03/09/2025
Waking Up from Winter (With a Side of Snowballs and Sass)
Waking up from winter in the mountains is a bit like emerging from a chrysalis—if the chrysalis were a frozen sleeping bag and the butterfly came out cranky and caffeine-deprived. Winter in the Drakensberg is not so much a season as it is a moody artist: one day it’s painting everything white in dramatic, sweeping strokes; the next, it’s run out of paint and left us with brown, cold landscapes and noses that feel like they’ve been personally offended.
Snow here is like a very unpredictable celebrity guest. When it shows up, it shows up—draping the Sani Pass in thick icy blankets, forming impromptu skating rinks between rocks, and causing grown adults to slide around like toddlers in socks on tile. Other times, it’s ghosted us entirely, leaving us staring at the sky like, “Really? This is what we wore thermals for?”
Then, as if someone flipped the seasonal switch on September 1st, little green shoots poke defiantly through the snow like, “Surprise! Spring is here, deal with it.” Waterfalls start melting, birds start chirping with the self-importance of backup singers in a Disney movie, and we all get to debrief our winter trauma while basking under blissfully blue skies.
Naturally, we did what all emotionally scarred mountain folk do—we poured over photos of The Good, The Bad, and The Evil.
The Good 🌟
Ah, the good. Like that lovely couple from Johannesburg, fresh into retirement and snow-hungry. Their bucket list was clear: see snow, touch snow, roll in snow, possibly eat snow (we didn’t ask). I warned them—snow can be as flaky as your unreliable cousin with commitment issues. But lo and behold, the universe took pity and dumped just enough snow the night before their arrival. They arrived to a winter wonderland and behaved exactly as any sensible adults would: they frolicked like toddlers on a sugar high. Snow angels were made, snowballs were hurled, dreams were fulfilled. “This was a dream come true,” they told me. I considered retiring right then and there on that high note.
The Bad ❄️
Then, there was the family who booked a tour into Lesotho months in advance. Their goal? To show their grown sons the majestic Sani Pass—cue inspiring music. Mum called us approximately every 4.5 minutes to make sure everything was perfect. And it was... until it wasn’t.
On the eve of their great journey, the sky decided to throw a frozen tantrum, and the pass was blanketed in snow. It was gorgeous, but Mum suddenly transformed into an anxious weatherman. Despite our reassurance (and the fact that our guides are part-driver, part-snow-ninja), she panicked halfway up and demanded to turn back. We could’ve gotten them there safely, but alas, the only icy path they conquered was the drive of missed opportunity. Ironically, the next day was clear as a bell. Mother Nature: 1. Mum’s trust level: 0.
The Evil 😬
And now… cue ominous music... The Evil.
Let me preface this by saying: we love Italian season. Passion! Charm! Amazing shoes! But on this particular day, we were blindsided. Our top guide, Nathi—legend of the Pass and all-around road whisperer—was taking an Italian couple up the snow-covered route. Things started going sideways the moment the lady stepped into the vehicle and began a one-woman opera of complaints. Sadly, Nathi isn’t fluent in Italian, so all he heard was tone. Loud, angry tone.
Just 600 metres from the top, the path was blocked by two very unfortunate vehicles clearly not built for snow—think glorified shopping carts on wheels. Nathi, ever the optimist, suggested they walk the last stretch to the Highest Pub in Africa (an experience most people would brag about). They agreed. Or so we thought.
Suddenly, my phone started lighting up with messages. Not the “thank you, this is magical!” kind. No—these were the digital equivalent of someone throwing shoes at your head. She was furious about walking 600 metres. Apparently, no tour is complete without air conditioning and zero elevation gain.
Despite Nathi getting them safely back, she left us our first ever bad review. Our crime? It snowed. IT. SNOWED. We were mortified... but also a little impressed at how creative the complaint was. Truly, five stars for drama.
As I sit now, gazing out over the Drakensberg, the mountains are glowing in the sunlight, dressed in vibrant green like they’ve just had a spa day. But I know better than to relax. September has a sneaky side, and she’s been known to dump snow just when we’ve packed away our jackets and gotten cocky.
Still, I can’t help but feel that familiar flutter of excitement. Spring is here. Guests are coming. Adventures await.
And with any luck, this time next year I’ll be reporting only on the good, the good, and the gloriously ridiculous.
