I traveled thru Lesotho with a hard boiled egg in my pocket...

... And the egg didn't even crack, so although it was rough, it couldn't have been that bad. I wonder if the concept of using a hard boiled egg as a 'barometer' of the ruggedness of a country could catch on?

It's been an inspiring last few days traveling out of Pretoria and into the Drakensberg Mountains and through Lesotho (pronounced Le-soo-too), the country surrounded by S. Africa (or as some say, on top of S. Africa, as the lowest point is 1,100m above sea level). The day I arrived in the Northern 'Drak' I opted not to waste any more time by the pool and did a quick hike with a Finnish lady to the beautiful Tiger Falls. After 5 minutes on the trail we had ran into a family of babboons which was a lot of fun.

The next day I went out on an all-day, fairly strenuous guided hike to one of the highest points in the Drak (~3100m), the Amphitheatre. It's called that because this 8-km long, 1000m high sheer cliff face forms a crescent that looks like, you guessed it, an amphitheatre. The weather that day was a mixed blessing; because the mountain was shrouded in fog, we missed the best vistas, but it did make for a really eerie experience, literally walking in the clouds. The hills in some areas were full of babboons. At one point we rounded a corner and either scared these guys or they were fighting amongst themselves - the ones we could see began to start screeching, which set off a chain reaction across the mountain with what I would estimate as 100's of babboons all having a bird. Because of the terrain, the echoes were absolutely haunting. What an amazing feeling that unfortunately can't be explained with words. Toward the end of the trail we had to climb down 2 25 metre chain ladders over fatal drops. Extremely exhilarating. I'll let my pictures do the rest of the talking on this.

Wanting to spend at least a few days in Lesotho just to say I was there, I joined another guided tour into the country the next day and had them drop me off there. Our first stop in this village of roughly 1,000 people was the elementary school. In this remote area of the country, visitors are not very common, so the kids absolutely loved us and were mesmerized by our digital cameras. They were so damn cute, begging to have their picture taken, and posing for the cam. Later in the day we made a quick hike to see some San Bushmen cave paintings that were thousands of years old. Unfortunately between being worn out and vandalized, my camera couldn't pick them up well. Another notable highlight was our stop for some pineapple beer, which they make out of sorghum. Wouldn't be half bad if it wasn't flat (they don't exactly have bottling facilities here, so the 14 tourists shared one giant cup.)

Next came a moment that will be burned into my mind forever - waving goodbye to the other tourists as I came to fully grasp the gravity of my situation. I'm in Lesotho, in a mountain farming village that is disconnected from the world, that has no electricity or plumbing, and I'm not even sure where I am. Shit...

But Damn what a great experience!!! My host Kabelo, the grade 7 teacher, took me for a little walk around the village to buy dinner (chicken), then we got into his mud hut with a thatched roof to cook. I got the feeling that he was one of the more wealthy individuals in the village as he actually had a gas stove, a bed, a linoleum floor and certain other trappings of 'civilization'. I have to say I had no freaking clue what I was doing when it came to making dinner as they do things slightly different 'round those parts. He had me break up the chicken with my hands - no problem. Now where do i wash my hands? Oh right, we just share the dirty rag. I walked around for the next 30 minutes feeling like an idiot for worrying about salmonella, but eventually got over it and, like the romans, ate with my dirty hands. We also cooked half a cabbage, which his wife pulled out of the garden (he had me water the cabbage patch after dinner... jealous?), and something called 'pabh', which is a very bland boiled maize meal that is eaten for all 3 meals, every day.

Washing the dishes was awesome. I used a basin, a bit of boiled water, and the same dirty chicken rag. And I'm still alive!!! After dinner I was pretty tired. Kabelo wanted to give me his nice hut with the double bed while he, his wife and his 9 month old baby slept in the spare hut on mats. I absolutely refused to displace his entire family and took the less luxurious second mud hut. I learned that the traditional floor in there was made from a mixture of ant hills and dried cow dung. I've never slept so well in my life, and I had some really great dreams to boot.

The next day I got into a 'taxi' - a minivan with 12 seats and 24 passengers, blaring African music - at 6am with Kabelo and his family and we made the 2 hour trek down what I suppose could loosely be called a 'road' (we had to fjord several small rivers) into town (Butha-Buthe). My host then kindly directed me to another bus that he assured me would take me to Sani Pass, through which I could get back into S. Africa and the Southern Drakensberg. Well 2 o'clock rolled around and my journey ended in a town called 'Mokhotlong', a place the lonely planet guide describes as a 'Wild West' town. Trying to get another taxi to Sani was futile so I hiked to the only hotel in town to regroup. I learned later that we had traveled about 150 km in 7 hours. Because it was hot I threw on some shorts and went out to do a bit of grocery shopping.

The shorts was a really bad idea. The staring was blatant and constant and I'm pretty sure I got called a homo a few times in the local language. I neglected to note on my way to the hotel that all of the men were wearing either pants or long blankets. I want to clarify, though, that the people were really nice and there was no malice in their actions - they were genuinely gobsmacked to see a white guy running around town. The group of about 20 school kids that started to follow me were fascinated with my appearance and mentioned that my 'English is so strange'. I locked myself in my hotel room until morning.

The next day I jumped in another taxi and made it all the way to the border. Somehow, I had neglected to get my passport stamped coming into Lesotho. I'm not sure if the border guard was joking when he threatened to arrest me for being in the country illegally, or if he was fishing for a bribe, but a few smiles and jokes later and I was across the border and coming down the Sani Pass, which you can see from the pictures is possibly one of the worst 3 roads in the entire universe. I think we averaged 0.5 km/hr, but wow what a view. Again, although I paid for the taxi to take me to a town in S. Africa called Underberg, the driver let everybody out at a crossroads near some ruins. Another taxi was on it's way in 30 minutes (2 hours, Africa time I'm sure), so I decided to walk to my hostel which was only 4 km down the road. Walking alone in the middle of nowhere on a beautiful day with some great tunes blasting on the ipod was a really uplifting experience. Arriving safely, I chilled by the pool (which I'm beginning to think is a mandatory fixture at hostels in this country). My horse riding for the next day was cancelled due to rain so I just hitched a ride with some dutch girls to Pietermaritzburg and then grabbed a 7 hour greyhound bus to Pretoria last night. I'm back at the paradise hostel and meeting Lesley tomorrow which I'm really pumped for. And now, as my milk is getting warm, I have to get back poolside. Talk to you all soon. Mike