“It might be for the best,” said Derek. “Faye was lagging. Come. We should move on.”

“What about a quick tea break?” said Diane, tired after having had to walk-jog to catch up.

“Not a good idea. Eat and drink on the go. We don’t want to risk getting caught in the rain.”

He tried to keep his voice casual, not wanting to let on how worried he was about the heavy skies, and reluctant to reveal the ranger’s warning so late in the day. He’d noticed earlier the clouds seemed to come from inland, which suggested the rain she had warned him about might’ve fallen elsewhere. But, he’d reasoned to himself when they left the cabin, the rain seemed far off and if they left early and moved fast, they’d be okay. Now, with the clouds drawing nearer and the wind picking up, he wondered if he’d made the right decision.

“It’s better not to leave Heuningbos if you have any doubt about the weather,” the ranger had said the previous day after telling him about the forecast. “If there’s heavy rain, meneer, you do not want to try and cross the Bloukrans,” she’d advised.

“But heavy rain? At this time of year?” said Derek. He’d been impatient to join the others outside the park office so they could get going.

“Ja. It would be unusual,” said the woman, stamping his permit with a thump. “But it does happen. We’re in the mountains. Not far from the sea. The weather is unpredictable.”

“Your route guide says there’s a rope crossing.”

“Yes, but it doesn’t help if the river is flooded.” She gave him a tight smile. “I’m just saying, meneer, again: stay at Heuningbos and do not risk the Bloukrans River if there is any doubt. It can take days before the river subsides enough for us to reach you. That can be a big deal. Crossing any river in flood is very dangerous. And if you succeed, and we can’t get your supplies to you at Grootkloof, it could spoil an otherwise lekker hike.”

“What about the escape routes? We could use one of those, couldn’t we?”

The ranger shook her head and chuckled without looking at him. “Meneer, maybe you could just accept what I have to say. If it rains, don’t try and cross the Bloukrans. Just stay at Heuningbos. Okay?”

As the terrain evened out after the steep descent down the ravine, and the hikers approached the dense wall of reeds and bushes that grew along the river, Derek heard the loud rushing of water. He stopped and fished out the map from the pocket of his shorts and unfolded it. Bruce stood at his shoulder, squinting at the document.

“Here,” said Derek, jabbing a finger at the paper. “We’re here. The crossing point is two or three hundred metres away. It should be sign-posted.”