Rust in pieces: The hike to SAAF 647

WORDS & Photographs: JP DU PLESSIS

It sounded like thunder tearing through the thick mist that blanketed the Agter-Pakhuis Valley. Amos Spreeth and his wife Anna were enjoying a late-afternoon rest on their farm Vleiplaas when they realised that the roar was a low-flying aeroplane navigating blindly through the cloud.

Amos shook his head. “They’re going to have to climb if they want to make it over the mountain,” he said.

Unfortunately for the crew of the German-built Junkers JU 86, this unheard advice was too little, too late. As if to punctuate Amos’s sentence, the valley was gripped by the bang of an almighty explosion. The twin-prop South African Air Force craft smashed into the cliffs of the 1,077 metre-high Pakhuis Peak in the north of the Cederberg. The four people on board died on impact.

The year was 1946. Having survived World War II, SAAF 647 was transporting a load of plywood from Pretoria to Cape Town when it crashed.

In the days following the accident, the normally quiet valley 26 km outside Clanwilliam was invaded by rescue personnel.

Teams of Air Force officials descended on Vleiplaas and geared up to hunt for the wreckage in a bid to retrieve the bodies. With the help of the valley’s residents, who used their knowledge of the terrain to guide the search-and-rescue teams safely to the crash site and back, this morbid task was completed without the loss of any more lives.

It’s been 65 years since the crash…

The story of SAAF 647 has been documented in a museum display at Air Force Base Swartkop near Pretoria, but the wreckage of the aircraft itself lies forgotten on the mountainside. Most residents of the Agter-Pakhuis Valley know of a crash somewhere on the mountain, but few know the details of the incident.

One resident who does know the story, however, is Amos Spreeth’s grandson, Mark Botha. He also knows where to find the wreck. “It’s unexpectedly beautiful up there,” says Mark, who lives in his grandfather’s original farmhouse. “You have to be careful, though. As pretty as it is, the weather conditions are completely different to what we experience down here. It can get rough.”

Although the plane slammed into the east-facing cliffs of Pakhuis Peak, you have to drive over Pakhuis Pass to the western side of the mountain to start climbing to the wreck, which is in a conservation area protected by CapeNature. The first part of the walk follows the Perdefontein Trail, which departs from the Kliphuis Campsite on the R364, near the start of the pass on the western side.

It’s a long walk, but Mark says there’s no other way to 
get to the top of the mountain safely. “The east face is nothing more than sheer cliff faces,” he says. “If you want to climb that way then go ahead; I prefer to keep my feet on the ground!”

The first stretch of the walk is steep: you have to climb to the top of the mountain before you can start searching for the wreck. At the top, you’re greeted by an almost-alien carpet of white sand, dotted with tufts of hardy reed grass and clumps of knee-high purple flowers.

The trail is clearly visible as it stretches across the arid plateau, walled in on either side by low outcrops of rock that aren’t visible from ground level.

To find the wreck, you need to follow the marked route for about 1.5 km, past spectacular rock formations and well-preserved rock art.

Eventually, Mark reaches a point where he breaks away from the trail and heads east. “Whoever marked the path missed all the fun on this side of the mountain,” he says. And he’s right. The marked hiking route takes you past the best rock formations; the unmarked trail leads you in among the boulders.

One of the most magnificent sights along the trail is Rooikrans, a wall of red-brown rock that towers over a field of knee-high grass. Just past Rooikrans is Waboom Valley, where a ribbon-thin stream has sliced a deep gulley into the mountaintop, providing enough water to support a grove of ancient waboom trees. Standing proudly, as if guarding over the trees, are the Three Brothers, a trio of near-identical pillars of rock, carved by the howling winds that scour the summit.

The stream provides hikers with the final piece of the map. A short descent alongside it will lead you to the eastern cliffs of the peak, where the water flows over the edge and into the valley below. During the hot, dry summer months, the waterfall is nothing more than a steady drip; in winter it can turn into quite a torrent.

The remains of SAAF 647 are hidden among boulders about 100 metres from the waterfall on a steep, rocky embankment. The final approach to the wreck site is not necessarily risky but you’re always aware that straying too far down the slope will bring you dangerously close to the drop-off.

As you stand among the hundreds of torn bits of metal, the force of the crash becomes clear. The pieces, including woven nylon pipes, small sections of fuselage and rusted engine parts, blanket an area spanning almost 50 m across the ridge. Despite this, there’s no mistaking the exact point of impact. Here, the huge grey boulders are covered in sheets of melted steel and aluminium, bonded to the rock by the heat of the explosion when the plane crumpled into the cliffs.

“They didn’t stand a chance,” Mark says, carefully lifting up the largest remaining piece of wreckage, one of the aircraft’s fuel tanks. “The peak is about another 75 metre above us. To have made it over the mountain, they would have had to be much higher up.”

As grim as it may sound, the crash site is one of the most beautiful places in the northern Cederberg. From this point, the view over the Agter-Pakhuis Valley is simply breathtaking, stretching east over the Biedouw Valley towards Wuppertal.

Back in 1946, however, the search-and-rescue officials who hiked this route probably never got the chance to appreciate the view.

It takes about three hours to cover the 5 km from the parking area at the start of the trail to the wreck site, and whereas modern hikers will have lighter packs after stopping for lunch, the rescuers would have had to walk back down with the added weight of the crew members’ remains.

“We’re lucky,” Mark says solemnly. “We can choose to walk when the weather’s good; we can enjoy the view and take our time getting off the mountain. The rescuers had no choice; it had to be done. It must have been hard doing this hike with the knowledge that they weren’t going to find any survivors.”

— Gallo Images