Defeating the Sani pass and entering Lesotho country number 18.

Cycling up the East coast of South Africa always lent its big beady eye on Lesotho, a landlocked island of mountains nestled amongst the Drakensberg. Lesotho’s claim to fame, its lowest point, the highest lowest point of any country in the world, a daunting fact for any cyclist especially one carrying 35 kg’s of luggage.

The rolling hills of the Eastern Cape giving way to Kwazulu Natal and the Underberg which lay at the foot of the Sani pass and the gateway to Lesotho. Night time temperatures now well below zero as forecasts suggested -5 for the day I chose to tackle the infamous unsealed climb which reaches a heighty 2873 m above sea level.

I set up base camp 25 km from the summit and decided to set off for the lofty challenge at roughly nine o’clock in the morning. Waiting for the chill to burn off slightly and the frost to subside somewhat before putting my body and my trusty two wheeled steed “Little Ms. Sunshine” through the paces.

Heading up the pass on a mountain bike would have made a lot more sense but the touring rig I have become so intimate with over the last 14 000 km’s was as keen to conquer the pass as I was, and I thought it just plain rude not to give her the opportunity to notch up a serious off road accolade on her quest for global domination.

The first 17 of the 25 km’s on a rigid front fork was a bumpy battle to say the least but still manageable. Once I passed through the South African border post at 8 km’s from the summit the true colours of the infamous Sani pass started to shine through. What started off a manageable incline became so steep at sections of the climb I struggled to get traction on the loose surface, the heavy gradient coupled with my semi slick touring tyres made for a tough day at the office as I attempted to conquer this African giant on a road bike.

Being passed by four wheel drive vehicles carrying small tour groups to the summit I soon realised the flash photography was not aimed at the majestic scenery but rather a dread locked man on a bicycle battling nature with all his mite. Sections of the road completely frozen over I had to pick up the bike and carry it over slippery surfaces that threatened to send me to a tumbling death in the valley below.

Once I reached the summit after roughly 5 hours of grit and gravel I made my way to the Lesotho immigration office, the gentleman behind the counter suggesting that I didn’t need a stamp if all I intended to do was conquer the pass and head back down, explaining to him that after the last 5 hour battle on a bicycle I ‘’ needed ‘’ a stamp, he chuckled took one look at my mud covered bike and with a big warm Lesotho smile stamped my tattered passport.

After a couple of celebratory drinks at what must be one of the highest pubs around I embarked on the descent, a downhill challenge that would see me break 2 spokes, slash my front tyre on a jaggered rock and burst 2 inner tubes, arriving back at base camp well after dark but just in the nick of time to scribble down 1 X suspension shocks on my Christmas hit list, shortly followed by 12 hours of pure uninterrupted sleep. 

A week to celebrate as I reached 14 000 Global Wheeling km’s plus a previous 16 000 before the charity drive began, rounding off 30 000 carbon free kilometers on a bike on four different continents. Back down to the coastline of Kwazulu Natal and the shores of Durban in search of warmer climes and the route north east towards Swaziland.

Tags: Crossing Africa by bicycle, cycling for charity, lesotho, sani pass

The garden route gives way to the Eastern Cape, humbled by its hospitality and shocked by its drivers.

It seems the relentless rains refuse to abate as Grahamstown plays host to a soggy national arts festival. The village green closed for the day as the saturated soil makes it virtually impossible for traders to navigate the conditions. My gear getting soaked from the bottom up as the ground turns to mud and the moisture climbs up through the bottom of the tent, waking up in a brown puddle accompanied by the shivers, not my idea of a successful nights camping.

Tacking away from the coast the altitude gradually increasing with each next stretch of tarmac, Lesotho on the horizon and conditions in the Eastern Cape have been a serious challenge as the elements and altitude saddle up to fight the progress of the ride.

Arriving in King Williams town after weeks of rain I fancied a hot shower and a good scrub, popping into the information Centre in search of a backpackers lodge resulted in a sponsored nights’ accommodation at the Bougainvilla guest house, a huge thanks goes out to Mr. and Mrs. Spiers for putting me up for the night. Eastern Cape hospitality was far from over as I was very generously offered a second spot for the week in the ultra-friendly Portside Inn in East London, to top it all off I received packed sandwiches on the way out, again many thanks to Mervin and his angel of a wife that made my stay in East London a warm and well fed one.

Once again bidding farewell to the coast I followed the N2 north east past Komga and down into the Kei river valley where I set up shop at the local police station. A night I won’t forget in a hurry as my lightweight inflatable mattress gave up the goast and the below zero temperatures in the valley kept me up all night as the cold attacked me from the bottom up, no longer afforded the one inch of air that plays such a vital role as a buffer from the ground temperatures below.

Crawling out of a frost covered tent at sunrise, I was greeted with smiles as the police officers on shift were currently reading the published Global Wheeling article in the Daily Dispatch, East London’s local rag. 101 questions straight off the bat on a frosty, fatigued morning in the Kei river valley would give way to a 15km climb out the gorge, one way to warm the bones.

Into the old Transkei, rolling hills and fluro green rondawels the order of the day, past Butterworth and into the town if Idutya where I lay my weary bones down in an unutilised maid’s quarters for the night. From Idutya to Mtata, home of Madiba himself where night time temperatures dropped to a chilly 1 degree but staying alive on the roads of the Transkei my biggest worry at the moment. And still Lesotho and the infamous Sani pass at about 3000 meters above sea level calls my name, thermals packed.

Tags: crossing the transkei by bicycle, cycling across south africa, cycling for charity

South Africa and the infamous garden route, country # 17…

Cycling through a South African winter was never at the top of the agenda when the initial route for the Global Wheeling bike ride came to fruition, unfortunately the refusal by Nigerian consulate officials to grant entry to Nigeria, forced the ride to be rerouted, now rolling up the south eastern corner of this diverse continent to negate the countries lost on the west, the global wheeling eco charity bicycle ride is reminded of just how harsh this part of the world can be during the heart of winter as storm after storm is navigated along the infamous garden route.

Undulating hills were the order of the day as I made my way from the small farming town of Napier in the Overberg, following the 319 from Bredasdorp in search of the N2. The national freeway would deliver me to the gorgeous town of Swellendam nestled at the foot of the mountains, this quaint town would provide shelter from the onslaught of wind and rain that seemed to roll in daily like clockwork to batter my rain jacket and force my bike to wobble from side to side as my panniers caught the gusty winds.

The sea saw of up and down preventing me from getting into any real rhythm, as I spend most days on the garden route climbing long gradual hills then freewheeling down the other side battling the winds and the rain. I would find myself in the town of Riversdale just before the sun retired for its daily shift, my first encounter with good old fashioned country hospitality as a local farmer and fellow cyclist stopped me in the high street just as I was dismounting the bike to do a quick grocery shop for my campfire dinner. A seasoned cyclist and empathetic to the plight of the long distance cyclo tourer that never knows where he may lay his head to rest that night, an invitation of a hot shower and warm bed was extended, I kindly obliged.

Leaving Riversdale well fed and ready to tackle the next chunk of the N2, my new found friends had kindly set up an interview with the Mossel Bay newspaper which intern resulted in a sponsored room in a B&B for the night at the very accommodating Munro Manor guest house in Mossel Bay. I had struck it lucky 2 nights on the trot and the harsh elements were seeming just a little more navigable with my new found luck.

Through George, Knysna and Plettenberg Bay making a point of locating the local papers for a quick interview and a brief slot on Port Elizabeth’s Algoa FM spreading the Global Wheeling ideology whilst rolling up the east coast of South Africa has been very much a part of crossing my own country. So after gaining some serious momentum on phase two of this global environmental pilgrimage this week’s blog is published from the very cold and wet national arts festival in Grahams town, 17 countries and 13 146 km on the dial. Lesotho beckons…