The Lesotho Rescue Ride – part 1

August 4, 2014

Doh. I realise now that I haven’t told you anything about the trip to South Africa and the Lesotho Rescue Ride! How remiss.

So, yes I did go.  Firstly, my other half and I had a hol in South Africa – saw a little of J’burg, did a whole bunch of outdoors sight-seeing in Cape Town (stayed here; highly recommend it hiked up table mountain – amazing views, cycled along the east coast (where the rich folk live), past luxury glass-fronted houses hanging onto the rocks each with their own beautiful deserted little beaches, ate amazing sushi, hired a car and went to see the Southernmost tip of Africa, Cape Point, saw the penguins, spent 3 luscious nights drowning in wine-tasting and cheese-eating in the quaintly beautiful towns of Franschoek and Stellenbosch, had a white- knuckle-micro-light ride  over the coast to see the whales and their calves in the bay, and then sadly my other half and adventurer to date headed off back to Blighty and I hopped a flight and rocked up in Durban airport to see who I’d be riding with up in Lesotho.

Turns out there’d been a bit of a snag with a couple of the other riders’ flights and so I ended up being met by someone’s daughter and hanging out at her house until the guy with the broken foot and some mad Swedish dude – who’d missed his flight entirely – showed up. Now I’m not sure if I ate something bad  on my Cape Town to Durban flight (it was a tuna sandwich, not a very nice one) or if I was really nervous about riding into the unknown with a bunch of strangers… but I started to explode both ends (very bad when you’re the house guest of someone you don’t know, who drives a swanky Mercedes and has more diamonds than Barbara Cartland) I managed to confine my bodily explosions to the exterior of the car (just) and the ensuite in the room she settled me into. 4 hours of lying on the floor feeling awful later, I bravely got back in the car, and we scooped up the crutch bearing Richard and Crazy Scandanvian Mattias from the airport and began our easterly drive out of Durban to our altitude start at Underburg.

By the time we’d arrived I’d only had to stop the car, leap out and vomit at the side of the road, twice. Although I was definitely starting to feel better… perhaps getting to know some of my fellow riders was easing my anxiety, or perhaps it was just that I didn’t have anything left inside me.





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