Malealea

Spectacular view as we neared Malealea

As I held on to the worn, leather saddle with an iron grip that was sure to leave at least semi-permanent imprints of my fingers on it, I closed my eyes and braced myself for the next adrenaline filled jump that was to follow in a sequence of descents around the mountain we were trekking through. Perhaps I had signed up for a little more adventure than I had bargained for…

Just a couple of hours earlier, I had been impatiently awaiting our arrival into the neighboring village of Malealea, located a mere hour and a half from Maseru. The drive had been pleasant and uneventful until the last 10 kilometer stretch in which the paved road turned into a hostile dirt path full of potholes and loose gravel, forcing our driver to slow down to a painfully slow speed so as to avoid a breakdown in the late model VW we rode in. We made it to Malealea Lodge at approximately 11am on Saturday and eagerly registered for the pony trek that would lead us to the famed Botso’ela Waterfall as our final destination. When our “ponies” arrived, I was introduced to Jupiter, the “naughty” pony, who stood out among his four-legged friends by the bluish hue of his coat rather than the traditional caramel brown. Throughout the course of the day, he would indeed live up to his reputation as the rebel of the group, taking me through alternate routes that struck his fancy. What the creatures shared in common, however, was that they were full sized horses, albeit a bit malnourished, but horses, and not ponies (I had been picturing the miniature Shetland ponies at petting zoos). Similarly, I came to find out that “trekking” was actually a euphemism for “mountain climbing on horseback along dangerous and grueling terrain.”

My trusty sidekick, Jupiter, and me heading off on our journey

Traditional Basotho huts

Apparently the Lodge has a sense of humor...

More Basotho huts (each furnished with 2 twin beds and an en-suite, quite cozy acommodations)

The other kind of housing in Lesotho, a rectangular, stone-lined frame with a sheet of aluminum as the roof

Anyways, I packed my lunch into the saddle bag and signed the mandatory waiver (feeling a momentary tinge of regret for not purchasing the recommended international medical insurance including emergency air evacuation in case of an accident) before mounting on board and heading into the wilderness with two of my roommates and our guide. We started out on flat plains, admiring the row of Basotho huts and corn fields as we gradually made our way to a precipice that our horses were clearly uncomfortable jumping down. Our guide pulled them along manually and from there it was as if the horses were on auto-pilot, following the vaguely discernible paths of travelers before us with minimal guidance. 

At first, it appeared that some of the nearly vertical descents would surely catapult me off the top of the horse while some of the climbs were onto ledges that were so narrow I had to hold my breath for fear that any sudden movement would cause Jupiter to lose his balance and send us both spiraling down the side of the mountain to meet a grim fate. I was quickly reminded of the importance of leaning back during the trip downward and leaning forward as we climbed up the mountain, while never for a second letting go of the saddle – basics of horsemanship, but long-forgotten techniques I had last used several years ago at best.

At the lowest level of the ride, following the ravines

Rocky uphill climb

And the winding uphill climbs continued for several hundred meters...

Once I placed my full trust in Jupiter and shifted my weight with his movements, though, the rest of the ride was wonderful! The majestic backdrop of rugged mountain peaks above us and the shimmering snake-like ravines below us were absolutely magnificent - yet also so still and peaceful I could hear the flapping of the birds’ wings and the rustling of the grass as the sheep and cattle grazed from several hundred feet away - the only indicators that I was not the only living being in this world. And the air! At that altitude, the air was refreshingly pure and smelled of a soothing mixture of natural herbs, something I wish I could bottle up and bring home with me as a reminder that a greener place exists outside the concrete jungle of the medical center that has become my habitat.

Looking down at the distance we'd climbed (the ravines are now a distant sight)

Pictures don't do these views justice

 After about 2 hours of maneuvering my camera with one hand in a desperate attempt to take in the beautiful vistas while hanging on to dear life with the other hand, we arrived at our destination...almost. From here we dismounted the horses and met our "tour guide" for the remainder of the journey – a 10 year old child dressed in a tan jumpsuit who motioned us to follow him as he quickly jumped down the rocky trail in the direction of the waterfall. It was then that I truly appreciated the ability of our horses to navigate the terrain; all of us kept slipping and sliding, trying not to sprain our ankles or fall on top of each other on our way down as we tried to catch up to the boy. I heard the water much before I actually caught a glimpse of it and the suspense grew exponentially until we were finally faced with the sheer splendor of the Botso’ela Waterfall. The weather through the ride had been perfect, full of sunshine and clear skies, but now, the mist of the water and the shade provided by the surrounding rock formations made for a very chilly spot, where we zipped up our jackets and posed for fun pictures as our “guide” joined a couple of other children that made up a band. It appears they play for tourists while they have lunch by the waterfall - for a nominal tip, of course. We un-wrapped our sandwiches and cheered the band along as we ate a much deserved meal perched on a cold rock, taking it all in.

The Botso'ela Waterfall

One of my roommates and me

The "band" that played for us as we ate our lunch by the waterfall

Crawling uphill on foot

The ride back was much less grueling but still involved a couple hours’ worth of uphill and downhill climbing; by the time we made it back to Malealea Lodge, my entire body was aching for a hot shower and massage. I definitely now know what it means to “walk like a cowboy…” Haha. Upon nearing the Lodge, the path was lined by young children running towards us and waving, as if we were heroes returning from a long battle. I laughed silently because I felt nothing like a hero but I did feel proud that we had made it through our adventure in one piece…and we were now newly self-proclaimed pony trekking experts! Not bad for our first weekend in Lesotho. I am looking forward to next weekend when we can do it all over again in Semongkong!