Grasshoppers and cranes are dressed for a ball. I don't know, maybe at midnight they become boring brown and gray again, but right now their vibrant Victorian collars and crowns match their tuxedos, bowties, and pantyhose breeches.
The steep, slippery road to Lesotho was cold, windy, and foggy. It was like driving an obstacle course in molasses. Plus our windshield wipers gave up working. We couldn't see the mountains around us until we reached the South African border post – a tiny house surrounded by knee-deep mud. On the bright side though, every mountain flower and bush was covered in dew drops and looked bejeweled.
Beyond the pass, the sun was shining. People dressed in blankets and Zapatista hats welcomingly waved at us as I took pictures of them and their cattle.
In open valleys between rocky peaks the sun was scorching. But on summits the freezing wind threatened to blow away all three of us. We didn't climb too high – just a bit over 3,300 meters. Well, the highest peak of Southern Africa is only 3,482 m high, so we couldn't go much higher.