There were saddles to the horizon. The first was green, the second purple and the third a hazy opal, all nested together like Russian dolls. They were suspended, according to our map, between peaks with odd names such as Camel Pile, Formosa and Grenadier's Cap.

The vantage point that made this view possible was Nademaalsnek, some 700 metres up the flank of the Tsitsikamma Mountains on the final push of a five-day hike that had led us through ancient forests and fecund spring fynbos. By then the expectation of the first day and the pain of the second had receded and we were high on slog-hardened muscles and Marinella's Italian cuisine.

On the map Tsitsikamma is that narrow, forested strip along the coast from Plettenberg Bay to Storms River. But don't be misled by the name, Tsitsikamma Trail, into believing you'll be ambling up the coast in the shade of coastal forest trees listening to the comforting roar of breakers. It's a mountain trail, pure and simple, with merely its little toe in the ocean.

It was a mixed party who'd begun the trail at Kalander Hut on the beach near Nature's Valley several days earlier, aged between 16 and 60 and with varying degrees of fitness.

"You thought it was a beach trail? You must be joking," said trail manager, Graeme Pienaar, as we peered at the map he'd handed us at the start of the hike which showed our path heading straight inland over closely stacked contours and round high peaks. "But don't worry, you'll be slackpacking.

"Just leave your stuff in the hut, and if you have food that needs to go in our freezer, label which hut you'd like it to appear in." We looked at the food and bedding piles emerging from the Chrysler Voyager we'd borrowed and grinned. This was definitely the way to do it.

Day 1: Kalander to Blaawkrantz — 14 km, 6 hours

The trail head was a new hut just behind the coastal dunes over the river from Nature's Valley. Like all other accommodation we were to use, it's an attractive log cabin with a separate kitchen shelter, a hot-water bucket shower and flush toilets.

Only at Kalander, though, do you sleep to the roar of the breakers. As we packed up for the night, a nosy genet came visiting and in the morning there were tracks of Cape clawless otters on the beach.

The path led up steeply behind the hut onto Douwurmkop, then dived into a delicious indigenous and blackwood forest draped in old man's beard. Fallen logs sported ears of orange bracket fungi and a chorister robin-chat was living up to its new name in the undergrowth.

About 10 kilometres from the start we lunched at Staircase Falls, a sheet of glistening black rock with a stream bounding down it into an inviting pool. The hut, when it finally appeared beyond a pocket of forest, was perched on a cliff above the Bloukrans River with glorious views of Formosa Peak, at 1650 metres the highest point in the range.

Our luggage was waiting for us, as were our provisions. After the luxury of a warm shower, the aromas emanating from the lapa where one of our party was beavering away over the fire, soon lured six hikers and a genet to a fish braai with salads and some good Cape white wine.

Day 2: Blaauwkrantz to Keurbos — 13,4 km, 6 hours

Graeme had said this would be the easiest leg. It wasn't — despite being lightly loaded. The sun glared down and, though Buffelsbos Forest offered shade, most of the hike was in shadeless fynbos along the shoulder of the 1030-metre Klein Benebos Mountain, which seemed to trap the heat and roast the valley.

A welcome relief was the Bloukrans River where one of our party ripped off his clothes and plunged into the icy mountain waters. The rest of us applauded, but chickened out.

After clambering out of the river valley, a 500-metre contour offered about four kilometres of level hiking with some nasty hakea infestation among kolkol and heaths of erica, pelargoniums and giant proteas. Victorin's warblers sang us along our way. Then we dropped into the deliciously cool Benebos Forest, a riot of rooiels (Cunonia capensis), keurboom (Virgilla oroboides) and tree fuchsia (Schotia brachypetala).

When 12 tired feet finally stomped into Keurbos Hut, their owners would be roused only by butternut soup and pasta. And, yes, another genet visited.

Day 3: Keurbos to Heuningbos — 13,4 km, 6 hours

From Keurbos the path wound down to the Lottering River, which we crossed clutching a suspended chain. The day was chilly and threatened rain, but it held off and, as we tramped up Rushes Pass, more and more deep valleys appeared below.

From the neck the view was nothing but glorious, unpeopled mountains. Secretive, moist forests clustered in steep cleavages and orange-breasted sunbirds busied themselves in the fynbos.

From there the trail descended into a stream bed with water trickling over bright yellow boulders, then led into a deep wood with its floor covered in wild pomegranate, witch hazel and prehistoric seven-week ferns. A few more hill climbs and forest plunges later the hut appeared and we scampered into the lapa as the rain finally came down.

While Marinella, our Italian hiker, prepared a meal we'd never forget, the birders traded sightings. Amethyst sunbird, olive bush shrike, black-backed puff-back, red-billed wood hoopoe, Knysna turaco, jackal buzzard, Victorin's warbler, southern boubou, scaly-throated honeyguide, black-headed oriole, Cape rock thrush, Knysna woodpecker, chorister robin-chat.... They were happy.

We ate Teglia di cecci (chickpea and pork stew) and Italian salad, drank cheap, boxed red wine that tasted like a fine claret and finished off with dark French chocolate. Then we passed out. The only sounds that penetrated the night were the gentle hoot of a wood owl, the scuffle of bushpigs and the pitter-patter of a spotted genet.

Day 4: Heuningbos to Sleepkloof — 14,2 km, 7 hours

The map suggested we were in for a rough day so we got up early despite a few throbbing heads. Soon we were puffing up Splendid Pass. Behind us were the nested, Russian-doll saddles, but ahead looked like trouble.

The path plunged into a forest and emerged beyond it on a slope that went up and up into the sky. Nademaalsnek, the map informed us, was 700 metres high and 10 kilometres from the day's start. We made it, eventually, and gazed into the gorges of the Storms River. Far below, like a flea on a rumpled green bedspread, was Sleepkloof, the final hut. Beyond that, the sea.

On the tramp down the fynbos was way above our heads. Then the forest replaced it and swallowed us with the rustle of countless nodding leaves.

"There's still lots of food here," said Marinella that evening. "We just have to eat it." So the last great cook-in began. "Thank heavens we didn't have to carry it," someone sighed as we lay back later, stuffed. "I think I could get into this slackpacking."

Next morning and three kilometres later — on the fifth day — we were in the diesel-smelling, rackety confines of the Storms River Petroport. It was, to put it mildly, a nasty shock.

    Tips for slack-packing
  • Pack your food into separate boxes for each night and label them according to the huts they're intended for.
  • Take cutlery, plates, mugs, matches, washing-up stuff, small pots, a gas stove and kitchen equipment.
  • You'll need a gas lamp and/or plenty of candles. A torch is essential.
  • Clothing and sleeping bags should be placed in soft bags or backpacks waterproofed with bin liners in case of rain.
  • Carry a day pack with a waterproof jacket, trail map, camera, binoculars and water bottle. A trekking pole is useful.
  • The weather is very variable so always carry warm clothing and rain gear.

    For more information, visit www.mtoecotourism.co.za.