Have you ever fished a river where no white man has been, let alone fly fished? Well if the elders in a remote mountain village are to be believed then I have, and several times at that. Imagine walking into a village and the children run screaming “Mlungu!” (white man!). Its a surreal experienceย visitingย a villageย so isolated that the many village residents had never seen a white person. Now fishing for trout in a place like this is really what makes me tick. Letโs just say that the rivers hadnโt been fished in living memory which is good enough for me.
This postย is about a trip to what I judged to beย the most remote corner of Lesotho. We named the gorge โCoronary Crevasseโ, and itโs accessible only via โHeart Attack Hillโ. Coronary Crevasse is in my books is the ultimate destination, no matter the size of fish you may catch, itโs the adventure and excitement of catching a fish in a place so remote. However itโs the journey to get there that really makes these trips so special. This is what I call Back Country Basutholand. Places like these are the ultimate destination for the adventurous fly angler who canโt afford an overseas trip to some exotic destination. I have fished in some fairly exotic locations before and yet whatโs right on our doorstep is what I yearn for the most.
Eastern Lesotho has numerous high altitude rivers which are very seldom if ever fished. By seldom, I mean once every few years or even every few decades. There are just not a lot of fly fisherman out there who are willing to walk that extra mile. Most fanatical hikers and adventurers donโt fly fish, and most fanatical fly fishers prefer to spend a week fishing, rather thanย 6 days hiking and two days fishing. All fly fishers seem to like the idea of a long hike into the back country to find trout that have never seen a fly, but very few actually ever do it. They lack a bit of theย JFDI (Just Fucking Do It) attitude.
In April 2005 I dragged a group of mates on a mission to fish what I judged to be the most remote river in Lesotho. We hiked up the Drakenbsberg escarpmentย and down the valley the other side. After a day and a half of walking we had still not found a fish. The local herd boys all said there were fish in the river, but much further downstream. Now if a Basutho herd boy says the fish are far, then you know they are far. With limited time and and eager mates wanting to catch fish, we decided to walk a day north to another river which I knew had fish in. It was probably one of my most productive fishing trips Iโve ever had, but I still had an empty feeling after that trip. Iย just hadย to explore that river lower down and find those trout.
In December 2006 I decided that I had to make a mission back to explore the river further downstream. It was about at this time that I first used Google Earth to explore the rivers of Lesotho. From Google Earth I could clearly see where there was a waterfall which was not marked on any map I had previously seen. I knew this was where we had to head to find trout. It was probably my most memorable trip into Lesotho, and not because of the fishing, because of the journey and the awesome bunch of mates who tagged along. We fishedย two rivers along the way and had some great fishing in both rivers. As you may have realized by now my blog is not about how many fish we caught, what fly we caught them on,ย orย whatย rod I used. I like to write aboutย journeys intoย inaccessible placesย to catch trout that have never seen a fly.ย It was some time ago, but itโs as clear as if it happened yesterday. I will let the pictures tell the rest of the story.
Dale sampling some of the local brew.The local guitarist playing us some tunes. We had a wonderful night of song and dance with the locals. With me being the โChief โ of my group, I was offered several maidens for the night. I graciously declined their generosity.Cooking in our hostesses house. We cooked for her and her family and she cooked for us. I think my frying pan was a little hot but they loved my cooking.ย Hiring donkeys is always a great help when you are walking a long way. It was a 30 km walk back to the escarpment so the donkeys took our bags half way before their owners abandoned us as a storm started brewing.The donkeys crossing the river on route to the escarpment.Looking over the upper reaches of the river as a storm brewed in the distance.This thunderstorm was one I will never ever forget. We huddled behind a rock, high up on a ridge. It was the most intense electrical storm Iโve ever experienced. We very nearly got struck by lightning on several occasions and by that I mean that there were numerous strikes within 100 meters of us. It was hilarious and at the same time frightening. Imagine 5 atheists sitting under a rock, absolutely shitting themselves, but in hysterics. We figured god tried pretty hard that day but he was a little off aim, or maybe he was just firing a few warning shots.The sun coming out after the rain, and hail. All of us very relieved to still be alive!By the last night we were pretty much out of food. This is one of the most disgusting meals I have ever cooked. Yellow rice, 2 min noodles, bully beef, peanuts and raisins, milk powder, great shakes seasoning, and a liberal does of tobasco sauce to top it off. Yet at the time we found it to be quite tasty. Itโs amazing what 8 days in the mountains does to your taste buds.
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4 thoughts on “Back Country Basutholand”
Yass, what an adventure! I guess you’d want to avoid Berg Adders and broken ankles up there
Ya forgot to mention the secret ingredient of that last concoction-foot cheese! I absolutely loved this story! Pure In your face DIY adventure! I would trade a thousand pay-for-fish for just one of those trout-it doesn’t get any better.
In 1974 three of us saw a Life cigarette add in the movies of a plane flying over Maletsunjane Falls and we decided we were going to walk there – the catch phrase was “oh man Life is great!”. Some planning went into the trip, but we were totally unprepared for what followed. Three of us bundled into a 1959 Anglia and off we went to the Frasers shop at Qaba – a road that will today only be tackled in 4×4 vehicles. We left the car there and began the slog. Through rivers and over mountains, valley after valley. No tent, sleeping bags bought at a petrol station for R3.99, shoes were vellies from some shoe shop, food was Maggie mash, bully beef, Pro Vitas, sardines and oats. We had curry powder and we forgot salt. Instant coffee and soup were our saviours. We tried to catch trout with a landline and grasshoppers without success. By day the sun blistered us and by night we froze. As we walked we were hoarded by pikanins, asking where our donkeys and horses were. Lots of laughter and merriment since many of them has never seen white people before, only heard of them from their fathers who worked on the mines. We made it, first to Ketane Falls and then to Maletsunjane, supposedly the first white people to have walked there on foot. Would we do it again? You bet’cha! The next year we guided a group of nearly thirty members of the university’s hiking club to Maletsunjane! What an experience it was!!
Wow that’s an epic adventure. have u written about it. that’s one of those adventures that needs to be shared right here on this site. would love to hear the details and the stories. within that trip there must be many fascinating stories to tell. I have longed to explore the ketane valley. one day. Thanks samuel
Yass, what an adventure! I guess you’d want to avoid Berg Adders and broken ankles up there
Ya forgot to mention the secret ingredient of that last concoction-foot cheese! I absolutely loved this story! Pure In your face DIY adventure! I would trade a thousand pay-for-fish for just one of those trout-it doesn’t get any better.
In 1974 three of us saw a Life cigarette add in the movies of a plane flying over Maletsunjane Falls and we decided we were going to walk there – the catch phrase was “oh man Life is great!”. Some planning went into the trip, but we were totally unprepared for what followed. Three of us bundled into a 1959 Anglia and off we went to the Frasers shop at Qaba – a road that will today only be tackled in 4×4 vehicles. We left the car there and began the slog. Through rivers and over mountains, valley after valley. No tent, sleeping bags bought at a petrol station for R3.99, shoes were vellies from some shoe shop, food was Maggie mash, bully beef, Pro Vitas, sardines and oats. We had curry powder and we forgot salt. Instant coffee and soup were our saviours. We tried to catch trout with a landline and grasshoppers without success. By day the sun blistered us and by night we froze. As we walked we were hoarded by pikanins, asking where our donkeys and horses were. Lots of laughter and merriment since many of them has never seen white people before, only heard of them from their fathers who worked on the mines. We made it, first to Ketane Falls and then to Maletsunjane, supposedly the first white people to have walked there on foot. Would we do it again? You bet’cha! The next year we guided a group of nearly thirty members of the university’s hiking club to Maletsunjane! What an experience it was!!
Wow that’s an epic adventure. have u written about it. that’s one of those adventures that needs to be shared right here on this site. would love to hear the details and the stories. within that trip there must be many fascinating stories to tell. I have longed to explore the ketane valley. one day. Thanks samuel