Trekking in Lesotho
Goats and Sheep! My most common trail companion.
Lesotho!
After a late start I began solo on my three day journey to the Lesotho highlands. The lodge suggested I have a guide and tried to sell me on riding a pony rather than walking, both I declined. What is the use of a horse? It makes you sore in the ass and you still get tired. I would rather be tired and have a happy ass. Who needs a guide when you never leave civilization? Villages and shepards are always great sources of info for questions like which way to the village that is only 2 km away and you have probably been to every week. After asking directions many times and having several young boys voluntarily show me the way, I arrived at night fall or shortly there after at my first overnight location. I was promptly shown to a my hut for the evening and began my dinner of muesli, beef jerky and cookies.
A Basotho local in common winter garb, he is also wearing rubber irrigation boots called gum boots or gumbies. The blankets have unique to each group(tribe?) in Lesotho.
After a nice breakfast of cold oatmeal, muesli and cookies I began my short hike to see the famed water fall. An hour and many corn/ sorghum fields later I came to the cliff with the falling water. I could see that it fell more proliferatous in the wet season, as now it was a trickle.
After returning to my hut village, I began asking for directions to my next destination. I should clarify what asking for directions means. Most of the time it was me saying the name of the village and then there was some pointing. Sometimes the pointing was accompanied with a lengthy explanation in Sesotho, some of which I understood only because of the associated hand gestures. My directions to my next destination appeared to come in two options. Option one. Backtrack some, go down to the river, follow the river, climb to some village, climb to another village then climb much higher over a pass to my destination, this sounds like no fun. Option two. Follow a curvy goat path, around the mountain and climb a little bit to my destination, sounds so much better, but the villagers discourage me because I think they fear me being lost.
I vote for the goat path, and it made my trip. It was truly a goat path and no one had taken it since the big snow a week before, there were no footprints man or beast. A goat path is a small foot path not unlike a deer trail in that it is very narrow and often is over grown with bushes above 1m. I happen to be more than 1m tall and my shoes happen to sink in the snow a few inches too much. Goat paths are awesome. So my feet got wet and cold, not like my shoes are waterproof anyways, and I was constantly ducking, crawling, and fighting branches. Goat paths are still awesome. I had some amazing views, and didn’t pass through any villages or even encounter a single human being all day. There were some stray goats. I crossed some small streams, iced over, and climbed a significant distance.. I would estimate 2000ft. I did eventually reach my destination and was thoroughly convinced the goat path was the superior route and would recommend it to the lodge people on my return.
It is kinda pretty, and very windy on top of the roof of africa.
My destination for the night was great and balls cold. There was traditional basotho beer, fermented over night from a corn sorghum mixture and even less intoxicating than the hated 3.2 of utah. I spent a few hours watching the slaughter of a pig, which I then shared in eating. And sometime in a hut drinking the sour watery beer. I also spent a few hours after dark in the pig cooking hut, not that it was a special hut, just that it happened to own the pig. Smoke like you wouldn’t believe. Imagine a hut, 15ft in diameter, round, with a thatched roof. Now open the door, the only orifice, and light a fire inside. I sat eyes, nostrils, sinii, and lungs a blaze and watched a bubbling cauldron of pig. Eventually I gnawed on what I think was a spare rib, as most of the actual meat was left to be butchered the following day. I then retired for more muesli, jerky and cookies. Lunch was always weet-bix and cheese. Weet-bix are wheat flakes semi compressed into bars and utterly tasteless.
Fueled by my luck and ego from the goat path choice, I elected to ditch the directions given by the lodge yet again for my return route. They had me going through several villages and around several mountains. After decending the pass I headed straight for the river. I had crossed a different river on my first day and knew that the current river eventually met the first. I followed the river all day until is confluence with the first river and it was well worth it. The upper reaches of the river were sensuously carved from the bedrock and spotted with excellent summer swimming holes and enthralling rapids. The lower reaches were bordered with maize and sorghum fields and flanked with sandstone cliffs strongly reminiscent of utah.
The whole way people were very surprised at my being alone and going so far without a horse. I got to talk to some school girls at one point and they were confused as to why I was walking and not using the vehicle or horse that I should have.
I am alive and smiling a bit this time. Note the snow/trail/ ice thing i am standing on. This was actually a heavily used pony path.
Now off to ZA for some art.
Lesotho!
After a late start I began solo on my three day journey to the Lesotho highlands. The lodge suggested I have a guide and tried to sell me on riding a pony rather than walking, both I declined. What is the use of a horse? It makes you sore in the ass and you still get tired. I would rather be tired and have a happy ass. Who needs a guide when you never leave civilization? Villages and shepards are always great sources of info for questions like which way to the village that is only 2 km away and you have probably been to every week. After asking directions many times and having several young boys voluntarily show me the way, I arrived at night fall or shortly there after at my first overnight location. I was promptly shown to a my hut for the evening and began my dinner of muesli, beef jerky and cookies.
A Basotho local in common winter garb, he is also wearing rubber irrigation boots called gum boots or gumbies. The blankets have unique to each group(tribe?) in Lesotho.
After a nice breakfast of cold oatmeal, muesli and cookies I began my short hike to see the famed water fall. An hour and many corn/ sorghum fields later I came to the cliff with the falling water. I could see that it fell more proliferatous in the wet season, as now it was a trickle.
After returning to my hut village, I began asking for directions to my next destination. I should clarify what asking for directions means. Most of the time it was me saying the name of the village and then there was some pointing. Sometimes the pointing was accompanied with a lengthy explanation in Sesotho, some of which I understood only because of the associated hand gestures. My directions to my next destination appeared to come in two options. Option one. Backtrack some, go down to the river, follow the river, climb to some village, climb to another village then climb much higher over a pass to my destination, this sounds like no fun. Option two. Follow a curvy goat path, around the mountain and climb a little bit to my destination, sounds so much better, but the villagers discourage me because I think they fear me being lost.
I vote for the goat path, and it made my trip. It was truly a goat path and no one had taken it since the big snow a week before, there were no footprints man or beast. A goat path is a small foot path not unlike a deer trail in that it is very narrow and often is over grown with bushes above 1m. I happen to be more than 1m tall and my shoes happen to sink in the snow a few inches too much. Goat paths are awesome. So my feet got wet and cold, not like my shoes are waterproof anyways, and I was constantly ducking, crawling, and fighting branches. Goat paths are still awesome. I had some amazing views, and didn’t pass through any villages or even encounter a single human being all day. There were some stray goats. I crossed some small streams, iced over, and climbed a significant distance.. I would estimate 2000ft. I did eventually reach my destination and was thoroughly convinced the goat path was the superior route and would recommend it to the lodge people on my return.
It is kinda pretty, and very windy on top of the roof of africa.
My destination for the night was great and balls cold. There was traditional basotho beer, fermented over night from a corn sorghum mixture and even less intoxicating than the hated 3.2 of utah. I spent a few hours watching the slaughter of a pig, which I then shared in eating. And sometime in a hut drinking the sour watery beer. I also spent a few hours after dark in the pig cooking hut, not that it was a special hut, just that it happened to own the pig. Smoke like you wouldn’t believe. Imagine a hut, 15ft in diameter, round, with a thatched roof. Now open the door, the only orifice, and light a fire inside. I sat eyes, nostrils, sinii, and lungs a blaze and watched a bubbling cauldron of pig. Eventually I gnawed on what I think was a spare rib, as most of the actual meat was left to be butchered the following day. I then retired for more muesli, jerky and cookies. Lunch was always weet-bix and cheese. Weet-bix are wheat flakes semi compressed into bars and utterly tasteless.
Fueled by my luck and ego from the goat path choice, I elected to ditch the directions given by the lodge yet again for my return route. They had me going through several villages and around several mountains. After decending the pass I headed straight for the river. I had crossed a different river on my first day and knew that the current river eventually met the first. I followed the river all day until is confluence with the first river and it was well worth it. The upper reaches of the river were sensuously carved from the bedrock and spotted with excellent summer swimming holes and enthralling rapids. The lower reaches were bordered with maize and sorghum fields and flanked with sandstone cliffs strongly reminiscent of utah.
The whole way people were very surprised at my being alone and going so far without a horse. I got to talk to some school girls at one point and they were confused as to why I was walking and not using the vehicle or horse that I should have.
I am alive and smiling a bit this time. Note the snow/trail/ ice thing i am standing on. This was actually a heavily used pony path.
Now off to ZA for some art.
posted by kejiesheng at 12:26 AM
3 Comments:
Can tell you liked it, possibly even enamored! Look forward to the pics when you have time.
i'm a little bit jealous of you and your travels, although i wonder if i should be.
glad you're having so much fun
You do manage to find the more remote corners of the world...or should I say tops. Quite the trek! Looking forward to pics and stories.
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