Berg en Rivier River Lodge:Tranquility, Peace, and Stunning Landscapes

In a stunning display of last-minute planning, we somehow secured a camping spot at Berg en Rivier River Lodge for a hiking weekend. Fantastic. Love that for us.

Originally, I was under the impression that Day 1 would be a 10 km—half of a 20 km trail. Half on Day 1, half on Day 2. Except, if we wanted to do the other 10 km, we’d either have to redo the first half or get dropped off at the second half and go from there. Whatever, I was here to hike. Location, logic, and general preparedness were not my concerns.

Then, at some point, the plan for Day 2 morphed into a "short but tough" hike up the mountain—on the opposite side of the road.

The lodge owner insisted we take a guide (Moses), at no extra cost, because the trail was overgrown from recent rains. Also, I’m fairly certain that not many people hike this trail, which, in my book, makes it an instant must-do.

And honestly? It was stunning. Vast, peaceful, and absolutely nothing like the Magaliesburg landscapes I was so used to.

Probably because we were NOT in Magaliesburg. We were in Bronkhorstspruit. A solid one and a half hours away from where I thought I was.

Oh, stop. You should know me by now. Was there ever a chance I actually knew where I was going?

It was mostly flat terrain and, thanks to recent rain, an absurd amount of mud. Not the kind you can neatly step around—the kind you just have to power through. (My boots suffered. I, however, emerged victorious.)

Of course, no good nature experience comes without its price, and ours was ticks and horseflies. Some people in the group were magnets for these horseflies, which made for some unfortunate bite souvenirs the next day.

I was today years old when I learned about horseflies. And now that I know they exist, I will never know peace again.

And then..… there was the bridge.

On one side, a calm, peaceful, and tranquil river. Practically begging for a deeply profound Instagram caption about life’s gentle flow.

On the other? Absolute chaos. A roaring, raging, frothing force of nature, completely indifferent to our fragile human existence. Standing there, I was struck with the overwhelming realization that we are, in fact, a very small, very insignificant speck of nothingness. The sheer, raw power of it all was breathtaking.

The trail itself was supposed to be about 7 km, which felt… inadequate. We attempted to push on, except it was way too muddy. Even we have limits.

So when a few members of the group suggested getting a few extra kilometers on the road, I obviously

agreed.

Meanwhile, Sage went back to relax with the other sane individuals.

What I failed to realize was that these people weren’t just casually hiking.

No, they were training for Fish River Canyon—a multi-day endurance hike that requires actual fitness and the kind of mental resilience I do not possess. nor do I particularly aspire to.

So, those "few extra kilometers" turned into another 7 km. By the end, we clocked 15.6 km in 4 hours and 10 minutes. If I had to guess, I’d say we spent about 3 hours and 40 minutes on the first 7 km… and the last 7,5 km in about 20 minutes. (Okay, not literally, but you get the point.)

The peak of this accidental death march? Periodically trudging through an actual butterfly downpour. Hundreds of the delicate little things we’d admired from the car the day before, now dramatically flitting up from the ground as we passed—like nature’s apology for the suffering. Pure magic.

Once the ordeal finally ended, I had to admit—begrudgingly—I was glad I’d done the extra-long version. I felt ever so slightly fit and endured.

Day 2, we hiked 1 km on a slight incline towards the mountain. Then we turned around and did the exact same trail as Day 1… just in reverse. Some people may have been slightly annoyed by this at first (me, I

am some people), but honestly? Seeing the same trail from a different angle was surprisingly worth it.

This place is hands-on. The first night, while we were braaing, Johan, the owner, just casually joined us. And not in a "checking in on the guests" way. No, this man was part of the experience—sharing stories, laughing with us, and generally making it feel like we weren’t just another booking. 10/10 host energy.

Despite the madness, the surprise boot camp from hell, and my newfound, knowledge about bloodsucking demon-flies, this weekend was an undeniable win.

Huge thanks to an incredible (and mildly unhinged) group of hikers—we laughed, we... well, I... barely slept, we hiked more than we slept (also me), and most importantly, we lived to tell the tale.

100% would agree to another misadventure with this crew.

RATING

AREA

Bronkhorstspruit, NOT the one in Magaliesburg (I joke.)

COST

You would need to inquire as a day visitor.

DIFFICULTY

Easy… unless you accidentally join an ultra-marathon

LENGTH

10-20 km, or 15.6 km if you let peer pressure win

TIME

Depends on who’s setting the pace....looking at you Fish River maniacs.

ELEVATION

None. Unless you count the elevated stress of signing up for extra kilometers

MARKERS: None.

HIGHLIGHTS

Peaceful, beautiful, untouched.

ABLUTIONS: 

At the lodge.

SAFE FREE PARKING 

Also at the lodge.

AMENITIES 

Hiking, mountain biking, fishing, river tubing, canoeing, 4x4 trails, bird watching.

NOTE TO SELF

Maybe next time, stick to being the most unhinged person in the group by avoiding the extended version with the Fish River maniacs

ON A FINAL NOTE

Not sure how you’d go about booking this trail as a day visitor, but if you’re looking for tranquility, peace, and stunning landscapes (with a side of horseflies), it’s worth finding out.

(TO)SOLO or (NO)SOLO? 

Yeah, no

Would I do this trail again? Absolutely. It’s the kind of trail that I suspect would be different every time.