JAmBer
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:thumleft:
Lovin' it!
Lovin' it!
Lesotho Tour - a picture & video story
- Thread starter Michiel
- Start date
Miles
Pack Dog
This made my day yesterday, great story and pictures.
Some days I could just pack all this life up and disapear on my bike never to be seen again, but we have to work and look after all that we have built up in life. :-\
Some days I could just pack all this life up and disapear on my bike never to be seen again, but we have to work and look after all that we have built up in life. :-\
CAR6850
Race Dog
:thumleft: :thumleft: :thumleft:
cloudgazer
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Awesome report. awesome pics.
Keep em coming.
Keep em coming.
Vatso!
Pack Dog
Nice report - hats off for stopping often, getting off the bike, taking off gloves etc. composing the picture, running back to the bike to be in the picture, going back to the camera, putting it back in the topbox/whatever, putting on the gloves, getting on the bike x five million times!
Michiel
Race Dog
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Vatso! said:
Glad you appreciate the effort we made... In retrospect I feel we should have made twice as many stops.
The pics are all that's left besides our memories. And now I can share the experience.
Thanks very much for the comments and compliments. I'm enjoying the responce as much as you are enjoying the story.
Michiel
Race Dog
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Day 6
Hilton, PMB to Katse (370km)
Having had them up till after 1am I don’t want to disturb my aunt too early and we only stir by 7am.
After a necessary breakfast we say our goodbyes, dankie Oom Tony & Tannie Annale, and hit the road.
Fast riding right back on the same tarred road to Sani we fill up at Himeville for in case Mokhotlong doesn’t
have fuel. Now we have to get back up Sani Pass.
With all the lose rock, climbing the steep turns won’t be easy but our fear is short lived for we manage to
ride all the way to the top without falling.
Being Christmas day I didn’t expect to see any other bikes on the pass but to my delight we find husband
and wife Lettie and Otto right in the middle. They are also on their way into Lesotho but only for the day.
By the time we leave Mokhotlong, our tanks filled to the brim, it’s already midday. We make fast progress
on tar heading towards Mapholaneng on the A1. The landscape is incredible, with the road turning, rising,
dipping and rising again. Steep inclines but at a good pace. Making a stop at some little supplies station we
are reminded of the dangers of these roads.
Just before we get to Mapholaneng the alternative road to Katse forks off to the left. With proper signs
indicating the way to Katse I feel confident that it shouldn’t be too difficult to get through this way.
The map though warns with “4x4 only” signs and from The Wes’s ride report
(https://wilddog.net.za/forum/index.php?topic=11097.40) I realise we should be aware.
This whole area feels like it must be in the middle of the mountain range, the plateau so to speak.
The valleys are wider and the peaks further apart.
By 2pm we reach our 1st fork in the road that doesn’t give away the direction to Katse. Luckily there is
someone living on the hillside so we stop to ask for directions. Ever since we 1st entered Lesotho passing
most villages the dogs would chase after John. This gentleman’s dog didn’t make an exception either but
luckily, sensing no threat, calmed quickly and settled down in the afternoon sun.
Having a closer look at the stonework of the hut I am amazed by the skill displayed in building such structure.
The builder meticulously joined the stone together in such a way creating a integrate puzzle, smaller stone
fitting the gaps between bigger ones. Inside his house is tidy and well decorated.
By the time we reach the missionary at Malingoaneng the road is in a deteriorating state. We get confused
again by another fork in the road and as I investigate I come across beautiful old stone buildings. The one
in the centre of the complex must be the chapel.
This is the last village to be reached by vehicle from this side of Lesotho and from here it is clear that the
track we are on is not being used by vehicles anymore.
Riding along the road, which best be called a track from here on, it offers up one after the other steep climb.
Imagine the steepest street in Bo-Kaap, narrow it down to 2-spoor, now cover it in rocks anything from the
size of a tennis ball to a soccer ball, add some sections of bare bedrock with steps 20-30cm high and lastly
throw in deep eroded dongas with a near vertical drop inches away. That’s what we’re riding now.
1st gear all the time.
Judging by the distance on the map, now that we know where we are, we realize we should have put aside
more time to cover this section of the journey. I feel a bit stressed because we will probably ride right until
dusk before reaching Katse but won’t mind making camp if we run even later than that, but John is being
consumed by his fears. Taking the lead he is starting to ride faster and faster. He doesn’t like the idea of
putting up tent in the unknown, he recons the Basotho will do us harm. Having been in Lesotho once before,
on my own, I understand his anxiety but at the same time know it’s unfound.
The idea is to make sure you just ask the local chief if you may put up tent and offer a small fee as sign
of gratitude. Moreneng means ‘place of the chief’, or at least that is what Otto said. By asking anyone: moreneng?
We should be pointed in the right direction…
For John logic now lies in keeping his eye on the GPS in front of him and hurrying along trying to close the
gap between two points. As we climb right on to another plateau, up up up, the road disappears for a
moment and we just trek across flat lawn like grass. Almost fun. Finding the faint track again we get to
another fork in the road…
Now I’m a bit lost. According to my map we should hook a right but I can’t be sure that the fork we’re
standing at is the one marked on my map. Time to ask the locals I’m thinking but there is no one around.
Ok, lets look at the GPS. No roads show up on the screen but if one looks at the direction of where we are
and where we want to be we should be going left. I don’t trust this GPS. The correct roads here sometimes
go in the incorrect direction just to cross a obstacle like a valley.
John makes the call, we’re going left. About a kilometre further, having already blundered down some
steep section of the track, my eye catch some boys standing in the distance. I decide to stop but John
is already so far in front that I can’t call him back. Calling the boys closer I ask about the road to Seshote.
They can't really speak English but understood me well enough to point out that we should have taken the
other road. Oh bloody hell! We’re already short on time and now John is speeding in the wrong direction!
Do I try to chase after him and risk crashing? For as long as he sees my headlight behind him he will keep
on speeding ahead. Or do I just stop here and wait till he realize I’m not coming and decide to turn around
and come to look for me? I think the answer is obvious.
While waiting I use the time to chat to the boys and they even go along with me taking some pictures.
They have about 7 dogs presumably helping them to take care of the sheep by fending off predators.
Surely the dogs are mostly companions in this lonely landscape. What must it be like to hang around the
mountain slopes guarding the sheep day after day after day for the years these boys are old? Imagine,
sitting there with just the wind blowing across the grass in a timeless eternity. What do they know about
our modern world?
Hearing his thumper in the distance I am relieved John has turned around but by the time he stops next
to me he is boiling with anger. “Why are you not coming? We are going to be late! Do you realize how far
I was when I had to turn back?” Suddenly the peace is broken. Reluctantly John follows me back to the
right road.
(In retrospect, having looked it up on Google Earth, I now know that John’s road would have taken us to
Katse never the less but it is much longer and a bit more difficult.)
Scaling yet another steep section of lose rock I feel my confidence slipping away and sure as hell lose control
of the bike. Jumping left and right I see in slow motion the front wheel rolling over the edge. In a desperate
move to gain control I keel over with a crack.
John, having anticipated I will have difficulty after he went up here first, comes running back to help pick
the bike up. We have to drag her away from the edge first though.
There is an village on the slope and before long a couple of spectators have gathered. One lady even kindly
help to roll away some of the biggest rocks to give me a clean start. This little incident has brought back
some camaraderie and as we leave behind yet another obstacle we ride side by side.
Progress is painfully slow. We can’t make any speed because the rocks are just pulverising the bikes.
At one point my eye catch the reflection of something flying off John’s bike. Stopping to see what it is
I realize a big chunk of his skid plate broke off. My skid plate is still whole but has torn out at one of the
mounting points.
The night has caught up with us. I’m not sure exactly where we are but at least the road is becoming
better again. With the last light fading fast we speed up a bit. For a moment John doesn’t concentrate
and end up going into a sideways skid because of some deep tracks. Right in front of me he falls,
scraping to a standstill. That’s it! Now he loses it. “F**K!” I think he got slightly hurt. Limping back to
the bike, which separated from him as they slid along, John is besides himself with anger and frustration.
I had my camera ready and quickly started to video the moment. Go have a look.
Back on two wheels again we ride along, now in the dark. It’s a bit scary because every settlement we
pass I can hear dogs chasing after us but I can’t see them. One barking right next to me on the embankment
give me such a fright I yank my leg up hitting it numb against the tank. These things are more like Hyenas!
Finally we come to the A8, a tarred road that will take us to Katse. I’m a bit disappointed that we’re riding
this in the dark because we can only see as far as our headlights shine and as we snake along mountain
passes I am dying with curiosity as to what the landscape looks like. Not having made any arrangements
for accommodation at Katse we waste more time trying to find a place to rest our weary bodies but at long
last John leads me into the Katse Lodge.
First things first, we need to eat! After a delicious dinner meal with Christmas special malva pudding at the
lodge restaurant we take the cheapest option for accommodation and book ourselves into some room in a
building with a communal bathroom. A quick shower and off to bed. Thank goodness, we made it!
Here are the videos corresponding to Day 6.
Hilton, PMB to Katse (370km)
Having had them up till after 1am I don’t want to disturb my aunt too early and we only stir by 7am.
After a necessary breakfast we say our goodbyes, dankie Oom Tony & Tannie Annale, and hit the road.
Fast riding right back on the same tarred road to Sani we fill up at Himeville for in case Mokhotlong doesn’t
have fuel. Now we have to get back up Sani Pass.
With all the lose rock, climbing the steep turns won’t be easy but our fear is short lived for we manage to
ride all the way to the top without falling.
Being Christmas day I didn’t expect to see any other bikes on the pass but to my delight we find husband
and wife Lettie and Otto right in the middle. They are also on their way into Lesotho but only for the day.
By the time we leave Mokhotlong, our tanks filled to the brim, it’s already midday. We make fast progress
on tar heading towards Mapholaneng on the A1. The landscape is incredible, with the road turning, rising,
dipping and rising again. Steep inclines but at a good pace. Making a stop at some little supplies station we
are reminded of the dangers of these roads.
Just before we get to Mapholaneng the alternative road to Katse forks off to the left. With proper signs
indicating the way to Katse I feel confident that it shouldn’t be too difficult to get through this way.
The map though warns with “4x4 only” signs and from The Wes’s ride report
(https://wilddog.net.za/forum/index.php?topic=11097.40) I realise we should be aware.
This whole area feels like it must be in the middle of the mountain range, the plateau so to speak.
The valleys are wider and the peaks further apart.
By 2pm we reach our 1st fork in the road that doesn’t give away the direction to Katse. Luckily there is
someone living on the hillside so we stop to ask for directions. Ever since we 1st entered Lesotho passing
most villages the dogs would chase after John. This gentleman’s dog didn’t make an exception either but
luckily, sensing no threat, calmed quickly and settled down in the afternoon sun.
Having a closer look at the stonework of the hut I am amazed by the skill displayed in building such structure.
The builder meticulously joined the stone together in such a way creating a integrate puzzle, smaller stone
fitting the gaps between bigger ones. Inside his house is tidy and well decorated.
By the time we reach the missionary at Malingoaneng the road is in a deteriorating state. We get confused
again by another fork in the road and as I investigate I come across beautiful old stone buildings. The one
in the centre of the complex must be the chapel.
This is the last village to be reached by vehicle from this side of Lesotho and from here it is clear that the
track we are on is not being used by vehicles anymore.
Riding along the road, which best be called a track from here on, it offers up one after the other steep climb.
Imagine the steepest street in Bo-Kaap, narrow it down to 2-spoor, now cover it in rocks anything from the
size of a tennis ball to a soccer ball, add some sections of bare bedrock with steps 20-30cm high and lastly
throw in deep eroded dongas with a near vertical drop inches away. That’s what we’re riding now.
1st gear all the time.
Judging by the distance on the map, now that we know where we are, we realize we should have put aside
more time to cover this section of the journey. I feel a bit stressed because we will probably ride right until
dusk before reaching Katse but won’t mind making camp if we run even later than that, but John is being
consumed by his fears. Taking the lead he is starting to ride faster and faster. He doesn’t like the idea of
putting up tent in the unknown, he recons the Basotho will do us harm. Having been in Lesotho once before,
on my own, I understand his anxiety but at the same time know it’s unfound.
The idea is to make sure you just ask the local chief if you may put up tent and offer a small fee as sign
of gratitude. Moreneng means ‘place of the chief’, or at least that is what Otto said. By asking anyone: moreneng?
We should be pointed in the right direction…
For John logic now lies in keeping his eye on the GPS in front of him and hurrying along trying to close the
gap between two points. As we climb right on to another plateau, up up up, the road disappears for a
moment and we just trek across flat lawn like grass. Almost fun. Finding the faint track again we get to
another fork in the road…
Now I’m a bit lost. According to my map we should hook a right but I can’t be sure that the fork we’re
standing at is the one marked on my map. Time to ask the locals I’m thinking but there is no one around.
Ok, lets look at the GPS. No roads show up on the screen but if one looks at the direction of where we are
and where we want to be we should be going left. I don’t trust this GPS. The correct roads here sometimes
go in the incorrect direction just to cross a obstacle like a valley.
John makes the call, we’re going left. About a kilometre further, having already blundered down some
steep section of the track, my eye catch some boys standing in the distance. I decide to stop but John
is already so far in front that I can’t call him back. Calling the boys closer I ask about the road to Seshote.
They can't really speak English but understood me well enough to point out that we should have taken the
other road. Oh bloody hell! We’re already short on time and now John is speeding in the wrong direction!
Do I try to chase after him and risk crashing? For as long as he sees my headlight behind him he will keep
on speeding ahead. Or do I just stop here and wait till he realize I’m not coming and decide to turn around
and come to look for me? I think the answer is obvious.
While waiting I use the time to chat to the boys and they even go along with me taking some pictures.
They have about 7 dogs presumably helping them to take care of the sheep by fending off predators.
Surely the dogs are mostly companions in this lonely landscape. What must it be like to hang around the
mountain slopes guarding the sheep day after day after day for the years these boys are old? Imagine,
sitting there with just the wind blowing across the grass in a timeless eternity. What do they know about
our modern world?
Hearing his thumper in the distance I am relieved John has turned around but by the time he stops next
to me he is boiling with anger. “Why are you not coming? We are going to be late! Do you realize how far
I was when I had to turn back?” Suddenly the peace is broken. Reluctantly John follows me back to the
right road.
(In retrospect, having looked it up on Google Earth, I now know that John’s road would have taken us to
Katse never the less but it is much longer and a bit more difficult.)
Scaling yet another steep section of lose rock I feel my confidence slipping away and sure as hell lose control
of the bike. Jumping left and right I see in slow motion the front wheel rolling over the edge. In a desperate
move to gain control I keel over with a crack.
John, having anticipated I will have difficulty after he went up here first, comes running back to help pick
the bike up. We have to drag her away from the edge first though.
There is an village on the slope and before long a couple of spectators have gathered. One lady even kindly
help to roll away some of the biggest rocks to give me a clean start. This little incident has brought back
some camaraderie and as we leave behind yet another obstacle we ride side by side.
Progress is painfully slow. We can’t make any speed because the rocks are just pulverising the bikes.
At one point my eye catch the reflection of something flying off John’s bike. Stopping to see what it is
I realize a big chunk of his skid plate broke off. My skid plate is still whole but has torn out at one of the
mounting points.
The night has caught up with us. I’m not sure exactly where we are but at least the road is becoming
better again. With the last light fading fast we speed up a bit. For a moment John doesn’t concentrate
and end up going into a sideways skid because of some deep tracks. Right in front of me he falls,
scraping to a standstill. That’s it! Now he loses it. “F**K!” I think he got slightly hurt. Limping back to
the bike, which separated from him as they slid along, John is besides himself with anger and frustration.
I had my camera ready and quickly started to video the moment. Go have a look.
Back on two wheels again we ride along, now in the dark. It’s a bit scary because every settlement we
pass I can hear dogs chasing after us but I can’t see them. One barking right next to me on the embankment
give me such a fright I yank my leg up hitting it numb against the tank. These things are more like Hyenas!
Finally we come to the A8, a tarred road that will take us to Katse. I’m a bit disappointed that we’re riding
this in the dark because we can only see as far as our headlights shine and as we snake along mountain
passes I am dying with curiosity as to what the landscape looks like. Not having made any arrangements
for accommodation at Katse we waste more time trying to find a place to rest our weary bodies but at long
last John leads me into the Katse Lodge.
First things first, we need to eat! After a delicious dinner meal with Christmas special malva pudding at the
lodge restaurant we take the cheapest option for accommodation and book ourselves into some room in a
building with a communal bathroom. A quick shower and off to bed. Thank goodness, we made it!
Here are the videos corresponding to Day 6.
Bakkie
Race Dog
:biggrin: farking classic dag... ek smaak John waar hy se "ek wil nou net huis toe gaan" :imaposer: jammer dat ek so lag maar dis dae soos die wat mens die beste onthou :thumleft:
Awesome RR ek gan bietjie sad wees as dit klaar is. Dis soos n goeie boek watse blaaie minder raak.
Awesome RR ek gan bietjie sad wees as dit klaar is. Dis soos n goeie boek watse blaaie minder raak.
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Great editing!
I know how long this takes.
Really good story, I want to go too now.
I know how long this takes.
Really good story, I want to go too now.
Beserker
Grey Hound
Michiel said:
And motivational...thank you.
bradleys
Race Dog
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- 7
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- Lake Side,Cape Town
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- KTM 640 Adventure
AWESOME :ricky:
MrBig
Grey Hound
"Is dit die plek waar ons gaan kamp vanaand?"
Lekker stir ook nog..
Excellent stuff Michiel - as always your reports are an absolute pleasure.
Thank you for putting in the effort!
Lekker stir ook nog..
Excellent stuff Michiel - as always your reports are an absolute pleasure.
Thank you for putting in the effort!
D
die vos
Guest
Maggies ek het so baie advies gekry oor my voornemende koop van 'n fiets en snaaksgenoeg is ek telkemale aanbeveel na die KLR 650 maar Michiel en John het bewys die goed val te maklik om 
Gee-S-rider
Pack Dog
Excellent ride report kerels! Well done on those rough tracks!
I need to get off my arse and post our Lesotho trip too.
I need to get off my arse and post our Lesotho trip too.
Bakkie
Race Dog
:laughing4:die vos said:Maggies ek het so baie advies gekry oor my voornemende koop van 'n fiets en snaaksgenoeg is ek telkemale aanbeveel na die KLR 650 maar Michiel en John het bewys die goed val te maklik om
Michiel
Race Dog
- Joined
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- Bloemfontein, Vrystaat
- Bike
- Kawasaki KLR 650
Day 7
Katse to Motsoanakaba (172km)
Last night’s ride seemed like a dream. It took us to this place under the veil of the blackest night. 1st thing as
my feet hit the floor beside my bed I rush to the window to have a look at what the view is like. Wow! I could
never have imagined.
The dam comes right up to the lodge as one would think it should but this is no ordinary dam, it’s Katse!
The water lies in a valley that snakes it’s way through the mountains.
Our accommodation reminds me more of my boarding school days than anything ells but hey, it’s a roof over our heads.
The morning is crisp and the day promises more adventure exploring Lesotho.
Today we will attempt riding all the way to Semonkong on a road that I’m not sure actually still exists but we
will try never the less. Having learnt our lesson yesterday we decide to get moving early not even wasting time
on having breakfast. We do stop though to get a good look at the dam and obviously take some pictures.
(The panoramas are courtesy of John.)
With only the nuts we received as a gift for Christmas and 2l of water between us we set off for the last full
day of riding Lesotho. The road from Katse to Thaba-Tseka is in good condition and we make fast progress.
In Thaba-Tseka we look for petrol but the station is all out, not even Paraffin! Riding this last section of the
route that I planned more than a year ago will depend on if we can find petrol. We have enough to make it
to Maseru but that will have to be on the straight road. Quietly I argue with myself. John had a tough day
yesterday and I can sense he would rather get back home to his girlfriend today still that blunder into another
difficult day of riding. On the other hand, we have so far been successful in riding the exact route we planned
and it would be a shame to give away the opportunity of a lifetime just because we are a little tired. We haven’t
made an chance yet to roll out our tents and camp. Semonkong would be the place we will do so.
The route I want to take will go off the main road from Mantsonyane via Auray and Seng to Semonkong.
Montsonyane being the last village that might have petrol. I decide that, given we find fuel in Mantsonyane,
it will be a sign we can safely ride the route I planned.
Riding on mountain ridges the road offers up dangerous potholes and rock sticking out of the otherwise
smooth surface. The landscape is all inspiring.
Stopping for more pictures it almost seem like the Swiss Alps here. Apart from the Basotho shepherds of course.
Them you only find here in the Mountain Kingdom.
Near Mantsonyane we come across what must be a wedding of some sort. These boys were literally bouncing
off the walls, correction, cliffs.
In Mantsonyane we find a guy washing his taxi. Here they have no tapped running water and have to resort to
parking the car in a stream and splashing it by hand.
A pleasant character he plays along and repeats the procedure until I have a good picture. Showing him the
result on the back of my digital camera he doesn’t seem as pleased as I am.
A quick search through the village and we actually find a petrol station with petrol! Our trusty steeds filled to
the brim I am happy for the sign I’ve been waiting for. Let’s ride!
John doesn’t share my enthusiasm. As we rode his mind also worked overtime but he decided to pray to God
and ask for a sign. According to John, God haven’t sent a sign yet.
I recon it be best we actually chat to the locals and find out about the possibility of travelling from here to
Semonkong. As we stand arguing about the matter a lady called Thato introduces herself. Seeing these two
helpless white blokes she offers to help as a translator. Thato lives in Maseru where she studies, English
amongst other subjects, at some school and is only on a visit to Mantsonyane to see her mother.
I guess you could say we chanced upon Thato. She doesn’t know the area that well but after asking around
on our behalf she breaks the news. “There is no road, only mountains…”
Damn it! I don’t want to give up now. I still want just a little more adventure. I am worried John will take this
as the sign from God but luckily he doesn’t become any more stubborn than he already is. I insist on having
more opinions. While John wait with the bikes Thato and I wander off into the village to look for a local 4x4
owner that occasionally travels past Auray to deliver supplies. We don’t manage to find him but do speak to
a couple of other villagers and now popular consensus is that we can travel the road.
Thato is concerned for our wellbeing and stress the fact that the road will be difficult but accepts that she
won’t be able to stop us from attempting to ride it. She does though point us to the local Police Post to get
yet more opinions. Taking her address I promise to mail some of the images I took of us.
Leaving the petrol station and Thato behind John follows me to a small building that is the Police Post right
on the edge of the village. Brushing past a prisoner, feet chained together standing in the doorway, we enter
a gloomy room barely bigger than a small bedroom. Inspector Makhetha sits behind his desk. Horse saddles
hanging from the wall, paperwork stacked into the corners. The television and DSTV decoder standing on the
far side seems out of place. He doesn’t get up and just points to the little wooden bench instructing us to take
a seat.
The long and the short is that the Inspector is also a newcomer to this area and have to resort to asking the
men with chained feet about the route we propose. They speak in a language we can’t understand but the
gestures are clear. A lot of pointing in the air, left and right and some forks in the road. Great!
John only want to know one thing: “what is the quality of the road?”
To which the Inspector responds: “I just asked these men and they say it is very drivable.”
Sweet, let’s take the plunge. I managed to persuade John and keep on nursing the mood by being very friendly.
It’s just gone midday.
The road to Auray is in good condition and we make two stops for pictures and one to take a leak.
John has relaxed and the spirit is high. Passing Auray we have to ask for directions as the road makes
a fork but have no problem in communication.
From here on the climbs and descents become steeper and steeper. Negotiating a steep downhill I foolishly
follow John closely and almost end up crashing into him when he slips into a donga and falls right in front of me.
Now the mood is all screwed up again and, like yesterday, John speeds ahead. Refusing to stop even for a rest
or drink of water. We haven’t had anything to eat today and I’m starting to feel weary.
Continuing to take time for video and pictures I end up falling so far behind a racing John that I don’t see him
for the next hour. Only his tracks in the mud surrounding the stream crossings reveal his direction. I think he is
back to trying to close the distance between the points on his GPS.
The road has now deteriorated to a track much worse than yesterday. At this stage all is still predominantly
downhill but I fear when the time come for climbing upwards again. Chances are that we are not even on the
right way anymore!
I finally catch up with John finding him at the bottom of an insanely steep and rocky descent. He lost control,
fell over and scraped to a standstill. Now I’m pretty startled too.
The hand gestures of those prisoners flash in front of me. All that pointing in the air must have meant:
“steep roads waiting for you silly bikers.” My dear Thato, we should have listened to you.
Deflating my tires to get more grip, I manage to make the descent without incident but having gone down
where I don’t think we will get up again we have inevitably gambled away the option of turning back in the
hope op the road becoming better.
Reaching a temporary flat section we ride past fields with mielies and through some boggy marshland. A horse
standing in the middle of nowhere makes for another obstacle as it is chained to the ground but the chain is so
long it races left and right being frightened by the bikes. Having made it so far I'm pleased but when I look further
ahead my heart races not from exitement but from fear.
Two ladies walking from one village to the other reassure us that we are indeed on the right track.
Short lived is our relief when yet another rocky decent blocks progress. This is insane! Engine switched off I
use the clutch as a rear brake and thus keep both feet on the ground. Easy does it. These rocks will smash
metal and flesh alike.
Rushing ahead again stubbornness makes John blunder down the wrong footpath and turning the bike around
against this slope takes both our strengths as well as that of two willing Basotho boys. John is not in a good
place right now. Fear and anger has taken over…
At this stage John really urge me to stop taking pictures and making videos because, as he explained, we are
in a situation of life and death and we should be concentrating on getting out of the mess I got us into in the
first place. I, on the other hand, only saw more photo opportunities and dramatic footage for my documentary…
I’m a very persistent photographer but John has strong methods of persuasion. Fearing to lose all the footage
I partially obey orders only sneaking out the camera when he can’t see it. Sooner than I’d hope I am caught
out though and now things turn a bit nasty…
I realize that further headstrongness on my side will only aggravate him, turning the day into a real crisis,
so from here I will be very obedient and helpful. As instructed I take the lead and head towards the last descent
before the river. The usual afternoon thunderstorms threatening from the North.
As we ride we can see across the gorge to the other side where towers the mountain we will have to get up.
The track is clearly visible but what concerns me is the sheer steepness of it! Unlike the usual mountain pass
that winds left and right up the slope this one has long sections that just shoot straight up. Like the roads we’ve
been on the last two days erosion has done it’s work leaving deep dongas and lots of lose rock.
I’m thinking, please John, lets make camp near the river and call it a day. We haven’t had anything to eat the
whole day and our water is used up. Tomorrow we can attack this section with new strength…
Cresting the last descent I see what must be a mirage.
Katse to Motsoanakaba (172km)
Last night’s ride seemed like a dream. It took us to this place under the veil of the blackest night. 1st thing as
my feet hit the floor beside my bed I rush to the window to have a look at what the view is like. Wow! I could
never have imagined.
The dam comes right up to the lodge as one would think it should but this is no ordinary dam, it’s Katse!
The water lies in a valley that snakes it’s way through the mountains.
Our accommodation reminds me more of my boarding school days than anything ells but hey, it’s a roof over our heads.
The morning is crisp and the day promises more adventure exploring Lesotho.
Today we will attempt riding all the way to Semonkong on a road that I’m not sure actually still exists but we
will try never the less. Having learnt our lesson yesterday we decide to get moving early not even wasting time
on having breakfast. We do stop though to get a good look at the dam and obviously take some pictures.
(The panoramas are courtesy of John.)
With only the nuts we received as a gift for Christmas and 2l of water between us we set off for the last full
day of riding Lesotho. The road from Katse to Thaba-Tseka is in good condition and we make fast progress.
In Thaba-Tseka we look for petrol but the station is all out, not even Paraffin! Riding this last section of the
route that I planned more than a year ago will depend on if we can find petrol. We have enough to make it
to Maseru but that will have to be on the straight road. Quietly I argue with myself. John had a tough day
yesterday and I can sense he would rather get back home to his girlfriend today still that blunder into another
difficult day of riding. On the other hand, we have so far been successful in riding the exact route we planned
and it would be a shame to give away the opportunity of a lifetime just because we are a little tired. We haven’t
made an chance yet to roll out our tents and camp. Semonkong would be the place we will do so.
The route I want to take will go off the main road from Mantsonyane via Auray and Seng to Semonkong.
Montsonyane being the last village that might have petrol. I decide that, given we find fuel in Mantsonyane,
it will be a sign we can safely ride the route I planned.
Riding on mountain ridges the road offers up dangerous potholes and rock sticking out of the otherwise
smooth surface. The landscape is all inspiring.
Stopping for more pictures it almost seem like the Swiss Alps here. Apart from the Basotho shepherds of course.
Them you only find here in the Mountain Kingdom.
Near Mantsonyane we come across what must be a wedding of some sort. These boys were literally bouncing
off the walls, correction, cliffs.
In Mantsonyane we find a guy washing his taxi. Here they have no tapped running water and have to resort to
parking the car in a stream and splashing it by hand.
A pleasant character he plays along and repeats the procedure until I have a good picture. Showing him the
result on the back of my digital camera he doesn’t seem as pleased as I am.
A quick search through the village and we actually find a petrol station with petrol! Our trusty steeds filled to
the brim I am happy for the sign I’ve been waiting for. Let’s ride!
John doesn’t share my enthusiasm. As we rode his mind also worked overtime but he decided to pray to God
and ask for a sign. According to John, God haven’t sent a sign yet.
I recon it be best we actually chat to the locals and find out about the possibility of travelling from here to
Semonkong. As we stand arguing about the matter a lady called Thato introduces herself. Seeing these two
helpless white blokes she offers to help as a translator. Thato lives in Maseru where she studies, English
amongst other subjects, at some school and is only on a visit to Mantsonyane to see her mother.
I guess you could say we chanced upon Thato. She doesn’t know the area that well but after asking around
on our behalf she breaks the news. “There is no road, only mountains…”
Damn it! I don’t want to give up now. I still want just a little more adventure. I am worried John will take this
as the sign from God but luckily he doesn’t become any more stubborn than he already is. I insist on having
more opinions. While John wait with the bikes Thato and I wander off into the village to look for a local 4x4
owner that occasionally travels past Auray to deliver supplies. We don’t manage to find him but do speak to
a couple of other villagers and now popular consensus is that we can travel the road.
Thato is concerned for our wellbeing and stress the fact that the road will be difficult but accepts that she
won’t be able to stop us from attempting to ride it. She does though point us to the local Police Post to get
yet more opinions. Taking her address I promise to mail some of the images I took of us.
Leaving the petrol station and Thato behind John follows me to a small building that is the Police Post right
on the edge of the village. Brushing past a prisoner, feet chained together standing in the doorway, we enter
a gloomy room barely bigger than a small bedroom. Inspector Makhetha sits behind his desk. Horse saddles
hanging from the wall, paperwork stacked into the corners. The television and DSTV decoder standing on the
far side seems out of place. He doesn’t get up and just points to the little wooden bench instructing us to take
a seat.
The long and the short is that the Inspector is also a newcomer to this area and have to resort to asking the
men with chained feet about the route we propose. They speak in a language we can’t understand but the
gestures are clear. A lot of pointing in the air, left and right and some forks in the road. Great!
John only want to know one thing: “what is the quality of the road?”
To which the Inspector responds: “I just asked these men and they say it is very drivable.”
Sweet, let’s take the plunge. I managed to persuade John and keep on nursing the mood by being very friendly.
It’s just gone midday.
The road to Auray is in good condition and we make two stops for pictures and one to take a leak.
John has relaxed and the spirit is high. Passing Auray we have to ask for directions as the road makes
a fork but have no problem in communication.
From here on the climbs and descents become steeper and steeper. Negotiating a steep downhill I foolishly
follow John closely and almost end up crashing into him when he slips into a donga and falls right in front of me.
Now the mood is all screwed up again and, like yesterday, John speeds ahead. Refusing to stop even for a rest
or drink of water. We haven’t had anything to eat today and I’m starting to feel weary.
Continuing to take time for video and pictures I end up falling so far behind a racing John that I don’t see him
for the next hour. Only his tracks in the mud surrounding the stream crossings reveal his direction. I think he is
back to trying to close the distance between the points on his GPS.
The road has now deteriorated to a track much worse than yesterday. At this stage all is still predominantly
downhill but I fear when the time come for climbing upwards again. Chances are that we are not even on the
right way anymore!
I finally catch up with John finding him at the bottom of an insanely steep and rocky descent. He lost control,
fell over and scraped to a standstill. Now I’m pretty startled too.
The hand gestures of those prisoners flash in front of me. All that pointing in the air must have meant:
“steep roads waiting for you silly bikers.” My dear Thato, we should have listened to you.
Deflating my tires to get more grip, I manage to make the descent without incident but having gone down
where I don’t think we will get up again we have inevitably gambled away the option of turning back in the
hope op the road becoming better.
Reaching a temporary flat section we ride past fields with mielies and through some boggy marshland. A horse
standing in the middle of nowhere makes for another obstacle as it is chained to the ground but the chain is so
long it races left and right being frightened by the bikes. Having made it so far I'm pleased but when I look further
ahead my heart races not from exitement but from fear.
Two ladies walking from one village to the other reassure us that we are indeed on the right track.
Short lived is our relief when yet another rocky decent blocks progress. This is insane! Engine switched off I
use the clutch as a rear brake and thus keep both feet on the ground. Easy does it. These rocks will smash
metal and flesh alike.
Rushing ahead again stubbornness makes John blunder down the wrong footpath and turning the bike around
against this slope takes both our strengths as well as that of two willing Basotho boys. John is not in a good
place right now. Fear and anger has taken over…
At this stage John really urge me to stop taking pictures and making videos because, as he explained, we are
in a situation of life and death and we should be concentrating on getting out of the mess I got us into in the
first place. I, on the other hand, only saw more photo opportunities and dramatic footage for my documentary…
I’m a very persistent photographer but John has strong methods of persuasion. Fearing to lose all the footage
I partially obey orders only sneaking out the camera when he can’t see it. Sooner than I’d hope I am caught
out though and now things turn a bit nasty…
I realize that further headstrongness on my side will only aggravate him, turning the day into a real crisis,
so from here I will be very obedient and helpful. As instructed I take the lead and head towards the last descent
before the river. The usual afternoon thunderstorms threatening from the North.
As we ride we can see across the gorge to the other side where towers the mountain we will have to get up.
The track is clearly visible but what concerns me is the sheer steepness of it! Unlike the usual mountain pass
that winds left and right up the slope this one has long sections that just shoot straight up. Like the roads we’ve
been on the last two days erosion has done it’s work leaving deep dongas and lots of lose rock.
I’m thinking, please John, lets make camp near the river and call it a day. We haven’t had anything to eat the
whole day and our water is used up. Tomorrow we can attack this section with new strength…
Cresting the last descent I see what must be a mirage.
Michiel
Race Dog
- Joined
- Jul 4, 2008
- Messages
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- Location
- Bloemfontein, Vrystaat
- Bike
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I see two 4x4’s with white people. What the f**k! I must be dreaming. The bike stays at the top while I run
towards the cars, large raindrops starting to saturate the earth.
Praat julle Afrikaans? I can’t express my relief in English. Dankie tog!
Two families from Pretoria, hardy 4x4 enthusiasts, decided to take on this road but only from the other side
going towards the North. Hello, what does the road look like? How long to Semonkong? We need to get out
of this place because I’m responsible for getting us down here.
The response is as feared. It took them the whole day to get this far having left Semonkong this morning.
Just the last two kilometres took them two hours! The road is covered in lose rock and so steep they partially
lost control of the vehicles during descent. The wives and children had to get out and look on while the men
struggled to get the cars down safely. Bursting into tears when things got too tense.
All is ok now and for me the sound of a familiar language brings a feeling of relief and ease. They recon we
have no chance at getting up the mountain, in fact, they are pushing ahead because they themselves won’t
get back up there. I shake my head in disbelief, what are we doing blundering down where we can’t get back up?
I am sceptical if they will make it the way John and I came but they seem pretty confident. The decision was easy.
We will stick together and make camp at the 1st village back on top of the Mountain. This meant though we will
have to ride back up where we struggled so much to come down.
Leading the way the 4x4s make their way up the ridge with John just behind them. I take a moment to reflect
on the coincidence that just happened but regret the fact that we’re not going further towards the river. I would
have liked to make camp there for the night…
The 4x4s make it look so easy. They just slowly crawl up the track, stopping to roll some boulders, inching their way up.
For myself and John it’s a different matter. The worst sections of the track is narrow and right next to a sheer drop to
the stream below. If one lose control of the bike it can easily jump over the side.
The problem facing us is that the track is too steep and the surface too lose to allow riding up it slowly. The bikes just
get stuck, wheel spinning around in the rocks. You have to have momentum but once on the roll the bike jumps so
violently over the surface it makes for a hairy experience.
The Dogs I ride with in Cape Town would advise me to “stand up and open up” and although this technique works
exceptionally well when we fool around in the dunes the Lesotho rocks make for a different story all together.
Here a aggressive attitude might send you over a cliff or disembowel the bike on a rock. Easy does it. Little throttle,
little momentum and just keep it steady to ensure traction.
John opted for walking beside the bike, push-riding it up, while I hold on to the other side ensuring she stays upright.
It works but takes a lot of energy. At one stage we almost go over the side anyway! John’s temper is about as jumpy
as the beast we’re trying to wrestle up the track. Once through the worst section John gets back in the saddle and I
give him a last push for momentum as he rides further up. Limping back to my bike, completely exhausted from the
exercise, I’m thinking John will park his bike at the top and come down to help me but a while later I faintly hear him
shout from the top.
Bloody hell, what is the matter now? Back up I go… My body is protesting, I’m totally exhausted, I’m crawling with no shame…
Once in sight of John he explains that some Basotho has gathered round his bike and in fear of them stealing his stuff he
can’t come to help me…
I will have to ride my bike up with no help. Sure I deserve punishment but hell?
Having had nothing to eat and only 1L of water to drink my body doesn’t want to cooperate anymore. 3 Chappies for energy
will have to do. With the beast between my legs I take a deep breath and launch forward. Dodging the biggest rocks I hang
on for dear life, front wheel bouncing, aaaaaaah. I bloody made it!
Ok, now only one more section, that place where John fell and slid to the bottom, and we’re on top. Here at least some
Basotho boys helps to push me when I run out of momentum.
I wish I could say it’s my skill that helped me ride but to be honest I think I was just very lucky not to crash badly.
We are on top! The family’s have already started to set up camp. John has calmed down and doesn’t seem to be too worn-out.
I on the other hand am totally f***ed, finish en klaar!
In an effort to conserve energy John suggests we only put up his 4-man tent. I agree…
For the rest of the day and the next I will say yes to everything John propose. I really feel guilty for being so
stubborn and dragging us down into the valley. What an awesome adventure though!
Kobus and Jesse, Nelius and Sonet. The two families take us in like their own, their children treating us like
older brothers. After I recovered I wander off to take one more picture of the Mountain that we didn’t even try to conquer.
Realising we are so high up that I actually have a cell phone signal I offer John phone his folks just to say all is ok.
I had roaming activated during my last visit to the country.
The view all round have me a loss for words. Thunder and lightning in the distance. The absolute peace you can’t imagine.
What a spot to camp!
The kids following us on to the hill I use the opportunity to take some sunset photo’s of them.
This lady heard Kobus and Jesse's baby cry and came to have a look insisting on seeing the child.
She must love kids or something.
The night is spent hearing stories of adventure as Kobus and Nelius regurlarly take their families into the wild
and unknown. With no compromise to comfort we enjoy a lekker braai with pap en wors.
From our side we can only contribute the nuts we received for Christmas but from all the shaking on the bike
it turned into a peanut buttery paste! The kids loved it!
Unlike my usual self I crawl into my sleeping bag dirty clothes and sweaty stinky body I can’t care.
Good night John, I should apologize for putting you in such a bad situation. I didn't realize the day would turn
as it did. We slept the night soundly apart from the unfortunate noise of Kobus’s generator to supply the fridges
with power. Pity.
Here are the videos corresponding to Day 7.
towards the cars, large raindrops starting to saturate the earth.
Praat julle Afrikaans? I can’t express my relief in English. Dankie tog!
Two families from Pretoria, hardy 4x4 enthusiasts, decided to take on this road but only from the other side
going towards the North. Hello, what does the road look like? How long to Semonkong? We need to get out
of this place because I’m responsible for getting us down here.
The response is as feared. It took them the whole day to get this far having left Semonkong this morning.
Just the last two kilometres took them two hours! The road is covered in lose rock and so steep they partially
lost control of the vehicles during descent. The wives and children had to get out and look on while the men
struggled to get the cars down safely. Bursting into tears when things got too tense.
All is ok now and for me the sound of a familiar language brings a feeling of relief and ease. They recon we
have no chance at getting up the mountain, in fact, they are pushing ahead because they themselves won’t
get back up there. I shake my head in disbelief, what are we doing blundering down where we can’t get back up?
I am sceptical if they will make it the way John and I came but they seem pretty confident. The decision was easy.
We will stick together and make camp at the 1st village back on top of the Mountain. This meant though we will
have to ride back up where we struggled so much to come down.
Leading the way the 4x4s make their way up the ridge with John just behind them. I take a moment to reflect
on the coincidence that just happened but regret the fact that we’re not going further towards the river. I would
have liked to make camp there for the night…
The 4x4s make it look so easy. They just slowly crawl up the track, stopping to roll some boulders, inching their way up.
For myself and John it’s a different matter. The worst sections of the track is narrow and right next to a sheer drop to
the stream below. If one lose control of the bike it can easily jump over the side.
The problem facing us is that the track is too steep and the surface too lose to allow riding up it slowly. The bikes just
get stuck, wheel spinning around in the rocks. You have to have momentum but once on the roll the bike jumps so
violently over the surface it makes for a hairy experience.
The Dogs I ride with in Cape Town would advise me to “stand up and open up” and although this technique works
exceptionally well when we fool around in the dunes the Lesotho rocks make for a different story all together.
Here a aggressive attitude might send you over a cliff or disembowel the bike on a rock. Easy does it. Little throttle,
little momentum and just keep it steady to ensure traction.
John opted for walking beside the bike, push-riding it up, while I hold on to the other side ensuring she stays upright.
It works but takes a lot of energy. At one stage we almost go over the side anyway! John’s temper is about as jumpy
as the beast we’re trying to wrestle up the track. Once through the worst section John gets back in the saddle and I
give him a last push for momentum as he rides further up. Limping back to my bike, completely exhausted from the
exercise, I’m thinking John will park his bike at the top and come down to help me but a while later I faintly hear him
shout from the top.
Bloody hell, what is the matter now? Back up I go… My body is protesting, I’m totally exhausted, I’m crawling with no shame…
Once in sight of John he explains that some Basotho has gathered round his bike and in fear of them stealing his stuff he
can’t come to help me…
I will have to ride my bike up with no help. Sure I deserve punishment but hell?
Having had nothing to eat and only 1L of water to drink my body doesn’t want to cooperate anymore. 3 Chappies for energy
will have to do. With the beast between my legs I take a deep breath and launch forward. Dodging the biggest rocks I hang
on for dear life, front wheel bouncing, aaaaaaah. I bloody made it!
Ok, now only one more section, that place where John fell and slid to the bottom, and we’re on top. Here at least some
Basotho boys helps to push me when I run out of momentum.
I wish I could say it’s my skill that helped me ride but to be honest I think I was just very lucky not to crash badly.
We are on top! The family’s have already started to set up camp. John has calmed down and doesn’t seem to be too worn-out.
I on the other hand am totally f***ed, finish en klaar!
In an effort to conserve energy John suggests we only put up his 4-man tent. I agree…
For the rest of the day and the next I will say yes to everything John propose. I really feel guilty for being so
stubborn and dragging us down into the valley. What an awesome adventure though!
Kobus and Jesse, Nelius and Sonet. The two families take us in like their own, their children treating us like
older brothers. After I recovered I wander off to take one more picture of the Mountain that we didn’t even try to conquer.
Realising we are so high up that I actually have a cell phone signal I offer John phone his folks just to say all is ok.
I had roaming activated during my last visit to the country.
The view all round have me a loss for words. Thunder and lightning in the distance. The absolute peace you can’t imagine.
What a spot to camp!
The kids following us on to the hill I use the opportunity to take some sunset photo’s of them.
This lady heard Kobus and Jesse's baby cry and came to have a look insisting on seeing the child.
She must love kids or something.
The night is spent hearing stories of adventure as Kobus and Nelius regurlarly take their families into the wild
and unknown. With no compromise to comfort we enjoy a lekker braai with pap en wors.
From our side we can only contribute the nuts we received for Christmas but from all the shaking on the bike
it turned into a peanut buttery paste! The kids loved it!
Unlike my usual self I crawl into my sleeping bag dirty clothes and sweaty stinky body I can’t care.
Good night John, I should apologize for putting you in such a bad situation. I didn't realize the day would turn
as it did. We slept the night soundly apart from the unfortunate noise of Kobus’s generator to supply the fridges
with power. Pity.
Here are the videos corresponding to Day 7.
hennielowe
Race Dog
i am reading this and i am getting more and more excited about our trip on the 5th, great report keep it coming!!!
:ricky: :ricky: :ricky: :ricky:
:ricky: :ricky: :ricky: :ricky:
