Bergheim and Pardekraal-MCSA Hikes: Because Regular Trails Are So Last Season

An MCSA hike is always a treat—the kind of “exclusive access” treat that gives you just a little superiority complex. Oh, you haven’t done this one? Wow. Devastated for you.

This time, my work colleague Cinnamon came along. And let me tell you—it leaves you gasping for air, drenched in sweat, and seriously reconsidering your hobbies.

And before you ask—no, I’m not about to turn this into an excruciatingly detailed, step-by-step retelling of every rock, root, and questionable decision I encountered along the way.

Not because I was deep in a “marathon hiking” weekend, frantically blogging, snapping pics, and editing videos like my memory was held together with duct tape and wishful thinking (which, honestly, it is).... my recollection of each hike literally does depend on it (OCD, sieve brain, etc).

And not because the hike wasn’t mind-blowingly epic.

The real reason? Because, unless you’re a member of MCSA, or know a member, you’re not doing this hike. That’s right. I am the hiking MVP. The gatekeeper of elite trails. The one who hikes where you cannot. I kid (kind of). You can do these hikes too—just get the right permits and follow the rules.

So, if you ever get the chance, take it. Don’t ask questions, just go. You can get the details later (trust me, you won’t care once you’re there). But don’t even think about it if you’re a total newbie. They keep rescue missions to a minimum, and they are definitely not in the market for impromptu “how-to-survive-a-hike” tutorials.

Where did we go?

Up Bergheim, down Pardekraal… or maybe the other way around? Honestly, does it even matter? We went up, we came down, we survived. That’s the important part.

Which part does MCSA own?

It was explained to me (a few times)....yet surprisingly, no clue. And I’m not about to go all investigative journalist about it.

Can you hike the part not owned by MCSA?

Apparently. 

How long is the trail?

Who even knows? It’s one of those “just keep walking and ask no questions" kind of trails.

How long did it take? The whole freaking day. Eight hours, seven of which were spent walking, scrambling, climbing, and feeling like an absolute badass.

And let me just say, these are not your casual hikes. These are the kind where you:-

Scramble up rocks like an overenthusiastic mountain goat—or if you're me, like a toddler mountain goat just figuring out what legs do..

Swim in hidden ponds straight out of a fantasy novel—or if you’re me, dip your toes, realize the water is colder than my will to live, and call it a day. Also because by the time you've peeled off the second layer of socks, everyone else is already dry.

Marvel at insane rock formations and breathtaking views—or if you’re me, aggressively over-gush about how incredible they are.

Try not to die (kidding… mostly).

It’s not just a hike. It’s an experience. A wild, unmarked, adrenaline-packed adventure. And I feel incredibly privileged to have hiked their properties a few times now.

By 4 pm, trudging through the final stretch, my toes had filed for emancipation, my legs had the structural integrity of overcooked spaghetti, and my entire body was radiating "please just let me lie down and decompose" energy.

Yay, me.

Would I ever do these alone? Absolutely not. No marked trails, no easy exit, just you, the wilderness, and a very real chance of starring in your own survival documentary. But that’s exactly what makes it so damn special.

So that’s my blog. Enough talking—here are the pics.