”One-crocoBANG”. Counting the seconds between the flash of lightning, and the clap of thunder, on an exposed ridge between Malealea and Roma, had suddenly become less than fun. In fact, perched on an aluminium mountain bike, or conductor, call it what you will, a more accurate description would be life-threatening.
Our adventure had started six days earlier, when my partner for the Lesotho Sky, Jakes Jakobsen, and I crossed through the Van Rooyens border post onto the billiard-table-smooth tar that would take us to Maseru, and eventually Roma. The trip up from Cape Town is a long one, so as soon as we found the Roma Trading Post, we dropped our bags, unpacked the bikes and set of on a pre-race exploration ride. On the other side of Roma we encountered our first taste of what was to come over the next week, an unnamed pass (to us it was of Alpine proportions, as our legs and lungs screamed for more oxygen at 1800m) that took us up to an area with some spectacular slick rock riding.
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