Previous: February 8	Journal Contents	Next: February 10

February 9

Begin Rwenzori Circuit

I set the alarm for 7 AM, since Catherine would be meeting me at 8:30 this morning. A few mosquitos were buzzing about outside the mosquito net over my bed, so I applied some DEET when I got up. I arranged my stuff one last time to make my pack lighter. As long as I was hiring porters, there was no need to carry too much.

I had a big breakfast: fruit, passion juice, Spanish omelet, bacon, sausage and toast. The sausage was especially tasty and tender, with a crispy casing. I also had a couple cups of the excellent coffee, which was served, as yesterday, in a teapot. It was a bright morning, and sun streamed through a row of windows lining the dining room. The air was fresh and cool. I thought about how good it felt to be in Africa.

I finished breakfast around 8:30, and Catherine was waiting on the verandah. I checked my duffel bag and left some clothes to be laundered. Then we drove down to Rwenzori Mountaineering Services in town. Downtown Kasese was dry and brown with unpaved streets. Not many people were out. I looked over the food Catherine had bought - it was quite a pile, with pasta, rice, beans, pea pods, cabbage, lettuce, bread, biscuits, cookies, pineapples, bananas, avocados, passion fruit, corn flakes, milk, mushrooms, curry powder, onions, scallions, peppers, popcorn, peanuts, and eggs. I wondered how well some of this stuff would stay fresh for the next week, and how the eggs would be carried, but the man at RMS said the porters would know how to pack eggs. The milk was ultra-pasteurized, and would need no refrigeration. Catherine brought plates (ordinary dishes, which I hoped would not break), cups and silverware, but forgot a knife. Fortunately, I had one, since I didn't know she would supply these.

A Spanish man, 24, in brightly colored pants, arrived with a small pack. He was going as far as the second camp, John Matte Hut, and then turning back, since he had limited time. I think his name was Jamil. His English was a bit limited. He had been tracking Gorillas at Bwindi, and found it amusing. He was lucky, and got a permit last week from African Safaris, where the national park service sends people when they don't have any permits themselves. I had called African Safaris in November. At that time, the man there said he could not get me a permit for February, but I could stop by and discuss the options. He said they handled safari arrangements for a number of large companies, including Mountain Travel Sobek and Explore Worldwide, but normally did not get permits for individuals.

After we took some pictures outside the RMS office, Catherine departed, and Jamil and I boarded a pickup truck for the ride to Ibanda, where the trek would begin. The driver picked up a number of riders, including four soldiers with machine guns who sat around the back of the truck. I was curious at first about why they were coming, since I knew there had been trouble in the area, but they just went as far as an army base.

The road became very bad. Most of the buildings looked really primitive: mud jammed between sticks for walls, and thatched roofs. I saw a man freshly thatching a roof. At one stop, a group of children came by, stopped next to our truck, and stared at me until we left. White people must be very unusual here. We picked up more riders. I looked back occasionally to make sure my packs were all right. The people walking along the roads in the villages were very nicely dressed, especially the women, who wore long, brightly colored dresses. Many of the men wore suits. They may have been going to church. It was Sunday morning.

Ibanda

Ibanda was a typical small village, except that it contained the large modern compound of Rwenzori Mountain Services and the park service offices. We checked in with RMS, and I requested two ice axes, two pairs of crampons, and a climbing rope. Some other items were available, if needed. Then I checked in at the park service office. I paid the 50,000 shillings for the permit and rescue fee. If a rescue were needed, a porter would come back and tell them to send help. There were no radios.

Jamil and I went next door for a briefing by the park information officer, who went over the route on a wall map, and discussed equipment requirements and altitude sickness. He said the guide would determine if a person were too sick to continue. He saw my Nikon camera, and said I was welcome to photograph anything I wanted, but that since it was dry, there probably would be few flowers now.

I went to the equipment shed to get my gear. At the same time, a large crowd of men gathered where porters were being hired. The manager, Alzaire (?), brought my guide into the shed and introduced him. His name was Joel, and he was said to be an experienced mountaineering guide. He would carry the mountaineering equipment I was renting here. He was a tall, slender, slightly bearded man, probably in his 30's.

Outside, I met my cooking porter, Richard, a 20-year-old wearing a FIAT T-shirt, baseball hat, and rubber sandals. He went through my food bags, and packed things so the fragile items were on top. He left the eggs out of the big white plastic bag he would carry. All of the porters gathered by scales hanging from a tree, and distributed items among large plastic bags. Each would carry 15 kg of my stuff and 10 kg of their stuff. The porters' food was supplied by RMS.

Richard and I set off first, with the Spaniard and his porter following soon behind. Mountains were visible ahead in the mist as we walked through the village. This was my first good opportunity to take some pictures in a village, while not speeding by in a vehicle. Richard spoke reasonably good English. He carried the eggs in their tray until we came to a house at the edge of town, where someone brought him something to pack them in. He put them at the top of his pack.

After reaching the park entrance, the road turned into a trail, going up an down, steeply at times, along the banks of the wide Mubuku River. Plants with enormous leaves grew along the trail. It was now early afternoon, and uncomfortably hot and humid. Actually, my thermometer showed that it was only 75^o F, but it felt warmer as we climbed through the humid jungle. We saw a brightly colored chameleon, and Richard tried to help me take its picture.

My porters

The vegetation was generally quite thick, and Richard, in the lead, ducked carefully to avoid breaking eggs on the branches. Although they were on top of his pack, they weren't padded much. He carried the pack using a trumpline made of some fibrous plant. We stopped a few times for water and rests. Jamil and his porters drank directly from the river. The park office said this was safe, but I filtered water when I refilled my bottle.

The trail climbed relentlessly to the top of a ridge. The heat made the climbing difficult, though I wasn't carrying much. We followed the ridge, still climbing continuously. The gorge to our right was very deep, and steep rocky mountains rose in the mist on the far side.

Richard told me he was a student, and went to school whenever he wasn't working. He was now a "level 4 senior", and he had to get to level 6 to go to a university. He said it may take years, since he must work most of the time. His family farms, and he works as a porter when possible, but tourism is off this year, he said, due to the trouble in Zaire, just a few miles away. He said that past problems also made tourists avoid Uganda, though it is now a nice place to visit, most of the time. He said he hoped I would tell people good things about the Rwenzori Mountains and Uganda, and I said that I would, and that I would probably put something on the internet.

The long climb was tiring, but the heat diminished as we gained elevation, and we stopped for plenty of rests. The ridge eventually flattened somewhat, and we came to Nyabitaba Tourist Camp, where two huts perched along the narrow wooded ridge. There were also some wood platforms under a rock overhang below camp for porters, but the group was small today: two porters and half a dozen staff. My guide, Joel, was the last to arrive. The rocky Portal Peaks were visible across the valley.

The corrugated metal tourist hut contained a long sleeping shelf. It had a capacity of 20, with half using the floor if necessary. The porter shelter next door had no floor. Richard had most of my food, but not all of it, so his idea of making me tea when we arrived was thwarted. Cooking would be done over charcoal. When the rest of my food arrived, I ate a banana. I was hungry since I had not eaten lunch, except for a couple of the Oreo granola bars and Milky Way bars I had brought from home.

Richard sorted the food on a table to see what we had. I decided to have pasta with some vegetables for dinner, and Richard started working on it. He also cut up a pineapple for me, since I was hungry. Later, he brought me a heaping plate of spaghetti, piled high with green beans, tomatoes, onions, and peppers. It was tasty, and hot with chile peppers. He apologized for using so many peppers, but I told him I liked it that way. Richard made me some tea as well.

At dusk, a South African man, who looked Indian and had long hair, appeared. He had come down from John Matte Camp, tomorrow's destination. He said he had started late because his watch was an hour off. He said it was colder up at the next camp, at 11,000 feet. Jamil was first in bed, and I went in at 8:00, as it became chilly outside. The South African came in soon afterward, fell asleep quickly, and snored all night, so loudly he shook the sleeping shelf.

Previous: February 8	Journal Contents	Next: February 10