The Mountain Kingdom

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We'd never heard of Lesotho before we spotted this tiny country in the middle of our map of South Africa. So we decided to head over there once we'd asked Terry at the hostel in Bloemfontein what it was like. Getting there was simple enough - we took a bus from Bloemfontein to the border near Maseru, the capital of Lesotho.  We, along with a German and a Swede, got a taxi on the other side of the border to the tourist information office to see about buses and getting to Semonkong. The lady was very smiley and helpful, but actually there was a guy called Howard dropping some posters off about a trip he organises and he gave us a lift to the bus station. He pulled up outside some stalls and called a local over to help us find the buses.

I think the guy was chuffed at his brood at Westerners because he was getting quite a lot of attention as he strutted importantly through the very bustling market. At last we were in the Africa I'd imagined - load music, people swaying to it, stalls heaped high with fruit under the hot sun and people dressed in an odd assortment of colourful clothes. And we were the only white people.

We found the bus to Semonkong but as we boarded we noticed that the engine was in pieces on the floor with a number of guys banging at the various bits. Anyway, since we couldn't find out what time the bus left (although it didn't seem like anytime soon) we settled in and bought lovely bread and cold drinks from the various hawkers boarding the bus. About three hours later the bus left in a huge cloud of smoke and we were on our way.

The bus went through some gorgeous scenery, up steep mountain roads. After a particularly steep incline two of the "mechanics" would get off the bus, fetch some water and chuck it over the engine. About two hours in the bus broke down. So we all got out and watched the sun begin to set. The "mechanics" frantically ferrying huge jerry cans of water to the ailing bus. After about half an hour a guy came walking up the road. Turns out he saw our bus stop and he'd come to investigate if he could get past us. He couldn't. We had a chat and it turned out we were going to the same place.  Since he couldn't get past the bus it wasn't a lot of use so he went on his way back down the hill.

Anyway, after another half hour the bus started again and we all climbed back inside. At this point the sun was behind the hills in the most amazing sunset ever. Soon we could see the first stars in the sky. After a while we arrived in the village of Semonkong but had absolutely no idea where the lodge was. It was completely dark. After a while we managed to find someone to take us there. It turned out to be really near, but we weren't to know that.

We stayed in a dorm with an English guy called Peter. He had lots of travel stories and we chatted until we fell asleep.

The next day after breakfast, we decided to walk to the nearby waterfall. As we went along the path, farmers swathed in blankets passed us by on horseback, they'd cheerfully greet us as the went. We realised that everyone wore blankets here, although the day was very hot to us, I guess it could get cold pretty quickly so it seemed like a practical solution. The scenery was gorgeous. Towering green hills, azure blue sky. Sheep, cattle herds and horsemen in the distance and loads of friendly smiley children. And more birds than I've ever seen in my life. Most of them I'd never seen before so I can't tell you what kind they were. One little chap decided to come with us on our walk, he pointed out his school and other things, but mostly just came walked behind us in his very  battered and split wellington boots.

We got to the waterfall and it was huge, crashing down into the gorge. Really lovely. We'd read you could abseil down beside it (the longest commercial abseil in the world at 204metres). I  was up for it but Cathal, who's afraid of heights, visibly paled when he saw the sheer size of the drop.  We walked back along the river past loads of calla lillies growing wild and a dead goat with its kid looking very confused. Poor thing.

We headed off to the village on our return to get supplies for dinner. As we walked up yet another hill, kids called to us for gardens - "bye bye" which they seem to think is the same as hello.  Weirdly, all the village shops appeared to be run by Chinese people, and we went to two out of the three in the village. The supplies were fairly basic, so we opted for rice, bread, soya mince and a tin of something called Chakalaka.

Some time later we decided Chakalaka was our new favourite food - it's an extremely spicy mix of vegetables and beans in a sort of tomato oil base.  That night over a few local Maloti  beers we decided to do the abseil! In vino lunitas! Anyway later on in the evening we met a nice American couple - Drew and Lindsay and they, ourselves and Peter had a nice old chat and another beer or two.

The next day dawned bloody awful - rain like you would not believe.  Drew, Lindsay, Peter and us decided to do they sensible thing and play cards. So they taught us some new games. The rain cleared up after a few hours and we went to do our training abseils - the ones before the big one!

We climbed another hill, got harnessed up and Cathal went first. Except he didn't. At the edge of the cliff he was supposed to step over the vertigo set in, so he shakily made his way back up. I went then, straight over no problem. It was a 25 metre drop and my hands got pretty tired and I forgot about the keeping your feet flat on the rock bit so dangled and got my ropes mixed up, but I got down intact. On the way I saw the very rare bald ibis in its nest. There's loads of them in Lesotho.  Once I was back up (after another hill climb), Cathal decided to go again but vertigo struck twice. Poor lad was green and he said he felt really sick, so I decided to call it a day and not continue with my training after Cathal confessed he found it hard to see me go over either. We went back to the dorm where I fed him the chocolate bar I'd been saving. Several hours later he regained his normal colour.

So abseiling was out, Cathal decided that he could choose the next activity. He chose a two day horse trek on the local Basotho horses. Now I like horses, they're lovely. I like my bottom more and am not keen on horseriding for that reason. I am also (in case you don't know) a control freak and the thought of an animal having the capacity to take me places or throw me off does not make me happy. However, in a show of wifely fair play I agreed to the horse trek.  Drew and Lindsay were going, as was a German girl called Jule, so it would be a nice group. 

The next day also dawned damp. I secretly hoped we wouldn't be able to go. There was talk about whether the river would be too high to cross (WHAT, I thought, WE'RE CROSSING A RIVER. ON HORSEBACK!) No such luck, we were off as soon as the sun came out.

We mounted our mounts, mine was inexplicably called Black Door, he seemed nice enough, but you can never tell. Whilst Jonathan was trying to check my stirrups, but my legs were shaking so badly he was having a job of it. I was sure my horse registered my disquiet and inwardly groaned. Anyhow, we set off at a sedate pace with our guide and the packhorse. I just hung on and let the horse follow the others.

We went up a hill (it's a feature of Lesotho, they don't call it the Mountain Kingdom for nothing). We passed some very cute ducklings, all with plastic rain ponchos on, no really. I don't understand it either, maybe they're not waterproof for a while. We also passed a gorgeous black bird with an amazingly long tail, like a kite tail trailing after it. I'd have taken pictures of these things but was too busy trying not to fall off. Sorry.

Anyway I did actually relax into it, my horse was excellent, we passed fields, other horsemen and stopped for lunch. Then the guide, Emanuel,  said "go up". It was up a huge stony mountain. I had my eyes closed, although I was assured the Basotho horses have very small feet and are suited to this. Anyway my horse didn't slip or falter, although Jules' one did and she fell off. I started muttering madly to my horse but he kept going, no problems. Then we went down. Again I leaned back and shut my eyes, just terrified. After a few more hills I could keep my eyes open and started to enjoy the view. I even took a few pictures. My horse and I started to bond. Cathal on the other hand was fine, his horse kept trying to eat grass and wasn't nearly as obedient as mine.

 It turned out my horse hated getting his feet wet and would go the most arduous route to not have that happen. He also hated sticks or whips and if a horse near him was hit, he'd start and trot a bit. I started to sing to him to keep him focussed on me and he seemed to like it, although he couldn't possibly have great hearing. We arrived at a village around 4pm that day, having led our horses for a bit (I slipped a bit on the rocks, but my horse looked at me to ensure I was ok) then we led them to water and they took drinks.

At the village, we took the saddles of our horses, unloaded the packhorse and put our stuff away. Then we walked to the waterfal about half an hour from the village, led by a local guy wearing a natty yellow blanket. The waterfall was lovely, Cathal and I struggled going down the hill, we were both a bit saddlesore.

Back at the village again we sampled their homebrew beer, chatted to a few kids (in their small blankets) and started to take pictures of the villagers. What excitement, they loved seeing pictures of themselves and we were doing it for a good hour, the poses getting more and more inventive.

We then eventually said "no more pictures" and started to prepare dinner. A true group effort, we feasted by candlelight on Chakalaka, soya mince and rice washed down with some rather tasty wine Drew and Lindsay provided. Then we played cards for a bit and retired at the very early time of 9pm.

The next day we awoke early and had some breakfast. We each found our horses, I recognised mine immediately and set off to lead it back up the hill. At which point I discovered I barely had the use of my legs.  Getting on the horse was a real challenge and Emmanuel basically pushed me up onto it. Knees locked in place, we set off. This day I was much more confident and my horse and I led the way for a while. They went more quickly this day, as they knew they were going home. The packhorse was roaming free and would run ahead every so often causing the others to trot. Something I didn't like. At all. My knees and bum were not able for it, so I let my horse know he was not to join in the party. A few times he choose extremely steep descents and ran down them, but my screaming tended to halt his gallop.

Just as we neared the village it started to rain heavily, my horse wouldn't hurry up though because he was so shocked at my outburst when he ran the other time. We got back to the Lodge and Emmanuel once again lifted me off the horse where I promptly collapsed in an undignifed heap as my knees wouldn't hold me. Cathal seemed fine.

Showers and a well deserved rest and dinner later, we convened in the bar and played more cards and decided to take up Drew and Lindsay's very kind offer of a lift the following day. On our way out of Lesotho we decided to stop by and check the Kome Caves. These are dwellings carved out of rock sometime in the 18th Century which are now a bit of a puzzling tourist attraction. After seeing them we headed out of Lesotho and re-entered South Africa.