Much as I love escaping to the wilderness for a few days, the thought of cramming my tent, sleeping bag, clothes and dehydrated rather than “proper” food into my rucksack (for a foodie like me the worst sacrifice) and then lugging it on my back for the duration of the trail, is almost guaranteed to put me off.

So it was with some delight that I discovered a clutch of new multi-day hiking trails where your bags are transported between overnight spots while you walk with just your camera, lunch and a waterproof in your daypack.

Slackpacking

'Slackpacking', as this refined form of hiking is coined, has long been popular in the US, New Zealand and Europe but has only caught on in South Africa in the last decade. But its growth has been fast and there are now at least 30 slack-packing trails in the country.

Most are along spectacular sections of the coastline, but a few criss-cross mountain wilderness areas that were previously the preserve of only the fit and self-sufficient, khaki-shorted, hardy hiker.

The latest addition to the fold is the Cederberg Heritage Route (CHR). In common with many other slackpacking trails, the CHR is much more than just a hiking trail. The guided three- to five-day route options include cultural visits and rock art tours.

It offers unique Cederberg experiences that give the visitor an exceptional insight into the spectacular natural and cultural landscape of this remote corner of the Cape Floral Region World Heritage Site.

Back into the past

On day one, however, I was questioning my choice of trail. Our group, mainly in their 50s, had spent a delightful morning exploring the rock art sites of the Jan Dissels River Valley. David Swart, a local guide trained up as part of Clanwilliam’s Living Landscape Project, was passionate about his job and could barely control his enthusiasm for the paintings.

He bounded from site to site, squatting down to show us ochre-coloured eland, tiny outlines of fat-tailed sheep, and the distinctive depictions of shamans and explaining the trance scenes and the pressure points.

He took us back a couple of millennia to when San and, later, Khoi people lived in this beautiful valley; made us stand out at the edge of the shelters so as to understand importance of aspect in the choice of sacred sites and cave dwellings and captivated us with the rich heritage of the Cederberg.

It was a pleasant, leisurely walk, and by the time we’d retraced our steps and driven the short distance to the lunch-stop at the grave of Louis Leipoldt (a famous local poet, doctor botanist and cook), we had shaken off the stresses of the city and were enjoying the pace of life in the mountains.

Then came the donkey cart ride. It sounded innocuous enough, a sedate transfer from the top of the Pakhuis Pass some 12km down the 4x4 track to Heuningvlei, one of the old mission villages nestled under the towering Krakadouw Peak. Once the donkeys had been rounded up and harnessed, we clambered onto the traditional wooden carts and waved David goodbye.

Hanging on for dear life

The donkey cart is still the main form of transport in the area and the three pairs in the train clearly knew the ropes. But it was not all smooth going. Potholes had developed in the sandy track following a bout of unusually severe winter rain, so the initial uphill stage was far from smooth, while the descents were quite terrifying as the donkeys, knowing that they were homeward bound, chafed at the bit.

Our toothless driver attempted to slow us down occasionally by ramming his foot on the brake — a piece of old car tyre attached to the back wheels — but it was obvious, if unnerving, that he was perfectly comfortable with the pace.

We hung on for dear life, knuckles white as we bounced up and down on the cushions covering the hard wooden benches, hoping that the donkeys could canter faster than the cart’s gathering momentum. At the bottom of each hill the pace would slacken allowing our thumping hearts to calm down before the next charge.

It was exhilarating stuff and we arrived at Heuningvlei in need of a stiff drink. The thorough pre-trip notes had warned that there was no alcohol to be had in the mission villages, so we’d secreted some whisky (and a couple of wine boxes) in our bags. Under the circumstances, it was a wise precaution – this is, after all, a trail for those who like life's spoils.

More information on the trail and how to book on Page Two.