Ezemvelo Nature Reserve- A Hiker's Weekend:From Drizzle to Sizzle

I know, I know — it’s starting to sound like I’m some kind of jet setter, constantly flitting off to glamorous destinations, living that enviable “out of town for the weekend… again?” life.

But let’s be clear: in hiking terms, this so-called “jet-set life” translates to very basic accommodation - think tents, creaky bunk beds, or a rustic communal setup (with the occasional surprise gem thrown in to keep hope alive). Add in self-catering, minimal expense, and maximum nature— and you’ve got the real picture.

And honestly? I LOVE it.

Well — I don’t love the communal situation yet. I mean, the people? Lovely. Obviously. But I don’t necessarily want to sleep, bathe, and fart with them.

Still, I am enjoying the weird and wonderful experiences it brings. So, you know — it’s a package deal.

And maybe one day, I’ll even enjoy that part too.

Holding thumbs. Not breath.

This weekend’s getaway was a group hike at Ezemvelo Nature Reserve.

The second I saw “Ezemvelo” pop up, I hit RSVP. This hike has been on the to-do list from day one — but I keep shoving it back into the "someday" pile thanks to one annoying little detail: a 20 km sand road. Ugh.

Every time I reread it, I imagined my poor car softly weeping and quietly closed the tab.

But eventually, it got to the point where Ezemvelo was basically threatening to walk off the list itself. So I figured — in a group, if something goes wrong on that sandy nightmare, at least I’d have people around to witness it. Or, you know, help push.

I had also decided that I wasn’t going to blog every single moment of these weekends. Because, three posts later and people are either deeply inspired... or quietly begging me to stop. I was going to be cool. Chill..... Mysterious..... A woman of selective storytelling.

But of course, the universe took one look at that plan and said, “Aw, adorable. Now watch this."

But before we get to all that, let me just say — I was relieved to be carpooling with another group member, who owns a far meaner vehicle than mine.

Accommodation? One of the surprisingly decent ones. Although I’m not speaking for my driver/roommate who ended up in the upstairs loft (bless her hiking socks). Sometimes, being a bit older does come with perks.

Yes, Sharon, I can climb a mountain. But descending a steep, questionable staircase at 1 a.m., in the dark, half-asleep, with a full bladder and a seized-up body? Absolutely not. That’s where I draw the line. I hike — I don’t do late-night stair-based survival challenges.

Anyway… back to the Universe, who clearly had a flair for the dramatic that weekend.

Roughly 30 minutes after arrival, things started happening. Not slowly. Not gently. Immediately.

First ? A flash of lightening, followed by a soft drizzle. Totally out of season, totally unexpected. And not just any drizzle — oh no. This was the kind that falls in slow motion, with long, moody drops that make you question whether it’s rain or sleet. That misty kind of rain that soaks your soul.

And then, the most ridiculously stunning rainbow. This was OUR rainbow. It looked like it landed right on top of us — so close it felt like we could reach out and grab that pot of gold. (We didn’t. But we totally could have.)

And then — BOOM — a double rainbow. We all just stood there, in awe.

It was as if nature had personally invited us to its private show.

And just when we thought we’d maxed out our daily quota of natural drama... FIRE.

Lightning had struck a section of land — the very land we were meant to hike the next day. And it was now casually burning. Just smouldering away in the distance like it was part of the itinerary.

But, being seasoned hikers with zen-level calm, we did what any well-adjusted group would do.....No, not assist with putting out the fire — are you mad? We’re hikers, not firefighters.

We watched from a safe distance, offered moral support, well, internally,, and maybe took a few photos (Okay fine, I took the photos.)

The lodge had sent their people to deal with it — bless them, actual fire ninjas — and we collectively decided to stick with Plan A: carry on as usual and let Future Us deal with whatever flaming chaos awaited us in the morning.

Well... they did. I spent the rest of the evening quietly spiraling over whether the hike was about to be cancelled — while outwardly projecting my best “zenny and unbothered” face.

Inner chaos, outer calm. It’s an art.

Because really, nothing says resilient hiker energy like casually watching a field burn while setting up a braai.

We had an early dinner, some solid laughs, and the best kind of company — the kind that doesn’t flinch at a little fire on the horizon.