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Call it canyoning or kloofing or river-running or whatever you want. Jacques Marais bashed his way down the Twenty-four Rivers gorge and he calls it extreme fun. Old Uge and I were hiking up in Groot Winterhoek when we first discovered Die Hel. No, not quite as bad as you might think - no mother’s in law convention or skinhead rapper skulking in the fynbos. Actually, rather a breathtakingly beautiful gorge plunging from the edge of the plateau down to a midnight mountain pool shimmering at the foot of a plummeting waterfall. Heaven rather than hell were my exact thoughts as we scrambled down a precarious footpath clinging to sandstone cliffs, descending towards the inviting water. Good thing there were no bokkies about, seeing that water temperature must have been somewhere around three inches . Anyway, after an invigorating dip we basked on the rocks like leguaans, probably following in the footsteps of generations of San hunter-gatherers before us. And as the sun soaked into our chilled bones we stared down-river to where the gorge narrowed and morphed into a chaotic boulder playground, vowing that we’d make like Arnold and be back. It took a few months, a bit of organising and a touch of sweet-talking with the missus, but by November we had our ducks in a row. Maybe I should say Geckos in a row, because that was the main logistical problem. You see, the little jaunt we were planning could basically be broken up into three distinct stages: first up would be an arduous, full pack hike of fourteen kilometres along the Groot Kliphuis Rivier to get to Die Hel; then you’re into day two with some big-time boulder-hopping along the upper stretches of the Twenty-four Rivers gorge (this might take you in the region of seven hours) before day three dawns with the rush of river-boarding stretching away gleefully through a series of palmiet channels and tumbling rapids. It is here that you will need that Gecko and no, it has nothing to do with a reptile fetish, amigo. | 
