Doornkop Fish and Wildlife Reserve Weekend: Three Hikes, One Hag, Zero Regrets

Yes, yes, go ahead—contact me to plan your life too. Because clearly, I’ve cracked the code: three hiking weekends in six weeks... all in the same town...Machadadorp or as close as dammit, my new home away from home.

I mean, who wouldn't want to spend their limited weekends sweating up the same general patch of earth over and over?

Now, I know what you're thinking: “Isn’t that what you do every weekend in Harties?” Yes, Brenda. But that’s a different kettle of mountain—no overnighters. This is commitment. This is car snacks and shared ablutions and people who snore.

That said, Machadadorp and Carolina keep things just interesting enough. Three hikes. Three weekends. Three personalities. And while Wathaba still holds my heart, my soul, and frankly, a piece of my lung, this one at Doornkop wasn’t half bad.

Now, because group dynamics require compromise (ugh,there, I said it), Friday was a laughter-and-travel day rather than a hike-until-your-feet-forget-they-exist day.

Which, okay, has its perks. Travel with the right people, and even non-hiking days feel like part of the adventure.

Saturday, we had options: Baby hikes or the full 16 km shebang. We were a casual group of 26—or was it 100? Who's counting? Either way, it was a small army. —but we split up for the hikes. Thank heavens. Hiking in a group that large would feel like hiking through a stampede of hikers.

Obviously, I—the elite athlete that I am—chose the longer trail.

The route served up rolling hills, so distinctly characteristic of this area, a refreshing contrast to the stacked mountains of Magaliesberg I’d become so used to climbing (read: gasping up).

It started off as a misty, mystical hike—and no, the weather didn’t ruin it. It enhanced it.

Spiderwebs shimmered with dew, every leaf and branch dripping with atmosphere. The trail felt like something out of a fantasy novel.

And just when we started wondering if we’d ever see more than five metres ahead, the fog lifted—perfectly timed to reveal the beauty we were about to encounter.

Weather ruining a hike? What are you even talking about?

Wildlife? Technically. If you count a dark blob in the distance vaguely shaped like a kudu. Personally, I prefer my wildlife closer than satellite view.

We picnicked at a beautiful stream, before finishing off.

Then—because hikers are a special breed of masochist—some of us nutters decided that four hours on the trail was simply not enough, and that 11 a.m. was far too early to be done adulting in the wild. So, off we went on the waterfall hike.

Now, walking the extra 10km from the chalet (5 there, 5 back)? That’s a no from me. We may be unhinged, but we’re not feral. So yes, we drove to the trailhead like civilized lunatics.

And yes, this 100-year-old hag got a ride in the back of a bakkie on a sand road so bumpy, everything that didn’t rattle before (very little)… definitely rattles now.

And that hike? Absolute stunner. Lush, green, with a waterfall and a rock-face straight out of a fantasy film.

Further on: rock pools. Idyllic,

There was just enough technical terrain to satisfy this Hag’s craving for grit. No lung-busting climbs, but plenty of spots that whispered, “don’t trip now, everyone’s watching.”

By the end? 18 km total.Satisfied soul.Sore feet.Full heart.

Sunday morning, I went back to the waterfall hike, as the group I was driving home with hadn’t seen it the day before.

Different time of day, slightly different trail, slightly different me—but still fabulous.

But honestly? The real highlight of the morning wasn’t the trail. It was the batty bunch I shared the car (and the hike) with.

We got TOTALLY lost—not on the trail, no no. We got lost getting to the trail.

This, despite the fact that I’d driven there the day before. But honestly? Relying on me for directions? Oh, we were 100% getting lost.

We laughed so hard, so uncontrollably, for 45 straight minutes—until we were weak, wheezing, and desperately needing a pee.

Would I have lived with lifelong regret if I hadn’t done the trail again? Not even a little.

Would I have regretted missing out on that ridiculous, joy-filled morning? 100% That chaos was priceless.

RATINGS

AREA 

Carolina

DIFFICULTY

The 16 km trail? Surprisingly chilled. No lung-busting climbs, no emotional damage — just a genuinely enjoyable route.

Perfect for reconnecting with people you've hiked with before.

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Strangely, the shorter trail to the viewpoint — the one done by the normal people — seemed to have more of an incline. So maybe, just maybe, I actually made the right call. Look at me, making good life choices.

Then there was the waterfall trail — and honestly? A delight. Lush, scenic, not out to destroy your will to live. Some lovely technical bits to scramble up near the rock face, but nothing extreme. More of a “treat yourself” hike than a full-blown cardiovascular crisis.

MARKERS 

There were lots of trails crisscrossing and looping into each other, so without a trusty leader, there’s a very real chance I’d have walked the 5km route four times.

HIGHLIGHTS 

A photo finish between the waterfall hike and the laughter on Sunday morning getting to the trail. Both pure gold, just in very different currencies.

AMENITIES 

Think outdoor activity buffet:

Mountain biking

Fly fishing

Horse riding

Game drives

…and probably more if you actually read the brochure (I didn’t).

NOTE TO SELF

ON A FINAL NOTE

Accommodation = cozy chalets sleeping 8 to 10 guests, with rooms sleeping 2.

Very lovely—and downright luxurious compared to my recent “roughing it” experiences.

Zero complaints 10/10 would ‘not rough it’ again.

(TO)SOLO OR (NO)SOLO

NO SOLO for me!

This one’s best enjoyed with a crew—preferably one that’s equal parts unhinged and hilarious. 

The kind of group that even makes the snack breaks feel like a highlight.

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