Ever wanted to wander through the whimsical land of Middle Earth, to journey from the green rolling hills of Hobbiton into the mountainous forests of Rivendell? I just completed such a journey, for I visited Hogsback, South Africa, the supposed inspiration for J.R.R. Tolkien’s “The Lord of the Rings”.
After spending 6 weeks in the desert lands of the Namib and the Karoo, it felt all the more magical to wind up the narrow mountain road, with its tunnel of green forest trees, into the mystical Hogsback. (It probably didn’t hurt that I’d also just seen “The Hobbit” in the theater!) Bruno and I created stories of mischievous fairies and elves and battles between giant eagles as we climbed slowly up the Amathole Mountain range and emerged into Middle Earth.Though it didn’t really look like Middle Earth. Instead, it kind of looked like a massively touristic village, with signs advertising accommodation, restaurants, and activities around every bend, locals bombarding our vehicle trying to sell their clay animals for 2 Rand, and shoeless-braless backpacker hippie chicks wandering around town with stoned looks on their faces.
But we were here for the trek into the indigenous forests around Hogsback, not for the astrological card readings, the visits to the various art and craft shops, the bottomless pints at the local village pub, or the walk through the labyrinth (though the last one I would have done had we not left early due to the rain). So we instead prepped ourselves for our 5-6 hour trek the following morning. We went to the local grocery store for good trekking food (rolls, eggs, cheese, tomatoes, apples, and dried fruit), packed things into containers, filled a few water jugs, got our rain coats, hiking boots, swimsuits, towels, and cameras ready, and hit the sack in the wee hours of evening.Wandering into the forest early the next morning brought us into a new world. After arid, barren, hot land, the freshness and crispness of the forest was intoxicating. I opened my senses to it all – inhaling that damp forest smell; listening to the distant sounds of water flowing and falling gently down rocks; drinking up the echoes of the endangered Cape parrot and the cries of the rare Samango monkey; stroking the rough tree bark and the smooth, ticklish leaves; and seeing green, green, green, everywhere, in every shade, all as bright as can be.
Walking through this ancient forest wasn’t easy, though. The path was roughly-carved and narrow in many places. Often, plants and grasses scraped my legs as I passed, and I secretly prayed that none of these plants was poisonous. We climbed over boulders, under fallen logs, and through mud and streams. We climbed up, up, up, exploring many-tiered waterfalls, and down, down, sliding back down to rejoin the main path. All the while, we watched carefully ahead, avoiding the large red spiders and their webs, which always seemed to be in the middle of our paths; mercifully, the webs were often illuminated by the slits of sun breaking through the forest canopy. The scorpions, however, were not illuminated by the sun, but were instead discreetly hidden under the boulders we climbed. The one we saw – dead, phew! – was black with giant claws and a medium-sized tail, and therefore less poisonous –phew! – than those whose tails are larger in proportion to their claws. 
And, of course, there were the elves, fairies, and witches to watch out for. You can’t see them – they are far too fast and cunning – but you can feel them watching you. The trees, too, have faces, stealthily camouflaged into their bark, and invisible to the human eye. These creatures rest during the day, so we were relatively safe. But head into the forest at night at your own peril! This is when the creatures wake, and when their magic is at its peak. Every night, the forest is alive, active and moving and changing and growing, and every morning, at dawn, it freezes in its current position, resting – but watching, still – until the following night. That is why the forest is never the same and why the path that Hogsback creates for the trekkers is rough at best.Despite the risks of spiders and scorpions and fairies and elves, we walked on, for the rewards were great. At every turn, there was something new to look at – a small purple flower growing up from a dead, hollowed-out tree; giant boulders fallen off the cliff and housing an entire ecosystem of lichen, moss, algae, and insects; large white mushrooms growing like steps up a tree trunk, leading the adventurous traveler to the green forest sky; vines swirling around indigenous trees and being swallowed up into the bark rather than strangling and killing these massive, most-resilient trees; and the Big Tree, an 800 year-old yellowwood with a girth of 8.5 meters whose scraggly branches reach 38m into the sky.And at the end of the walk, the crème-de-la-crème. The Madonna and Child Waterfall. A cascade that is grandiose and knows it, even using the rays of the sun – which have been all-but absent since we first stepped into the forest that morning – as a spotlight to illuminate it in all its pomp and revelry. I stood there, mesmerized, as I watched thousands of liters of water gushing down into the pool, my eardrums filled with the deafening crashing sound of the water. Colors danced around me – the blue of the sky, the white of the water, the green of the retreating forest, the orange of the cliff. Awakened from my daydream only by the chilly waters ricocheting from the falls, I crept close to the pool below and washed the sweat from my trek off my face and arms. The pool was perfectly clear, the water drinkable in its purity.And I thought to myself that I might grab a tent, set up camp by this waterfall, and stay here forever. For this place – this entire forest – was perfect. An ecosystem in perfect harmony, in its natural state, unspoilt by humanity. An ecosystem with a true understanding of life, death, and regeneration, each part necessary to the whole, each dying thing creating new life in its wake.
But instead of parking my tent here and becoming one with this ancient place, we climbed the last 600 vertical meters up, past the glorious waterfall whose water source seemed to endlessly flow from the invisible depths of the earth. Up and out of the forest we climbed, up and onto a gravel road that would take us back to Hogsback, back to civilization.
The spell of the forest began to lift.
That afternoon, back in town, I saw large trucks going by, empty on the way into town, and full of tree trunks on the way out of town.The enchantment of the woods lifted further.
That evening, the clouds rolled in, and so did the fog. The wind picked up, and a storm blew in. We sought refuge inside our little home, and listened as the wind howled and the rain drops beat down upon us. The storm raged into the night, and the next morning we saw that we were enveloped in the thickest of fogs.
The enchanted forest’s spell tried to retain its ebbing hold on me.
We packed up the truck, and began to descend the Amathole Mountains. Soon, we were beneath the cloud of fog, and could once again see the rolling hills and the little villages around us.
And the spell of the magical, mysterious, enchanting and enchanted forest of Hogsback was broken.
