The Highest Pub in Africa Is Literally Above the Clouds

On a crisp morning that held the promise of adventure, my girlfriend and I found ourselves threading through the rugged veins of the Drakensberg Range, aiming for the lofty goal of reaching Port Elizabeth before dusk. The elevated roads of Lesotho unfurled before us like ribbons, winding and climbing, beckoning us forward. As we ascended, an unplanned beacon called to us: the Sani Mountain Lodge, home to the highest pub in Africa.

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With time pressing against us like the thinning air of the high altitudes, we decided on a brief stop. A short detour for a moment of extraordinary living — a quick pint at the roof of the world seemed too tantalizing to pass up. The climb was invigorating, our vehicle huffing like the sturdy pack mules of old as we ascended the path once traveled by traders and those leading their brides across new thresholds.

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Parking our vehicle, we breathed in the crisp, rarefied air, a luxury after the closed confines of travel. The pub, a rustic establishment perched at 9,429 feet (2,874 m), was a stone and wood homage to the intrepid spirit of those who value the journey as much as the destination.

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Stepping inside the Sani Mountain Lodge, we were greeted by a warm, convivial atmosphere that contrasted sharply with the brisk mountain chill. The pub was abuzz with the stories of travelers, a symphony of accents sharing tales over foaming mugs. It was a scene sketched in camaraderie and the shared understanding of those who chase horizons.

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We approached the bar, the wooden surface gleaming with the patina of countless restful stops and elated encounters. The bartender, with a knowing smile, poured us each a beer, golden and shimmering like the morning sun catching on the edges of distant peaks.

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"Take a seat, take a breath," he suggested, gesturing to the windows that framed the world below. With time ticking, we nonetheless obliged, finding a table where the earth seemed to drop away at our feet, leaving only the sky to embrace us.

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To our amazement, the pub straddled the line between South Africa and Lesotho, a geographical quirk that tickled our fancy. We positioned ourselves, feet in two different countries, and raised our glasses for a swift toast. The taste of the ale was crisp, a fitting match to the air that swirled around us in gentle eddies.

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Our stop was a fleeting one, minutes counted like precious gems, but the view was immortalized in quick snaps and laughter. The clouds, like mischievous spirits, flirted with the lodge, rolling in to enshroud us in a gentle, hazy embrace. We felt the buzz of the altitude, a reminder that here, in this elevated haven, moderation was wisdom.

The time was our master today, not hunger. With one last lingering look at the panorama that spread beneath us, we left our empty glasses and the murmur of the pub behind.

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Back in the vehicle, the road called to us once more. We carried the memory of the pub at the roof of the world, a brief interlude in our journey, a moment where we brushed against the heavens and sipped the joy of life's simple pleasures.

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As the Sani Mountain Pass disappeared behind us, becoming one with the horizon, we drove on, fueled by the spirit of discovery and a touch of mountain magic, onward to our next destination.