Meiringskloof Nature Park: Day 2 Fouriesburg

jeeksparties8
Jun 23
4 min read

So...the big question was do we return to Meiringskloof in Fouriesburg for our main hike of the weekend... or try something new in the area?

Meiringskloof has been living rent-free in my head ever since Salt and I hiked it a year prior.

And no one I’ve spoken to seems to know Meiringskloof even exists. Which is insane, considering it’s one of the most magical hikes I’ve ever done

To those in the know: don’t come for me. I’m just reporting my findings like the underpaid field researcher I am.

Since I had unfinished "ladder" business—I caved to Salt. He, being the patron saint of doing the same thing over and over, was thrilled.

It is tucked inside a sleepy little nature reserve, There are stream crossings. sandstone cliffs with open caves, rock pools. Inclines. Descents. This trail? Pure, unfiltered, five-star beauty.

It starts in a cold, damp forest. Water is everywhere. Either you’re crossing it, next to it, or it’s simply existing in the air.

Eventually, you hit the first of two caves. I said three, but Salt—resident buzzkill / accuracy police —pointed out that the third was technically a “water tunnel.”

Really, Salt?

It had a stone roof, stone walls. It was dark. It had water.

That is absolutely a cave. A damp cave with ambition.

Each cave had its own unique feature—dripping water, rock art remnants, psychedelic stone colors. A real Indiana Jones moment.

And just when you think the hike has peaked—boom: the water tunnels.

Call them what you want (unless you’re Salt), but they were next-level stunning.

Glowing stone, moss that shimmered, and light filtering through a rock crevice bouncing off the water. It was like stepping into a parallel dimension.

But back to unfinished business - THE LADDER. This trail was the scene of my very first run-in with a ladder on a trail. Not just any ladder—a wobbly, cement-weighed chain ladder that wasn’t even bolted to the rock face. I stepped on the first rung, it wobbled, and I immediately noped out.

Salt did too. Survival instincts genetically inherited.

So we rerouted to the alternative: "Jacob’s Ladder." Supposedly easier.

Easier? No. Less horrifying? Technically.

It’s not so much “climbing” as it is: find a groove, wedge your entire soul into it, and hoist yourself skyward like a mountain goat or old hag with something to prove.

(Side note: The scramble and climb are—technically—maybe 7 meters high. Combined. But for dramatic effect, we’re calling it a solid 30. Possibly Everest-adjacent. Just go with it.)

It features a delightful blend of ridiculous scrambling before the rock climbing.

This year, I was ready to face the chain ladder again. I'd grown. I’d seen things. Climbed things. I was basically a mountain sage now. So, naturally, I was ready to conquer my fear and ascend with grace and dignity.

Dammit! It was... so much higher than I remembered. Like, were we climbing into heaven? Who even approved this?

Nutmeg, of course, scurried up it like a forest nymph with no concept of mortality.

Once again, the Hag Household rerouted quietly to Jacob’s Ladder. Zero regrets. (Okay, like, one regret. Maybe two.) But also? Growth. This time, the scramble and the climb felt easier.

Salt, so thoroughly impressed by Nutmeg, was too busy gushing over her bravery to notice his old hag of a mother clinging to a rock face like a sunburned barnacle. I mean, who’s braver, really?

Once done, we rolled into the charmingly comatose town of Fouriesburg for lunch. It was exactly as I remembered: sleepy and slightly confused why anyone was visiting.

Just when I thought the day had peaked, we got back to our accommodation and were met with... sheep. Dozens of them. Just chilling around the lake. Grazing, bleating, loafing around like they owned the place. Zero fear. Zero explanation.

The whole scene was so absurdly magical.

Even Pepper—the cold, unflinching Pepper, who has been known to side-eye dogs—melted into a puddle of mushy emotional goo. Nutmeg and Salt? Naturally tried to join the herd. Probably Googled "How to become one with sheep" when I wasn’t looking.

And me? I just stood there—snapping photos, obviously—trying to figure out if we were still in real life or had accidentally wandered into an enchanted fairy tale, starring sheep, and my emotionally unraveling children.

RATING

AREA - Fouriesburg

COST - R 25

DIFFICULTY

This trail has technical sections, river crossings, rock scrambles, and all the fun, feral, gangsta things that make a trail unforgettable. But not difficult.

LENGTH

There are multiple trail options that crisscross and join up.

Every single section is its own thing—caves, rock pools, forest, cliffs.

Make a day of it. You won’t regret it.

TIME

3 hours... but it could easily turn into a full-day affair if you stop to stare lovingly at moss, or debate the architectural legitimacy of water tunnels (hi Salt).

MARKERS

I had Salt. You should also have a Salt. Or, like, a map. Or solid instincts and no fear of mild disorientation.

HIGHLIGHTS

All of it. But those caves? And the water tunnels? Too much beauty for one day. Frankly rude of nature to show off like that.