Rain broke over Mokhotlong mere minutes after we pealed out the drive, gate clanging in the oncoming wind.
Rain bored down on our little Toyota truck as we tumbled through the mountains toward the border; screamed past the windows we had cracked to ventilate the fog clouding our windshield; consumed the road as we inched down Sani Pass, praying we could make the switchback turn.
Rain followed us to Underberg, drenched our tent, whipped our hair about our face, and made that first night’s fire in the lodge a welcome sight. By dawn, the rain had not let up.
With each switch across the mountain, our feet slowed their tempo, our legs burned in happy agony, our lungs protested their lot. Our eyes were filled with wonder. Our hearts and minds were resolved. The climb was but another trial, a challenge as straightforward as they come.
Breathe, recover, breathe, enjoy, breathe, repeat.
This is living.