Machadadorp Weekend:Day 1 - A Hike and the Miracle Farm Lady from BBK Horse Trails

So. How did the Wathaba weekend even happen? Honestly? Social media.Where all my best (and worst) trail decisions originate.

Waterfall pics were flooding my feed like some kind of misty intervention. It was like the algorithm, the Universe, and every hiker in existence, insisted Wathaba was not to be missed!” It was less “suggestion” and more “destiny with a side of peer pressure.”

So obviously, I messaged my partner in all things outdoorsy and unhinged, Sage:“Wanna hike Wathaba?”Her immediate reply? “What time?”Which, in hiker pal code, translates to:

“Pack your boots, it’s happening.” And just like that, we were locked in.

Leading up to it, Wathaba content kept sprouting up—gorgeous, relentless, and suspiciously well-timed. Honestly, we all worry about data privacy, but the internet’s out here reading our minds and listening in on our private conversations. .

Then, chaos (as usual) hit. Sage got sick the week before. My tooth filling fell out the night before a long weekend. Sage’s daughter? Sick. My son, Salt? Also sick.

I mentally packed and unpacked my bag 42 times, but I held on. I shoved my excitement into a dark corner and told myself:“If we make it to the car, it’s happening.”

And miraculously—we made it to the car.

We arrived in Machadadorp around lunchtime on the Friday, and like the highly responsible, travel-savvy adults we are, we decided not to rest. No no. We thought: “Let’s immediately find a mountain to climb.

Enter: Google. Enter: BBK Horse Trails.

Let me tell you what their website boasts:

• Horse trails (duh)

• Paintball

• Holiday/adventure camps

• School camps

• Retirement home... for horses. Not people. (Important distinction.)

NOWHERE does it say: “Hey random disturbed women, come hike on our property with no agenda and all the good vibes.” But that’s exactly what happened.

I called, half-expecting to be told “Sorry, no walkers allowed.” Instead, I got Susan—a farm whisperer. This woman welcomed us onto her farm with warmth and generosity. Just wholesome hospitality and wide open space.

She had a farm. Not just any farm. THE farm. Dogs can roam, humans can breathe, sheep, serenity and horse haven.

And speaking of dogs—there were many. All rescues, because of course, that's how Susan rolls!!

Also, for the uninitiated: I’ve always dreamed of being guided on a trail by a dog. What did I get that day? Four trail-certified, no-nonsense floofs who took their duties very seriously and made sure we didn’t wander off like confused hobbits in hiking boots.

The hills? They rolled. Literally.

The views were so perfectly rustic I’m still unsure if I didn’t hallucinate the whole thing. (Could’ve been the fresh air. Or the adrenaline.

Or the cumulative stress of the week before.)

And —if we hadn’t been led by our awesome friends, we probably would’ve ended up rerouting a bit.

So here’s to you, BBK Farm Earth Angel: You didn’t just give me a trail. You gave me a reset. A core memory. A fever-dream walk with dogs, horses, cows, sheep, and oxygen that felt illegal to breathe.

You reminded me that kind humans still exist. And sometimes, they live on magical farms.

Faith in humanity: temporarily restored.

So no, there’s no official trail review here—because this isn’t a trail. But if you want to ride a horse on the most beautiful piece of land and meet the kindest people (and probably a small army of rescue dogs), do yourself a favour and give Susan at BBK a call.

Back in Machadodorp, we spotted a sign that read “Stop vir ’n Dop”—and honestly, curiosity did what it always does. We had to pull over for a look-see.

That’s how we stumbled on The Hog Pub and Grill, a charming little spot just quietly doing its thing, tucked away like a local secret. Cozy, laid-back, and the perfect place to decompress after a trail that nearly stole our heart.

Pristine local Church