Rapid descent is normally the order of the day on the penultimate day. I did fall into a deep sleep but was interrupted by the need to go to the loo (finally rehydrated!) and simultaneously my annoying phone alarm from the night before (for the final ascent) that was set to go off at 3 a.m.! It was a crowded cabin that night , full of exhausted trekkers (some descending, some ascending to and from Mt. Stanley and Mt. Baker) so I'm sure the alarm didn't bother anybody though it was quite a challenge locating the darn phone in the mangled pile of trekking clothing and gear, whilst catching a deathly whiff of my neighbours trekking socks. Ugh.
Hunwick's Camp - As seen from its toilet. In the foreground, the slippery gang walk of death
My appetite was improved and I was able to put away the pancake slowly but surely. The departure from Hunwick's Camp was rather chaotic with the muddle of groggy trekkers moving about the cabin, with their stuff all over the place, and I almost left my torch behind. Mutanda Camp (The Rock) is the usual destination but in order for me to recover better, Richard suggested that we focus on crossing the Bamwanjara Pass and just make it to Bugata Camp. My pace today was good and I could keep up with most of the others. I was tanked up on water and carbohydrates, enough to go up the big daunting pass.
We left nice and early in order to beat the lunchtime rains. I had to use my trekking pole more efficiently and to maintain a constant walking rhythm. I made good progress up the muddy end of the pass. James and Richard were already at the top. The rest of us landed at the top of the pass, comfortable in the knowledge that the camp was less than 2 hours away. Clouds were coming in with earnest. We wolfed down our tuna sandwiches. It makes me wonder how I can be motivated to go on a demanding expedition like this without a catering team with me to feed my demanding appetite with such consistency.
We left nice and early in order to beat the lunchtime rains. I had to use my trekking pole more efficiently and to maintain a constant walking rhythm. I made good progress up the muddy end of the pass. James and Richard were already at the top. The rest of us landed at the top of the pass, comfortable in the knowledge that the camp was less than 2 hours away. Clouds were coming in with earnest. We wolfed down our tuna sandwiches. It makes me wonder how I can be motivated to go on a demanding expedition like this without a catering team with me to feed my demanding appetite with such consistency.
Looking back at the overcast Mt. Baker
My energy was restored, and we dropped back into the lake valley, with Lake Africa emerging between the ridges. It was threatening to drizzle but we were spared by the time we hit camp. It was 3 p.m. and I immediately proceeded to switch from sweaty to drier clothes, enter the cozy dining area, hop into my sleeping bag and monopolise the mattress in the corner. I needed to warm the thing up for almost half an hour as it really feel colder here than up at Margherita Camp. It is the most exposed camp, facing all the winds funnelling through the valley which probably explains it. The lads were at it with their journals.
After dinner of mushroom soup, vegetable stew and spaghetti, Richard and Abel came in for a final debrief and feedback session. It was quite a frank exchange and they emphasised that we should offer any criticisms and discuss our tipping strategy. My big comment was that I expected a challenge and got a challenge. There was some commotion near the door. Richard, clearly irritated asked: '' Who is it? We do not want to be disturbed!''. It was Green, one of our porters who was the youngest, fastest and probably a top candidate for a future guide role. Richard's future understudy responded enigmatically: ''I am the one''.
Overcast and wet, because the everlasting flowers have closed in their petals
There was an almighty downpour all night which made the prospects of a complete descent very daunting. We needed to rise early and slipping into rain gear that was already wet was not pleasant. Green made a valiant effort the night before to wash and dry some of our clothes. It was still raining when we left at around 8 am, later than planned. The team officially split with now Richard, James Green and 2 other porters going on a different route that would complete a 9 day trek tomorrow. As predicted the grand swampy valley was soaked out, and my inner waterproofs were beginning to do their work. It takes a lot of concentration to identify the semi-submerged tussock grass to hop on.
On one puddle, water was flowing upwards. Abel commented that there is a sink hole there. If one stepped on it, he/she would be drawn in. For a split second, I wondered whether this hole is visible when dry since we had used this path on the way up! There were more hazards to worry about. We somehow emerged into the plateau of endless grass and streams. Boots were still a must and indispensable here. Streams that were gentle during our ascent were now gushing and new waterfalls were now raging as if out of nowhere. My spirits were higher now. I was warmed up and my body seemingly forgot about the damp conditions. The terrain was still flat all through this plateau and we bypassed our detour point during the ascent, where we had lunch.
Within 2 hours of our departure that morning we were back into the dead tree zone near the ghastly Mutanda Camp where roots, stumps, and rocks, all wet, added new hazards. The real downhill challenge had just began. We met some trekkers on their way up. They had just left the Mutanda Camp. I did my best to say the most positive things to them but my comment ''it gets better as you go up'' may not have been too reassuring. Our route avoided the camp itself and we proceeded directly into the giant heather and moss zone, where my backside became well acquainted with a particularly smooth rock face by a stream a couple of days ago. I began to wish I had gators (waterproof ankle and shin wraps) as I was beginning to feel discomfort of wet and sandy socks within my rubber boots. My left big toe that had been taking many a pounding was not hurting, but was still bruised and ridden with blisters. I changed my footfall, which proved to be fateful.
We had lunch at the same lunch site of the Day 2 lunch break, and continued quickly as we were weary of lost time. The idea was to reach the Kilembe Hostel, out of the national park, by dusk. Our porters, Jamie and Cyril, had started after us but caught up with us well before the giant heather zone. I began to really suffer after lunch. The new left footfall was straining some foot muscles and before long they were throbbing with mild pain every time I stepped on it. I was developing blisters on both feet making them more sensitive to the slipping and sliding between socks and shoes. The downhill track was getting steeper, and the with the discomfort, I was moving slower. Jason and Jamie had to wait for me on many occasions from this point.
At Kalalana Camp, I stopped to clean out the inside of my socks and rubber boots, and stubbornly insisted on switching to trekking boots despite Abel's protests that it would still be muddy for a few kilometres still. I realised the error of my ways as were started negotiating the ridge that leads back to the bamboo zone. It was way too slippery to use trekking boots that I erroneously insisted gave me more foot and ankle protection. Being a right sulking diva, I held everyone up for another 10 minutes to get the rubber boots back on and the slow wincing walk continued. The bamboo zone was the longest steep drop of the trail which did little justice to my now shredded, fragile feet. The eternal drop slowed my walk to a near snail's pace.
It was 4 pm and we were now back at Sine Camp. I decided to apply some muscle rub on my feet. It proved ineffectual for the remaining rainforest drop. Just after a big river crossing Jason decided that it would be better if he and Jamie proceeded at their combined pace to Kilembe Hostel so that he could arrange our onward journey to Kasese before it got too dark. I took some pain killers that proved effective to reduce the foot pain and quicken my pace. Abel took my backpack, yet another gesture from a guide who focuses on easing the client's burden. Not ideal, since he has his own baggage but necessary under the current circumstances. After several river crossings we were approaching the ranger's office. A last glimpse of wildlife was sighting a troop of blue monkeys on a tree canopy. The young ones were not as curious as those from Day 2. There was no one at the Ranger's office initially when we arrived. A ranger appeared as Abel and Cyril started going into off-duty mode and slipping from their uniform into their civilian attire. I signed the visitor's book (that somehow replaced the registration book!) before we entered ''civilisation''.
It was Friday evening and lots of kids were out, some doing chores, some playing football. Some asked the porters for sweets and others just stared at me wondering what kind of ''mzungu'' I am. One final plunge into the Kilembe town main strip. My colleagues were already demob happy, talking to locals and buying roast maize. I was just thinking about my first beer. I caught up with Jason at the Kilembe Hostel, and he was already attacking a Nile Special. I helped him out by immediately, and most charitably, gulping the rest of it down. By serendipity, Ema, our driver from Nkuringo Walking Safaris turned up thinking that that was where he was supposed to meet us, instead of the White House Guest House in Kasese. Thank goodness, because I didn't have to dread another bumpy boda boda ride at dusk. We got our surprise summiting certificates from RTS before doing our goodbyes. As we left for Kasese, I was still finding it hard to process all that had been achieved in the past 8 days.
At Kasese we first came across the White House Restaurant guarded by a lady with a big gun. I had mistakenly called her ''sir'' when I asked her for directions. Her imprecise directions initially made us think that we were still far off but actually it was just round the corner. We got dusty town service at the restaurant (certainly no leader of the ''free world'' VIP treatment here!). The waitress took a while to process our food order and seemed reluctant to respond to our extra requests for drinks. For something that took long to eventually arrive, the chicken was tough as leather and the chips super greasy. The showers were not too brilliant either but I was still grateful for actually having the opportunity to get clean for the first time in days!
After dinner of mushroom soup, vegetable stew and spaghetti, Richard and Abel came in for a final debrief and feedback session. It was quite a frank exchange and they emphasised that we should offer any criticisms and discuss our tipping strategy. My big comment was that I expected a challenge and got a challenge. There was some commotion near the door. Richard, clearly irritated asked: '' Who is it? We do not want to be disturbed!''. It was Green, one of our porters who was the youngest, fastest and probably a top candidate for a future guide role. Richard's future understudy responded enigmatically: ''I am the one''.
Overcast and wet, because the everlasting flowers have closed in their petals
On one puddle, water was flowing upwards. Abel commented that there is a sink hole there. If one stepped on it, he/she would be drawn in. For a split second, I wondered whether this hole is visible when dry since we had used this path on the way up! There were more hazards to worry about. We somehow emerged into the plateau of endless grass and streams. Boots were still a must and indispensable here. Streams that were gentle during our ascent were now gushing and new waterfalls were now raging as if out of nowhere. My spirits were higher now. I was warmed up and my body seemingly forgot about the damp conditions. The terrain was still flat all through this plateau and we bypassed our detour point during the ascent, where we had lunch.
At rare break of sunlight on day of the descent (Courtesy of J. Chow)
Within 2 hours of our departure that morning we were back into the dead tree zone near the ghastly Mutanda Camp where roots, stumps, and rocks, all wet, added new hazards. The real downhill challenge had just began. We met some trekkers on their way up. They had just left the Mutanda Camp. I did my best to say the most positive things to them but my comment ''it gets better as you go up'' may not have been too reassuring. Our route avoided the camp itself and we proceeded directly into the giant heather and moss zone, where my backside became well acquainted with a particularly smooth rock face by a stream a couple of days ago. I began to wish I had gators (waterproof ankle and shin wraps) as I was beginning to feel discomfort of wet and sandy socks within my rubber boots. My left big toe that had been taking many a pounding was not hurting, but was still bruised and ridden with blisters. I changed my footfall, which proved to be fateful.
We had lunch at the same lunch site of the Day 2 lunch break, and continued quickly as we were weary of lost time. The idea was to reach the Kilembe Hostel, out of the national park, by dusk. Our porters, Jamie and Cyril, had started after us but caught up with us well before the giant heather zone. I began to really suffer after lunch. The new left footfall was straining some foot muscles and before long they were throbbing with mild pain every time I stepped on it. I was developing blisters on both feet making them more sensitive to the slipping and sliding between socks and shoes. The downhill track was getting steeper, and the with the discomfort, I was moving slower. Jason and Jamie had to wait for me on many occasions from this point.
In the giant heather zone
Back to the stone age.....Mutanda Camp
It was 4 pm and we were now back at Sine Camp. I decided to apply some muscle rub on my feet. It proved ineffectual for the remaining rainforest drop. Just after a big river crossing Jason decided that it would be better if he and Jamie proceeded at their combined pace to Kilembe Hostel so that he could arrange our onward journey to Kasese before it got too dark. I took some pain killers that proved effective to reduce the foot pain and quicken my pace. Abel took my backpack, yet another gesture from a guide who focuses on easing the client's burden. Not ideal, since he has his own baggage but necessary under the current circumstances. After several river crossings we were approaching the ranger's office. A last glimpse of wildlife was sighting a troop of blue monkeys on a tree canopy. The young ones were not as curious as those from Day 2. There was no one at the Ranger's office initially when we arrived. A ranger appeared as Abel and Cyril started going into off-duty mode and slipping from their uniform into their civilian attire. I signed the visitor's book (that somehow replaced the registration book!) before we entered ''civilisation''.
Dawn at Kilembe on Day 1
It was Friday evening and lots of kids were out, some doing chores, some playing football. Some asked the porters for sweets and others just stared at me wondering what kind of ''mzungu'' I am. One final plunge into the Kilembe town main strip. My colleagues were already demob happy, talking to locals and buying roast maize. I was just thinking about my first beer. I caught up with Jason at the Kilembe Hostel, and he was already attacking a Nile Special. I helped him out by immediately, and most charitably, gulping the rest of it down. By serendipity, Ema, our driver from Nkuringo Walking Safaris turned up thinking that that was where he was supposed to meet us, instead of the White House Guest House in Kasese. Thank goodness, because I didn't have to dread another bumpy boda boda ride at dusk. We got our surprise summiting certificates from RTS before doing our goodbyes. As we left for Kasese, I was still finding it hard to process all that had been achieved in the past 8 days.
The White House (Courtesy of Masimba7)
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