A Sleepy Journey to Lesotho’s Waterfalls

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and we get sleepy. My name's Thomas, and I'm your host. Thanks so much for joining us. Tonight, I have the pleasure of reading to you. Our sleepy adventure takes place in the suit too. A small landlocked country in southern Africa. In just a moment, you'll begin your exploration along leisurely hike through magnificent landscapes, which are home to hidden waterfalls. Along the way, you'll take some time to rest by the water. Simply

being in the presence of flowing water can help us to find a sense of calm and well-being. A big thank you to Dominique for writing this one. Before we start our story, let's warm ourselves up for a good night's rest. We all have our own processes when it comes to settling the body in mind once we come to bed. But I'm sure that there are several aspects, conscious or subconscious, that we all commonly share. For instance, around about

now, or perhaps when you first started this episode, you and many others may have switched

off the light in your bedroom. Creating a calm, dark environment to fall asleep in. Ensuring our bodies feel comfortable and well-supported is another example of a commonality we tend to share. After all, it's pretty tricky to enjoy a truly nourishing night's sleep.

No matter how tired we are, if our comfort isn't where we'd like it to be.

to adjust anything you need right now. Pump your pillows, move onto your side or stretch

“out any aches or tensions in the limbs. Close your eyes if you're yet to do so. And”

sense that everything is gradually slowing down. Your breathing, your heart rate, your mind, and any lingering energy held in the body. Encourage it all to much the natural sliver

the pace of the night. Knowing you are safe, supported, and free of your daily response

“possibilities. Soon, your follow-the-tail of a beautiful land with free flowing waterfalls and abundance”

of wildlife and a pace of existence far detached from the typical busyness that comes with jobs, house chores and all the usual responsibilities. So, assure yourself that right here,

right now, you too can detach from any sense of urgency and simply lessen along until you drift off

“your mind's sleep. Let's make our way to Southern Africa for a serene and scenic journey.”

Where our story begins. It's not often that you can fix your gaze on what will fill the next twelve hours of your life. But here, with your hand poised to open unobili wooden gate, you can drink in the entire path that your hike in the mountains will follow. Your endless suitu, a small country surrounded on all sides by South Africa. This high altitude natural wonderland is known

for its pristine rivers and waterfalls, set against mighty mountain ranges. Taking a deep, calming breath of the crisp air, you feel grateful that this whole beautiful landscape is yours to enjoy. Over the last few days, you've been staying in a homely cabin immersed in nature. Now, as you look beyond the weather-worn fence that curves around the cabin, you see a wide ridge covered with wild flowers which tips into a valley. From this distance,

the lush green bushes and the grass coating the curve of the valley look like nothing more than moss. Only the brim of the cracks in circling the gorge just touched by dawn remains a stubborn brown. The dusty trail that is destined to carry you down into the

Valley is a stark yellow against the green.

creating a safe winding path down the steep mountain side. You unfasten the gate with

“barely a notch. It falls open on its rusty hinges, creaking loudly. Your journey is spread”

out before you. The path you'll take over rocks through forests and alongside waterfalls. You'll traverse the mountains under a sunny sky, letting the long grasses trail through

your fingers. Enjoying the special feeling of being the only person around, but dozens

of kilometers. You'll feast on the sight of nature in its full summary glory and take

“a dip in an icy pool, frothed by a waterfall, if you can find one. As you stand watching the”

trail blaze to life in the thick, heavy light of an African daybreak, the anticipation

doors up to you until you can no longer resist. With just one step, you are off and on your way.

Your backpack is not too heavy despite carrying everything you'll need to take regular comfortable breaks. It's cushioned surface and straps fits snugly against your back, shoulders

“and chest. The gentle constant pressure of its weight reassures you like a long cozy hug with”

a loved one. You are making your way along the edge of the ridge on which you started. A gradual slope pulls you from the rocky lap and into the valley. You stop briefly every so often to marvel at the open sky, untouched by clouds in all directions. It boils a deep blue off to the west, but seeps into a powdery baby blue in the east. Before dissolving into a soft white on the horizon, as you walk and watch, the gradient melts and the colours

melt. The further you travel, the looser your body begins to feel. Any stiffness, doors in the warmth and light, drenching this stretch of land. The valley catches the sunlight streaming in from above. It's as if you've tumbled into a large bowl, filled to the brim with a golden glow. And now you're swimming in the shine. About midway down the curling footpath, you spot a ribbon of fresh spring water, spilling over the valley's wall. The water

trickles into a shallow depression at your feet before slowly draining away through the porous rock. You decide to shed your backpack and shoes and take a mini shower in the cascade. The air is so deliciously warm that your clothes will dry off in mere moments.

You step under the damper fully clothed.

the cool water seep over your body. Your shirt becomes wet and heavy. The sound of the tiny

“waterfall rushes in your ears. It's quite gushing, filling your mind. Feeling refreshed,”

you stretch out on a flat rock nearby to roll on your socks and tie the laces of your sturdy hiking boots. In as long as it takes to knot your laces, your stopping shirt and

trousers have transformed into pleasurable damp material. It coats your body in a welcome

coolness. With your natural air conditioning running, you set off once again. Your steadily

“heading deeper into the greenery glazed depths of the valley. Very tuffs of well-watered”

grass sprout from the wall of the gorge. They ripple in the wind that streams over you from time to time, looking like underwater grasses poured by the tides. The sheer size, depth and beauty of the valley, star something inside you, something that feels like stroking your

pat or taking the first bite of your favorite dessert. Grey white rock peaks out along the

“valley's green walls in air-int stripes and spots. The rocks look like snow drafts, sprawled”

out on ledges. Slowly, your winding path comes level with a canopy of trees at the bottom of the ravine. The trees are so dense that their branches intertwine to form a single unbroken sheet. It almost feels as if you're in flight hovering over the tree tops. You stand for a moment to soak up the view and you can imagine reaching out to brush your hand along the bushy blanket that they collectively create. The canopy would be soft and

fuzzy. It would tickle your palm as you glided your hand over the deep green leaves. You imagine growing and growing until you're big enough to crawl onto the bed of tree tops. You would lie down, tuck your hands behind your head and while away the day, watching the sky changing above you. With one last look at the ocean of leaves and branches, stained gold by the morning light, you head down the trail and into the forest's cool air

recover. Birds sing sweetly overhead. The canopy looked so thick when you were higher up on the path. But now, shafts of sunlight burst through the lattice of bounds above you. The rays flow into puddles of light that illuminate the undergrowth. You notice large,

Silvery boulders scattered across the forest floor.

limb places. Leaves crunch underfoot as you drift deeper into the forest. A breeze plays

“through the branches and bracken, adding to the symphony that the birds are conducting.”

Your path traces the edge of a bubbling brook and you wonder if it's fed by the tiny waterfall you bathed in earlier. The hushed wash of the flowing water muffles every other sound. It's drowns out all of your busy thoughts, gently pulling them away to float down stream,

one by one, leaving you with a clean, still mind.

You continue to follow the curve of the brook, as it weaves its way between trees and boulders.

“Reassuringly, every dozen meters or so, your dirt trail reappears.”

It leads you to the edge of a sheer rock face and you trace the wall, grey but for the moss, until you come to a wide crack in the cliff.

A few vines fall in front of it, forming a natural curtain.

You pair around instinctively, but there is nothing but forest around you. Stretching out a hand, you part the trailing vines.

“You can see daylight at the end of a short, spacious tunnel.”

Feeling daring, you step off the path and slip into the passage. Your footsteps echo in the chamber, reaching out, you can just about touch the sides. As you approach the end of the tunnel, a low raw, gross steadily louder. It hums in your ears, as if you were in a field filled with wild flowers and buzzing bees. The tunnel amplifies it, throwing the sound back at you from multiple angles.

Blinking sightly, you head out of the tunnel in search of the sound. As your eyes are just, you notice taller, older trees. They are lush and strong, swaying in the breeze. You think that the rushing sound must be coming from their branches, as they bend and real in the wind.

Until you take a few more steps forward out of the tree line and find the true source, a waterfall, plummeting from so very high up, at the sun, nearing its peak in the sky, obscures its origin, the deluge of water, horse itself into a pebble-lined pool. At the back of the pool, the waterfall bubbles and fizzes, frothing the water into a white mass.

Away from the falls, the water flows clean and clear. It gently laps the pebbled bank, where a few wind torn leaves floaked placidly.

Cliffs rise up on all sides of you, making this place sits very own, private ...

The falls kick up a mist that catches the light as it flies into the air,

“setting this magical grotto ablaze with a million glittering rainbows.”

Leaving your pack, socks and shoes in the shade of the trees, you wander over the slick pebbles, feeling the wash of the pool tickle your toes. You're about 15 meters away from the actual falls, but it's spray still coats you. It fills refreshing.

You wade into the pool, until the water laps at your knees and you close your eyes.

The heavy sound of the waterfall fills like a massage.

“It's white noise draining away the aches in both body and mind.”

You can feel a soft soothing current honing at you. You wiggle your toes gently against the smooth pebbles under foot. Raise of sunlight, rake over your eyelids,

casting that special reddish brown color across your vision.

Peace, you feel peace, sensing yourself relaxing more than you have in a long time. You have actually crossed the sunlit waters back to the pebbled bank.

“Stopping every so often to take in the way the afternoon sunlights up the waterfall,”

while the color of the moss covered bark on an ancient tree. You set about gathering some kindling for a fire. Your search for dry wood carries you across the length and breadth of the small stretch of woodland, nestled in this secretile cave. As you rummage around the forest floor,

you can't help but daydream about building a tiny cottage in this clearing. Jasmine and honey suckle would climb up the walls, building your very own private valley with their sweet scent. You imagine waking up and peeking out of your window at the thundering falls every morning, and nodding off to its soothing thrum every night.

With enough wood to start a cozy campfire, you find a flat clear space in the forest. Then you set about creating a campsite under the cover of the trees, but still with the view of the falls. Patiently, you coax flames out of the bracket you've collected,

until a cheerful fire, spits and spotters to life. From the depths of your backpack, you pull out a large blanket which you spread over the ground. You potter around happily, warming up a meal over the flames, and boiling a saucepan of water.

When you've made your sweet, milky mug of tea to your satisfaction,

Your food is ready for eating,

you settle down on the blanket.

“With your back resting against a tree, you enjoy your meal.”

All the while, you lazily watch the waterfall running and rushing. After dusting off your hands, you slowly set your perfect mug of tea. It is delicious, and it wards off the chill in this dump shaded area.

You spend a while longer leaning against the tree,

watching the changing afternoon light draw deeper colours and darker shadows over the pool. At last, you get to your feet and move closer to the falls once again.

“While you rest it, you notice to the various brilliant shades of the pebbles.”

Some glinter pale white, while others shine a wet black. Round stones of every hue, litter the bank, gray and silver, and dusty cream. Under water, the ones layering the floor of the crystal clear pool appeared dark. But still, a monochrome rainbow swims just below the surface. You step into the shallows and pick up a few choice pebbles,

cradling them in your stretched shirt.

“The rounded stones cling against each other pleasantly, as you fill up the hollow in your dripping shirt,”

with five, six, seven pebbles. You scour the bank until your satin, you've picked up the roundest and prettiest pebbles. Then, you clamber up a large pile of boulders that stretch into the pool, until you're quite close to the falls, and overlooking the water. Taking your time, you pick out an inky stone from your collection.

It's almost dry, and its weight fills good in your palm. Your fingers close and stroke its polished surface. You imagine that this rock represents the worries that have been weighing you down. You raise out your hand over the rolling waters, and gradually relax your fingers. The pebbles slip through your grasp, and drops down into the foamy pool,

turned white by the waterfall's churning. Now, you choose another pebble. This one represents the fears that have been holding on to you, holding you down. You hold this stone out too, over the clean, bubbling waters, letting it fall out of your loosening grip.

You do this again and again, dropping the pebbles that are your stress, your concerns, and your pain.

Until, finally, there are no pebbles left.

There is nothing to carry, there is no weight.

You are light and free, cleansed in the mist of the waterfall.

“You smile, watching the raging waters just out of reach,”

before you turn and make your way back to your makeshift camp. After packing up, you wind your way through the tall trees, that tops still bowing in the breeze. You look back at the waterfall only once, with its waters turning white in the heavy afternoon sunshine.

It seems to be fading away, a mirage that never quite existed.

“It survives in your memory, though, as it always will.”

The washing sound of the waterfall gradually marges into the rushing of the trees. The sound seems to gently lead you back through the tunnel, and out to the main forest beyond, like a polite host. You comb the vines back into their natural curtain,

wanting to preserve the beautiful spot that hides just out of sight.

The original trail continues along past sheer rock face.

“Rejuvenated after your rest, you follow the path as it slopes up,”

taking you out of the valley. Bit by bit, the forest and undergrowth fall away. Content to slumber in the shaded gorge below. You clamber over rocks and past a few clumps of wild flowers. The sun shines at your back, but the way would breeze that brushes past you from time to time.

Keep you from over heating. Eventually, your path leads you up the foot hills of a mountain, and then onto its rounded top. As you make the journey, you watch whispers of cloud, draw themselves across the sky, in streaks and spots. They gather and bunch into fluffy, snow-white paths,

that lays about in their blue home, bothering the sun every now and again, like pesky flies. When you reach the top of the jagged hill, you pause for a moment. You watch the double shadows of the dancing clouds and rays as they move across the landscape. From this wind swept vantage point, you can just make out the other side of the valley from which you started. You continue on down the other side of the crack,

humming something pleasant and familiar. Smaller, more knotted cliffs and valleys, huddled together on this side of the mountain. You decide to wander through a few of the ravines before turning back and making for home. Leaving the thin trail, you stride between two smaller hillocks.

An and moss grow on the rough walls.

Light green grass carpets the floor, flowing along the wide gorge, like a river.

“A few smaller canyons carve their way off from the main ravine”

and disappear out of sight. You choose one of them at random and stroll down its narrowing length. The slowly sinking sun paints the topmost crusts of the ravine's walls, golden, but you walk on in the cool shadow of the wall. The terrain grows rockier and rockier

until you're twisting and turning between boulders,

moving steadily upwards out of the ravine and onto its bordering cliff.

“As you loop around a particularly large boulder, you notice the sound of fresh running water.”

You pair around the stone, blocking your view, to find a shallow, slender river, gushing over its rocky bed.

Barely uncooled deep, the waters drop forward at a leisurely pace, as if they've got nowhere

in particular to go. You pick your way across the flowing river to the other side of its pebbly banks and follow it for a few more moments, until you find a broader flatter area that is

“still protected by soaring wars. Staying on the dry edges, scouting the river,”

you continue to follow the stream. Then you discover that the thin jet of water no more than a few meters across, shoots off the edge of the cliff that you're on. You stand to near the lip of the mountain, taking in the spree, tumbling down into the valley below, watching a waterfall form, and then form, is as mesmerizing as watching it thunder down from below.

You sit on the dry sandy ground on the side of the creek, a safe distance from the edge, but close enough to appreciate the basin of greenery, seeping out across the horizon below you. As the stream tips over the cliff search, drops of water scattered into the air around you, forming a soft, billowing mist that glints and flashes in the light.

The way the water's drain and drift endlessly, effortlessly, comes you even further. There is no fighting, no trying to stop. The river simply rushes over the edge, willing to become something new, something different. The waters seem to accept that they must plunge out into the waiting pool below.

Hidden though it is in the ferns and forests. When the waves of afternoon light die down to a gentle glow, you make your way back along the stream, and out through the ravines. While you walk up the long bendy path that causes weight to your snug cabin,

Your thoughts are filled with a creepy collage of waterfalls, flowers, and su...

The path stretches out along the flat rim of the cliffs and circling the gorge.

“As you walk, you pull and pluck long juicy strands of swaying grass.”

From the tufts that scatter the ground. On this plateau, you can see the surrounding area for kilometers around.

So high up, it says if you are walking in the sky.

The sun has dropped down. It's our inch blaze, skimming the horizon.

“And the sky is flushing a delicate pink.”

The puffs of clouds still breathing the dying day. Blush a deep rose.

You watch, as the sun cracks against the horizon, and spills out its last purpose, yellows and oranges,

over less soon too.

“The colours stream out into the heavens,”

dying the air around you for just a few moments. With that, the sun slips away to sleep. Just as the wild around you turns dark, you spot your cabin, not too far away. It's lit bedroom window, promises rest. Happy but tired after your long day.

You pass through the wooden gate. With thoughts of your soft, fluffy bed, dancing in your head. You turn the knob and enter the cabin. Outside, the cricket sing. The bright stars sweep the cabin in a silver glow.

And off in the distance, a waterfall or two rushes, barbours and murmurs itself to sleep. [Music] [Music] [Music]