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Published: June 26th 2006
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Dani on the hitch
Just before one arm willy picked us up! After again finding our little t/a shop for more fatcakes and juice we discussed the different options available to us for todays travel. We could either go further south to yesterdays intended destination, Malealea, or we could head north to Maseru and the border. Both options had their pros and cons. Specifically, heading to Malealea would mean further backtracking to where we wanted to exit Lesotho, and heading to Maseru and the border would mean it was most likely our last day in our newly beloved Lesotho. In the end we decided to stand on the side of the road and see what happened. We only waited a minute or two before the first mini bus pulled up. It was going all the way to Maseru and even though we could have got out at the junction of yesterdays road going south, our decision was made. Whether we knew it or not it was Sunday morning and everyone was decked out in their Sunday best going to Church. We passed congregation after congregation all the while listening to a sermon and celebration in Sesuthi at decibels louder than any night club we'd ever been to. Along the way we met an
Mohokane River
Crossing the border from Lesotho to S.A. where heaps of guys were sitting in no mans land selling and smoking spliffs! American Peacekeeper and once in Maseru she took us to our next mini bus going to the Maseru Bridge border. Once again we thanked our guardian angels for meeting someone so willing to help us. The border was only a few km away and before we knew it we'd crossed the Mohokane River and were now standing in a mammoth line waiting to re enter S.A. After half an hour of waiting a new line was formed and we scrummaged our way Wallaby style to nearly the front. It only took us fifteen minutes to reach the immigration window and find out that this line was for Saffas only and that we'd have to re join the line of aliens we were originally with. An hour later and four cans of Maluti beer for a six year old waiting in front of us, no joke, we were back in S.A. It only took us a few minutes to register the barbed wire, security officers, patrol dogs and even attitude that for the last week or so in Lesotho we'd forgotten all about. Yet another mini bus ride, this time a short one to a small, but very South African town
Golden Gate National Park
Thankfully there was something else to look at rather than the road ahead. called Ladysmith, where we were able to have a quick coffee and pit stop. Transport from Ladysmith seemed minimal so we walked back to the high way and as there were loads of people waiting around for lifts, started walking North. After about an hour a lady who had already driven past us returned to give us a lift. She said she would never pick up strangers but thought we looked ok. She began to feel guilty and worried that we were hitching in S.A. and drove all the way back to get us. She was returning from a Christian conference in Bloemfontain and took us 60 odd km to the next town of Ficksburg, but not before offering us a bed and meal at her farm house. We were starting to feel guilty that after all the religious intervention we'd received over the last few days, we hadn't said any prayers ourselves this fine Sunday. Although tempting, we declined her offer and in an attempt to make use of the last few hours of daylight returned to the highway and kept walking North. Just before dusk and when we were seriously contemplating camping in the bushes on the side
Views from the front seat
Before darkness we were treated to an awesome display of sun rays through the clouds. of the road, we flagged down a bus. When we got on expecting to see a hundred eyes staring at us, we were surprised to see it was completely empty. We negotiated a small fee and sat in the very front seats. Bad move, as you really dont want to see what's happening on the roads in Africa! It turns out that not only was the driver returning the bus to a place way further than we wanted to go, he was the most talented bus driver we'd ever met. Not only could he drive this tank at 120km an hour, he could do it one handed whilst simultaneously sinking long necks of Castle Lager, smoking a cigarette and talking on his mobile phone! He was making a nice little earner for himself by picking up fares along the way, all of whom were absolutely stonkered after returning from their Sunday sessions. We met two locals who were also travelling from Lesotho. They had been trout fishing in the Katse Dam, believing that the fish in this particular dam ate diamonds and if they were to catch one of these fish, all their problems would be solved. We didn't dare ask if the fact that they too were hitching meant they'd had no luck. The driver told us he was stopping for the night in a small town called Kestell and after consulting our guidebooks discovered that not only was it on the map, there was a backpackers there too. We were quite relieved to get off the bus as there were now several empties rolling around all over the place. Funnily enough he dropped us at the Police station. From there we found our way in the dark to Karma Backpackers where the very friendly and slightly eccentric owners Veran and Lutcho took us in and said we looked as though we could do with a drink. Upon hearing of our days adventure they insisted we stay in one of their rooms instead of camping and provided us with pre slumber cocoa and hot water bottles. I was out like a light!
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