The Chimanimani Mountains run along Zimbabwe's eastern border into Mozambique, and there is no road into them at all. Nothing up there was built for visitors either: one stone hut on the plateau, a few caves, and whatever you carried up on your back. The way in is a steep two to three hours from the Mutekeswane base camp, usually by the rock scramble called Bailey's Folly, and it puts you out at the hut at 1,630 metres, where the open plateau begins. The rock is quartzite almost a billion years old, folded onto its edge and weathered into pale towers and blades that stud the grassland. Under the midday sun the stone glares near-white and the outcrops leave you feeling very small. Faint paths run between them across high grass the colour of straw, dotted with aloes and proteas that grow on these slopes and nowhere else — more than seventy plant species here live in this range alone. Eland and klipspringer graze the folds of the hills, and blue ranges stack up toward the border.
Clear streams braid across the plateau and gather into pools among the rocks, glass-clear and cold enough to take your breath. Digby's is the best known, a short scramble over boulders, and there are others strung along the same streams; after the climb up, the shock of that water is the plainest pleasure the place has. Afternoons belong to the eastern rim, where the highland breaks away toward Mozambique. Walkers go out and settle on a rock before the daily cloud arrives, then watch mist climb out of the valleys and swallow the nearer peaks, which is also the signal to start back for the hut. None of this ground is as settled as it looks. In March 2019 Cyclone Idai stalled over Chimanimani, and one night of extreme rain set the slopes sliding downhill, burying homes and cutting the trails and bridges. Bridal Veil Falls, below the range, stopped altogether for a while, choked with boulders, before forcing a way through again. Every path across those scars has been cut a second time.