Solo Hiking - Modderfontein Reserve: My Ultimate Rebellion

So, here’s the thing: for the last 58 years, my life has been a seamless transition from parents to husband to bubble. Sure, sprinkle in some “responsible adult” activities like running a business, raising kids, and working—but at its core, it’s been parents, husband, bubble…....rinse, repeat.

Driving more than 5km outside my comfort zone? Hard no. Going anywhere solo? Firm are you out of your mind?

My friends, bless their patience, grew increasingly exasperated with my hermit ways. They’d chirp, “Try something new!” or “Get a hobby!”—and I’d react with all the enthusiasm of a rock asked to roll uphill.

But on this fateful day, I did something so wildly out of character that even my friends—those same ones who’ve been begging me to leave my bubble—would’ve screamed, “What are you thinking?!” had they known.

I went on a solo hike. Yes, me. Alone. On purpose. No witnesses to my inevitable clumsiness or anyone to drag me back to civilization if I tripped and became a human pretzel. Shocking, I know. Or even worse—getting laughably lost in an area so flat it practically comes with a built-in GPS.

However, I was left with no choice. My meticulously planned group hike? Cancelled at the last minute (thank you very much, rain—yes, you’re essential, but did you have to ruin my day?).

My weekend plans? Completely derailed. And my trusty hiking squad—Salt, Oregano, Chili, Paprika, and Cinnamon...….all unavailable. And no, I’m not seeing a trend here, so pipe down.

Desperate, I turned to Pepper the night before—my last resort. He agreed to join me at Modderfontein (flat, busy, safe—perfect for a solo debut) but with one caveat: do not wake him early. Too many terms and conditions for my taste. Fine, I thought. Way to end the year. It’s happening. SOLO!!!!

The old me would have fainted at the idea. But the new me? Living for it. Honestly, the old me is probably watching in envy, living vicariously through this wild new adventurer I’ve become.

So there I was, alone, strutting onto the trail, earphones in because let’s not get crazy—I wasn’t about to face my own thoughts too. I was liberated, humming “Mother’s Savage Daughter” (badly, because I’m tone-deaf) and feeling unstoppable.

And then it hit me—I actually had the song on my playlist. People, I wish you could’ve seen me. I was unstoppable, strutting my stuff like a hiking rock-star....but savage!!

A solo hike is something else entirely—selfish in the most glorious way. Stopping for photos whenever I wanted? Strolling, pausing, snapping pictures, then strolling again—rinse, repeat (oh dear...déjà vu much?). Pure bliss.

Did I, mid-hike, finally understand why people get so annoyed with me for all the stopping and starting to take photos? Sure. Did it change anything? Not a chance.

So there you have it. Me, alone on the trail, fully embodying this audacious, adventurous new version of myself. Who knew solo hiking could feel this good?

This was not just a solo hike—it was a rebellion, a declaration, and a reluctant nod to everyone who’s ever asked, “But is it safe to go on a solo hike?”

I know this is going to be polarizing, but do we over-hype the dangers of solo hiking? Absolutely. My real fears aren’t some shadowy hiking boogeyman lurking behind a tree—they’re far more embarrassing. Me, slipping and flailing, ending up like a stranded turtle on my back (and yes, fine, snake bites cross my mind too). Or worse, getting hilariously, pathetically lost in a flat, well-marked area...…because that's how I roll.

Naturally, I’m not suggesting anyone throw caution to the wind and start solo hiking in dodgy, remote spots. I mean, I have some sense of self-preservation. But the ones I have earmarked as “solo-worthy” are glaringly obvious—you know, in my very expert opinion.

Flat. Fairly busy. Within an establishment that’s well-populated. Bonus points for having a receptionist who could call for help if I somehow ended up upside down in a bush.

So, seriously, give it a shot—responsibly, of course. But if the whole living on the edge thing isn’t your vibe, you can always crash one of my obsessively compulsive weekend hikes.

I promise, the company’s tolerable (kinda), the trails are epic, and I only stop for photos occasionally. Okay, fine, that’s a blatant lie—but hey, you’re still welcome!

Me on my first solo hike, starring my shoulder in its big debut.