Lesotho Travel Report

Trekking from Semonkong to Malealea

We left at around 11.00 for the drive through the spectacular mountains to Semonkong ; Mo and Chris came along as well on a day trip and planned to return with Ashley back to Roma later that afternoon. The dirt road twisted and weaved its way up into the mountains passing through the villages of Nyakosoba, Moitsupeli and Ramabanta. Ramabanta is in the Makhaleng River valley and from here we left behind all traces of civilisation as the road climbed out of the valley and around mountains whose southern slopes we covered in ice and snow. We crossed desolate, windswept alpine plateaus covered in low heath-type vegetation, mostly heathers dominated by Erica and Helichrysum species. In the middle of winter the landscape looked very bleak and inhospitable. We stopped briefly at the highest pass. The wind was howling across the tops of the mountains and behind us the mountains were all covered in snow; it was difficult to stand on your feet in this powerful gale. Ahead of us the road lead down and on to Semonkong on a plateau. After driving through this breathtaking mountain scenery I knew that I could not leave this country without spending some time trekking through the mountains.

During the drive through the mountains Ashley told us about the current situation in the country with the looming famine that has been sweeping across the south of this continent. The situation in Lesotho was becoming critical and last years harvest will only last through to August, which is the start of the next growing season. The problem in Lesotho was slightly different though to countries like Zambia and Malawi where drought has caused the crop failure. Here there was too much rain during the planting season and many of the fields could not be ploughed and sowed, the ones that were had seed washed away. Maize is being imported from South Africa but the nature of market economics has meant that the price of maize has almost doubled since last year. Ashley has already found that staff are pilfering stock from his trading posts, but in the situation the people are in here he says it is only to be expected.

Semonkong in the local language means 'Place of Smoke' and is named because of the nearby Maletsunyane Falls, also known as Lebihan Falls after the French missionary who first reported the falls in 1881. Semonkong is a small sprawling town on the plateau and really felt like a frontier town. Everywhere there were men on horseback, clad in their traditional kobo riding through the town. Outside the shops would be a row of horses tied up. Shepherds herded goats, sheep and cattle along the streets and donkeys would wander past on their own carrying sacks of maize. The buildings were low and spread apart, the roads dirt, the dust blowing in the wind. It was also cold at this altitude surrounded by mountains and the first thing I bought when I arrived in town was a woolly hat. Looking at the scenes around the town I doubt that they had changed much over the past one hundred years, we had arrived in an outlying mountain town, hardly touched by the modern world.

Ashley stopped at his trading post in the town, which only stocked maize, before dropping us at the Semonkong Lodge, which sits in a small gorge beside the Maletsunyane River. We dropped our luggage off quickly and Ashley gave us a lift to the Maletsunyane Falls, which are about 5km south of Semonkong. He dropped us off there and drove off to his other trading post in the area and arranged to pick us up again in about an hour and a half. The falls were spectacular and drop 192m in a single vertical drop; this allegedly makes them the highest waterfall in Southern Africa. The gorge that the Maletsunyane River cascades down into is huge and cuts a giant swathe across the landscape. The noise of the water thundered as it hit the large plunge pool deep in the gorge; spray from the falls had frozen to the rocks on either side, occasionally a large chunk of ice would break away and tumble onto the rocks below. It was very cold, an icy wind was blowing and the sun did very little to warm us as we sat at the edge of the gorge marvelling at this natural wonder. We presently walked back up the hill to wait for Ashley to come past and pick us up; we hoped that the walk would warm us up. We didn't have to wait long beside this deserted road before Ashley drove past earlier than expected and dropped us back in Semonkong.

By now Rebecca and myself had decided that, depending on the weather, we would trek to Malealea, about 50km to the west of Semonkong through the Thaba Putsoa Range of mountains. We had planned to visit this village and now the opportunity to trek through these mountains seemed like an option we could not miss. Mo and Chris were also travelling to Malealea and we hoped to meet them again there in a few days time at the end of our trek. Therefore, we said goodbye as they returned to Roma with Ashley and we walked through the town and back to the lodge in its peaceful location beside the river.

The Semonkong Lodge was a very comfortable and homely place to stay. It was a fairly large place with rondavels along the banks of the river and up the steep sides of the valley. I think we were the only guests staying there that night and we made ourselves at home in the cosy, thatched pub and restaurant, keeping warm by the fire. The electricity was not all that reliable, despite a new hydro generator installed in the Maletsunyane River to supply the whole town. We spent a lot of the evening with just candles for light. The owner of the lodge arrived during the evening and we discussed our plan to trek to Malealea. Through him we organised a guide and a packhorse; as we would not be returning to Semonkong we needed to carry our entire luggage as well as food for the three days across the mountains. The owner also lent us a spirit stove and a couple of sleeping mats for the journey. We paid about ZAR500 each for the trip; this included the horse, money to pay for accommodation in the villages along the way and for the guide, including his return walk to Semonkong.

It was a cold nights sleep in our rondavel and the fire we had lit that evening didn't do much to keep the night chill away. We had a busy couple of hours first thing in the morning buying supplies for our trip. The morning air was cold and crisp, puddles alongside the road were frozen and the grass was covered in frost. An early morning mist soon burnt off as the sun rose above the mountains. The dog at the lodge followed us all around town that morning as we visited a handful of stores, everyone looked at us as we walked along the aisles of the basic supermarkets, the dog following closely at out heels. We just shrugged and said it's not our dog, but still he followed us. The selection in the shops was fairly much what we expected, very basic but we found enough suitable food to take on our trek. When we returned, still with the dog at our heels, back to the lodge, there was a horse tied up outside. We met our guide called Sofargo (spelt phonetically) but in the local language meaning Hail and our horse called Star, which I can't remember in Basotho, I just called him Dobbin. Once we had loaded our packs and supplies of food onto the horse we began our long trek through the mountains.

The weather had again turned out perfect and the sky was clear and deep blue, the sun shining brightly as we walked out of Semonkong, across the dirt road to Maletsunyane Falls and along a valley heading west. As we followed the path up through the valley we passed many people on horseback heading down to Semonkong. As we reached a plateau above the valley it felt cold and I put on my fleece as the cold wind blew off the surrounding mountains. Behind us we could see Semonkong sprawling in the valley, I wish I could of stayed longer in this remote, frontier town. Behind the town on the horizon the Maluti Mountains stood majestically capped in snow; I could see why they call this country the Kingdom in the Sky, the mountain views were breathtaking. The path wound it's way into the mountains passing small villages, all the round huts were built traditionally out of stone and thatch. The walking was not too difficult although Dobbin, the packhorse, didn't seem the most energetic of horses I had ever seen and was in fact fairly stupid and lazy and farted at every hill we had to climb.

We walked up through a high pass, snow lying in the sheltered places along the path and covering the southern slopes of the mountains. From here we dropped down into a valley where there were a couple of small villages. There was also a river to cross in this valley and no bridge; it wasn't too deep and we took off our boots, rolled up our trousers and waded through. The water came about halfway up to our knees, it was freezing cold and the rocks slippery; by the time we reached the other side our feet felt like ice-cubes. Sofargo, our guide, stopped briefly at one of these villages to have a smoke. We sat on a grassy slope admiring the views and watching village life. The children were curious at who we were and would stand and stare at us. None of them would ask for sweets or money, a problem we had found in most of the rest of the country. We were a long way from normal civilisation and the usual places tourists visit.