The Trip Home May 6 - 7

Near the end of the trip, my cold returned and I completely lost my voice. The last day we still had a game drive at 6:00 a.m. but by that time, between not feeling well and the anticipation of the long haul home, my enthusiasm had waned. Besides, my wish list of animals had been filled so whatever we saw although still amazing, lacked the excitement I felt at the beginning of the safari.

After the drive and breakfast, I settled our bill and paid out the appropriate gratuities. The shuttle to Joburg Tambo Airport had already been arranged, but it was picking us up at the gate, not at the lodge. In my anxiety to get home, I did not double check the pick up time and assumed that it was 11:00 the same time as the shuttle to Ezulwini had been a week earlier. Hector, our tracker at Billy's Lodge  drove us to the gate with time to spare, but after waiting more than fifteen minutes and beginning to panic that we wouldn't be picked up as arranged, I decided checked my itinerary. Our pick up time was 11:30, but the panic did not completely dissipate until the van arrived exactly at 11:30.

The five hour trip was for the most part uneventful, that is until Gila, while taking a nap, overturned her water bottle. Some of the water soaked her pants, but the the majority of it poured into her purse. Unfortunately, it water logged all the many items and papers stored in that bag. As she emptied it, trying to dry everything, we both burst into uncontrollable laughter at the silliness of the entire situation. The others in the van probably thought that two lunatics were sitting in the back.

We arrived at the airport just before five for our 7:50 flight. We had lots of time before boarding at 7:05. First we had to find the international flights terminal and then only thing I wanted to do was to sit down near an outlet that was not in a restaurant so that I could nurse my cold and recharge my almost dead phone for the trip home. But that didn't happen, at least not for quite a while. First we needed a bathroom break and Gila did some rearranging and repacking of her bags in the area near the rest rooms. We asked about the location of electrical outlets and were told to go into a restaurant. Gila was willing to have something to eat at the Mugg and Bean that we had gone to on our initial arrival in Joburg, but they insisted that we leave our luggage outside and neither of us trusted that it would all be there after some recharging.

Checking our baggage at this point seemed to make a lot of sense. We found the right counter, ensured that our bags would follow us as we transferred first in London and then in Washington and put the bags on the scale. With the rocks and soil that she had collected,  Gila's bag was overweight and so she had to rearrange and repack on more time. Papers and shoes were removed from the suitcase and the knapsack then had to be repacked as well to make room for these items. When she was done, I don't think that she could have forced even a grain of rice into that bag given how full it was. I was getting antsy. I just wanted to sit. Even recharging the phone lost its priority status.

As we headed for the departure gate, Gila realized that she had forgotten that she wanted a refund of the VAT on the camera she had purchased. We learned that the item had to be declared and the receipt had to be stamped before any refund was possible, so off we went looking for the right office. The customs officer stamped the photocopies of the receipt without asking to see the camera or the original bill and now we had to find the refund office. God forbid that these two related offices would be in close proximity to one another.

The time was slipping away quickly and I was feeling worse. Our next stop was security. Fortunately the checking was cursory and within minutes, we were exiting into the departure hall that led to the gates. My patience was just about gone, but we still had to find the refund office. I asked the person at the security exit and with a grunt she pointed in a general direction. I was beginning to lose it. Testily I told her that I had no idea where she was pointing so she added the words "in that direction". Only somewhat more helpful.

We found the office on another level far from the bustle of the passengers. Gila showed her stamped photocopy and was told she could not get a refund without the original receipt. Why weren't we told that by the person who stamped the photocopy? He must have known. I felt I couldn't  last much longer without sitting by the time Gila was issued a Mastercard imbedded with the refund amount in American dollars. By now it was only half an hour before boarding and I snapped. Without saying a word, I stomped off like a five year old, determined to find a place to sit with a plug.

The only place I found was another Mugg and Bean. Yes it was a restaurant but by now I was sweating and parched and needed a cold drink. Gila found me before I entered the restaurant, but I moved ahead without speaking to her, There was only twenty minutes before boarding, hardly enough time to recharge, but I sat down and plugged in my phone. I got enough power to e-mail Josh asking him to book a doctor's appointment for me the morning of my return.

With my drink, I began to calm down somewhat and felt like such a jerk. I realized I hadn't had to accompany Gila on her quest. We each had a boarding pass and easily could have met at the gate. Sheepishly, I apologized. Since the plane didn't leave until 7:50, we had enough time to board even though we got to the gate at 7:30.

The trek through the airport had not gone well. The flight wasn't going to either. Our seats were the two centre ones in the central bank of four seats, hemmed in by passengers on both sides. Space was tight and even going to the bathroom was going to be an ordeal. Once seated, I checked the itinerary again. In London's Heathrow airport, we had one hour between the time our flight landed and the time  our next flight took off. Here was another reason for anxiety. Was that enough time for the transfer? Would our luggage make the transfer as well?

After dinner was served, I took a sleeping pill, hoping that things would seem get on track while I was asleep. They didn't. It was seven o'clock the next morning and we were still in the air. The pilot announced that we would be a little late in landing. We were going to miss our connecting flight! Gila tried to reassure me that everything would be fine. If we missed the flight we would be placed on another. An attendant told us that we needed to tell ground crew about our connecting flight and they would expedite our dash through Heathrow. We were on the ground, but it was now 7:30 the same time that our flight was taking off. Before I could get really worked up, the passenger beside Gila reminded us that it was in fact only 6:30. in London. We did have an hour and if the someone would would help us, it was still possible to connect.

Heathrow is HUGE. We went along corridors, down escalators, stepped on a series of moving sidewalks and up the escalator once again before we saw any ground crew to speak to. She merely directed us in the right direction. I told the next security guard our plight but he just indicated that we had to pass through security again. Of course that was not going to go smoothly because my knee would set off the metal detector and I would be patted down. I was in a sweat. there was only a half hour before our flight left. I was put through the x-ray machine and thought we still had a chance, but neither my carry on, nor Gila's passed through the x-ray probe and we had to wait for others in front of us to empty their bags looking for the culprit, banned items. I asked the guard if he could put us at the beginning of the queue as our flight was going to leave in twenty-five minutes. Everyone else, he calmly explained also had a flight to catch we simply had to wait our turn.

On the plane my stress level had been at 152, but now it soared to 493. My bag was next and it was being dismantled. The iPad and camera were supposed to have been taken out like a computer, but there was a box of chocolate he was looking for. I had no chocolate! My stress level was over 500. There is a box in your bag. What is in it? the guard asked. A box? Yes, a small box of kleenex, no chocolate! I was finally allowed to repack my bag, but another guard was systematically emptying Gila's bag. There were liquids inside according to the x-ray. The toiletries were finally found in her makeup bag. There was now only five minutes before our plane took off. One of my nightmares had just happened. We were going to miss our flight.

Thank goodness, Gila was calm and philosophical about the situation. Yes the flight had left, but we would find seats on another plane and would still get home. We lined up at the United Airlines counter. We were assured that if we had missed the flight, so too had our luggage. Yes we could get home, Washington to New Jersey to Toronto. We would just land two hours later. There would be no charge as the delay of our plane had caused the situation. I asked about a direct flight to Toronto, but as the original flight was not direct, the attendant told us we were not eligible for a direct flight. Not so, interrupted another agent and she set off to arrange the flight with Air Canada. Finally, we had gotten a break. Although it was more than four hours before our flight left, there would be no more transfers and our arrival time was no later than the original.

With all that time, I could start to unwind. I wanted to have my Toronto sim card put back into my phone and then sit down to charge my phone so I could let Josh know when we were arriving. Outside of a restaurant, I found a plug and a seat and I was not going to move until it was necessary to find the terminal from which our flight left. Gila, too, took advantage of the situation to charge both her cell and iPad. The flight was going to leave at 12:05. Boarding was at 11:20. My plans were to head out for the boarding gate at 10:50. I wanted enough time to find the right place in this enormous airport. Just as I was about to look for Terminal 2 and our gate, Gila decided she wanted to do some shopping. This time I was not going to make the same mistake as I had in Joburg. I explained that to stay calm, I would prefer to wait at the gate. We had our own boarding passes, we would meet at the gate or on the plane

The route to the gate was convoluted, up and down escalators and then up and down once more. I got to the gate at 11:10 and was happy to know I was early, quelling my anxieties. I boarded before Gila got to the gate, but we met on the plane. Gila happy that she had bought a case for her iPad and me content that I had avoided a little of the stress I knew I would feel had I accompanied Gila. Both of us were in much better moods than we were on the plane from Joburg to London.

The flight was uneventful. I watched a movie although my stuffed nose and cough were uncomfortable. Gila slept. No one spilled any water and we arrived in Toronto still friends. The voyage home had been a marathon of 31 hours! I now know that when I travel with someone, it is better for my stress level and the friendship to meet at the gate instead of sticking together. We will already have been assigned our seats, we would have our own boarding passes. There was no need to stick together. Hopefully, I have learned how better to deal with my anxiety at the airport if not yet elsewhere.

May 2 -6

When I imagined the safari we were going to participate in, I thought of elephants, giraffes, lions, rhinos and zebras. I had no idea how many more animals we would either catch a glimpse of or watch in their natural habitat. Here is the list of what we saw during the eleven game drives we participated In:  the big five, elephants, rhinos, Cape Buffaloes, lions and a leopard; the antelopes, impalas, kudus, grey durkers, a klipspringer, steenboks, water bucks and a wildebeest; the animals we expected, monkeys, baboons, giraffes, zebras, hippos and wart hogs; the animals we hadn't considered, jackals, a civet, a porcupine, mongooses, a chameleon and termites; and finally the birds, a vulture, gray herons, Egyptian geese, brown snake eagles, guinea fowl and the yellow billed hornbill. There was no lack of animal sightings on every ride into the bush.

However, some of the sights were so memorable that they are permanently etched in my mind. There was the pride of thirteen lions, three females and ten cubs who were dining on a zebra. One of the cubs picked up a severed striped limp in his mouth, shook his head and headed off to a more private spot. It was my first zebra sighting and I held out hopes that I would also see live zebras.



There was another pride of sixteen lions including two males, females and cubs. One male had settled between some low branches, gnawing on the head of a wart hog, while others in the pride shared the rest of the animal in the tall grasses. In a portrait of motherly love, a female lay between two of her cubs gently licking their ears, faces and paws.

At night by the light of the spotlight, we saw a beautiful male lion, lying on its side just a meter away from the vehicle. From time to time, the tail made a single swish. Slowly, the lion turned his head, lifted a front paw and licked it. Languidly and carefully he turned to lie on all four legs and as if he knew he was the centre of attention moved his head from one side to the other, allowing us to find his best profile. The stillness was suddenly broken with a solitary regal roar of his majesty. The hair on my neck rose and I felt a shiver down my spine as goosebumps rose all over. Very deliberately the lion then rose on all fours and majestically strode into the dark bush. He had put on a show for us and now he wanted his privacy.


Another evening, we came across a female luxuriating on a rock. Sensing that she was on display and with the cameras clicking, she held her head first at one angle, then on an other and finally straight ahead to stare at us. When she was sure that we had caught her from every side, she lay her head on her paws and totally ignored us.

During the heat of the afternoon, a wart hog and its two young came to lap the water at the edge of the water hole. Once sated, all three rubbed their backs on the ground and rolled in the mud until they had cooled down. Then came an entire herd of impalas, at least one hundred, delicately standing at water's edge to drink their full before moving on into the grasses to graze.

Later still, two elephants emerged. They lowered their trunks into the water, first bringing the water to their mouths and then spraying themselves. Slowly they wandered further into the water and sprayed heir backs. Now cooled they continued to edge of the pond where the wild grasses grew. They wrapped their trunks around a large clump of grass, pulled and transferred their lunch from the trunk to the mouth before they moved back among the trees.


Nor will I forget the herd of elephants with all their young calves at their side, who lumbered across the path right in front of the vehicle, the young males trumpeting and flapping their ears.

A giraffe, taller than the tree in front of it, nibbled at the top leaves and then gracefully glided across the path, moving first both left legs, then both right legs to sample the leaves on the other side.

One night, as the spotlight swung from side to side, it illuminated a leopard lying in the middle of the road just like an oversized cat. It's tail was waving languidly. Upon being disturbed, it lifted its head to look back at us and then headed into the brush to find more privacy.

Riding along the river, we got out of the vehicle and moved closer to the shore. We saw a number of rocks emerging from the water. Suddenly the rock roared and opened wide its mouth revealing a pink maw with rows of large flat teeth. It then became obvious that the rocks had ears sticking out of the water and were making their way across the river. We had finally seen hippos.

The domesticity of the prides of lions and herds of Cape buffaloes and elephants both with their offspring moved me greatly. Mothers are mothers regardless of the species. Babies are adorable even if they are four legged. It was a privilege to experience a world so far removed from my own and as we completed our final game drive, I put down my camera to fully appreciate my last glimpses of the unpredictable and precarious life that exists in the bush.

May 1

May 1
For our first ride we were up at 5:15, early but not very bright. We had coffee in the bar area where photos of animals in the bush were flashed on a digital screen. I gulped my coffee, eager to get out to see and photograph my first animals. Our vehicle was a stretch Land Rover with no windows or even sides for that matter with three banks of seats behind the driver/guide. Each bench could seat three but because we were only six, each of us could sit at an open side to watch for the animals without obstruction. The tracker, Richard sat on a jump seat attached to the front grill of the vehicle. Lawrence our guide was the driver.

I had assumed that the Land Rover would just drive along the paths, as Jimmy did when he brought us to River Lodge and we would see the animals that happened to be there. Was I ever wrong! The guide and tracker actually track the animals. As the vehicle moves along the path both men watch the ground for paw prints and the direction in which they are heading. They look at the dung on the road to see how fresh it is. They look at the branches of the trees to see if any have been broken. They even smell the air. From time to time both men get out of the vehicle to follow tracks. In this way they determine which way to proceed to follow animals may be in the area. They do not hesitate to go off road if it means finding an animal. Finally, all the guides are in contact with one another by radio. If someone has seen evidence of an animal or has actually spotted one, he radios the others with the location, especially if it is one of the big five, elephant rhino, Cape buffalo, lion or leopard. The cooperation benefits all who are on a game drive.

On our first drive we saw a number of animals, but I was disappointed with the cooperation level of some of the animals. A few of them, like the jackal and gray dunker ran so quickly, we could only catch a brief glance. Others like the kudu and water buck grazed in the bush and were well camouflaged as their coats and horns blended into the landscape. The elephant and the giraffe tried to hide behind trees. Only the Cape buffaloes made themselves very obvious. We came across an entire herd, males, females and calves on the move. As we approached, they crossed the road right in front of us and carried on as if we were not there watching. We marvelled at the curled off white horns of the males. They looked like the perruques the judges in the British court system wear. Those chewing on the grass resembled jurists pondering some evidence or decision. The impalas were so plentiful that after a while, we didn't even stop for them. We were blase. It's only another impala became our mantra.

Halfway through the ride, we found ourselves stopped in an opening in the bush. Richard and Lawrence jumped out first and in a matter of minutes had flipped up the front grill of the Rover, covered it with a cloth and laid out freshly brewed coffee and cookies for us to enjoy. We now had the opportunity to stretch our legs, compare impressions and photographs, have a snack and use the first class facilities behind the trees and bushes around us. That prompted one of the guests to comment that all the bush was a toilet.

When our morning ride ended, we were greeted with hot face cloths to clean our hands. Our breakfast orders were taken and again we discussed the highlights of the morning. Before our made to order eggs appeared we were able to help ourselves to the yogurt, fresh fruit and muffins on the buffet. As we made our way to the table the velvet monkeys also took advantage of the convenience of the buffet. Someone always lagged behind to shoo the monkeys away. Breakfast was anything but rushed. We enjoyed the meal and exchanged histories and other adventures in other parts of the world, before we went our own way to amuse ourselves until lunch at 2:30.

The two couples we had 'safaried' with left for Billy's Lodge (the other Ezulwini site). after breakfast and we met the new visitors J and MJ from California. MJ was the Chair of the Board of Directors of a progressive private school while J was a semi retired lawyer. J. was a charming man with a biting sense of humour. Gila recounted how she had purchased a new camera that she ended up not liking after she got sand into the lens of the Lumix she had bought specifically for this trip. He didn't let any opportunity when he could rib her about improving her camera and photographs with sand. His wife was knowledgeable but opinionated. She seemed to relish contradicting whatever Jay said. They joined us on the afternoon ride at 4:00.



Just as in the morning, there was a refreshment/bathroom break during the afternoon drive. This time there was no coffee served but instead what was called a sundowner, an alcoholic beverage chosen during lunch with munchies. Sundowner was a very apt name for this stop as we could watch the progress of the setting sun as we sipped gin and tonic, beer or wine. As the sun dropped on the horizon, the sky magically transformed from yellows and oranges, to fiery reds and just as the sun fell from sight, to a deep crimson red. When we continued on our ride it was dark and the tracker shone a bright spotlight back and forth along the road. When we came upon any animals, the tracker shone the light on the scene without eliciting any reactions at all.

On our return we were again welcomed with hot face cloths and a shot of a different liqueur concoction every night and given some time to clean up before dinner by candle light. Dinner was not just a meal but also another opportunity to socialize with the other Ezulwini guests. When we finally left the table at about 10:00 we were too tired to do anything but sleep to ensure that we would be on time for the next early morning game ride.

Ezulwini means paradise. The lodges are well named. By the end of each day with the attentive service, the scrumptious meals and the privilege of viewing these magnificent beasts of the bush, it felt very much like we had found ourselves in a corner of an African paradise.

April 30

This was another travel day. I had thought that these days would be quite uneventful but that had not been the case so far. This was also going to be a memorable day of travel. We had arrived early enough for breakfast at the Mugg and Bean at the airport. After the cooler weather of Lesotho, I was not quite prepared for the heat in Durban, but the airplane was comfortable and the shuttle to Kruger National Park was air conditioned. It was a short flight and with only a little confusion, we were able to find the the bus terminal where we were to catch the Ashton Tours van. 

Gila had wanted to replace her second camera while we were in the Joburg airport, but I am not the calmest traveller. I always envision getting lost, missing connections, going to the wrong place. The time between landing, retrieving luggage and finding the bus terminal was too short for stopping for purchases so Gila, realizing the state I was in agreed to manage with the devices she already had. I did not calm down until I realized that the young woman who was also waiting in the bus terminal area was booked on the same shuttle. The van was on time, we stowed our suitcases in the attached enclosed trailer and settled in for the five hour ride.

My hair was still braided and was looking more and more fly away and disreputable. With five hours on my hands, I decided it was a good time to unbraid my hair. Gila helped a lot especially with the braids at the back, but I undid a great deal of the braids by myself. Each section that was undone became a bushy wild jewfro, making it difficult to access the braids that were still intact. Unfortunately, I was not patient enough and the longer it took, the more frustrated I became and probably tore out more hair than I upbraided with the last ten braids. 

The driver stopped for a rest stop after two hours. Everyone left the bus, but with my hair not yet all undone, I was afraid that I was too scary looking to walk out in among the public, so I stayed in the bus, continuing to try to normalize my hair. One of the passengers was a six year old little girl named Alex. She spent the break dancing around in the parking lot while her mother dealt with her one year old sister and smoked. Since the van door was open and I was sitting right at the front, she noticed me after several pirouettes. She then began the conversation with me that would last for the remaining three hours.

What are you doing?
My hair was braided, I'm undoing it all. 
Why? 
I got tired of how it looked.
You look weird that way. Aren't your arms and fingers getting tired of doing that? Why don't you stop.
I won't stop until it is all done.
Why? You talk funny. Why?

You get the idea. Alex and her family was sitting at the back of the bus, but I guess talking to the weird lady with her hands in her hair was more diverting than being with mom. Beside my seat there was a cooler with water for the passengers and Alex moved there to continue her conversation with me. She was fascinated with my accent and spent considerable time looking for words that I pronounced differently. At first she told me my pronunciation was wrong but then agreed that it wasn't wrong, just different. We played many games and discussed a number of different topics, but she always came back with the same request. Say last your way. Say birthday your way. Whenever she hit a word we pronounced the same way, she shook her head and looked for another word I mispronounced.

In between these little tests, we played guess when my birthday is. Without any clues it was a hit and miss procedure. After many tries I finally got the right month and day, November 13. After I told her about the November birthdays in my family,  I had to guess her sister's birthday, her mother's birthday. She guessed the date of my birthday. Once we reached the limit of of her knowledge of those dates she sat thinking what else to talk about. I then learned all about her family composition. Her mom, sister and her were on their way to Hoedspruit to visit her father for a week. Her sister had another father and her father had another daughter. She was disappointed with her name because it was a boy's name. Her sister's name was Kenzie. That was a girl's name so it was better. Her other sister was Morgan who was four years old. And also had a girl's name. She asked my name and where I was going. She was determined to keep the exchange going.

She was not in a proper seat and on a number of occasions when she stood up, the driver asked her to return to her seat but she totally ignored him. However, she would sit when I asked her to. I learned that she was in grade one but was taking the week off to visit her father. She was intrigued that I had been a grade one teacher and asked me why I had liked teaching that grade. She seemed surprised when I told her I had lots of fun teaching, singing and playing with six year olds. 

All the while I continued trying to return my hair to normalcy. I told her that a bird would love to have that hair to help build a nest, so she started to collect the strands that were falling all over the front of the van and tried to fashion it into a nest. I gave her the beads that had been in my hair and then Gila made an origami bird an a cube out of pages from her magazine. Each time I said something that surprised her or when she was given a little token, her beautiful grey eyes opened even wider as if in disbelief.

She returned to her mother several times to drop off her newly gained treasures, but she was always back on that cooler engaging me in conversation within a few minutes. By the time we had reached our second rest break, I had finished undoing my hair and managed to control the wild bush with a clip, so this time I did get out of the bus to stretch my legs. When we climbed back in, she presented me with a purple petunia she had picked as a gift. I carefully placed it on the console in front of me and continued chatting with my new best friend. Although it was a long ride, in the company of Alex it passed very quickly and before long we reached Hoedspruit. Here she would be met by her father and Gila and I would get on another shuttle that would take us into The Kruger Park and Ezulwini. 

When we were preparing to disembark, she noticed that the flower she had given me had wilted. Once off the bus we were anxious to find our bags and next ride and I lost track of my new friend. Then suddenly I felt a big hug around my waist. Here was Alex with a pebble for me. This pebble will last longer than the flower and you can remember me when you look at it she announced. I was almost moved to tears by the affection and somewhat wistfully, I said I hoped that we would meet again before we said good bye. I had missed the panoramic views that we had passed, but I felt that I had gained something special in the hours I spent with Alex. In all honesty, it was a delight to just let go, be myself and let this curious little girl guide our interaction. It made me nostalgic for the years I had spent in Grade 1 where everyone was unafraid to say what they felt when they felt it. We have a lot to learn from six year olds.

April 28 - 29

Maliba Lodge had a lot to offer. When we arrived we learned that we could take part in hiking through the grounds, pony trekking for a day or half day, a cultural visit to a nearby village and massages in a spa. The grounds were beautiful and I'm sure that a hike would have revealed more of the beautiful and varied landscape, but as soon as both of us heard that massages were available, all thoughts of physical activity vanished.

Breakfast was a made to order buffet and while we enjoyed the sun on the terrace, Gladys, the Assistant Manager and acquaintance of Phillip's joined us to answer many of the outstanding questions that still bothered Gila regarding he behaviour of the children in the highlands. Gladys was embarrassed and apologetic that we had experienced the begging. It was totally contrary to her own ethos. In her opinion, the whole situation had been a result of white tourists. Whenever they saw the children, they would stop to give them sweets. This set up the expectation that whenever white people were present, they would be given treats. Sometimes the cars would not even stop and the sweets would be thrown out the window for the children to scramble after. In Gladys's opinion this was very demeaning to he children. Parents didn't stop their children but rather conveyed the idea that the whites were rich and should be sharing their wealth in some tangible way.

Gladys believed that visitors to Lesotho had to be educated not to pass out sweets. Signs at the borders should be posted advising travellers not to treat the children. Gladys pointed out another problem with the practice. The normal diet of the Basotho was not heavy in sweets. The sugar in the treats handed out caused the children's teeth to decay and the parents had neither access to dental services nor the resources for dental work. Gladys told us that the children in her neighbourhood would never beg if she were present because they knew her attitude to it. Although Phillip and I disagreed, she saw no harm in Gila admonishing the children who were begging. We felt that as a visitor to the country she had to be more diplomatic.

Gladys then told us about how she distributed donated clothing to the children in the village. They were not given the clothes, but instead, were shown the reward for an hour's worth of cleaning up. Because they had worked for it, receiving the clothing was neither demeaning nor getting something without any responsibility. I thought the whole situation had been dealt with in the most sensitive manner. Gladys was an impressive young woman. 


After breakfast, Prudence, another employee of the lodge took us on a cultural tour of the nearby village. Our first stop was to the healer. Through Prudence, she explained how she relied on her ancestors for advice and healing powers, she explained the part she played in the traditional initiation of the young men when they were circumcised and she explained that the healer was consulted on every aspect of life. Gila asked for a remedy for her cold. She had some concoction but it was not fresh and she offered to prepare a fresh dose that could be picked up early the next morning. Unfortunately we were leaving very early and Phillip did not think that stop could be accommodated in our itinerary. For fifty rands , however, she tossed bones and other talismans to tell Gila her future. She made statements based on the position of the objects in the tossing of the bones and asked Gila to confirm whether or not the statement was true. Not surprisingly, her interpretations seldom rang true.

From the healer we were taken to the school. Three white people created quite a stir. It seemed to be a break time and most of the children, in uniform, were playing outside. The headmaster, a young man named Michael came out to greet us. The school sponsored by the Catholic Church, housed grades one through to seven in six classrooms.  The threes and fours were together in one classroom and taught by Michael. He had sixty-eight students in his class! Then he showed us a grade 3 workbook that was based on Christian values. It really varied little from reading workbooks I have used in our school system. We told Michael that we were former teachers and how similar the exercises in the workbook were to ones that we had used in our classrooms. We laughed at the problem solving questions. The content did not vary from what we did, needing to determine which operation to use to calculate the correct answer. The context was totally African.

The children were beginning to return to the rooms and so we asked permission to visit. The first room we entered was the grade one. The room seemed to have no lights depending on the sun for illumination. Instead of individual desks, the room was filled with tables and chairs that the children worked at. When we entered, all the children rose and in unison greeted us and asked how we were. It was obvious that this was not a new routine for them. Although it did not exactly respond to our greeting we learned that they were all very well thank you. From there we moved to the grade two room. Again we got the same unison greetings and responses. Gila looked at the art work posted on the walls while kookier at a math chart that defined mathematical symbols. I was quite surprised that such young children were learning the terms set and subset. That was well advanced compared to the children in the same grade at home. The children mugged around their tables while we took pictures of them, showing them the digital display after each shot. 

From there we visited Michael's class of sixty-eight children.  When they are all together it is a large and often unwieldy group to manage. The children crowded around us, all questioning us at the same time. Most of them were intent to get our names copied onto a page.  The excitement mounted as we photographed these children and let them crowd around us to see the results. At this point Michael asked me for a suggestion to establish and maintain class or in this case crowd control. He caught me totally off guard. I had not even considered that anyone would be interested in the strategies I had used a world away. The first idea I thought of was to use the clap and answer technique I had always resorted to. Clap out a rhythm and wait for the class to begin echoing it. Some of the children copied me right away but it did not take very long for the entire class to clap together, allowing Michael the opportunity to speak to them without needing to repeat himself or shout. He seemed very pleased with this new but simple tool. Before leaving Gila taught the class the rhythm of shave and a haircut two bits. She clapped the first part and expected the class to respond with the two bits part. It took some time for all the children to learn not to mimic us during the pause, but after a few minutes all of the children managed to understand that this was call and answer. With the class somewhat distracted and noisy, we left Michael with the hope that he would be using the new technique to get all the children to focus on what he was to say.

Our last stop was to the pub and beer brewing facility. We were shown how the beer was fermented and allowed to taste some of the completed beer. The cultural tour was to last one hour, but we had been guided by Prudence for more than two hours. It was time to return to the lodge for our meals and massage.

Prudence also gave the massages. I chose to have mine first while Gila had lunch. When I was done we reversed positions. The massage was in a building surrounded by beautiful gardens in which all the plants were identified. I had told Prudence that I preferred strong pressure so she used her fingers, hands and elbows to did into every muscle in my body, even including the head. When the massage was over, I realized that it had been a long time since I had been that relaxed. Gila enjoyed her massage as well and once we were both loose, we headed back to our rondavel to explore and rest before dinner. I hiked to the little waterfall and then for a ways along a hiking trail before I returned for a little nap. Gila sat by the waterfall painting a picture.

Our last dinner at Maliba Lodge was just as memorable as the first, mussels, sorbet cleanser, lamb shank and another sinful dessert. We each gave Prudence a tip for her services that day. She did not get any extra salary for the cultural tour or the massage. I also bought the jacket that all the staff was wearing, Get Lost in Lesotho. Phillip arranged boxed breakfasts and lunches and we went back to the rondavel on the early side to repack and prepare for another early departure.

This was now our last day on the Roof of Africa. We left the Lodge with the sunrise to reach the cultural centre at Liphofung. The centre had the caves in which the bushmen had made the very famous pictographs. To reach the site we had to climb a long way down to an area that was sheltered by an enormous overhang. This had been an area where in the past, well after the Bushmen, the royal family of the area had lived. There was a plentiful water and the areas for fire places were well defined. The pictographs were under another overhang. The work had not been enhanced and it was difficult to make out the figures without the explanation plaques that stood in front of each section of the cave. There were elongated figures hunting and magical figures with animal heads as well as the animals themselves. I had intended to buy some material with more information about the site, but because we still had to get back to Sani Lodge to catch our three hour shuttle to Durban that same day, we did not go into the gift shop.

Back at the top of the site were rondavels that depicted the way of life in the caves in the late nineteenth century. We saw the cooking utensils, the tools and weapons, the sleeping areas and the musical instruments these people used. I think the guide would have liked us to stay longer in this interpretation centre, but Phillip was very aware of the distance we still had to travel before the end of our adventure.

The rest of the day was spent traveling back up into the mountains to through the Monteng Pass another area with a fantastic view at over 3,000 meters. As we rode, we continued to marvel at the magnificent vistas that lay before us, rock formations, waterfalls, more terraced plantings, roads that wound back and forth through switchbacks and rivers that rush over rocks. Phillip pointed out areas with interesting backgrounds, the only ski area in Africa with three reservoirs that were used to make snow in the winter, the Kimberly diamond mines and the village built for the miners and Mokhotlong the most isolated outpost of the British Empire in the 1950s. The route was marked with rocky paths that were detours due to road construction. At one point we found ourselves back on a paved road and drove right into the middle of the construction. We had been directed in the wrong direction by a previous road crew. The road we were supposed to use was to the right about four feet lower. Instead of turning around to retrace our path, Phillip made use of the 4x4 to drive down a sixty degree incline to the lower road. It felt like part of a roller coaster ride. Our lunch stop was beside another river that we reached thanks to the off road abilities of the Land Rover.


By mid afternoon, we began to recognize the landscape close to the Sani Pass border crossing. The Chinese had made remarkable progress on the road in the past five days and although we could not yet drive on it, it was evident that driving through Lesotho would soon be possible without a 4x4 vehicle. Before driving back into South Africa, Phillip insisted on stopping at the Sani Mountain Lodge which had the highest pub in Africa. It was to be a half hour stop, but both Gila and I were anxious to push on so that we could begin the next chapter in our adventure and we left after taking the obligatory photographs of the valley from the heights of the pub.

We were back at Sani Lodge before five and I was hoping that we could reach our overnight destination in Durban by eight or eight thirty, but of course that was wishful thinking. Instead of taking a shower and relaxing before our shuttle ride, we spent the time re packing our bags. Mondli was to drive us this leg of the journey but he had been ill and passed the job on to his brother who claimed he knew where the 'hotel' was. It was a smooth uneventful drive until we reached the outskirts of Durban. At that point it became obvious that he had no clue as to where to find our destination called the Shapes of Africa. By now it was dark and we stopped in several places to ask for directions despite the existence of GPS in the car. Finally, I called the place and the driver with more exact directions was able to find our destination. it had taken a frustrating extra hour.

I had booked this location because it was the closest establishment to the airport, convenient because our flight was at 8:30 in the morning. Sometimes more information is helpful. The Shapes of Africa was a complex that was still a hold over from the 1960s surfer culture. The cabin was just two single beds, barely room for our suitcases and knapsacks. The bathroom was in the adjacent building was a psychedelic wonder. The toilet was painted in purples and the shower was lined with stones. I had expected to pay with my credit card but as I offered it, we learned that no cards were accepted. Gila and I were able to pool the rands we had left over to pay for the room, but we did not have enough for the ride to the airport. The easy going attitude I associate with the sixties prevailed. We were going to be taken to an ATM on our way to the airport. I was thankful that we were both to tired to carp about the accommodations and that we had a bed to sleep in before beginning the next chapter of our journey.

April 25 - 27

After double checking our reduced baggage and a hearty breakfast we are ready to begin the trip through the area called the Roof of Africa. Our guide is Phillip Grant, a South African of about my age. He is an independent operator who usually leads hikes or pony trekking expeditions. Touring in a four by four is not routine for him, but he has been in Lesotho many times and is very knowledgeable about its history, culture and geography. He is also very patient and accommodating, confirming that this is our trip and he was going to provide us with what we wanted. For Gila that included numerous stops to "ah" and photograph this country and its people.

Right at the beginning we learned that Lesotho was a kingdom. The chief of the Basotho people had never been defeated in the wars among the African tribes. In recognition of this fact, he was given the Lesotho area, a British  which became independent in 1960. The Drakensberg are on the South African side, while the mountains on the Lesotho side are called the Malutis.

Before the drive we got a geological lesson. The Drackensberg are mostly sandstone. The Maluti range was formed through volcanic eruption and two types of rocks, basalt which resulted from extrusions of lava and dolorite which was formed through intrusions.

Along he road, Phillip pointed out points of interest. One was a former trading station that was now used as a bus stop for people traveling into Lesotho. Up until this point, the road was asphalt, but as we passed that point the vehicle road became an uphill dirt road strewn with rocks, easy for a four by four. Along the way we could not help but to ooh and aah about the views into the valley, the spontaneous waterfalls springing from the rock and the view of the switch backs that were bringing us up to the South African border control. Our passports were stamped, the official asked me if I knew Celine Dionne and we continued up a steeper road to Sani Pass, the entrance to Lesotho.

The border crossing was somewhat bleak. There was a block like government building that we entered to have our passports stamped once again. As tourists we were given priority. We jumped to the head of the line to explain how long we would spend in Lesotho, while the ragtag Africans carrying plastic bags and cartons formed an ever growing queue for the inspection that was part of moving from one country to the other. Shacks and rondavels selling snacks, crafts and souvenirs of Lesotho, littered the area around the passport control. Off to the side, not visible from the border crossing was the Sani Mountain Lodge with the highest pub in Africa. We by passed for now and were told that we would stop there on the return leg of our journey.

We continued climbing the mountains before having lunch at the Black Mountain pass, altitude 3,350 meters or just under 11,000 feet. We sat in the lee of a rock as protection from the cold wind at that altitude. In moving back to the Land Rover, Gila found the air so thin that no matter how much air she sucked in, it didn't feel as if there wasn't enough air to completely sustain her breathing. From that height, we could also watch the progress of the asphalt road being built by the Chinese to improve the route through Sani Pass. There were many trucks, land movers and dump trucks manned by the local Basotho and the parts of the road already completed gave our bums a welcomed respite from bouncing up and down and along the seat when we had been on the more primitive roads. This in turn led to a philosophical discussion about the changes to lifestyle and culture that would accompany the increased traffic through the highlands.

Our destination that day was 10 Riverside, a property owned by a Bathoto family that has been used by Drakensberg Adventures as  a home stay site for both hiking and four by four tours. At first, we were thrilled by the opportunity to interact with 'real' Africans. We were served tea In their own rondavel that had a living room extension complete with a plush sofa and chair but no electricity. Then Entabalang, our Basotho guide  took us on a tour of a nearby village called Matacheng. The villagers were expecting us and displayed their tools, pots and baskets, showed us how they ground their millet and then did some traditional dances accompanied by drums and ululating.

Upon returning to 10 Riverside we were joined by a group of French hikers who were also having dinner and staying overnight with the Basotho. While waiting for another dance performance by the Basotho women and the shepherds, a blazing fire was built and all of settled in for the show with our beers. These women did their own style  of dancing. Some off them tied on partial skirts hung with hundreds of bottle caps that jingled as they moved. Part of each dance included turning their backs to us and with a shake of the hips made these skirts flip up as if they were trounces on can can dancers' dresses. Two young French women volunteered to don the kingly skirts and thoroughly enjoyed themselves shaking their booties and flipping their skirts.

Next on the program were two of the shepherds in their traditional grey blankets and white gumboots.they danced to the beat of a drum and the music of a Basotho single stringed instrument. For the finale, all of us, around sixteen or so were interspersed among the Africans in a conga type circular formation and many of us with beers in hand shuffled in poor imitation of the Africans to the insistent beat of the drums and ululating.

When the dance ended we gathered in the main rondavel, many with lights on heads as there was no power, for the next sampling of Basotho culture, dinner consisting of mashed potatoes, pap (a white maize concoction) with a tomato sauce and three pieces of sausage. Phillip told us to wait for the dessert of ice cream with chocolate. It didn't take long to realize that without power ice cream was only a figment of imagination.

By 8:00, it felt like midnight and we headed to our accommodation, As with everything else at 10 Riverside, it was traditional Basotho, a round hut called a rondavel, no power, no beds, hides without cushioning and of course no bathroom. The facilities were situated a short distance, two leaning corrugated tin one holers. As you approached, you had to either hold your breath or hold your nose. The only modern convenience was a toilet seat over the hole. I dreaded a middle of the night bathroom urgency and in the end, I crouched behind the rondavel to do my business at two o'clock in the morning. Sleeping on the ground reminded me why I stopped camping. The hard earth against my back and the difficulty getting down and then standing up again has insured that there must be a bed at the end of each day of traveling. 

We started out early in the morning with a breakfast of freshly baked bread, jam, peanut butter and hard boiled eggs. Phillip recounted an incident when he was guiding a group of boys. There were hard boiled eggs for breakfast and he convinced them that the best way to break them open was to crack them against their heads. On purpose, one of the eggs was raw. Well, you get the picture. I rather like Phillip's sense of humour, but I'm glad I wasn't one of the boys.

Our first stop was with the guide Entabalang at the traditional healer. Although we thought we were getting an example of the Basotho culture, in retrospect, we realized it was all a performance that had been paid for by Sani Lodge. After taking off our shoes to enter the rondavel, the healer explained through the guide that she was told to become a healer by her ancestors in a vision. Then she went away for a year to train, before returning to her village. The Basotho go to the healer for every reason imaginable, to read their future, to ask for good luck, to heal an ailment and to get advice. The healer speaks to her ancestors in order to find out how to help the villagers. The healer put on one of the jingly skirts and a ceremonial headpiece to perform her dance. We learned about how she rolled objects and bones to foretell the future and the remedies she offered for maladies.

After our little show, we set off for our next destination, Katse Lodge near the dam. It was a long way off. As we drove, we saw many shepherds in their traditional grey blankets tending merino sheep, angora goats and cattle. The shepherds are young boys who are sent off into the mountains to care for the grazing stock. They build stone rondavels to live in and create stone enclosures for the animals to protect them from predators. This entire process is part of the initiation of boys into manhood that ends with a circumcision ceremony supervised by the healer.

As we drove along through the highlands we noticed that all the children stood at the side of the road waving at first and then putting out their hands, begging. This initiated a discussion with Phillip that lasted for the rest of the trip. At first Gila did not have a negative reaction to the begging, but then she noticed a mother encouraging the children to run to the road. She thought that parents sent their children out to beg as part of their income. Phillip and I did not notice the mother's gesture and we both believed that the mother just had not stopped her children. Phillip then explained that white tourists sometimes throw sweets to the children creating the expectation of always getting treats. This begging was far less visible in the lowlands where life was a little more prosperous. Gila was incensed about the begging and wanted to admonish the children' s behaviour. Both Phillip and I were uncomfortable with Gila's desires and he assured her that there would be opportunities to speak to some local Africans about their attitudes to the begging.


On our long drive we made a slight detour to a lodge that was being remodeled. It was also the site of a trading store and one of the new dams for the Highland Water Authority. Phillip leads a hiking group of students every year and he was trying to make sure that he would have the appropriate accommodations for that excursion. On our trip out of this town, we stopped for another incredible view of the valley we had just left. As we were there we saw a Basotho man wrapped in a traditional blanket on a horse. We took photographs of him as well as with him. Then he pulled out a cell phone! How anachronistic! He asked for five rands to buy some air time for his phone. Phillip made it a point not to give handouts but in this case, he acceded because he had posed for us.

After a pit stop behind some rocks, we set off once again, this time traveling down into the valley with its panoramic view. As well as the flocks of sheep and goats, we saw the crops grown by the Basotho in terraces. There was wheat, maize, sorghum, cabbages and greens in strips across the mountain side, in distinct plots. It was amazing how industrious these people were with heir vey basic tools on a land that seemed at first glance so rocky and unsuited to agriculture.

For lunch we drove to the side of a river (a real one this time). All along the road, we had continued to pass children, many of them with their hands out, some shaking a fist, a few throwing stones when no sweets were forthcoming. When we stopped, under some trees, beside the river, we noticed that a group of boys ranging in age from about five to fifteen were hanging out and watching us from the road. They were a group of ragamuffins wearing torn and outgrown clothing.  As we ate our lunch and drank our tea, the group inch by inch moved closer to where we sat. It was impossible to ignore them. I was somewhat uncomfortable given our earlier discussion about the expectations created by white visitors, but Gila had no reservations. She approached the boys, camera in hand, introducing herself and asking their names. The excitement and smiles grew as she snapped photos and let them see themselves on the screen. I let go of my inhibitions and joined in taking and displaying the pictures I had taken. In the meantime, Phillip encouraged the boys who had now grown to a dozen, to climb up to the roof of the Land Rover for a group picture. 

By now, it was time to pack up to continue the long drive to Katse. We knew it was appropriate to offer them something for taking their pictures but we had no idea what would be appropriate. Sweets were definitely out. We checked our box of supplies and realized that we had six apples. Phillip cut them in half and before we set out again we gave them to the children. They had had an adventure with some white people. I had had a chance to interact with the children instead of waving to them from the comfort of the vehicle. These unexpected adventures are what makes traveling so special.

By mid afternoon, we had reached Katse Dam, a project of the Highlands Water Project. Katse was the first of a series of five dams built in cooperation with six countries ( Lesotho, South Africa, Italy, France, Britain and Germany) to collect the one resource that Lesotho has an abundance of, water. South Africa, however, is very short of water and by means of a series of tunnels and pipes, it then purchases Lesotho's water as it is needed. We stopped at the dam to confirm our visit and tour the following morning and to use a real bathroom, a luxury in Lesotho.

Before checking into the lodge, Phillip drove us to the site of a tower, 2,500 meters up on what he called a road. We drove through a village of rondavels, mostly on grass until beyond the village, where there were two strips of concrete just where the wheels touch the ground with some grass in between. We ascended at a very steep angle for yet another breath taking view of the dam and reservoir as well as the modern village that had been built to house those that had worked on hue dam. This village was now Katse Lodge and the houses were self catering units.

After a night on the floor of a rondavels with a deep latrine as the facility, we felt as if we were in the lap of luxury in a large two bedroom, two bathroom house. We used the kitchen facilities for breakfast the next morning, but for dinner we went to the main lodge for a dinner buffet and wine. Over dinner we continued the discussion about the children begging and asked our waiter  for his opinion on the issue. He explained that the begging was more typical of the highlands because the Basotho there were less civilized (his words). He was embarrassed that such a thing happened and found fault with the parents for allowing the behaviour. He agreed that tourists throwing sweets from the car as they drove by had given the children the expectation of always receiving something from the whites. He believed that it was a disservice to the children giving them the expectations of getting something for nothing. He himself was a Basotho but he had not gone through the shepherd phase or the initiation because he had gone to school. Phillip promised us that we would be able to speak to another local once we were at Maliba Lodge.

The next morning we made breakfast and lunch for the road and set out early for our tour of Katse dam. It was the Monday of a holiday long weekend so there were a number of South Africans, most from Durban on the tour as well. First we were told about how the dam had been built by a consortium and how this was only the first part of the project whose purpose was to provide South Africa with much needed water. Gila got right into the presentation and asked how the road built to facilitate the building had affected the culture. She also wanted to know how the local Basotho felt about the dam. The guide was promoting the dam so he minimized any effects and dissatisfaction about the project. We then drove to the actual dam and were taken inside for a tour where we were shown all the safety measures taken. Being inside the dam was quite disconcerting as we imaged the millions of litres of water pressing against the walls. Finally we drove on to the dam and were able to view both the river and the reservoir from the top of the structure. Apparently there is no swimming in the reservoir because of the fear of water demons nor are boats allowed in order to keep the water pristine. For visitors, however, there was a surrey that took a cruise around the reservoir. From a distance the dam was quite majestic but close up it was an ugly monstrous concrete structure.

It was once again time to move on. We were now headed for Maliba Lodge situated in Tsehlanyan National Park another long drive but most of it was on paved roads. We were no longer in the highlands and we drove through a number villages supported by a shopping strip of stores although describing them as stores was quite an overstatement. They were corrugated  shacks, some with merchandise hanging from the doorways and others with displays on the outside. The local mode of transportation was either mule or horse. We stopped at one such town named Ha Lejone for an exploration. The "mall" was about two city blocks in length along the highway. There was a restaurant of sorts, a Vodophone cell outlet, some older women selling oranges and bananas from a crate, a hair salon, a general store and a store dealing in grains. Music was blasting out onto the road as people went about their business. As white people, we created quite a stir wandering through the community. Gila again made herself quite at home introducing herself as a visitor from Canada to everyone she passed. She looked for a cell phone charger at Vodophone, bought some oranges from the street vendors and went into the general store. What she noticed was that almost everything that was for sale was made in China.


Once more, I overcame my inhibitions and began to wander on my own. Beside the general store was an older man building a shelf unit. He was speaking to a young woman and child. I introduced myself and asked if the others were his family but he laughed and said she was trying to buy the shelf from him. He asked where I was from and became very animated when he heard I was from Canada. He had worked in the diamond mines and one of the supervisors whom he remembered fondly was a Canadian as well. He kept talking about how much he admired this Canadian and then asked if I would take his contact information. I was a little taken aback but felt that I couldn't not accept the slip of paper he was offering me. His anticipation hanging in the air now was palpable. With a start, I realized I was expected to provide my name, address and phone number as well. I hesitated for a moment, but I had already let go of my inhibitions by beginning the conversation in the first place and so I provided him with my number and address. He was thrilled. Later Phillip commented that this slip of paper would give him bragging rights for some time. It was not often that a Basotho man got the personal information of a white North American woman. Gila told me I had received a marriage proposal. We laughed about that idea for days.

I continued to wander and came across another man eager to talk to me. We shook hands, a triple shake, in the Lesotho manner. We began to talk about the weather. He explained that it was warm now but by June and July it would be very cold. I told him that June and July brought Canada's warmest days. It was In December, January and February that we had our coldest weather. He was incredulous and told me it wasn't possible. As we said good bye with another hand shake he shook his head as if to say that he had met  a crazy white person. Everyone in that so called mall seemed eager to have contact with me. It was as memorable event for each of them as it was for me. I was not used to being the centre of attention in this way and somewhat self consciously made my way back to the Land Rover to find Phillip and Gila.

They had had their own adventure. They had stepped into the offices of a money lender. He explained his repayment method. If someone borrowed a hundred rand, he would have to buy back one hundred and twenty rands at the end of the month. If he did not have that sum, he had to pay he twenty rands of interest and the hundred and twenty would be due next month. Until the full amount plus the interest of twenty rands was totally paid off, the twenty rands was to be paid monthly. Twenty per cent compounded monthly! Phillip asked how he had accumulated enough money to lend. Diamonds was the answer. Phillip speculated that the diamonds had been smuggled or stolen or both. Fortunately banking practices in this part of the world are more reasonable.

On our way out of the community, we passed a goat shearing shed and Phillip stopped to ask if we could enter and witness the process. Fall seemed a strange time to shear animals just before winter.. Apparently, sheep are sheared in the spring. Because of the lanolin in the wool, the wool remains supple over the winter and helps keep the sheep warm. The goat hair lacks lanolin. Long hair during the winter will freeze and may result in the death of the goat. 

Owners herd their goats into a fenced pen in front of the shearing shed. One by one the goats are led into the shed where men with large shears grab the goat by the head and begin the shearing from the head down. The speed with which the goats are processed is amazing. Few of them bleat in protest. Once done, the goat is led back into the pen.  As the hair falls to the floor, it is carried to a central table where other men sort it according to quality and pile it into the appropriate bins. The hair is then bundled into large bales, marked according to grade and then shipped to South Africa to create mohair wool. The entire operation is a cooperative in which everyone shares in the proceeds. It was fascinating. Phillip also admitted that he had never been in a goat shearing shed and had enjoyed the experience.

It was still a long way to the Maliba Lodge and we set out once more. The roads in this area were still paved and we began another climb notable for spectacular rock formations and valleys patch worked with growing crops. Our lunch stop was again at a point over 3,000 meters in height at the Bokong Mature Reserve that was being refurbished. Once again, the views of the mountains and valleys was awe inspiring. It was a sunny day but the wind was fierce and we moved indoors to finish our lunches. The inside housed an interpretation centre complete with animal skeletons, taxidermic animals and poster boards displaying and explaining the vegetation and geography of the reserve. Although a short hike was part of the program, we chose to forgo it and carry on.

Our next stop was in a town, not village, called Leribe where the Land Rover was fuelled and the ingredients for shandies was bought. At this stop we also found a pharmacy for Gila (she had caught the cold that Shelley and I had already had) for some cough syrup. Before leaving town we stopped into the Leribe Craft Centre that sold a variety of mohair scarves and sweaters as well as jewelry and baskets made by the Basotho women in a workshop type atmosphere. We entered the jewelry workshop also on the property and watched in fascination as the women manipulated the materials into stylish earrings.

Within another hour, we had reached our destination, the Tsehlanye National Park that was home to the very posh Maliba Lodge. When we arrived, before we even left the parking lot, we were greeted by Adele with a plateful of hot face cloths to freshen up with. The lodge was a paradise with impressive sculptures and furniture that looked like it was crafted from the surrounding forests. Even the bathroom in the lobby was more luxurious than any other public rest room I had ever seen, fashioned from dark wood and marble floors and basins, spacious, airy and filled with succulent plants. Later we found out that, to decorate the lodge, they had bought several cratefuls that came from Bali. Only the paintings of Africans from a variety of tribes were local. The best feature, however was the fact that one of the staff had an Apple charger. In our attempt to travel light and with the mistaken impression that we would seldom have any electrical connections, we had our devices but not any way of recharging them. For the next two days, we plugged in phones and iPads every time we came to the dining room.

Gila and I stayed in a rondavel  a distance from the main building, while Phillip was housed in a dorm type accommodation reserved for guides adjacent to the main building. We had been impressed with the Katse house after a night on the floor at 10 Riverside. This room and bath surpassed any of our expectations, a really comfortable bed, pristine white bedding and towels, a flushing toilet and shower and a desk equipped with all that was necessary to make tea or coffee. We showered and unwound from our long treks the past two days and met with Phillip for an unforgettable dinner in the dining room, springbok carpaccio, sorbet to clean the palate, duck breast on a bed of rice and an incredible concoction of ice cream and pastry sitting is a pool of a amarula. We felt well pampered by the time we drifted off to sleep.