The Long-Awaited Harties River Hiking Trail

During the week, in my never-ending quest for "The Next Great Hike", I disappear down the digital rabbit hole.

Every trail promises transcendence.

Growth.

Possibly enlightenment.

Definitely calves of steel.

Two hours later, I’m cross-eyed, emotionally numb, and one search away from slipping into a Google-induced coma.

Enter the planner in me.

She does not suggest order.

She demands it.

Out comes the list.

Which very quickly mutates into a multi-tab spreadsheet.

Distances.

Elevation.

Areas.

Post-hike coffee proximity (arguably the most important info).

Soon I’m drowning in Excel cells, paralysed by choice and mildly resentful of Past Me for thinking “options” were a good idea.

And just when I finally, emotionally, spiritually commit to "this weekend’s" hike - BAM - the algorithm strikes.

A brand-new “EPIC MUST-DO” trail materialises in my feed like divine intervention with better marketing.

Which is exactly how this trail clawed its way to the top.

What made it even more irresistible was the fact that it required online booking.

Why does that instantly make everything feel elite?

Like I’ve been selected for a secret hiking society?

Do I get a badge? A robe? A vague sense of superiority?

Naturally, I approached the booking process like a confused tourist with trust issues.

Massive kudos to the organiser who dealt with me patiently and didn’t revoke my hiking privileges altogether.

In true over-eager hiker fashion, my son, Salt, and I arrived before the gates opened.

Important PSA:The gates open at exactly 7:00 AM.

Not earlier.

Not “around”.

Not “ish”.

EXACTLY.

The Briefing

The host - poor bugger who had already survived my week-long barrage of questions - launched into the pre-hike briefing.

We stood there in a frozen huddle.

Salt attempted to look interested.

I silently questioned every life choice that had led me to willingly stand still in the icy cold at dawn.

The briefing felt wildly excessive, though I grudgingly admired his commitment to covering every possible scenario, hazard, and hypothetical pebble.

He did mention this talk was strictly for rookies.

Which means next time I’ll obviously stride past like some trail-hardened legend, casually waving at the poor souls sentenced to the extended version.

Mostly, I just wanted to get moving.

Because the best part of hiking is that early-morning solitude - the quiet promise of trail ahead before people, instructions, and common sense fully wake up.

It’s borderline spiritual.

Therapy, but cheaper.

The Trail

Thanks to the icy morning, mist clung dramatically to the dam, making visibility… tough.

For a brief moment, I wondered if this hike was just us wandering confidently into nothingness.

Then - boom - the mist lifted.

Magic.

I had assumed this would be a gentle riverside stroll.

It was not.

We briefly flirted with the water before the trail promptly veered off like, “No, no — this way. Up.”

And honestly? I wasn’t mad about it.

Instead, we were rewarded with a gloriously foresty section - always a win - and an unexpected elevation gain that added a bit of spice without ruining my day.

The climb wasn’t brutal, but it definitely existed.

As we ascended, the views unfolded in that smug, breathtaking way that makes you forget you were ever annoyed about the lack of river.

What we found instead was better than expected.

A hidden gem.

My Hiking Hag Ratings

AREA: Self-explanatory.

COST: R60 pp (worth it)

DIFFICULTY: Moderate.

LENGTH: 7.9 km.

ELEVATION: 310 m.

MARKERS: Good. I never felt lost or personally attacked.

AMENITIES:There’s a place to eat just outside the gate - if you book it with the hike.

Salt and I refused to be tied down.

Such free spirits.

Well, he is. I was fully prepared to eat.

Damn you, Salt.

ABLUTIONS

PARKING

SIDE NOTE: You’re encouraged to take a bag and collect litter along the trail.

Genius idea.

Tragically for me, there wasn’t a single piece of rubbish to pick up.

I was this close to redeeming 60 years of environmental sins with one discarded bottle… but no. Previous hikers had already done the job.

On a serious note: brilliant initiative.

All trails should do this.

Bravo.