Slackpacking in the Saddle

I’ve never really been a horsey type. I prefer my transport to respond predictably and promptly. Stop means stop and go means go, sort of thing. Left is left and right is right. No kicking you in the face as you load the groceries.

“But dad,” whined Mia, my typically angelic, nine-year-old daughter, “I don’t want to go hiking again. I’d rather ride.” I was online, searching for a family holiday and, as usual, the internet had led me to a list of slackpacking trails. It’s what we do as a family. We hike.

But my daughter stamped her feet and moaned about blisters, while my son Sam just glared. So I made a compromise, which is how, two weeks later, we found ourselves in the charming little town of Underberg in the Southern Drakensberg of KwaZulu-Natal, from where we would set off on a four-day expedition into Lesotho.

“You can ride or walk. Or you