Outside Maseru, the countryside was also just perfect. There were a few uphills to give my leg muscles a challenge. The downhills were steep enough to allow me a few metres of free-wheeling without having to fear getting caught up in a speed wobble.

But the passing traffic struck the fear of God into me. Cars, busses, mini-busses and trucks went past me at roaring speeds.

They often overtook one another on blind rises and across white lines.

I usually cycle on the same side of the road as cars but I decided that on this journey I would face the traffic the way pedestrians do. This business of hearing vehicles from behind, only seconds before they shot past me and so close to me, was too dangerous.

The gentle landscape around me was what makes up the lowlands of Lesotho. It’s where most of the country’s people live.

It’s very different to the highlands, but more about those dizzy heights later on.
Most homes in the lowlands are modern, small, square houses. Many have satellite dishes and some have cars parked inside their yards.

Every push on my pedals that caused me to leave Maseru further behind brought me more into the farmlands.

Mealies would often be in a field to my left; millet in a field to my right. When I stopped for a rest and paid closer attention to what was in the fields I would see rows of beans between the tall grain stalks. Sometimes it would be pumpkins.

Further away from the road, on the far side of the fields, the flat country always ended abruptly with a sudden steep, rocky hill.

I could stare at these rocky hills for ages at a time, wondering what life went on in all the caves and overhangs; what experiences generations of Basutho children would have had exploring them.

I thought it a very peaceful part of the world as I pedalled through an avenue of tall, thin poplar trees, which have leaves with a silvery shine that sparkles as they move in the wind.

But the peace would be broken every now and again with a fast car speeding past.
I ended up preferring to cycle along footpaths beside the road, which was slower and more bumpy. Every now and again the paths would disappear into a ditches but, hey, that’s why I was on a mountain bike!

Mountain bikes are strong and can manage those kinds of bumps. If you ride over them at a speed you can even “bunny hop”, which involved standing up and having your feet on the pedals, in a position that puts them at the same level.

Image: Duncan Guy, CC-BY-SA

WHAT DO YOU THINK? What do think of motorists who drive too fast?