The descent. It’s all fun and games until someone mentions short-cut.
After the beer, the pub photos and proving I was braver than 99% of my friends back home, it was time to go back down. Custom forms? Boring but easy. The pass itself? A bit hair-raising going down but Jimnys were born for this. We all got back to the South African side. We said our goodbyes. Everyone went home like respectable people. Except me and another brave lady. Now…this is key. I followed a man who said he knew a short-cut. This is the single worst phrase you can hear when in the bush or trekking a 4×4 route you’re not familiar with. “Follow me, I know a short cut” actually means “Follow me onto a dirt track so remote Google Maps is a polite shrug. Prepare to lose signal. Abandon hope.”
However, we followed him. Got completely lost on a KZN dirt road. No signage. No clear turns. Dark outside so when you hit a little bump…you really hit it! I’ll admit, I panicked slightly. Not enough to cry but, enough to rehearse my “please help me I’m lost” speech in isiZulu. Eventually we found tar again and with that, my sanity and eventually home.
Would I do it again? Absolutely and immediately!
Here’s the thing. It was chaos but, it was FUN!
Even alone. Especially alone. There’s a kind of pure, unfiltered satisfaction in realising you can navigate border controls solo, handle one of Africa’s scariest roads, survive a convoy of Jimny enthusiasts who talk about tyre pressure like sommeliers discuss wine.
Sani Pass is one of those bucket-list routes you have to do if you live in South Africa. It’s our local answer to the Stelvio Pass, but with more livestock and fewer Ferraris.
And once you’re over the border, Lesotho itself is just astonishing. The moment you’re past the pass, you’re in a different world. One of the high mountains, quiet valleys, horses and, that endless Lesotho sky.
