Lesotho is a solid 1100 km or 15 hour drive from Cape Town. Riddled with road works and stretching through the Karoo desert, it is not the most scenic motorway – but it was a great opportunity to see more (or rather most) of South Africa. Tired, sweaty, sunburnt and suffering from a serious case driving overdose, we crossed the overland border into Lesotho’s capital city Maseru.
Maseru is not the star attraction in Lesotho, but rather a necessary evil situated en route to the six-plus mountain ranges, national parks and nature reserves that comprise its countryside. It would be safe to say that Lesotho is in fact all mountains. Don’t quote me on this, but I actually think it statistically qualifies as the world’s most mountainous country... I remember having heard something to that effect. Even the lowlands where Maseru is situated are more than 1000 metres above sea level. The heights made for challenging driving and hiking at times and I did notice my pace was much slower…not to mention the puffing , panting and dramatics (mine) that accompany uphill exertion were just a little worse than usual.
Maseru is really just another African city, full of corrugated metal shacks, stray animals and garbage strewn streets. There are a few remnants of the 1860's British colonial period including a police station, post office, courthouses and the King’s palace (yes, Lesotho is still ruled by a King who lives in a heavily guarded palace – how typically, quintessentially African dictatorial), but otherwise it’s just a quick supply pit stop before heading for the hills. While we saw very, very few white people anywhere on this trip, oddly we did see hundreds of Chinese who are now conducting serious business in Lesotho, including diamond mining and clothing manufacturing. The Chinese contingent was especially concentrated at the local casino where we went to find food during what I now realize is an African standard: all day, city-wide power outages that effectively shut down an entire region. I had a hunch that somehow the casino would have ultra-powerful generators running in order to keep the money flowing, and I wasn’t wrong.
We headed out of Maseru asap, following what can only be described as one of the grossest yet expensive meals in recent memory, and straight to Thaba Bosiu, the mountain top fortress ruins of legendary Basotho King Moshoeshoe. The fort, considered impenetrable back in the day, has nothing on Masada but provided some seriously stunning views and a fun if slightly precarious climb scrambling over rocks and lizards. There were some interesting ruins at the top, though slightly less grand then expected, and we even made friends with a man we found hiding behind a rock. I thought he was going to mug us but instead he launched into a story about his life as a poor orphan whose siblings had died of HIV. He asked for a ride to the next town, and when we said ‘yes’, ran home to change out of his tattered rags and into designer jeans and an expensive sports jersey…and to grab his mobile phone, which was nicer than mine. Obviously this beggar was not quite the tourist milking mastermind he fancied himself to be.
By this point a serious thunder storm was brewing, so we decided to head for the university town of Roma where we spent the night in a little thatched roof hut at the Trading Post Lodge, which I loved but Johannes kept combing for spiders. Thankfully the power had returned at this point as I was not keen on the combination of candles and straw.
The next morning we climbed another mountain (as you can see, a pattern is starting to form) to check out some preserved dinosaur footprints. While the footprints themselves were a disappointment, the views were spectacular and I enjoyed hiking through the dirt village and being chased by seriously cute children demanding “pompoms”, their name for sweets. We were happy to oblige and I have to say that I was smitten with more than a few of those kids. The Basotho are generally really friendly, and everyone greets you, though of course very little English is spoken. They are simple country people who still dress in traditional blankets and hats, ride horses and donkeys for transport, and often delight in seeing their photos taken on the digital camera. Almost everyone in rural Lesotho is a sheep/goat/cow/donkey herder, and there are very, very few modern buildings. It is like taking a trip back in time – for the most part the modern world doesn’t exist, which I actually loved because I was craving a ‘getting away from it all’ experience.
We then hopped in our rented VW Polo – possibly the most ridiculous car to take to a country where there are two paved roads and everything else is mud, gravel and boulder dotted – to head deep inland through some of the higher mountain ranges. Needless to say, everyone else tackles these roads with huge trucks and 4x4 SUVs, but we decided to do it differently (read: like total clueless tourists). There were a few times where we nearly got stuck, and once we just had to give up and walk. Next up was some bushman cave paintings located down the roughest, rockiest, muddiest seven km road cutting through a valley that itself looked like a painting. The setting was beautiful, and the paintings were found on colourful rock faces lining a river and yet again there were no tourists anywhere – just a couple of shepherds and one extremely ripe smelling guide who led the way but spoke no English. We then headed deeper into the mountains over the Bushman’s, Molimo Nthuse and Blue Mountain passes towards the Mohale Dam, driving through settlements with unexpected names like Nazareth. The dam is part of the Lesotho Highlands Water Project, which wouldn’t be the type of attraction that usually catches my eye when traveling – but I am so glad we went. It looked like a giant crystal lake contained between a number of green mountains --and when you are trekking through extremely rural parts of Africa something like this makes for an unexpected sight. The drive alone makes the trip worthwhile because the views are seriously out of this world.
Our ultimate destination was Semonkong, a mountain lodge located in Lesotho’s central highlands by the Drakkensberg range and found at the very end of a dirt and gravel road running through another series of mountain passes with fitting names such as ‘God Help Me”. The drive is only 120 km, but takes between 4-5 hours to complete thanks to the treacherous climbs (average height is 3000 metres) and road conditions that prevent driving at speeds greater than 30 km/hour. I’m not going to lie: we were often scared. There were moments when we discussed fast evacuation strategies should the car slide over the side of a cliff. For once a seatbelt didn’t seem like such a good idea. The drive is considered one of Africa’s most stunning, and takes you past the “Breast Mountains” (they have nipples...maybe you need to see them to understand) and through lush green peaks and valleys. Apart from the occasional shepherd and his sheep/mountain goat flock (you should see the cliffs those things climb – unbelievable!) and a few thatched rondavel hut villages built on steep mountain faces, we encountered no other humans. I can’t ever recall a time I felt more in the middle of nowhere. Not that we minded since it was so incredibly beautiful…however, one small problem was that we underestimated the length of the drive and the sun was quickly setting. Soon we were enveloped in total blackness, in a region with no electricity, no people and no legible road signs…oh yes, and a one lane rocky gravel road with no guardrail. It was starting to look like we would be spending the night in the car with nothing but mountain goats for company. The route seemed to wind on forever, and we have never felt such relief as when we finally found Semonkong, which was completely non sign posted. It ended up being this tiny oasis in the middle of nowhere, with a South African chef (food, let alone edible food is hard to find outside of Maseru so a meal that wasn’t a stale bag of chips was welcome) and an electrical generator that was running for a whole hour! Bliss.
Lesotho is the skiing capital of southern Africa, and is covered by a thick layer of snow much of the year, which meant we were actually staying at a little thatched roof winter lodge complete with down bedding and a miraculous sight: indoor heating. It is located on a rushing river and is built on a steep mountain side, with little cottages dotting the hill – we loved it, and will definitely return though next time we will be making the drive in a 4x4. From the lodge we explored the Thaba Putsoa mountain range, with its rolling green hills dotted with the standard huts, donkeys, horses and flocks of sheep. The highlight was a hike to Maletsunyane Falls, which are southern Africa’s tallest at 150 metres, found in a narrow crack between two mountains and so tall that the bottom isn’t even visible from the top. Such an incredible area! The drive back was equally stunning, past farms with rust red soil fields, colourful people in traditional dress, and of course…sheep.
My final thoughts on Lesotho: While the roads and mountain passes are rough, winding, crumbling and at times terrifyingly steep, they provide some of the most dramatic, scenery of mountains and valleys to be found anywhere. And surely the population of sheep and goats is hundreds of times that of humans. In all, it is a really special place, friendly, laid back and primitive in the best possible way. Just bring a 4x4 and decent food should you go.
Next up: Namibia.
Great post! I'm now even more determined and inspired to see the rest of southern Africa. It's right on our doorstep and so many of us take it for granted!
ReplyDeleteLooking forward to the Namibia post and many more travels :)