Northern Traverse and Mafadi Summit

120km 6000m elevation 

 

When Julia, an accomplished mountaineer from Dubai, contacted me, asking if it was possible to do a Northern Traverse and summit Mafadi in one trip I jumped at the opportunity to put the idea into action. A fast packing tailor made adventure piqued my interest and Julia was delighted to be able to tick off two bucket list hikes in one go.

 

The Drakenberg threw everything it had at us, from 70km per hour winds, ice rain, electrical storms, hail, mist and sub zero temperatures. We were forced into radical reroutes, abandoning planned paths and embracing improvisation at every turn.

 

This was no ordinary hike. It was a test of our endurance, a dance with the elements, and an unforgettable adventure. It offered moments of sublime beauty, and the quiet companionship that grows when two adventurers face the mountains together.

 

As we reached the chain ladders, the atmosphere of excitement was palpable. A journey of 120km across the spine of the dragon lay ahead. Tugela Falls which in summer is a thunderous wall of water, was now little more than a silver thread.

 

That night we camped in Icidi Valley. The cold was sharp, seeping through every layer, and snow still covered the peaks.

 

 

Climbing out of Icidi Valley, our bodies protested the weight of our packs and the ascent to Mbudini was relentless. When we reached Madonna and her Worshipers, everything shifted. The view was as always vast and humbling.

 

That evening, we set camp near the source of the Orange River. The mountain felt untouched, remote, and utterly still. Around us, the mountains stretched empty, as the Basotho shepards had not yet returned to the Northern Berg.

 

 

We followed the escarpment in the morning, with every turn revealed another breathtaking view. Above Nguza Pass, vultures circled despite the strong wind.

 

We covered nearly 30 kilometers and climbed around 1,500 meters that day. 

We finally set up camp just below organ pipes pass. Excited to contemplate what the next day would bring.

 

We rose to a chilly morning, and began the ascent past Organ Pipes, Thuthumi Pass and skirting over Ndumeni Dome. The early morning views from the top of the dome are breathtaking. The vastness of Yodlers Valley unfolded below us, and some Shepards appeared to have returned to their homesteads. The familiar sound of bells and sheep rang through the valley. We paused at the cascades, stripping down to plunge into the icy water, laughing through chattering teeth. It felt like we washing away the fatigue of the past days.

 

But the climb back to the escarpment was unforgiving. The sky darkened and it soon turned to heavy rain. Lightning cracked open the heavens above us and we took shelter, waiting for the lightning to pass. When the storm finally eased, we pushed on through the mist.

 

That’s when they appeared. Three Basotho herders on horseback, wrapped in heavy blankets. Behind them were at least 15 horses and a pack of dogs. For a moment it felt as if we had stepped back in time, wandering into another world.

 

By late afternoon, drenched and weary, we sought shelter in Nkosazana Cave. The place reeked of damp, and is more of a shepherds refuge more than a hikers haven. Yet, as the storm continued outside, the cave became our sanctuary.

 

Today was the big day and our chance to stand on Mafadi, the highest peak in South Africa. We started early, making our way toward Champagne Castle. The wind was already strong, and as we climbed higher it only gathered strength. By the time we reached the ridge it was gale force, 70km per hour, with gusts that could easily knock us off our feet. Walking became a struggle, sometimes we were forced to brace ourselves against the mountain just to stay upright. Attempting the ridge was impossible, so we dropped down into Leslie’s Valley to find shelter.

 

Even there the wind chased us, funnelling through the valley with surprising power. For a moment it seemed the mission might end here, with Mafadi still out of reach. I sent a satellite message to my partner, asking for an updated weather forecast. The report came back: gusts of 40–70km/h for the next 24 hours. Risky—but possible. If the gusts came in waves, there would be calmer moments when we could move.

 

So we went for it. The ascent was slow, punctuated by frequent breaks whenever the wind became too much. Each pause felt like a chance to reset and wait for the mountain to grant us another window. Step by step, we worked our way up.

 

Finally, we stood on Mafadi’s summit. It was a huge relief and a proud moment—worth every effort. But the sky was shifting fast. Cirrocumulus clouds, rippled like fish scales, hinted at incoming weather. A sudden warm wind confirmed it. Snow was on the way.

 

Instead of descending Bannerman’s as planned, we chose Judge’s Pass, heading for Bannerman Hut and then Giants Castle Camp. On the way down, rain arrived, mixed with ice crystals that stung our faces. By the time we reached camp, we were soaked but safe.

 

It was a day of testing conditions, of winds strong enough to stop us in our tracks, but in the end the risks had been worth it and Mafadi was ours.