Relieved of that weight on day 2, the happiness about it propelled us forward. The 7.9km section from Ngubu Hut to Scott Hut with an estimated walking time of 4 hours, repeatedly pushed us up and down the steep valley sides cloaked in indigenous fynbos. The thought that the next riverbed crossing on a valley floor or the next bird’s-eye view from the top of a plateau, watching the waves crashing into the cliff shore, was never more than a steep uphill or downhill scramble away, was exhilarating.

At every overnight stop, the huts are situated right on the water’s edge or the cliff face just above. Close enough in any case to the white spray shooting up as giant waves collapsed on top of themselves to feel and smell the slightly fishy mist that lingered in the air. The thunderous roar as the water came crashing down was our soundtrack around the campfire that night and lullaby as we drifted off to sleep. It stayed with us all day and night in fact and was only rarely blocked out by a twist in the valley. In which case however, it would be eerily quiet from one second to the next.

Like the waves rolling in ‘with no sound,’ as one fellow hiker described the thick layer of white foam piled up high on the water surface in some bays. It drowned out the sound of the sea completely. I later found out this is a sign for a high concentration of dissolved organic matter in the water. What sounds disgusting, sometimes looked like generously layered cream cake though. Admittedly more often however, it instead reminded me of the dirty crevassed glaciers we saw on our cruise to Cape Horn in 2015.

Day 2 offered only few opportunities to sit on the beach but a short excursion to Blue Bay was all the more beautiful for it. The small trail forking off to the left is well marked bya steep descent into the bay. For a short stay, to sit on the rocks bathed by the frothing ocean, I’d recommend leaving large backpacks at the top.

The next chance of dipping your toes in chilly seawater was at Geelhoutbos River mouth where the Scott huts are situated. This is where we stood for an hour, further up the estuary where the force of the waves had fizzled out, and talked to one of our fellow hikers. I was still undecided about calling that conversation eye-opening or simply alarming when we sat around the campfire after dinner and I warmed my hands on a cup of hot cocoa.

Suddenly my thoughts were abruptly interrupted and I almost spilt some cocoa in fright. I had spotted a pair of eyes lurking in the bush just a stone throw away. At home, my first thought would’ve been ‘cat’. But this was Africa of all places and its most dangerous animals all came to mind at once. It was just a spotted genet, however, crouching low. It didn’t dare come closer but was also unwilling to pass up the chance to sneak off with our dinner leftovers.