These pictures will make a few people extremely happy.
Cashing in on tourists? Only in Kenya.
At the equator, it’s commonly believed that water swirls oposite ways down a plughole depending which side of the line you stand.
It’s also commonly believed that black cats give you bad luck, the month you were born in can predict your personality, and there’s a real chance that you will win the lotterly one day.
Sadly, none are true.
It’s been a long time since this was the problem when working on the trucks. It was -16C in Northern Ireland when we left, and 39C in Sudan. It was a mere 30C in Kampala yesterday.
This kid needs one.
When most people plan to climb Kili, it is a serious expedition. For us, it was to be a luxurious week off. Abandonning both trucks in Nairobi, we bussed to Arusha and met our guide, Nuru, at the hotel on Saturday morning. Having broken his leg about a month previously, he had arranged Omari and Mtemi as replacement guides.
We left Arusha that morning in a bus filled with our guides, cook, and most of our 19 porters, and arrived at the start of the Rongai route just before 3pm. We had attempted to arrange a light-weight trek with Nuru, but are unsure if this was lost in the transfer or just isn’t possible; we arrived at Simba camp, 2800m, at 6pm, to find that our tents were up, as was our mess tent, with table, stools, popcorn, hot water and a selection of hot drinks, followed by a dinner of soup, mashed potatoes, fish and vegtables.
The next morning, breakfast was pancakes, omelettes, sausages and bread – the best we’d in weeks! We left camp and began climbing, the thinner air becoming more obvious. Second Caves Camp (3450m) suddenly came into view at 12.30. A hot lunch soon arrived, we all then had an afternoon nap, something that became routine on this trek, and spent the rest of the afternoon playing cards, writing diaries and relaxing.
Day three, four and five to Kikelewa (3700m), Mawenzi Tarn Hut (4300m) and Kibo Hut (4700m) followed pretty much the same routine. The food continued in the quality and quantity, and each day Andrew, still very down on weight and struggling to recover from D&V in Ethiopia, was able to eat more and more.
Kibo Hut (or “Base Camp”) is the final camp before the summit attempt. Uhuru peak is attempted in the night time to be on the scree and glacier when it is colder and more stable; later in the day it often gets above 0C and begins to thaw.
Summit day. Out of bed at 11pm after 3 hours of fitfull, broken rest. Got dressed, each of us wearing all our technical clothes. For me: Three merino tops, two t-shirts, fleece, synthetic belay jacket, hard shell, down body warmer, fleece gloves, woolen gloves, mitten shells, merino leggings, trousers, gaiters, waterproof trousers, two pairs of socks, walking boots and two hats! We left camp at midnight in the bitter cold, with fingers numb. For the first hour, we kept a steady pace and I soon warmed up.
After a short break to take on (almost frozen) water, the zig-zag path of loose scree began getting steeper and steeper. Ian had had a sore throat for the past few days and was getting worse on the way up and had to stop, frequently stumbling and falling. Along with a very slow, stop-start pace, we were prevented from getting into any sort of rhythm and from began getting colder and colder. The time past so slowly. Only Chris noticed when Jason, without breaking rythm, vomitted on the side of the path!
We eventually reached Gillmans Point, on the crater rim, at around 5:30am (eta was 4am). I was so cold by then but relieved to have reached it. Quick break and on our way again for the final, brutal 300m climb to reach Uhuru peak. As we circled the rim, we were never so glad to see the sunrise, but the temperature continued dropping as we got higher. I got so cold on the way that Mtemi give me his coat and for the last 25 mins helped me along.
The whole group reached Uhuru peak at around 6.57am, with tears of relief. Having spent a week trying to get here, all we wanted to do was get away; a few quick pictures and we left.
[Andy writing]
The descent should, by rights, have been easier than the ascent, but it didn’t feel it. With Louise falling asleep on her feet and only waking when she hit the ground (twice), I was struggling to keep her awake and my own legs moving. Both of us were ill on the way down, but with no signs of circulation loss it was as much due to cold and exhaustion as altitude.
After a determined 3 1/2 hours of putting one foot in front of the other, we collapsed back into our tents at 10:30 for a final hour of rest at Kibo.
That afternoon and the next day, we descended the further 3000m to Marangu Gate, regaining strength as we descended. Mixed emotions; sad that we were so cold we couldn’t enjoy the top, but much more importantly, delighted that we, and the whole group, achieved the summit.
The border into Kenya was our easiest yet; simple to manage without the help of many persistent “fixers,” with the officer on the Kenyan side pleasantly surprised that we already had our visas. The vehicles were temporally imported for one week free of charge.
We stayed directly beside the border, in Moyale, in the catholic mission (donation welcomed), with no facilities except a welcoming, quiet and secure place to park for the night. Perfect – wild camping in the middle of a town.
After a good nights sleep it was then time to hit what can only be described as the worst road yet (and our first man – he stepped out in front of us, shouting and waving his arms at us, fully intending to be hit). The pot holes were enormous, the ruts deep and the corrugation sufficient to rattle everything loose in the car. We arrived in Marasbit, the mid-way point of the bad road, around 2pm and decided that was enough for one day. The wonderful Swiss-run ‘Henry’s camp’ provided a sane safe-haven for the night. En-route Ben’s aircon and Fin’s radio had failed.
The next day stared well, seeing an elephant, several antelope and a troop of baboons on the side of the road, but ended badly with two pretty sick cars. After 130 miles of the worst roads in, Africa Ben’s radiator failed, leaking all the coolant and then overheating as a result. We filled up the radiator and carried on only for a rattle to develop in the roof tent, so we stopped and spent two hours on the side of the road to temporarily fix the mounting. We carried on slowly stopping every 30 minuets or so to top up the water in Ben’s radiator. The last 80 miles to Isiolo was on a good road, I was never so glad to see tarmac! We arrived in the town around 3pm hoping to find a new radiator but we had to settle for a repair job, which involved Andy taking the radiator out and re-fitting it on the side of the road, much amusing (and impressing) the locals!
Having to get to Nairobi that evening to pick up our next group of drivers the next morning, we left Isiolo around 6.30pm. Before long it become obvious that Fin had a serious ATF leak. Stopped and refilled it with what ATF we had in the car and carried on. Managed to buy 5 more litres of ATF outside Nairobi, arriving in the city around midnight, in the pitch black with major road works and diversions everywhere. Despite having good directions to the Stegen family’s house, we were unable to find our way. Lost, with low ATF, in the middle of the night, in one of the most dangerous cities in Africa, a taxi stopped and offered us help; we followed him to a nearby hospital where Oliver met us and we followed him the final 7 minutes drive to his house.
We were never so glad to see someone in our lives, both in tears from pure exhaustion. Not a good evening!
In the twelfth century, King Lalibela decided to build 12 churches in honor of the 12 apostles. To make then unique, he decided that they would be carved out of solid rock, straight into the ground. The town around them now takes his name.
For 900 years, they have been in continuous use. They could not have been more remote – it is only in the last 15 years that an all-weather dirt road has been built to them; as recently as 50 years ago Lalibela was a 3 day mule-ride from the nearest town.
The tourists have started arriving in earnest in the last ten years, and in the last 5 the town has changed beyond recognition; a large drive to collect donations centrally and to use them to provide housing, work and food for beggers and street children has changed it from being one of the worst spots for hassle Ethiopia to an oasis of relative calm.
The churches are unique, not only in the sense that there is nothing else like them in the world, but that they have been in continuous use since they were built. The reverence and awe they inspire is not at wondering about the lives of some long-dead civilisation, but from seeing them in day to day use as Christian Churches.
As our readers will know, we are traveling with a forward-pointing webcam in Finn (the red one). Below is a compressed version of the 14 hour drive across Egypt a few weeks back. The video has been prepared since then, but we haven’t had a good enough internet connection to upload it till now. Enjoy.
The only country in Africa to have a significant indigenous Christian population, Ethiopia has a culture and heritage significantly different from its neighbours. Added to this is the fact that it has never been successfully colonised, leaving the history of the country much more intact and continuous to the modern day than most countries in Africa.
Despite its unique history, culture and landscapes, modern Ethiopia has a reputation as being a difficult country to visit. The high population density makes wild camping difficult or impossible, while nosy, rude children everywhere have no qualms about barging in on your personal space. Imagine heading off behind a bush with a spade (the usual camping ritual) with an audience of 30 kids from 2 to 20 years old shouting “You! You! Money! Pen Pen Pen” and you might get the idea. Previous visitors bear much of the blame, handing out sweets, pens and money to every kid they saw. The guilt complex is a weird thing – through their “kindness,” an entire generation of kids now act as disgusting, aggressive, spoilt beggars.
We visited Ura Kidane Mihret Church on the Zege Peninsula as our first taste of Ethiopian churches. The building is some 700 years old, with the paintings and murals between 100 and 250 years old, depicting scenes from the Bible and lives of Ethiopian saints in what the guide-book rightly calls “Chaucerian in their physicality, ribaldry and gore.”
