Sani Pass… All truly great road trips begin with an ill-advised message sent while tipsy.
This is my guiding philosophy in life now, since it’s exactly how I found myself bouncing my Suzuki Jimny up Sani Pass on 31 May with the Midlands Jimny Group without my partner (he was in Nigeria living his own Eat, Pray, Love moment), with half my documents missing and with only a vague idea of how to cross an international border in my little offroad machine.
I’d like to say it was a carefully planned, sober decision involving route maps, border regulations and diplomatic caution. But no, it started with a few wines, one hasty post on the Midlands Jimny WhatsApp group. “Anyone doing anything soon?”, and the reply of ….. “Let’s do Sani Pass”.
Because saying no to a 4×4 trip up a legendary mountain pass that’s destroyed the dreams of countless off-roaders is unthinkable in polite Jimny society. Also, I didn’t want to seem like a wimp. And besides, the pass has a pub at the top. Priorities.
The planning stage or lack thereof… (what not to do for your Sani pass trip)
Some weeks later, as the Man asked “Do you even have a valid passport?”, I realised planning might have been a good idea. Cue frantic rummaging through drawers, I did find my passport. It was miraculously still valid but, that was only step one. You see, South Africa is not a free-for-all when it comes to driving into Lesotho. No, you need:
- Passport (duh)
- Cross border letter from your insurer (because what if you roll your wheels off the cliff?)
- Letter of authority from the bank (if your car is financed)
- A declaration that you will definitely, totally, cross back over the border and not sell your car for cows.
All of this I managed to obtain in a blur of admin, phone calls, and threating to cry at the bank. Because nothing says intrepid overlander like bureaucratic compliance.
The convoy…
Jimny owners travel in packs. It’s safer that way. Like meerkats but with recovery gear. On the morning of 31 May, I set off alone, because my partner was living it up in Nigeria (okay, he was actually working) and couldn’t join me. I was only slightly bitter about this as I set off before 6am from Westville in Durban as we had arranged to meet at Notties pub at 9am. I’d like to pretend I was extremely hardcore but, I spent most of the morning blasting the heater and regretting my life choices. We all met at Notties pub, a cheerful group of Jimny enthusiasts. Think about a bunch of labradors who can’t believe their luck. We each admired each other’s rigs, debated tyre pressures and, downed some much needed caffeine at the pub before hitting the road.
The drive itself? Utter chaos and glorious.
We had opted for the dirt roads to reach the pass but, when you are the last vehicle in a convoy of 10 plus, it can get very dusty. Needless to say, the only way I stayed on the road was by putting distance between the Jimny in front of me and myself but, this also meant I had to play serious catch-up when the group stopped for the odd break here and there. We made it to the SA border at around 12pm, did what needed to be done and then…the fun began.
For the first bit, you feel smug. The road is wide’ish, the views epic. You think to yourself “why do people fuss about this pass? I could do this in a Corolla!” But then, the gradient hits. The road narrows. The bends tighten. Suddenly you’re in low-range, inching around hairpins while the drop-off on one side gives you a clear view of your mortality. Then you do the hairiest bit of the pass. Because the actual border between SA and Lesotho is at the top. It’s the most dramatic section. Switchbacks that look like a toddler designed them in SimCity. Sheer drops that will have your soul briefly leave your body.
You learn a lot about yourself. How much you can sweat. How many Hail Marys you can say in a minute. How to keep smiling for photos while you’re dying inside. But, here’s the thing. The Jimny eats it up! Mine climbed like a mountain goat. A goat with the stability of a tipsy toddler sure but, determined nonetheless.
Border formalities… “How long will you be in Lesotho?” “About two beers”. More polite officers. More stamping. More pretending to know what you’re doing.
And then, civilisation. The Sani Mountain Lodge. Home to the highest Pub in Africa (officially 2874m). A roaring fireplace. The famously overpriced but mandatory and great tasting Maluti beer. Because yes, you have to have a Maluti beer at the top. It’s the law. Or, if not the law, a very strong cultural norm enforced by peer pressure.
A brief interlude…let’s talk about Lesotho. If you’re going to cross into Lesotho, you should know it’s not just the bit above Sani Pass. It’s a whole country. An incredibly underrated one. Lesotho is the only country in the world entirely above 1400m elevation. It is home to the highest peak in Southern Africa, Thabana Ntlenya (3482m) known as Kingdom in the Sky because altitude is its entire personality. Lesotho also has friendly people who will actually stop to help you if you break down. Endless mountains that make the Drakensberg look small. Remote villages where the Basotho still ride horses as their main transport and my favourite…winters with proper snow (none of this light dusting on the Berg nonsense). If you want to make the most of your border crossing, you don’t just stop at Sani, you go in. One of the spots recommended by Sarah on the Midlands Jimny group was Semonkong Lodge which I definitely will be checking out. In short, if you want to add a real Lesotho adventure to your Sani Pass crossing, you don’t just pop up to the pub and go home. You make Semonkong your next stop.
Okay, back to what I was writing about…
The descent. It’s all fun and games until someone mentions short-cut.
After the beer, the pub photos and proving I was braver than 99% of my friends back home, it was time to go back down. Custom forms? Boring but easy. The pass itself? A bit hair-raising going down but Jimnys were born for this. We all got back to the South African side. We said our goodbyes. Everyone went home like respectable people. Except me and another brave lady. Now…this is key. I followed a man who said he knew a short-cut. This is the single worst phrase you can hear when in the bush or trekking a 4×4 route you’re not familiar with. “Follow me, I know a short cut” actually means “Follow me onto a dirt track so remote Google Maps is a polite shrug. Prepare to lose signal. Abandon hope.”
However, we followed him. Got completely lost on a KZN dirt road. No signage. No clear turns. Dark outside so when you hit a little bump…you really hit it! I’ll admit, I panicked slightly. Not enough to cry but, enough to rehearse my “please help me I’m lost” speech in isiZulu. Eventually we found tar again and with that, my sanity and eventually home.
Would I do it again? Absolutely and immediately!
Here’s the thing. It was chaos but, it was FUN!
Even alone. Especially alone. There’s a kind of pure, unfiltered satisfaction in realising you can navigate border controls solo, handle one of Africa’s scariest roads, survive a convoy of Jimny enthusiasts who talk about tyre pressure like sommeliers discuss wine.
Sani Pass is one of those bucket-list routes you have to do if you live in South Africa. It’s our local answer to the Stelvio Pass, but with more livestock and fewer Ferraris.
And once you’re over the border, Lesotho itself is just astonishing. The moment you’re past the pass, you’re in a different world. One of the high mountains, quiet valleys, horses and, that endless Lesotho sky.
Other spots to hit in Lesotho
If you’re going to make a trip of it (and you should), other spots to hit in Lesotho (so you don’t just drink one beer and leave):
- Semonkong Lodge – for Maletsunyane Falls and actual local culture
- Katse Dam – one of the world’s highest dam walls and insane mountain views
- Afriski – yes, there’s skiing in southern Africa in winter
- Thabo Bosiu – a historic site where the Basotho nation was forged
- Ts’ehlanyane National Park – for hiking trails that’ll make your Drakensberg photos look basic
Honestly, it’s an overlander’s dream.
Practical tips from someone who clearly needed them
… and, if you’ve read this far, you’re either planning your own trip or just here for this well written piece. Either way, some actual useful advice:
- Don’t forget your cross border paperwork. Lesotho border officers are polite but firm.
- Drop your tyre pressure. Don’t be that person who spins out on a hairpin (that was me).
- Respect the weather. Sani Pass can close in winter if there’s snow.
- Carry snacks. Border posts are not Woolworths.
- Have cash on hand. For the borders. I took around R400 and came back with some change after a beer or two.
- Don’t follow men who promise short-cuts. Learn from my shame.
The verdict
Sani Pass is not just a road. It’s a rite of passage. It’s the kind of place where you can pretend you’re Bear Gryllis, while actually having lunch at a pub with a working fireplace. It’s also a brilliant gateway to a country that deserves way more love from travellers.
Will I go back? 100%. Even solo. Especially solo. Because there’s nothing quite like conquering a legendary pass, standing on a mountaintop with a Maluti beer, looking around at Lesotho in all its mountainous glory and thinking “Damn, I’m actually doing this.” Even if it was all because of a tipsy WhatsApp message.
If you’re reading this and wondering if you should do it too…just do it! Dust off your passport. Check your paperwork. Pack your sense of humour and…see you on the pass.
I’ll be the one in the Jimny. Lost but having the absolute time of my life.
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