Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, we’re all up at the crack of dawn. I sense a bit of nervous energy as no one knows what exactly to expect over the next eight days. Backpacks are fiddled with and some last items are added or removed. Even the experienced hikers, i.e. everyone but myself, exude a sense of tenseness mixed with excitement. Pretty oblivious to what is happening with the rest, I stuff some last snacks into my bag and try it on fully loaded for the first time. I let out a loud phew as the full force of the weight almost upends me. “It will get lighter as the food and snacks get less,” I assure myself.

Our campsite packed up, cars parked in the shade, we fasten our backpacks and start to follow the trail markers down into the Naukluft River. Moving south towards the border of the park, the first section is fairly easy going. The first ascent is where the reality of the next eight days hits me partially. Having walked for only a couple of hours, my unfit legs already feel the climb going up a rather steep gradient which leads to a well- worn mountain zebra path that runs along the contour of the southernmost part of the Naukluft Mountains. It occurs to me that this may be a bit tougher than I thought. Apart from some slippery bits, the first day is quite stunning. The vistas below are striking and on the highest elevations of the trail, viewpoints offer spectacular vistas of the Tsaris Mountains to the south.

Our first lunch stop was at the first of the natural springs on the trail in the shade of a large ficus tree. Roland had a lie-down on a large lower branch. An idyllic scene until we got ready to leave and noticed the two-something-metre black mamba quietly moving among the higher branches. So perfectly camouflaged that when it didn’t move it was almost impossible to tell apart from the tree’s limbs.

After lunch, life was a struggle. The zebra path seemed neverending. After every bend there was another, stretching into the distance. As the afternoon wore on it became more and more mentally challenging. The group split up into separate pairs, each going at their own pace and conversation drying up as the heat of the late April day took its toll. Trapped in your own mind, you know there is no turning back or giving up – the only way is forward. And so you put one foot in front of the other. I remember thinking: “People do this for fun?”

Finally, just before sunset, a valley opened up in front of us and the Putte Shelter came into view. What a relief after a long day’s walk. The first shelter is named Putte because of the well nearby. The well is equipped with a large round hand-pump for obtaining water.