Some of the best people I know — some of my closest friends — are people I met through work.
One group of friends came from an NGO I worked at a few years ago.
I still don’t fully understand what made us so close.
Maybe it was proximity — nine hours a day, five days a week.
Maybe it was that we were all around the same age.
Or maybe it was something deeper and harder to name.
We were actually very different in many ways, yet somehow we grew close and started spending time together outside of work. We influenced each other — sometimes positively, sometimes not — but fun was always at the centre of it all.
One of those fun (and slightly reckless) days was when we decided to hike to Qiloane Falls.
I don’t remember exactly how the plan was born, but I strongly suspect it was my fault. A poorly thought-out idea, said out loud with confidence, and somehow… everyone agreed.
None of us had cars, so we used public transport from Maseru to Setibing, a village near the waterfall where the hike would begin.
The problem was: none of us had ever been there before. We also had no real plan once we arrived. A very naïve part of me believed Google Maps would save us.
It didn’t.
On a hot summer day, we packed our swimsuits and a giant bottle of cheap wine and set off.
And when I say giant bottle, I mean someone carried a 1-litre bottle of wine for the entire hike.
The first leg took us from Maseru city centre to some unknown place in a minibus. From there, we had to hop into a vehicle that was very clearly not meant for passengers. It was filled with bags of mealie meal, and we sat awkwardly — one on another’s lap — but we found it exciting.
We were dropped off somewhere and had to figure out what to do next.
So we did the only thing that made sense: we asked locals for directions.
They looked at us like we were mad.
Four young women trying to walk to a waterfall kilometres away from the main road — alone.
Eventually, we paid two boys to guide us.
In hindsight, this is not something I would advise any young woman to do. We were young and naïve in a world that is not always kind to women. But nothing bad happened, and luck stayed on our side.
We walked through villages, crossed small rivers, and followed narrow paths through tall grass that nearly swallowed us.
One of our fears was accidentally walking too close to a mophato — a traditional initiation school — because of the stories and rumours around them. The secrecy, the fear, the possibility of danger made us anxious.
Luckily, there was no drama.
After about two hours, we heard it before we saw it.
The sound of water. Heavy. Constant. Alive.
Qiloane Falls.
It was heavenly.
Therapeutic.
So beautiful it made my chest feel tight.
We screamed with excitement and stripped down into our swimsuits with absolutely no regard for the two boys who had guided us.
Another flaw in our plan: none of us could swim.
So if anyone slipped into the pool below the waterfall, we would have been in serious trouble. But we were careful. Or lucky. Or both.
Why bring swimsuits if we couldn’t swim?
Because we had to look the part.
We ate our packed lunch and opened the wine. Everything softened.
Cold mist touched our faces. Water crashed down like music.
I had never seen anything so beautiful.
The walk back felt much longer.
But the wine helped.
And so did the stories we told about our own bad decisions.
By the time we reached the road again, everything we had done — all the chaos, all the confusion — had already turned into a memory we would laugh about.
Lessons Learned:
- Some of the best days start with badly planned ideas
Not every adventure needs a perfect plan. Sometimes all you need is a reckless yes and people willing to walk beside you.
- Friendship is built in shared discomfort
Long walks, bad transport, and giant bottles of cheap wine create bonds you can’t design — only live through.
- Wonder often hides behind effort
The waterfall wasn’t easy to reach, but the beauty felt earned. Some of the best places require a little foolishness and a lot of walking.
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