A little smaller than the state of Maryland, Lesotho is completely surrounded by South Africa but works hard to maintain its own identity and culture. Katie loves it in the "tiny mountain kingdom," which I think they should make their official national motto. In my one week stay, wow, did I see a lot of mountains!The first one I climbed (there were many) was Thaba-Bosiu, the former mountain fortress of their revered King Moshoeshoe. From its pinnacle you can see the conical-shaped Qiloane mountain, which has become the nation's most recognizable symbol, gracing both their flag (right) and my photo below.
We spent a day or two in the capital Maseru then headed out by car, traveling southeast deeper into the mountains. Not since canvassing the Blue Nile Gorge in Ethiopia had I seen landscape quite like this. Slow-going roads (pictured below) gave us plenty of time to take in the views on our way to Semonkong and the lovely lodge that awaited us there.
We arrived after about a five hour journey, and over the course of the stay did a bit more hiking and rode horses and donkeys (yes, donkeys, who were immensely more cooperative than the horses). We also "trained" for the big event -- abseiling down Maletsunyane Falls. So, I had been working the week prior coming to Lesotho and (confessionally) did little to no research on the fun-tivities Katie had planned for us, including abseiling, whatever that was. And when our "training" for this event consisted of a half-hour of repelling down a quiet three-story cliff face over a lovely stream, I thought "no problem!" A waterfall added in should be fun.
Bright and early the next morning I got my first glimpse of the falls -- all 630 feet of it! Who knew this was one of the largest waterfalls IN THE WORLD?! Not me. But there I was, harnessed in, geared up and vacillating between questioning my own sanity and sheer excitement.
Off I went, me and my safety rope, descending the height of a skyscraper, the roar of the water drowning out any apprehension and replacing it with adrenaline, the spray of the falls coating me and my red rain jacket from head to toe. As I fed the rope steadily through the carabiner, I looked only upward, feeling like I was glimpsing the inside of a hurricane.
At the bottom were cheers and high fives, followed by "short walk" out of the gorge we had just descended into. We were advised to leave our helmets on, and soon I knew why -- no hand-rails here, people, and barely even a footpath! After about two hours of teetering along the edges of cliffs and generally stumbling upward, we reached the top -- and all of that before my first cup of coffee.
It was an epic adventure and a forever reminder that extreme sports in Africa should be pursued with a fair amount of caution and deliberate inquiry. Our return trip to Maseru was yet another picturesque drive (see below), until the brakes in the SUV went out while rounding a curve... but that's another story. The important thing is, we all made it home in one piece.
