Trip 2015: Lesotho 27.6 - 4.7

Lesotho/Durban/Swaziland McBrock Family trip 2015 Part 1

So here we go again, a new year means a new trip and so a new blog. This time we’re road tripping from Windhoek, to Lesotho (where we hopefully won’t freeze too much), then to Durban (talk about a change, here hopefully some swimming in the Indian Ocean) and then a pop into Swaziland. I’ll then catch a bus back to Cape Town from Johannesburg and the others will drive back to Windhoek. Now enough prelude and let’s get down to it:

27^th June – Saturday – Day 1 (Alex)

“Alex what are you still doing in bed? Would you rather stay in Windhoek?!” What a wonderful way to be woken up at 3:45am on a Saturday morning. Of course those were the shouts of my mother as she and the rest of my family rushed around the house packing the final bits and pieces, I had accidentally set my alarm for 4:45am, whoops! With a jump out of bed and a flurry of hands and legs we had the car fully packed and ready to go at 4:10am, with my mother taking the driving shift. My father in the co-driver’s seat (supposed to entertain the driver) was one first casualties to sleep, only surpassed by Beatrice, who was out cold before we had even left the garden. I quickly followed suit and was only awakened as we were pulling into Keetmanshoop, here I was asked where I had put the snack bag . . . . Whoops! I was sure my father had packed it in the morning and in turn he had thought I had packed it . . . well then it had to be breakfast at Spar in Keetmanshoop.
Back on the road again it was my turn to do my driving shift, which is very nice and easy to do with cruise-control and open/empty roads. We refuelled in Grünau and from here on the weather had changed to overcast and an outside temperature of about 9°C. It was around then that we received an sms from Windhoek, which proclaimed that it had been -11°C that night, my thoughts are that it’s good practice for Lesotho (my mother scared of freezing to death has packed enough warm clothing to get hyperthermia in the arctic).
Once we reached the border to South Africa it meant that we quickly had to refuel before crossing as it is R2/L more expensive in South Africa. The border control went without a hitch, not like the Inter-Cape bus thankfully, and in no time we were on our way to Upington. About 70km before Upington Beatrice wanted to have her go at driving and thus took over, for her first time driving the Kombi long distance she did very well.

In Upington my father briefly took over for about 40km and then it was Beatrice again, that’s all the driving he did that day. Beatrice safely got us to Kimberly and we used Googles-Maps to locate our Inn for the night (this was super easy and a good tool to use). Our accommodation was at the Sleeper’s Inn and for R200/pp per night we were living in luxury: television, full bathroom and stove you name it, a bit disorganized, but definitely worth looking them up when in Kimberly.  It is important to note that the tap water in Kimberly really isn’t great, survivable but not pleasant.
For dinner we found the Kimberly Spur, after having threatened to take my mother to a place called “Old-Süd-West Pub”, and had a nice meal, my father outraged that they had wifi but that it didn’t work. After dinner back to the Inn, where my father and I still watched a movie and then off to sleep. After 1442km we were all pretty knackered, let’s see what tomorrow brings.

28^th June – Sunday – Day 2 (Cathy)

Bloemfontein, early morning, the odd groan issues from Alex’ bed. Beatrice is silent – pretending to be asleep. Nice warm shower followed by a cup of tea – what more could I need to start the day? We never did see the owner of the place but left the rest of the payment on the table. First stop the Big Hole. Alex’ GPS on his cell phone is wonderful – no need to get lost and directions directly to the Hole, the remnants of a diamond pipe that was excavated by hand with the assistance of wooden scaffolding and wheelbarrows for the first years of its existence. Load shedding is happening as we go in to buy our tickets and so we get a reduced price – a hidden benefit.  Since our last visit 5 years ago or more a viewing platform has been built overlooking the drop and a new reception area and hotel have been added. We all agree that the architect did a great job of uniting the old and the new in the design. We walk around the old buildings, imaginatively furnished and laid out in a semblance of the old mining settlement and the power comes back on in time for a cup of coffee in the refurbished pub.
 A pleasant interlude made all the better by costing half of the expected price. We head for Bloemfontein – it’s a cold sunny winter’s morning, the grass has dried out to biscuit colour and the occasional trees are either olive green or brown. Pyracanthus bushes, full of fiery orange berries are scattered around – they appear to be indigenous here. The landscape is wonderfully open with long views across the farms to mountains beyond. The road is being remade in places but there is so little traffic that we are hardly held up at all. Bloemfontein is a quick stop for fuel with Beatrice reading an account of its history aloud and complaining that we are not listening. The petrol attendant is very charming and returns a 100 rand note that Chris over-paid him. He gets a big tip as a thank-you.

As we drive out of town we notice that all of the little township houses have solar water heaters on their roofs. A wonderful way to lessen the weight on the grid and ensure warm water in these days of Eskom problems. How great would it be to see similar in Namibia. We speculate about how it was organized because the solar installations are all the same – clearly a concerted effort.

The border to Lesotho at Maseru is crowded and people are queuing up to leave and to arrive. Dozens of taxis wait for the hundreds of passengers coming through to go to work in South Africa and the queues leaving Lesotho are way longer than the queues going in. We join a queue for passport control it’s quite fast moving so no stress. Alex and Chris come back from the customs check. They were given a hard time about the canned food in our car. ‘Where is the tax invoice?’ Tax invoice? We took them from the larder at home. Eventually they are let through. The atmosphere in Maseru is somewhat charged – posters scream about a political murder. There seem to be quite a few officials navigating around town with police escorts. We decide to go to the Maseru Sun Hotel for a cup of coffee and an overview of the town. On the way there we get mixed up in another official procession – oops! However apart from a mild toot of annoyance our Windhoek number plate probably protects us. The security guard escorts us to the main door of the hotel and we walk through to the veranda. After sitting in the sun for a while we realise that one needs to go and find the waiter he won’t find you. Once found he organizes not quite the correct order for us but the drinks are warm and the coffee is good although I did actually want tea! It was very nice on the veranda, looking down on the town and listening to the noises from below.

With Alex’ guidance (awesome map skills not GPS - Alex) we made it to Sjaak and Anita’s house in one of the quieter suburbs. From an overlooking hilltop a couple of soldiers look down, they have pitched a tent so it will be a long term posting at least until the politics settle a bit.

Above us Jupiter and Venus seem to lie next to each other in the night sky. Venus shines very brightly, Jupiter is somewhat dimmer but very easy to see in the clear Lesotho atmosphere.

Over our drinks in the evening Sjaak and Anita explain that the current political situation is very fragile and ex-pats have been warned to take care. Politics is very volatile in Lesotho and violence can flare up easily. Alex is warned better not to go for a walk in the evening in Maseru.

Sjaak and Anita are wonderfully welcoming. Anita has prepared our rooms as if for a royal visit and cooked a lovely meal for us. We feel very honoured. They are full of information about Lesotho and advice about where to go and what to see. We study the maps and discuss routes and exchange news about friends in Namibia and Holland, the evening passes very enjoyably and the sitting room is warm from the open fire. The bedrooms on the other hand are very cold! We dive beneath the covers as quickly as possible. Thank heavens for feather duvets! I read a bit, changing hands from time to time so that the icy hand can warm up.

Tomorrow we are going to town. I really want to buy a Basotho blanket – I have craved one for years but they can only be found in Lesotho so now is my chance. Anita says that she knows just the shop. Chris and Alex are looking for watches. Chris needs a temporary replacement of the watch that Alex ‘mended’ this morning and Alex needs to replace the watch that said it was water resistant but lied and died on a dive. We also plan to go to a shwe-shwe shop and generally get the feel of the town. But meanwhile we are now nice and cosy under the blankets. Good-night!

29^th June – Monday – Day 3 (Beatrice)

We woke up by Daddy barging into our room, explaining that 8 is an absolutely reasonable time to wake up in the holidays- we did not agree, but adhered to the demand given to us. After helping Mummy put on her “lukewarm” shower, also known as boiling hot to you and me, we went downstairs, where we were greeted by Anita, who had caringly prepared a feast of a breakfast for us, with cereals and homemade bread! Unfortunately the Landline stopped working, so we went with Anita to the Maseru Mall so that she could get it sorted out. This suited us just fine, since we bought a Lesotho SIM for Alex’ phone. A brisk walk through the otherwise half empty Mall and off to its rival; the Pioneer Mall.

Our first stop was to the tourist information centre, where a very kind woman gave us a map and brochure of Lesotho. Then it was off to the see the traditional Basotho blankets, of which we bought two as a birthday present for Mummy- she assured us, that she would act surprised on the day.

Basotho blankets are made out of wool and cotton and are very warm. The blankets are covered with symbolic patterns and used to be produced in the UK, while Lesotho was its protectorate. Nowadays they are produced in South Africa, but only sold in Lesotho. The shop helper explained, that men wear the dark side of the pattern and women wrap themselves up with a collar of the light side showing- it is very important to line the vertical stripes up. Even though it is a very traditional garment mainly used for festivities, we saw many men and women on the streets or in shops wearing the blankets, pulled together with a big safety pin.

We bought a cheap watch for Daddy, until he can replace his, and looked for a Casio watch for Alex, without much luck.

Next we parked at the Alliance Française and walked to the Basotho Hat, a huge building, predominantly out of thatch, in the shape of the traditional Sotho hat. It is used as a tourism shop and Mummy could not help herself by trying the Basotho hats on for size. We walked back through the bustling streets to have a cup of coffee or tea and a small nibble on the terrace of the Alliance Française. It was very nice sitting in the sun, watching the world go by.

We decided not to bother driving in the absolutely hectic traffic of Maseru and walked on the far too small pavement to the Fabric World. On the way we experienced the rather chaotic but vibrant and friendly vibe of Maseru. We walked past loads of stalls selling fresh fruit and an odd man either trying to get us to weigh ourselves or trying to sell us a pair of scales- to this day we are not quite sure.

Finally we arrived at Fabric World, where a whole wall was purely designated for Shwe-Shwe fabrics. Shwe-Shwe fabrics are known throughout southern Africa but are most popular in Lesotho and are made with interesting patterns on colourful backgrounds. We bought a few meters to make shirts for Alex and Daddy back home in Namibia.

We walked back to the car, some faster than others, and drove home, where yet another cup of tea was waiting for us. Alex and I took the opportunity to play Frisbee, while others looked at maps and flicked through books.

Early evening (for it will be an early start tomorrow) we drove up the steep, steep mountain up past parliament and the water purification to the quaint little restaurant No. 7. Restaurant No. 7 is part of a foundation, where all profits go towards “Kick4Life” an organization helping local children to make a better future for themselves. This includes HIV awareness, entrepreneurship and understanding the financial system. So not only is it a fantastic cause to support but it is also a brilliant restaurant. The waiters are well trained and very warm hearted, the food was delicious and presented in a first class manner at an absolutely reasonable price. A great atmosphere and great company. Nothing at all to complain about!

On that note we drove once more through the crazy traffic, noting once again the lack of street signs, back home to get a goodnight’s rest.

  30^th June – Tuesday – Day 4 (Christof)

As Sjaak and Anita had to be off to the airport at 06h30 we obviously had to follow suit. As we could hardly rock up at the Morija Guesthouse (about an hour due south west and where we had booked for the coming 2 nights) at 07h30 in the morning, we had planned to do a day-trip to the Mahole Dam (about 2hrs due east). Before we could leave we still had to get the ice off the windscreens of the car. So with the first light at the horizon we set off.

Temperature wavering around 0°C and all the valleys shrouded in icy mist. Soon we wound ourselves up and down steep mountain passes with the glare of the first rays of the sun in our eyes. All tar road, but many parts of the road covered by thin crisp lily white frost – usually only the lane next to the mountain that does not get sun, even at lunchtime. So usually one can avoid this potentially slippery part of the road and as there is very little traffic we never feel in a precarious situation, but glad for the 4x4 function of the VW crew bus. A very scenic drive. First the ‘God Help Me Pass’ at 2,281m and later the Blue Mountain Pas at 2,633m with snowy mountains in the background. Also past a frozen waterfall.

Finally we arrive at the Mahole Dam and enjoy the short guided tour (09h00 and 14h00). We are the only 4 persons in the 09h00 ‘party’. It is part of the Lesotho Water Scheme, selling water to South Africa and was completed in 2002.

Afterwards we repair to the nearby upmarket Mahole Lodge for a few cups of coffee/tea. We seem to be the only (temporary) guests in the lodge and are therefore in the position to choose the only table catching the sun.

Then it is back to Maseru for a final visit to the well-stocked Shoprite to stock up for the next 2 days. On the way into town Alex is driving and we develop a few misunderstandings about which is the shortest route there. But Alex saves the day by letting me drive and activating his cell phone GPS.

By 15h00 we are heading towards Morija and by 16h00 we arrive at this lovely homely place Morija Guest House. Run by the most helpful Brigitte – it has access to a well heated (wood fuelled stove) kitchen/dining room.

It is a relaxed, warm evening. As I am writing the diary, I don’t have to cook. Cathy had bought some very moderately priced beef fillet steak at Shoprite (a reminder of our days in Bulawayo, where in the rural areas, fillet steak cost the same as any other ‘meat’ – no premium value attached to it) and we had a lovely meal.

At 20h00 the 2 German volunteers came back ‘home’ from their work at the Morija Youth Centre, which also somehow falls under the auspices of Brigitte and is situated just below her Guest House. Some interesting conversations. The bedroom even has a fan-heater that takes the nip out of the air and we have an early comfortable night.

1^st July – Wednesday – Day 5 (Alex)

I was busy sleeping wonderfully and deeply in the comfy beds at Morija Guest House, wrapped in my sleeping bag and with no intention to awake at this ungodly hour, but as is Murphy/Mummy’s law we were abruptly awakened to the knocking (more like trying to beat the door down) of my mother at our door. That put an end to our sleep as next my father told us to get up as we were “wasting daylight”, whatever that may mean.
The next step of course was to have breakfast, my father made an omelette with bacon, fried onion and red pepper, he graciously shared it with me. My mother and sister had a similar breakfast and we all washed it down with tea as is ritual in our household. After breakfast my family just had to use my phone’s Wi-Fi to check their Facebook, check emails, WhatsApp and everything short of posting things on Instagram.

As today was a brilliantly sunshiny day and not a chilly one we definitely wanted to go out and I in particular was keen to see the petrified dinosaur footprints and climb the mountain that was near the guest house. So everyone got ready for the outing/hike, some taking longer than others and others contemplating putting on sunblock, in short it took quite a while and yes as Beatrice has now learned one should always apply sunblock.
Off we went following the path that Brigitte (French pronunciation) had kindly explained to us. We were partially accompanied by a little boy with a little horse, so small that if I would sit on it my legs would be on the floor on either side. We then entered the pine forest and strolled leisurely up to the dam, which is very nice and had cows and horses grazing nearby. We passed the shepherds and greeted them with the Sesotho greeting “Dumela” to which one can add “tate” for man, “me” for woman or “ausi” for sister/young woman, to this we received the greeting back with a friendly smile. From here on we followed red arrows that had been painted on rocks to lead us to where the petrified dinosaur footprints were. It was quite steep so I helped my mother with the difficult bits and with a few rests we were at the large rock with the footprints. I here want to add that petrified has numerous meanings and so will say that it had been mud that turned to stone after millions of years not terrified dinosaurs, which is a very amusing thought though.

I wanted to climb higher up as we had been told that there were even more footprints to be seen higher up, my parents weren’t so keen so they decided that they’d go down and have a spot of lunch and wait for our return. So Beatrice and I went higher up and either lost the path or the path up didn’t exist but we ended up bundu-bashing for a bit and did some rock climbing. As much as we looked and searched we couldn’t find more footprints and decided to give up and continue with our hike. We traversed the mountain and came across an animal track which led us easily to the top of the plateau, absolutely flat and brilliant grazing ground was the terrain that we encountered here. We spotted a village not too far off and remembered that there was a path that would take us down the mountain that connected Morija with this village, for when we want to descend. In the meantime though we wanted to explore more and so headed away from the village and walked for quite a bit more in awe of the amazing landscape. Snow-capped mountains in the background and the sounds of the villages nearby kept us company, although I definitely want to return when everything is vibrant green as that must be spectacular.
We stopped for a break and had some water and an orange each, this gave Beatrice flashbacks of her and my ascent up Table Mountain the year before, which for her had supposedly been traumatic, no idea where she comes up with these stories. We had told our parents that we would be down by 2pm so we made our way downward, trying to locate the path that I mentioned earlier. We may have overshot it somewhat and so decided to follow the stream and gorge down. It was quite an adventure with jumping, scrambling and hoping that we didn’t fall into the stream. We came across a path after a bit and decided to follow this, however the path didn’t take us down and rather traversed another mountain. Just as we wanted to turn back we noticed a woman dressed in red on the other side of the gorge, on the path we had wanted to find no less, she gave us hand signs as to how to get down to the path easiest and only continued on her way when we were safe on the right track, the friendliness and kindness of people in Lesotho seem to have no bounds. So in no time we down and back at the guest house, where we had a quick rest and made our selves ready for the next outing.

We made our way into the village, quite a walk but with interesting things to see and friendly faces and greetings everywhere. Our first stop, no counting the millions of times my mother stopped to take pictures, was the book depot where they published books for the mission and people from all around Lesotho got their hymn books from. Next was the museum, the only one in the whole of Lesotho, where my parents bought various books, after which my mother would dispense random facts about Morija, and we had a look at their display, which were very interesting and definitely worth a visit. They had displays ranging from dinosaur bones and footprints, the various way the Basotho smoked their tobacco and dagga to the tea cup of Moshoeshoe (the King) a man after my mother’s heart in that regard.
Next was the local church, which we couldn’t enter as there was an ongoing meeting, Beatrice greeted a friendly man outside with “Domela tate” to which he started off a conversation in Sesotho which made Beatrice blush and had to admit to the man that she couldn’t in fact speak Sesotho to which we all had a laugh including the man and so we continued our conversation in English. We then went looking for the local artist called Patrick, whom my mother wanted to meet, but he wasn’t there as he was off building a pizza oven in a nearby village, so tomorrow.

On our way back to the guest house we notice a lonely donkey, laden with mealie meal  and oranges, trotting along, a while after we meet the donkey’s owner making his way home at his own pace. He was of course dressed in the typical uniform for accompanying a donkey in Lesotho and that is wrapped in a Basotho blanket, with a balaclava and with green wellington boots (these can be either white or green).

Back at the guest house we relaxed, me seizing this time to polish my hiking boots, which had taken quite a beating earlier on the hike, and watched the sun go down behind a mountain, this meant there was about 1 hour left of light and decided to spend this time on a walk through the forest. The lighting was amazing with the pinks and oranges of the sunset sky, through the dark branches and leaves of the pine forest. I found a big rock and naturally had to climb it and enjoyed the last of the light here, then made my way back and helped my father do the cooking for dinner. We had a delicious turkey stew, a bit too many bones for my liking though, and Brigitte joined us for this. We had pleasant conversation for quite some time, then retired to our rooms where I read and then slept.

2^nd July – Thursday – Cathy

Before I went to sleep last night I had a last look at the landscape, drenched with moonlight. It’s so beautiful here. I wake early, the colours of dawn are still on the mountain and the night watchman, bundled up in his great coat and blanket is still outside puffing steamy breath in the cold air. Nobody else is up yet and I enjoy a lovely hot shower knowing comfortably that nobody will be likely to bang on the door. I make a pot of tea and sit in the cosy dining room looking out at the view across to the mountains and down to the village. Eventually the rest of the family join me for breakfast. Today is a moving on day and so with our usual astounding efficiency and the minimum of arguing (?) we pack the car and do a last minute check around to make sure that nothing vital is forgotten. The two German students who have been staying here for a year and helping at an after school centre, will be leaving soon. It will be difficult for them to go, it’s difficult enough for us and for the Australian couple chatting to Brigitte as we prepare to leave it has been even more difficult, in fact they have extended their stay helping at the mission. Morija is one of those magnet places that people fall in love with. Brigitte has already phoned Patrick, the artist, so before we leave town we must call at his studio. I fill in the visitors’ book, such a small space and so much to say. Brigitte you are a wonderful woman with a warm open heart, we wish you so well for the future and thank you so much for your wonderful welcome.

Patrick is older than I thought – or perhaps it’s just the white beard. But he has ambitious plans. The arts it seems are not benefitting from very much attention in Lesotho and he is trying to make a contribution to change that. There is only one art gallery in Lesotho and that is the tiny Gallery that Patrick runs. There is only one art library in Lesotho and that is the two shelves of art books in Patrick’s office. There is only one place where artists can work, attend workshops, stay in residence, learn to paint or make pots and that is the tiny, dark little studio where Patrick can be found most of the time. There is Art on the school curriculum but nobody actually teaches it. Arts subjects do not happen in the teachers’ training colleges but there is a willingness to change and Patrick has been asked to give workshops to 20 teachers at a time to help them to deliver the subject in school. This is a very tall order and I wonder if he’s up to it. But I can give him lots of contacts once I get back to Namibia so if he needs some help he can indeed be helped. It is surprising to me to hear that Lesotho is so lacking in Arts promotion compared to Namibia. I wish him all the best and hope that he doesn’t have to tread his path solo for much longer although part of me suspects that there is a kind of artist hermit lurking inside him tempting him to shut himself away from the world and just paint.

We leave Morija eventually with a regretful glance backwards and travel back to Maseru. We are becoming quite expert at Maseru by now and are drawn there by the magnet of Shoprite as well as the fact that in this part of Lesotho all roads seem to lead there. We pass a large number of garment factories. How many are still operating and how many have closed down? Certainly on our way out of Maseru on Tuesday morning we saw hundreds of workers, mostly women, hurrying to work. I must investigate further, I had supposed from reports that the garment factories had all closed.

We shop quite thoroughly and buy more data bundles for Alex cell phone in a rather uninspiring shopping centre near to the place where the Pope preached to the assembled devout multitudes when he visited the region. Alex’ phone is capable of an action called tethering which enables us to communicate with the world even when we are quite far flung.

Next we negotiate the traffic in Maseru with the aid of Alex’ navigation App (where would we be without Apps?) following a blue dot on a map which unfortunately does not understand one-way systems. Never mind, with a minimum of arguing we leave Maseru for the last time this holiday. Our first stop on the road is a town called Teya-Teyaneng which is known for its weavers. Every second shop seems to advertise weaving, some with more conviction than others but we find one place Sesotho Weavers whose signage at least seems to indicate that we might actually find weavers there. Sure enough in a large shed-like building, wrapped up in blankets for warmth we find a group of women weavers. Very charming and very happy for us to have a look at their work. The weavery was apparently started by a Mr Carter, an Englishman but is now owned by a Ghanaian whose name the weaver showing us around did not know. They weave in mohair which is locally farmed (we see angora goats, the creators of mohair, everywhere). The equipment being used is very basic; homemade weaving frames, simple shed sticks. Mohair dyes like a dream in beautiful jewel colours and is beautifully glossy, unfortunately the designs of the tapestries being woven were rather predictable and although very charming did not have anything to set them apart from similar designs in South Africa. What a pity; beautiful raw materials, talented weavers but being poorly served by unadventurous designs.

We drive on to Pitseng. On the way we pass very close to South Africa and notice that a number of businesses have set up just over the border in Lesotho, presumably to find eager workers and the odd tax break. There are a couple of Chinese garment factories here too. The countryside slowly starts to rise to become more mountainous and we start to get views of snow-capped mountains. There seems to be not the remotest attempt at town planning in Lesotho; towns just grow organically and merge in a loose way with each other. Houses gather in varying densities and presumably where they are most dense there is a town, otherwise they are scattered more frugally over the landscape. But in this part of the country there is no view without a sprinkling of houses. Eventually we reach a more densely organised group of houses and that’s Pitseng. Chris spent some time here in the past when he was a student, building classrooms for one of the schools. But that was over 30 years ago and he doesn’t think that he would recognise the school. We are to stay at a place called the Aloes Guesthouse. It’s well signed and we have no difficulty finding it but we have to negotiate a large number of what looks like schoolchildren coming out of the conference centre attached to the guesthouse. I kind of knew that it wouldn’t be the same as Morija and I find it hard not to compare and hard to hide my disappointment. Fabulous view, but none of the rooms looks out on it, kindly and helpful people but the place is just not loved. We have a self-catering unit and cutlery is missing from the drawers, things look a bit down at heel, there is not much care taken although it is kept very clean.

But still it’s only for one night. We turn on all possible heating in the place. Alex and Beatrice want to camp (crazy) and pitch their tents just outside. I hope they’ll be warm enough. We settle down and read for a bit. Alex switches on the tethering connection so we can catch up with emails. He has got a bit power crazy about being in charge of our internet connection, it’s bringing out a dictatorial side of his personality that had previously not been so obvious.  It’s Chris’ turn to cook and he makes a very tasty lamb curry. We read a bit more, Beatrice is whizzing through an adventure book at breakneck speed before Alex reclaims it. I hope tonight is not too cold.

3^rd July – Friday– Day 7 (Beatrice)

Mummy needn’t have feared. With a few thermal layers and good blankets even a cold night of -4 degrees centigrade could not scare us off camping. We woke up early and had breakfast. Alex and Daddy overruling the kitchenette before Mummy and I could even contemplate starting to cook our own breakfast. The positive aspect though, is that Alex and Daddy started packing the car, while we devoured our bacon and egg.

The Aloes Guesthouse is rather disorganised, yet all meant with good intent. The odd aspect is that the self-catering houses are all placed so that no one can appreciate the view of sloping mountains in the soft glow of the morning sun. At 8 we left, closing the gate behind us, feeling no regret about heading off so early.

Off we went over Hlotse to refill our tank and Botha-Bothe to get some air. We noticed that these towns, or in European terms big villages, were full of people wearing beanies or bobble hats. Alex chimed in with the realisation, that in Cape Town one can always spot the Basotho students, due to their head gear. It goes on through the generations- the younger making the winter hats into quite a fashion statement.

Onwards and upwards over the Moteng (2840m) to Afri-Ski Resort. Snow started piling up on either side of the road and we saw icicles hanging from the mountain faces, indicating the remains of long forgotten waterfalls. I am sure you can zip up the pass, yet we took advantage of every single view point and enjoyed the splendorous views as well as a good snowball fight- I am sure that Alex agrees, that I won the match. Once we were at Afri-Ski and had paid our 50 Mloti per person entre fee, we sat down near the piste to enjoy a drink at the highest bar in Africa at 3050m. We sat in the sun and watched others whizzing down the slope (yes, singular- there is only one). Unfortunately we could not participate, since the Ski resort had been booked out already half a year in advance! We had some boerewors and chips and enjoyed the party atmosphere. Signs on the wall indicated that the night life was even more so.

On we drove over Mahlasela Hill (3220m) and Tlaeen Pass (3275m). While we were driving Mummy started becoming obsessed (even more than usual) with Basotho people in Wellington Boots, a balaclava or beanie and a traditional Basotho blanket. Taking pictures is in theory not a problem, yet Mummy wanted a picture of every single one we passed while driving- trust me there were quite a few- and furthermore not being the absolute best with technology it all summed up to quite a problem. Quite a few tantrums later and rather many confused Basotho people, we reached our first road block due to the roadworks. Chinese contractors are working hard to improve the road but in the meantime some of the sections are a bit rough.

One should never undermine the African spirit; if there is a road block- what do we do? Get out and start chatting to others of course! Just as Mummy contemplated getting out her book from the back, the procession started moving. We drove and understood fully why we had to wait so long, even still I would have said that that piece of road was dangerous. With pity we looked at the oncoming lorrys. It was not our only road block on the way, but the rest were easily passed. The roads bent up and down, with an ever changing picturesque view- very worthwhile.

Eventually we arrived at St. James Lodge at St James’ Mission near Mokhotlong, where after slight confusion as to which building was for guests, we were greeted by a nice lady who showed us around. For M200 per person per night we were given luxury. A spacious room to dine and relax with a kitchen and a second very big family room with an ensuite bathroom. We were warned that there would be no water in the morning, since it freezes in the pipes; this gave us an inkling how cold it would get in the night. Yet with a fireplace, loads of blankets and a heater, we could not complain too much. We ate soup, Mummy had cooked, by paraffin light, occasionally shooing the cute but overfriendly dog away.

We were all sitting comfortably, when Mummy let out a yelp of pain, as she had missed the step to not tread on the dog. Alex did the rescue operation, while I cooled down her ankle, rubbed bruise and sprain ointment on it and made a brace out of materials we had lying around. We asked her next time to maybe add a bit of blood loss or a minor concussion- so we could give our first aid training more practice- Mummy did not find this very amusing.

I went to sleep after a boiling hot shower in the bed I had won off Alex in ‘rock paper scissors’- victory is sweet.

4^th July – Day 8 – Christof

The night was not as cold as forecast, just minus 1 – even the cold water in the pipes had not frozen, something which our ‘land lady’ told us, was very rare in winter. We got up with first light (alarm clock set for 06h30), it gets dark around 17h30 in the evening, so we must make hay while the sun shines. Since we were told that we would have to pay an extra R50 to use the gas heater in the bedroom we decided to keep it on all night, which prevented the bedroom from getting below 13 – luxury. We had already been told the night before that there would be no hot (or for that matter any) water in the morning so we had taken precaution, each in their own way. Breakfast was a well-rehearsed affair, and by 08h15 we were on the road.

Another sunny, clear day. I was grateful that we did not have to do this stretch in clouds, ice and snow. After we had re-descended to the river and bumped back up on a track that would make Sani Pass feel like a Sunday School picnic, we hit the tar road due South for the 50-odd km to Sani Top. It is a brand new Chinese-built tar road and the last 10 km were still under construction.

Soon we saw the Lesotho flags signalling the border post to South Africa, literally 20m before the steeply zig-zagging gravel road descent. And again 10m before that a sign to the Sani Lodge with the highest pub in Africa at 2,874m (never mind that the bar at Afri-ski, where we had been the day before, is substantially higher). A nice lounge with a cosy fire and a beautiful view. Since we were early, it was also uncrowded. Copious cups of coffee/tea and all the obligatory posed photos. Cathy was still nursing her sprained ankle, so we other 3 went for a walk along the cliff from where we could see the cars below us crawl up the steep track like dinky toys.

To do Sani Pass has been a dream of mine since 1973, when I did my part to build a few class rooms in Pitseng with SAVS (the South African Voluntary Service) from UCT. Now, 42 years later, 3 days before my birthday and as my birthday treat this year, this dream is becoming reality, albeit ‘only’ down.

The border post took all of 5 minutes and then down. It is very steep, especially in the serpentine corners. Often I cannot brake with the first gear as I have to go slower than idling speed. But some of the horror stories of corners so tight that one has to do 3-point turns, do not materialise; maybe the South Africans have been recently widening some of the tightest corners in anticipation of building a tar road to meet the Lesotho one. There is also frequent space to allow one to pass oncoming vehicles. I am glad I still ‘made it’ before the tarring. The view is fantastic. This was a good experience! At some places Alex, camera in hand, stays behind to take some shots from above, then again, he runs ahead to take shots from below.

But after the first 10 or so serpentines things start to get a bit less steep and wider. However, the road remains very rough and rocky and it is until much later that I can (briefly) use the 3^rd gear again. Soon it becomes warmer too as we have lost over 1km of altitude. Soon we arrive at the SA border post where formalities take about 2 minutes. Then further down. As it is almost lunchtime, we decide to make our lunch stop at a place where one can get off the road easily with a beautiful view back up the vast gorge with the cliffs behind from where we have just descended. We swiftly take out tables and chairs and in no time a tuna salad has been created. For the first time on the trip it is 20 degrees and I decide to change to summer gear: flip-flops with shorts – feels good. Our hard-of-hearing motorbike ‘friend’ David comes past and we invite him to join us for lunch.

Soon the tar road starts and commercial farming of forests and maize begins. After another 15km or so we come past the Sani Pass Backpackers where we had booked for camping for the night. After inspecting the camping place and its facilities, and finding it to our satisfaction, we drive on to nearby Underberg where we find a well-stocked Spar to replenish our provisions. We even manage to procure a set of the little Underberg herbal digestive bottles to take the chill out of the camping site tonight. “If you can’t drink it in Underberg, then where can you?”

Back at the backpackers we set up tents etc., for the first time on this trip we are camping. Predictions are for minus 1 degree tonight. Alex is going for a 2 hour ‘nature hike’ (up a hill called Stormness - Alex) while Beatrice is very helpful about the camp. I’m starting today’s diary while Cathy is doing some washing of her garments.

By 17h00 it is starting to get dark and cold. The thermometer goes down by one degree every 10 minutes. Summer wear has come to an abrupt halt for me: now it is putting on all warm stuff we brought for this kind of weather.

Later Alex arrives back and Beatrice starts cooking her favourite “spag bol”, which turns out delicious served on caulliflour and butternut. But the piece de resistance is frozen raspberries and blue berries with rich creamy yoghurt … followed by Underbergs. By 20h00 the thermometer is down to 4 degrees.