walk all the way around the little hill, staying on the beach without getting my feet wet. However, not five minutes later I reached the Kobole River Mouth and decided to walk through the knee-deep water, keeping my shoes on. The beach was wet and hard (no soft dry sand that causes blisters) and the grasslands of the mountain lay ahead.

​

The land and beach also felt new and unfamiliar, and I felt far more positive and energized than anticipated. Ahead I could see the steep footpath going up the second hill to the right, but I had to be careful crossing the last rocks and washed-up debris (dead tree branches) before reaching the long slippery wet grass.

​

I could not believe I had already walked 400 meters before my path ended in a mud pool still on the first hill. I looked back and could not believe I had already covered so much distance in the first hour. (My starting point was now where the trees stopped on the horizon.)

​

I forced myself through thick bush on the side of that mud pool and headed toward the steep path ahead. A recent veldfire made the terrain much easier to walk and exposed the footpaths from a distance. Beautiful flowers and new green plants eagerly showed their presence — amazing how nature heals itself.

And in this moment to know - that I too am nature

​

“To acquire knowledge one must study, but to acquire wisdom one must observe.”

​

I kept a steady pace and soon reached a second hurdle in the footpath where it led into thick bush and rocky terrain. I had to cross the small ravine to get to the second hill and the steep pathway. With small balancing steps I carefully managed the climb. Once on top I looked back again to the burnt veld and recovering growth visible in the photos. The “rondavel” corner became smaller and smaller as I walked high above sea level. However, the terrain was not flat on top, and in some places the fire had not burned all the long grass. This made walking difficult as the grass covered the pathways and my shoelaces often tangled up and tripped me. One ravine after another followed, and although it was an overcast morning the view was spectacular. Very calm, and I was grateful the wind was not blowing at all on the unprotected exposed flat plateau.

​

I continued along the path until I passed another deep gorge with a high dramatic cliff face from the grassland down to the water far below. The sun disappeared behind some clouds and I worried that rain was on the way again. However, I still could not see the long beaches beyond Dwesa Point leading toward Mendu Point — nor any beaches looking back.

​

I was truly on top of the world, with rolling hills in front and behind me.

​

I crossed another muddy ravine and bush, and as I reached the top of the hill the sun broke through the clouds and reflected its golden path across the ocean far below. Finally, in the far distance, I could see the beaches at last and Mendu Point on the horizon. I sat down for a while, drank some cooldrink and ate a banana while thanking God for the opportunity to witness His creation and beauty all around me.

​

“That we remember moments better than days.”

​

There is something here that cannot be put into words (far more than gratitude) when you are all alone and totally in “God’s hands.” You feel His grace, you smell the perfume of fresh air, your heart skips a beat of happiness — you become “saggies.” The hand that grips begins to open.

​

I got up and walked through a final little forest and reached a Jeep track that led to the point of the cliff. The sun had disappeared and I did not waste much time as a storm was visible far out at sea (dark clouds and lightning). Just below me was the well-defined footpath that led about 400 meters down the hill toward the beach below where I ended a previous hike. I was grateful that I made it over all those ravines and could descend safely before the storm arrived.

​

I knew every step back, and quickly made ground over the rolling hills until I could see Dwesa Beach and the “rondavel” corner far below me again. A few raindrops fell but nothing serious until I reached the beach again. God must have carried me because I was now safe on level ground (no slippery grass, steep downhill, loose rocks, ravine crossings). I even found a level rock to sit on and rested while eating an energy bar and another banana. The rain became steadier, and I decided to pack my phone and car remote in a Tupperware container — walking the rest of the hike without photos.

​

I reached the Reception Office and my car just after 10:00 and immediately drove home, fearing the road would become too slippery and dangerous. Luckily the rain was limited to the coastline and inland about 5 km it had stopped completely. I drove nonstop for the next six hours until I reached Port Alfred to fill up and stretch my legs for the first time. I still wore my wet socks and shoes, and they seriously started to smell. I continued driving and arrived home just after 18:00.

​

What a busy, challenging, yet highly rewarding day — after a night filled with doubt and fear of total failure.

​

And I reminded myself of something I had written down somewhere once and tried to remember: “Take pride in how far you’ve come, and have faith in how far you still can go.”

I left everything in the car and only unpacked the tent, rucksack, sleeping bag, and everything else the following day.

​​

​​