One of the last things I thought I would ever need in South Africa was a pair of mittens. Seems pretty illogical right, needing gloves on the African continent? This type of thinking was proved to be wrong this weekend as I ventured into the Drakensberg Mountains and into the mountainous kingdom of Lesotho. Four of my roommates and I decided to spend our long weekend off from school, thanks to South Africa’s many holidays, at the Sani Pass Lodge, at the foot of the only road for 100km south and 200km north that leads into Lesotho. We were picked up on Wednesday afternoon at our flat by the Overberg express, a van that provides door-to-door transport between destination. There was an older couple who had already been picked up from the Durban airport and was making their way home to Overberg, after spending time in Florida, as well. They were nice enough to allow the Americans to convince the driver to make a stop at a lovely restaurant in Pietermaritzburg: McDonald’s. Contrary to popular belief, McDonald’s does not rule the world and there is only one in Durban and not very accessible to people without vehicle transport, so after hearing that our roommates who did this trip over spring break made a pit at Mickey D’s, we asked our driver to stop there the first chance we got. After picking up two more passengers, we hit the road for our final stretch of the journey. It’s a good thing I like my roommates, because we were packed like sardines in the van for the rest of the trip, but we made it to our accommodations, a place called the Sani Pass Lodge that evening, safe and sound. We were all sharing a dorm room with three sets of bunk beds, and luckily they came with three blankets, because it was quite a chilly night. We booked our activities for the weekend, played a few rounds of hearts, and headed off to bed.
In the morning, we met our guide Matthew for a trip up the mountain to Lesotho, and when I say up, I mean it. Literally. Our transport for the day was a Land Ranger (4x4xFar to be exact) and I had the pleasure of sitting in the enclosed back portion where I was treated to an ‘African massage’ as he called it, a.k.a. lots of bumps in the road. Our first stop was at what remains of a trading post that was used by the Sotho people and the South Africans. Nothing too exciting, but of course we happened to arrive just when the South African police were busy at work loading about four huge bricks of marijuana into their truck. Apparently, they had had a successful morning searching for drugs that had been brought over the border and left for someone on our side.
The landscape in this part of the country is absolutely amazing. Words really don’t do it justice. Rolling hills, mountain peaks, waterfalls, South Africa really is a beautiful country. About half way up the road, we reached the South African passport authority, got our stamps, and continued up the hill to the Lesotho border. After 27 hairpin turns, we reached the top, got our stamps, and continued into the country side. There is very little in this part of Lesotho, but we were able to witness the sheering of sheep, had lunch on a cliff overlooking pastures, and stopped in for a visit at a woman’s hut for some homemade bread and a sip of Sotho beer. After handing our left over lunch to some people on the side of the road, we made a final stop at the Sani Pass Chalet for a quick drink at the highest pub in Africa. If I didn’t know any better, I could of sworn it was December and Christmas was just around the corner. This place gave off a very cozy feel, and since the clouds had rolled in, you couldn’t really see much more than 30 feet into the distance. After a quick drink, we headed back down the mountain, making it to the SA passport authority just in time for their 4pm closure.
The next morning, after debating about whether or not the rain would hold off, we decided to suck it up and go on a Bushman rock painting tour. This time our guide was named Bill, and he was quite the mountain man. At age 83, he was in better shape than any of us and knew just about everything you could ever wish to know about the Drakensberg Mountains. Our hike took all day, but we made it to the site of the rock paintings by lunch. We saw three different paintings on different rocks, and the final one was somewhat of a hidden treasure, according to Bill, who even discovered new paintings that he had never seen before while we were there. On the way home, a snake went across the path in front of Lisa, who jumped to the side, causing the snake to rise up and hiss at us. Bill assured us that it was harmless, and began chasing it through the field in an attempt to get it on his walking snake and show it to us up close. He got close, but only flung it further it away. Shame. To my dismay, the group decided it would be a great idea to take the “short cut” home, which meant that we would cross a river instead of taking a foot bridge. So, after scaling down the side of a mountain (literally) we came to the icy cold river, removed our shoes, formed a human chain and walked across the stones to the other side. Great idea guys. But no, overall it was fine, and it cut about 2km from our walk back. When we got back to the lodge, Bill demonstrated how the bushman would make tools and gave us all a porcupine needle as a parting gift. We all wished that he would be our grandpa, as he is the coolest old man I have ever met.