When you think of Africa many things come to mind.
Skiing is probably among the least likely things to be associated with the continent.
Lesotho is a mountain kingdom in southern Africa, surrounded on all sides by South Africa.
The hectic feelings of anxiety, packing, and the uncertainty starts to grow.
I drove back from Canada and packed all my stuff after a quick nap.
Half conscious, i started making my way from upstate New York down to Baltimore.
I dropped my car off with friends, and caught a ride to the airport.
After a long trip and avoiding some rioting in Paris, I arrived in Joburg.
After some wandering around the Airport I found my ride to the mtn.
It was myself and 4 ski instructors about to mission into the unknown.
From the beginning it felt like being a part of something special.
Something about this place feels less like a ski area and more like a community.
The small size and good vibes go a long way.
At the end of my the season here I still love the place.
JTK Switch Backy in the early season.
The park
Afriski is home to one of only 2 parks on the continent.
I found the level of riding impressive.
There is some really solid riding coming out of people who have never been on snow outside of Africa.
The park wasn’t huge, but it had a little bit of something for everyone.
In the late season the biggest jump was 35' and saw a couple of dub attempts.
Yours truly enjoying the sight of my meal thanks to always carrying a headlamp.
When the forecasts came through for heavy snow, I was scared to get my hopes up.
“DON’T TALK ABOUT IT YOU’LL JINX IT!!!!”
and other conversations were heard around the mountain.
When the storm first hit, it seemed like a dud.
Grey skies and clouds, but the snow was barely falling.
“We’re fucked!”
“Too many people talking about the powder” “Maybe it’s still coming?”
The thoughts that were cooking in our brains and sending the anxiety all the way to frenzy mode 1000.
Mid evening the snow finally started.
Mid night, I woke up to a heavy Thunderstorm sound.
It’s raining!"
I thought as I crawled for the window.
Posing for a quick shot in between backcountry laps.
Photo: Shawn Van Zyl
In the morning it was as if I had never seen powder before.
The excitement of those childhood snowstorms overwhelmed me as I nearly skipped to work.
The energy was unreal.
The first day the skies cleared it was full on send mode.
There’s that realization that what you are riding is finite, at least for that season.
Hey JTK, you might be waiting for a while.
If you get shut out, take them pants off and do a lap.
In the biblical times there was Sodom and Gomorrah; in the present we have the Gondola Cafe.
Lesotho knows how to party.
Maybe you’re an “I’ll have one beer and go home” throw in.
Sorry but that just won’t fly at gondola.
The patch home isn’t the most inviting either.
A sketchy boardwalk of pallets over wetland mixed with mud and ice depending on the day.
Ski patrol has to party sometime.
Here’s Frosty giving the upsidedowners a shot.
When I walked outside there was an eerie silence.
The people, the tents, and the season were gone.
The final contest in the park.
The location, the vibe, and the overall experience is simply amazing.
In the words of the great Tanner Hall, “Fucking send it son!”
Absolutely stunning night sky Photo: Jason May
2016 park crew was not too shy of the camera.
Come shred with the crew for skinny jeans Sundays 2017.
