Date of Entry: December 1st 2016

Date of Writing: April 26th 2017

I wake up refreshed from a great sleep in the cool mountain air.  A very odd coincidence the night before saw me meet a best friend of Thea, the Norwegian girl I met in Bolivia and then Argentina, along with her two german friends and we figure this all out just chatting.  Sometimes this vast world can be absolutely tiny.  They are going to do the rappelling/absailing down the waterfall, but for me I’ve settled on just doing a hike to one of Lesotho’s most famous national monuments.

First I enjoy a delicious breakfast at the pub of Semonkong lodge which isn’t cheap but is incredibly delicious, especially the bread they make in this tiny little town.  Buy so much of it.  It’s fried bread and might be the most delicious bread I’ve ever had, and I’ve travelled across most of europe.  Breakfast done I head over to their adventure booth to meet my young guide Julius, who is beyond friendly and leads me out up over some hills and into the stunning countryside past lots of local farmers who give friendly waves and all seem to know Julius.  His english name being one of his two names given to him by his parents.

We hike along endless beautiful green plateau’s heading towards a giant gorge, Julius saying hello to each person he passes.  He’s a young father of two and working hard to study mathematics in maseru, while on holidays he works with the lodge to pay for his family’s lives and he’s a damn good guide, always smiling, joking and laughing, and he truly seems to love his country.  After maybe 40 minutes hiking we reach the top of the gorge which welcomes Maletsuyane falls to it’s depths, just around the corner, though locked from vision.

For those wondering why you need a guide for a walk like this, well maybe if you’re a really experienced hiker you wouldn’t but at least for me who does have some significant experience, it would have been a challenge to find the right trail down into the gorge.  Julius though has lots of experience and starts me down towards the river flowing through the gorge.   And I’ll say this it’s not a simple path to follow, and I slow Julius down scrambling down sections of the steep and narrow slippery dirt trail, sliding down sections on my bum, and holding on to any branch I can just to keep my balance and avoid plummeting into the gorge.

My legs are exhausted and I’m almost starting to regret making this trek as it was genuinely scary at times, but any semblance of regret fades as we reach a small plateau near the bottom of the gorge, turn a corner, and behold the sight of Maletsunyane falls, otherwise know as the smoke that thunders, plummeting more than 190 meters down into the gorge.  It’s unbelievable and feels like something out of jurassic park.  I just wish it was wet season as even more water would be tumbling down into this beautiful gorge.

Together we follow the narrow winding path cut into the edge of the gorge by forces of nature, and edge closer and closer to the pool and when we reach the end of the path at a beautiful viewpoint of the falls I ask if I can continue down to the actual pool itself.  Thankfully Julius is cool and says yes and even offers to take some photos of me as I go, deciding that I have to at least try to swim here, despite the significant cold at this altitude with the gorge walls blocking the pool from sunlight.  But first it’s a matter of navigating a sea of boulders just to reach the edge of the pool.  Somehow I manage it with only a few small slips and pose for some photos with Julius.

I decide it’s too cold after testing the water to try swimming across the entire rocky pool, so I navigate my way across still more slippery boulders braving the frozen spray of the falls trying to find a closer access point.

I manage to get all the way under the main flow of the falls despite the immense cold, not to mention the stunning power of the 197 meter drop that almost forces me under despite holding onto rocks.  Sadly Julius has a camera malfunction or just doesn’t get any good ones of me under the falls, maybe he lost track of me in that rush of white, but he does at least snap some of me emerging from the water, chilled to the bone, extremities not performing as id like them true as I try to climb out of the water and get out of the huge spray radius of the falls.

As I go up out of the water climbing up towards dryer rocks and brighter sunlight I retrieved my camera from Julius and start taking pictures of my german and Norwegian friends doing their absail down the water fall.  It looks absolutely insane and I start snapping pictures, which I now realize I still haven’t sent them.  Somehow life got busy and I forgot about it until right now.  Sorry friends.

One by one they make their way down slowly and I find myself very glad I’ve chosen to walk instead, even if the hike down itself was quite treacherous, that first moment going over the edge of the gorge must have been utterly terrifying.  Still the pictures are epic and that small part of me that forgets about fear wishes I’d gone that way.

As I watch them come down I also notice a tiny little baby sheep nursing from it’s mum and am constantly amazed by the way they navigate the rough terrain, making themselves look entirely comfortable on cliff sides I couldn’t even get to.

Eventually Julius indicates it’s time to start heading back, the girls having already left.  I spend a few last moments staring out at the beauty of the smoke that thunders before acquiescing and heading back for what will no doubt be a gruelling climb up out of the gorge.  I also take a little break to look down at an ever growing bruise, a mark of love left to me by one of the little lions who tackled me back in bloemfontein.  It’s turning into quite something.

Eventually we reach the bend in the trail and so I’m left to say one last goodbye to the falls from a distance and we snap a few last pictures before rounding the bend and starting a gruelling climb.

I start the climb up already pretty exhausted from all my boulder scrambling.  On the way up we don’t meet any other tourists, one of the great things about Lesotho, just some friendly farmers herding their sheep.  I break out a snack bought in south Africa and share with Julius and the farmer.  I’ve run out of water so the moisture in the carrots is very very welcome.  I struggle with the walk, it having been a while since I’ve been at altitude, but ultimately up is less scary then down and as we weave through fascinatingly shaped rocks and stunning views behind us, I feel sure I’ll make it.

After a hard hour plus I’m back up on the plateau and we head back to town passing by countless more farmers in the open space. The culture in Lesotho is friendly and quite unique and different from the country which surrounds us. It is the country with the highest lowest point on earth and so it’s a very mountainous kingdom.  It’s beautiful and I’m glad I made the effort to come, just wishing I had more time here.

I give Julius my headphones as I have a backup pair and he seems to love music then pay him and include a generous tip.  He did a great day and is met at Semonkong lodge by his wife and daughter who are both beautiful.  It was a great day with him.

It’s around 3:30 when I finally sit down for lunch at the pub there and chat with my friends again who’ve finished their abseil.  We eventually arrange for me to join them in their car as they too are heading back to bloemfontein tomorrow and I’m just thrilled not to have to deal with collectivos again, a car is much more spacious, so thanks girls.

I also buy some souvenirs at the shop at Semonkong lodge where the artists names are written on everything they sell and they set the price and receive all of the profits.  Really the Semonkong lodge is an amazing place in a tiny town and I highly recommend it.

On our road trip the next day we do have one ridiculous experience.  In Lesotho all the minibuses have names on the front of them, and driving back towards Maseru we see three passing us in quick success on.  The first name is Taliban.  We’re thinking, wait what?  then comes Pakistan.  Okay what is happening.  And the third and final amazing collectivo name passes just a minute later: SHHHHHHHHH.  Like be quiet and don’t tell anyone the Taliban came from Pakistan to here.  It’s pretty epic.

We eventually cross the border and make it all the way to Bloemfontein and I say goodbye to the girls who’ve helped me out a lot and post up in a burger restaurant to wait for my night bus to Port Elizabeth.  My Africa trip is winding down and with just a week or so left there’s so much I want to do.  I’ll have to come back I guess.