Lesotho is called Southern Africa’s ‘Kingdom in the sky’ for good reason. This stunningly beautiful, mountainous country is nestled island-like in the middle of South Africa. It came into being during the early 19th century when the Boers were expanding their influence and forcing the indigenous populations to migrate elsewhere. Under the leadership of the legendary king Moshoeshoe the Great, the Basotho people sought sanctuary and strategic advantage amid the forbidding terrain of the Drakenburg and Maluti Ranges. They have been holed up here ever since.

Lesotho Background: The CIA website says “Basutoland was renamed the Kingdom of Lesotho upon independence from the UK in 1966. The Basuto National Party ruled for the first two decades. Constitutional government was restored in 1993 after seven years of military rule. The National Assembly elections of February 2007 were hotly contested and aggrieved parties continue to dispute how the electoral law was applied to award proportional seats in the Assembly.” It is a parliamentary constitutional monarchy. The 1.9 million population has an average annual income of US$1600. 49% fall below the poverty level, 45% are unemployed and life expectancy is around 51 years. 80% are Christian.

This small, landlocked (an enclave of South Africa), and mountainous, country relies on remittances from miners employed in South Africa and customs duties from the Southern Africa Customs Union for the majority of government revenue. Completion of a major hydropower facility in January 1998 permitted the sale of water to South Africa and generated royalties for Lesotho. Lesotho produces about 90% of its own electrical power needs. As the number of mineworkers has declined steadily over the past several years, a small manufacturing base has developed based on farm products that support the milling, canning, leather, and jute industries, as well as a rapidly expanding apparel-assembly sector. Despite Lesotho's market-based economy being heavily tied to its neighbour South Africa, the US is an important trade partner because of the export sector's heavy dependence on apparel exports. Agriculture products: corn, wheat, pulses, sorghum, barley; livestock. Industries: food, beverages, textiles, apparel assembly, handicrafts, construction, tourism.

We were just doing a flying visit and my idea was to drive through the middle of it and back out into South Africa, but I had read that many roads were unsealed and un-passable without 4WD.

Passing around the outskirts of the busy capital of Maseru (pop 175,000), there were no road signs anywhere and I followed my nose until we reached the outskirts. I was still not sure, and decided to double back. At a traffic light, Wendy wound down her window and asked a driver for the road to the Mohale Dam. “Follow me” he said and did a U-turn and we headed back along the road we had just driven. We followed the guy for over 20 minutes. I was starting to think he was going to lead us all the way there, when we turned left onto another road and he pulled up outside an entrance. “Keep going down here” he said. When we offered him some money for the petrol, he smiled, rejected it and said ‘Don’t worry. I was coming here anyway”. It was a nice introduction to the country.

The road was lovely and smooth and undulating and at last, there were road signs to Katse Dam. We passed through small villages with the massive range of the Maluti mountains lying in the distance. We descended down to the foothills which was cultivated farmland with crops growing. Lesotho, apparently does not have any fences. Then it was through a small range and into another valley with the Maluti range looming ever larger, before us. The sky was covered in thick billowing clouds that slowly turned darker in colour. The villages thinned down and became hamlets and isolated shacks with thatched roofs. There were also hardly any vehicles on the road.

We started to climb up into the mountain range and found a herd of cattle being marched along the road. Then we were held up by a huge flock of sheep. The shepherds all wore long traditional woollen coats, jeans, boots and colourful headwear. The road twisted up and around hills, back down, flatten out and then twist up again. We passed a young child on a donkey waving a stick and covering himself from the sun with a red shawl. The climbing continued with our car’s poor engine struggling with the inclines and eventually arrived at a sign to indicate that we were at 2281m at ‘Lekhalo La Molimo Nthuse’ or ‘God Help Me Pass’ in English (what a great name). We were at double the height of the tallest mountain in the UK with a piss-poor little car.

Keeping our altitude, we passed though more ranges until the Mohale Lake was visible to our left down in a valley. It was a massive reservoir that filled multiple valleys between the mountains and was used to produce the hydroelectricity for South Africa. We rose up to the cloud level and on one bend we just saw clouds to our left. The mountain scenery was lovely, with massive green hills and rocky outcrops with the shadows of huge clouds on them. There was virtually no habitation except for occasional shacks and locals in traditional costume on horses or walking along the road.

The rainclouds broke and we had a brief downpour as we climbed towards Mokhoabong Pass. Then the lovely sealed road became unsealed. We had used over half our petrol straining up and down the hills and we hadn’t seen a garage since leaving the capital. The unsealed road was brutal on our car tyres. After 20km we stopped and discussed the situation. It was around 4.30pm and it had taken much longer than expected to get this far. There was no way we were going to reach the South African border before dark. We had more passes to cross and we did not have enough petrol to do it. More importantly, the road was atrocious. Our friendly guide at the start of the day had warned us that the heavy rains had ripped the roads apart and he didn’t think we’d get through with our car. After 20km of unsealed road, I agreed with him.

We decided to turn around, get back on the sealed road, look for a village with petrol and see where we could find to stay. There was another downpour and when the sun returned, the tarmac shined before us liked a silver ribbon wrapped around the mountains. Repeating the twisty curves, up and downs and everything we had seen before, we pulled into a ‘new’ complex near Mohale Lake, where we attempted to find petrol, but no-one wanted to know. They had a petrol pump but only for the locals. As we passed through each village we looked for a solitary petrol pump (they don’t have ‘westernised garages’). Eventually we found one and filled up. It was a real relief since we were down to a quarter of a tank. The hills really took a toll on fuel consumption.

I had looked up possible accommodation in Lesotho on the internet before the trip and had found the Trading Post Guest House just outside Roma. The petrol attendant told us Roma was only 20km down the road, so we returned to the ‘main road’ and took a left and found the Trading Post before dark. This lovely, relaxing place in a lush garden, 2km west of Roma off the Maseru road has been here since 1903. It was originally a white owning colonial house until 1950 when the owner died. Eventually it was turned into a guesthouse.

When we arrived, we were welcomed into the one story stone house by the black female housekeeper. The house was empty and we could choose our en suite room. The rooms were huge with old, worn but comfortable furniture. The housekeeper said someone would be back in the morning to cook our breakfast and left us to it. We were able to explore the rooms (all open), and sit in the lounge and relax. There was a ‘help yourself’ bar (where you just signed out what you drank) but we had our own supplies. We snacked on our road food and just soaked in the place. Wendy fell in love with this place and imagined wandering around in a long Victorian dress. It was authentic, original, rough and ready but with no pretensions. It had character and you could feel the ‘history’. When I popped back the car to pick something up, a ‘security guard’ was huddled against a wall protecting himself from the rain. I went to see him, made some conversation and felt very guilty that he was out there in the elements under his shawl, safeguarding the property and our car. But what can you do? There were other people staying there, but they had opted to stay in the more modern cabins and rondavels. They didn’t know what they were missing.

Wednesday January 12th – Lesotho/South Africa

By the time we awoke, the cook had laid the table in the ‘dining area’ overlooking the ‘English’ gardens and we filled up on a ‘fried breakfast’ and all the trimmings. After packing and a walk around the grounds, we bade farewell to the smiling cook and housekeeper who had worked there for 16 years. It had been a memorable stay and one of those places you’ll never forget. Recommended.

We returned back to the still busy, capital of Maseru, and found the road going north It was a little non descript after what we had experienced yesterday with towns such as Teyateyaneung and Maputsoe, and lots of traffic passing through the cultivated flat lands.

Arriving at a police check before Mapusoe, there was a ‘Stop sign. No-one was with the policeman when we arrived at the stop sign so I drove up to the him just to get grilling by him about how I had run a ‘stop sign’ (apparently, I should have stopped and waited for his command to proceed – like I gave a shit). He demanded to see my drivers licence etc. When he saw my age he commented “Just because you are my elder, does not allow you to break the law. You should be setting an example.” I then did my usual ‘tourist bleating episode’ about not understanding the law and that we had only advanced because we thought that was we thought we were supposed to do. I added, that we had driven over 9,000km before this point and that was what we had done at every other police check. He was angling for a bribe and we offered him our sweeties, which he took and eventually waved us on. I swore under my breath. Up to that point, Lesotho had been a great place, un-hassled, beautiful scenery, remote. Now we were back to the police looking for handouts.

We drove on to the South African border at Ficksburg, where we passed the stationary trucks and passed through the Lesotho immigration and customs check and then proceeded to the South African border.

Like Swaziland, we didn’t give Lesotho the attention it deserved. To do that, we would have needed a 4WD vehicle. But we got a glimpse of the place, enough to appreciate its beauty, but hardly any of its people. I don’t know if I will ever get back, but it is worth a visit if you happen to be in South Africa and want to see some proper mountains.