Mother’s Day: Salt, Nutmeg, and the Absentee Pepper

Ah, Mother's Day. That time of year where you're supposed to be pampered and appreciated, ideally with breakfast in bed, massages, or, you know, at least a sleep in. Naturally, mine involved hiking through a gorge. With Salt, Nutmeg. and the phantom presence of Pepper, who managed to injure himself playing indoor soccer. Because nothing says “I cherish you, Mom” like strategically spraining your ankle to dodge quality time.

Yes, Nutmeg. That’s Salt’s other half. And yes, I have named her. She’s officially part of the spice rack now.

So, Salt chose Muningi Gorge. Apparently, we did this exactly a year ago—also on Mother’s Day. I, of course, remember absolutely none of it because this was during the prehistoric era when I didn’t obsessively document every footstep with photos or overly long blog posts.

SALT & NUTMEG

What I did remember is that this was the hike that triggered what I now refer to as my Batman Syndrome—that glorious moment I realized I’m way more badass than I had given myself credit for.

After that? Flat trails just felt like walking to the fridge. I wanted drama. I wanted terrain. I wanted the kind of adventure that might require, and often does, a disclaimer form.

This time, we tackled the 5 km version instead of the 8 km from the previous year. Well, Salt’s plan, not mine. He needed it wrapped in three hours flat—not five. He swore the extra 3 km weren’t worth the slog anyway.

Naturally, I didn’t believe him—this is the same man who recently misled me about a trail's length, and thank you very much to a Facebook friend for confirming that Salt is, in fact, a deceptive trail gremlin. He clearly doesn’t understand that the hiking community is basically a cult—we share intel.

So yes, I was—appropriately—salty (there, I said it). But to my surprise, the shorter route was a total win. Way more scenic, way more interesting, and honestly… way more savage.

Thanks to the recent rains, the water levels were high—none of that dainty, rock-hopping nonsense. Just full-on, knee-deep, stomp-through-it-crossings. It was technical and slightly terrifying, as you had no idea where you were stepping.

I was very grateful for Salt. He’s exactly the kind of human you want around when the trail suddenly turns "treacherous".

No casualties, no cracked bones—just soggy socks and a strong reminder that hiking with Salt usually means you’re probably won't die. Comforting.

At some point, we stumbled across a cluster of ancient stone “houses”— glorious little ruins that make you stop mid-step and go, “I could totally live here... well, if it weren’t for the golden orb spiders the size of emotional support animals.”

One of them—clearly the five-star option—boasted a full-on stone dining table like a prehistoric Airbnb And the view? Wake up, walk through a non-existent door, and BAM—panoramic mountain skyline straight out of a fantasy film. Breathtaking. Terrifying. Completely perfect.

If you can't camp there, then someone needs to have a chat with management, because it’s criminal not to.

There are even braai facilities just waiting for someone to rock up with a cooler and some marshmallows. Honestly, it’s got more charm than some places I’ve paid actual money to visit.

Another surprise that set this trail apart from the 8 km version? A cave.

Yes. An actual, honest-to-hiking cave that you had to walk through to continue. I know, on paper it sounds underwhelming—“Congrats, you walked five meters and didn’t cry.” But listen. I’m the person who usually spots a cave, squeals “Ooooh a cave!”.... and then flat-out refuses to enter because, well, creatures. And possibly something with fangs and a hunger for hikers.

ROOM WITH A VIEW

But this time? We just... walked in. Like brave little hobbits. Sure, it was short. and bright enough to see. But in my head? Pitch black. At least 30 meters.

There was only one thing I never forgot about the trail from last year. You know those little decorative pebbles we all scatter around our gardens? Found the source. Massive stretches of exposed rock faces with pebbles just casually forming and flaking off like nature’s version of a production line.

I briefly considered filling my backpack and starting a black-market garden décor business... but then I remembered: I’m not ACTUALLY Batman. Dreams: crushed. Back: saved.

All in all, a Mother’s Day to remember: one spice down, one new spice added, a cave, stone houses, gallons of water, and just enough near-death moments to feel alive.

RATING

AREA - Cullinan

COST

R 120 - has to be booked online

DIFFICULTY 

In terms of trail difficulty: the inclines were not soul-crushing—nothing steep or endless—but this trail is technical.

Not beginner-friendly, but also not Everest.

SALT & HAG

DINING ROOM TABLE

LENGTH - .

3 km, 5 km , 8 km

MARKERS 

Okay-ish. But if you’ve got Salt, who needs signage?

ABLUTIONS

SAFE FREE PARKING

HIGHLIGHTS

The pools, rock formations, cave. The stone houses. Honestly? Everything. This trail is a full-on adventure.

AMENITIES 

They also offer a bunch of other activities—ziplining, quad biking, archery, and some other adrenaline-fueled distractions to keep you alive.

Oh, and there’s a little tuck shop where you can buy a few things—but don’t expect coffee. (Honestly, what kind of operation are we running here?)

NOTE TO SELF

Next time, pack a kettle, a gas burner, and the sacred nectar of life—coffee. Because clearly, no one at this establishment understands the importance of a post-hike caffeine fix.

ON A FINAL NOTE

Definitely avoid this one if it’s been raining heavily. It’s would probably be mostly a water-park with a trail attached at that point..

SALT HOUSE HUNTING

(TO)SOLO OR (NO)SOLO

Definitely NOSOLO

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