Vuvu to the start of Lehana's Pass is only 8 km but it is packed with wow moments as well as moments that give you pause to reflect on your own privilege. Those moments start as you leave the school in predawn darkness. It's as remote a region as you'll find in South Africa tucked up against the mountain barriers that define the Lesotho border.
As you pedal along from the school to the start of Lehana's Pass you're likely to pass shadowy figures dressed against the cold waiting patiently next to the road for their transport to arrive. A raised hand or a gentle yebo of acknowledgement as you pass. You'll see the headlights of School buses scything through the many switchbacks as they start the task of getting scholars to school.
Pinpricks of light and the lazy swirl of smoke from houses informs you the sleepy mantle of night has been shed. You might even see a gogo carefully dip a cup into a shallow depression she has dug into a roadside cutting where water has seeped in overnight. She will patiently scoop water into a 20 litre bucket before covering the hole with a rusty sheet of corrugated iron to protect it from contamination before hauling her bucket of water to her dwelling on the mountainside above the road.
Banter is shared between children as they get ready for school, their voices carried many hundreds of metres across the valley as they call out to each other from their houses. As it gets lighter you'll see scholars dressed in an array of school uniforms make their way down to the road. Some to wait for a bus and others make their way to school on foot.
Next to the road the occasional sullen donkey waits patiently for the sun to rise. The sound of distant cow bells echo across the craggy mountains. As you round a corner, to the west you'll catch sight of the snow peaked mountains of Lesotho. The glimmer of which signals the sun is edging above the horizon to the east.
Speeding down sweeping descents your bike tyres splash through low level river crossings before crawling up the steep inclines that follow—the crunch of gravel and the pop of stones bounce off the steep sides of the cuttings where the road has been hewed through the mountains. Roads that connect these small villages to the larger world. Roads that bring food and supplies from far away. The same roads that carry people far from home in search of work and income. These same roads that bring them home occasionally where they share stories of life elsewhere.
The 8 km out of a Vuvu are a time to reflect on the last few days. The pace of life is probably slower than you're used to but don't be fooled by the slower metronomic tick of life. Those valleys with their scattering of villages pulse with the warmth of life. Apart from the willingness and warmth of the support stations along the way, many a wayward rider has knocked on a strangers door and been welcomed inside.
Leaving the Vuvu to Mount Fletcher gravel road at the hairpin bend that marks the start of the Lehana's Pass portage you start the transition into a different part of the country. A part so different from what you've experienced over the last 400 km that it's akin to passing through a wormhole. You'll leave behind the myriad villages, the countless greetings offered as you ride by and are shouted from fields, the constant stream of vehicles rattling down tired roads, spaza shops and dogs that attentively follow their horse mounted masters. You'll catch your last glimpse of people draped in colourful Basotho blankets. You'll say goodbye to a region of the trail so far removed from your day to day that it'll leave an indelible mark on your soul.
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