Several hours back in the saddle, and there was little of note to see on this stretch so we had targeted the cararvan park in small town of Eliot for our next nights stop (there were few other choices out this way). We arrived late afternoon, and were having trouble locating this mysterious "caravan park". So in the end we settled for a bush camp out of town beside a dam, the swaying vote were the small herd of Zebra randomely wandering round. Again it rained, but the drizzle was more annoying than an issue, but we managed to light a decent fire before retiring to bed for a decent nights sleep, the only disturbance being the sound of Zebra munching on the grass beside our tents, but that was somehow strangely soothing.Another day, the sun was shining and we took the opportunity for our first fry up brekky before steaming ahead once more. The plan was to reach the foot of the Drakensberg Mountains in preparation for our following morning assault on the 4x4 Sani Pass and Lesotho. We arrived at our target hostel to find it was in fact now luxury chalets (thanks lonely planet), but with a bit of back tracking we found a bed for the night further down the road. Still raining, it was now freezing cold aswell as we had ascended to 1500 odd metres. Hard to believe it was in fact summer.A new day, summer was back and the hot outdoor shower overlooking the mountains reminded us "this is what its all about".We felt good and excited, it was going to be a good day. Destination Lesotho, our 2nd country. This little country landlocked by South Africa is a mountainous place, famed for its outdoor activities, Prince Harry's volunteer work and of course the highest pub in Africa. Is it true beer tastes better at altitude?……..we were about to find out.We set off in Kal, loaded up but unphased by the state of the track. We had heard mixed reports about the condition of the road to Sani Pass, but the initial stages although a little bumpy in parts seemed little worse than poorly kept dirt roads back home. Nothing that would phase us particularly we thought, except until we reached the supposed spine tingling sheer drop offs.Our first full view of the Pass, and a mandatory stop for a few happy snaps at a make shift lookout point.9 kms left to go, but as we pulled away we could here a clunking sound from underneath the car. "Better check it I spose", so we alighted and dragged ourselves under the vehicle. We tapped, prodded and kicked a few things like we knew what we were doing and unable to find the problem assured ourselves it was no doubt something minor. Unfortunately though it wasn't, as we were about to depart again, turn up the stereo and pretend all was well Bones spotted the problem, "this could be bad". One of our shocks was broken, it had sheared towards the bottom (it appeared it may have been partially cracked for some time) and was knocking against the wheel rim. Kal had failed us at the first hurdle. After some quiet contemplation followed by open discussion we decided the only option was to limp back to Underburg on the remaining coil suspension. A bouncy ride an hour back the way we had come and we stumbled across the suspension specialists - SupaQuik Auto (we had been in Africa long enough to know that nothing was ever "SupaQuik"). That said we were in luck, or so we thought. The clueless bloke at the desk seemed to know less about suspension than Karen and Susie, and turned us away unable to help, however fortunately for a us another employee had overheard our plight, intervened and confidently responded that they should have an adequate replacement. 45 mins later and Kal had a new set of rear shocks, and SupaQuik had delivered on its name. It was about lunchtime but we figured we had plenty of time for a second assault on the Sani Pass. It felt like déjà vu, we passed the hostel again, and then the lookout that had claimed us first time round as we ventured forward into unchartered territory. Not far past the lookout and we reached our first border of the trip. Border posts are a well documented nemesis of the African overland traveller, but we were just glad to be tackling our first one into friendly Lesotho. Bones and Susie, got there stamps, and Kals paperwork was given the all clear BUT Kaz and I had a problem. We had arrived in Cape Town on our old passports and whilst there had decided to renew them to ensure we had enough blank pages to keep the African border officials happy……………..unfortunately we had 1 too many blank pages, our South African visas were in our old passports. We had discussed bringing both passports and agreed to do so but figured the old cut up ones were no longer valid so when we left Cape Town, checking we had packed them was the last thing on our minds. We were sure we had them with us. We searched our bags, we searched the car, no luck, maybe we put them in storage in Cape Town, maybe we sent them home, we didn't know (we still don't). Besides, "who's ever heard of not being able to leave a country" our details should have been in the computer, we had our arrival flight boarding passes, if we were illegally in the country wouldn't they just want us out? "Isnt there just some fine we can pay?" Kaz put to them. We debated the issue with the border police for as long as we could, hoping that theyd give in or at least suggest a little backhander and the problem would go away, but in the end the bloke just wouldn't stamp our passports unless we had that little airport sticker in there. We needed to contact our embassy, or perhaps South African home affairs " We could be stuck in this s***hole country forever", but of course there was no mobile phone reception and the border posts phones had apparently been out for 2 days. We had to get reception and call the embassy so it looked like we were heading back along the road well travelled, past that damn lookout, and that stupid hostel. We finally got a hold of the embassy, reception was sketchy and the office was closing and after half a dozen broken conversations all they could tell us was what we already feared we would have to do, travel the 130km to Pietermaritzburg (PMB), and sort it out at the closest South African home office. In fact we didn't even know if they would be able to help us there and the office was closed for the day so we couldn't contact them either. It was decision time. Do we wait till morning, call the office and if need be then drive to PMB, if so by the time we arrived the queues would be enormous and the rest of the day or possibly longer would be a write off. Alternatively we drive immediately, book in a hotel for the evening and be there when doors open at 8am and hope they can help us. We chose the latter option. We journeyed to PMB through the miserable fog and rain and found ourselves some overpriced accommodation in the centre of town.