A jaw dropping conversation with a porter.

With a beautiful site like the Kitandara Hut and adjacent lakes, we were quite tempted to hang here. At least have a second thermos of hot tea. We had kept the option open to climb Mt. Baker. We even had a spectacular clear day. However, we let it slip away because we felt it would just leave too many loose ends and would make our last day too hectic.

The day's major obstacle was 14,000' Freshfield Pass. Since we were already at just over 13,000,' it wouldn't be much of a slowdown.
By the time we arrived at the pass, I had hopelessly stuffed both my camera's memory cards. Each day, I would trash any image that was not crisp, well composed or photoshop-able. As a dear teacher-photographer-friend I had in high school always told me, "You can never hurt a slideshow by editing it." I suspect he meant it more energetically with my presentations than with others.

Regardless, I did not have the will to edit any more images away. I pulled out the little Flip video camera. I handed it to Vittorio, figuring he was ripe for Hollywood. From the way his posture changed, he agreed. My partner hung his head, knowing our personal photographer's days were now numbered. Vittorio, always the professional, knew he would have to double up and shoot both formats.

Anyway, at the pass, I wanted to get a shot and had to settle for video, even though it really complicates a show.
I instructed Vittorio on the golden rules of video:
1. 10 seconds of footage at the beginning and end, to edit with.
2. every scene tells a complete story.
3. Any motion needs to be slow. The audience should not even realize there is a camera.
4. Watch the lighting on the subject. Plan out the shot, camera location and subject movements. The camera should not move.
I spewed in his direction until his ears started bleeding. At that point, I figured there were diminishing returns to me using up breath, especially here at 14,000.'

It must always be tough to watch budding videographers. Vittorio's pans were fast. He walked with the subject, rather than let him get out of range. One time, when the porter he was filming was at a loss for the English word he was searching for, Vittorio finished the sentence, from behind the camera. To cap it off, every scene he shot, did a full 360 degree circle around him, Sound of Music fashion. All we needed was the song.

It was during this phase in Vittorio's rapidly developing career, that I was just admiring the view into the Republic of Congo, just to the west of us. I was looking for guerrilla activities coming up the valley below, when I heard, "There used to be snow here. Now its all gone. It used to be so beautiful. Its so dry now. Now its all gone. And, I don't know why. I don't know why. I don't understand. I don't understand." He went on for several minutes, not repeating himself.

Out of the fog I had slipped into, I bolted back to consciousness.
"Do you mean in your lifetime, there was snow here?"
He was too distraught to acknowledge my question.
Knowing the microphone on the Flip video camera couldn't possibly be picking up the audio from this far away, I had to step into the scene and get the shot re-done.

This time the 58 year old porter would carry a digital voice recorder. I did not care if it was visible to the audience. This was too, too important to lose the audio. I walked up behind him, as if we were having a conversation.

The porter could have easily been the elder statesman of the village. His community mindedness was impressive, with significant concern for the long term ramifications climate change will have for this area.

The area surrounding us was the final slope leading to the pass itself (they have a habit of putting a sign at a pass, then we walk to a significantly higher height-of-land, so I was mostly confused where the passes actually were). Vittorio chimed in, stating that there was permanent snow here, even 20 years ago. Looking around, I would have guessed I was surrounded by a century's worth of plant growth. I would not have guessed this area had seen permanent snow in my lifetime.

The descent off Freshfield Pass was quite steep and slabby. We spent seeming hours descending steeply. Yet, still unique, pretty, varied and another bell ringer of a day. We ended the day in our last hut for the trip, the Guy Yeoman Hut.

Elisha, our cook, is no fool. The last two days of food was the best. This guy had been around the block before. Tips can more than double their wage here. Frequently, tips were handed out at the end of today, or in the morning. As our little band would be doing.
Wages are $10.00/day for porters, of which there are likely to be $3.00/ day expenses (rentals). The Cooks get $12.00/ day. We found that surprising, with the responsibility they take on and the critical contribution they make to a trip. Guides get $20.00/day. If they can get their wages, again, in tips then the trip is making them money.

 We had a business man, a couple of teachers, a couple of kids in school and a few full time porters. It is beneficial enough for men to leave their jobs to porter.

Educating their children is expensive everywhere. We were told it costs $150.00/year through primary school years. High school cost $250.00/quarter and they go three quarters a year. Even though we pay high school costs at home, I will refrain from barking next time the town gets all riled up over the latest levy. How these folks get a kid through school is beyond me. Elisha has 4 kids.

Mount Margherita

Mt. Stanley. On most trips, we would have walked long, grinding walks or slogged miles of glaciers to get to the climb.
In the Ruwenzori Mountains, there is no grind, no monotony. In fact, this place is an attention deficit dream. The scenery is soon  to change and if we change the lens on our eyeballs, and take a look closely, there is plenty to marvel at. The people of Uganda are the real treasure, with plenty to teach the rest of the world. And the history of the Ruwenzori is rarely paralleled in a mountain setting.
So, we arrive at the Elena Hut, prior to tomorrows ascent, with, "We here already?" 

The initial ascent from the hut is a long, 1-1/2 hour rock ramp to a ridge, giving us access to the glacier. With a peppering of new snow, I am going to walk in spikes, otherwise, I'll be slipping all over the place. I go out for a half-hour exploration of the route, to try the crampon on rock theory out. I get to feel the terrain we will be on in the dark and see if it is worth grinding away at my lightweight Katoolah spikes. By walking carefully, we should minimize the piercing fingernails-on-a-chalkboard sound of crampons on  hard rock, glacier polished slabs. Especially jarring when the only coffee you have drank for a week is instant.

The one thing the people of Uganda need to get their act together on, is coffee. I marvel at how they feel they have the best coffee beans in the world, yet it is so damn hard to get real coffee! I'll carry the grinds out. I have been holding the shakes at bay with the very excellent, I must say, Ugandan tea. All I need now would be one of those thin little weeny cucumber, tomato and butter sandwiches and I could be back in the Shipton/Tilman days.

I just realized it. What distinguishes this place. This place is primordial. I would not be surprised if Stanley and Livingstone stepped out of a hut, or  Cleopatra's emissary- hunting the source of the Nile, or a dinosaur was spotted off in the distance. This place is timeless. Anything we build here, won't be here long, without a good maintenance program.

A 5 AM start got us to the ridge crest at dawn, where we caught a pretty, veiled sunrise. With, or without the comma, the statement is true. We caught a view of Mt. Margherita, for no more than a minute and a half. Soon, we were on the glacier.

The glacier portion is a long, rising traverse. I saw no real trail in the stiff whiteout. No wands marking the line like Hansel and Grettel's breadcrumbs. The route was locked onto the muscle memory of Vittorio's legs repeating that traverse. I could instantly recognize the tactic. In the US, we would use wands because we expect optimum efficiency, even if they take away the mystery and the romance of the route. They Pasteurize it. Vittorio knew how long this should take. He knew to err on the high side of the goal (a navigation error is far more excusable, if I don't have to work to correct it). Too rarely do we, in the 'developed' world, rely on ourselves: our intuition and senses. Vittorio brought us into the rock rib we wanted to cross about 100' high, after a good half-hour traverse. Nice work.

At the far end of the glacier traverse, we shifted the rope handling from glacier travel to short roping through a notch in the rib separating the two glaciers. About a thousand foot long, it was nice to have a solid nav fix. To drop down off the rib, the locals have fixed (maybe a stronger term than represented by reality) a 20' (sectional) steel ladder. Steel. It had to be, because by the lower third, the ladder was cantilevered off a protrusion of rock. I was bouncing at the end of a not quite vertical diving board. Ease up on the anchor ties a bit?

Back on the new glacier. Still a whiteout. This one, however, was a direct ascent up the center of the glacier. The views were... so Ruwenzori... nothing. There is a beauty in that though. You don't see anything bad.
At a change in slope angle, we shifted a shade right out of the fall line, aiming for a break in the rock wall we could sense off to the east. I would guess we had an hour on the glacier between Margherita and Alexander.

The saddle joining these two peaks is what makes this the prettiest peak in Africa. The world's major mountains generally would not rate aesthetic. K2 is pretty, but nothing compared to its itsy little just-under-26,000' Gasherbrum IV, neighbor. A reason the Matterhorn is such a classic mountain is its beauty and its dominance. Very rare. Mt. St. Elias is pretty from Yakutat, Alaska, another Duke of Abruzzi first ascent. So, Mt. Stanley rates. If we could just see it. It just adds to the allure, the rare experience of a treasure.

None of this Top 40, beat-this-song-into-the-ground stuff here in the Ruwenzori. We'll treasure any views we get.

At the end of the snow, we come to the crux of the climb. The rock is easy fifty class standard. It would be fine in mountain boots. Climbing the rock would be the traditional way to get through the area. However, it is not the sporty way to go. The circus ladders the guide service has tied up (I can't stretch the term 'fixed' to this installment), are the real adventure.

They are, again, steel. The two separate sections, both about 10', are racked- the welds between rail and rung are cracked. They are tied to ropes, disappearing over a rock above to unknown anchors. This is a danger point when fixing ropes on an expedition. Wind will move the rope back and forth, abrading through the sheath. Once through the tougher sheath, the ropes core is nearly defenseless against abrasion. With the weight of the heavy steel ladders, I found no rope abrasion on any rigging on the entire route. A sign of care taken by Ruwenzori Mountaineering Services. The ladders don't hang straight down. They angle across the wall, giving them their circus element. I had a doubled, knotted rope from above to clip above each successive knot. If you drive by at 40MPH, from 500yards, it is a little bit like a via feratta. I was simply hoping to not repeat the last the last time I ran into a ladder on a big mountain.

On the Second Step, of Mount Everest's N. Col route, from Tibet, there is a ladder. This is in the neighborhood of 28,300'. The Chinese installed it in 1975. I stood below it and looked at its anchors: an ice screw driven into a crack. Hammered in. And some other lame piece. All connected with junk rigging. Not the material used. It would have made a very strong dog leash. 'Junk' refers to the workmanship. I looked up at what I was proposing to ascend, "This isn't going to hold." Above, the weeny little fixed rope disappeared over and edge (term used as in, 'a knife edge'), without an anchor in sight. The idea, should you ever be fixing rope on a climb, is to anchor below the cutting edges. This way the edges do not have to sustain the affects of abrasion while under tension. I got to ride the ladder on the Second Step. When it broke loose, both it and I swung into gravity inspired pendulum, until the anchor below interceded. Below was 10,000' of air. One bounce, and I'd soon be on the glacier below. I don't remember any real panic. High altitude is good for that. I do remember the critical concern, "Do not - drop - the - ladder!" Once that was all over, it was a simple matter of leaning the ladder up against the step, like I was painting a house. No problem.

Soon we were all at the anchor above Mt. Margheita's ladders. It was a nicely constructed piece of rigging: good choice in materials, the angles from anchors were all good, appropriate choice of knots and a good stance at the transition to the continuing traverse. Within a half hour of walking, we were on the top.

The view was missing though.

It had not been a particularly difficult ascent. Our weather had been good. We were a strong, experienced team. What makes it such a memorable climb? There was not one hour of the entire trip, that I was wishing hadn't been there. This entire trip is, start to finish, a quality experience.

We had planned from the outset, to descend from Margherita past the Elena Hut to the Kitandara Hut on the same day. That deserves another post itself.

Mt Speke

We climbed our first peak, 4890 meter Mt. Speke on the 8th of February. The most climbed route and mountain in the area was first ascended by Eric Shipton and H.W. Tilman, two of the most prolific late-in-coming mountain explorers we've seen. Tilman's first book, Snow on the Equator, begins in 1919. I would guess they were of an age that went to WW1 right out of school.
In 1919, they found themselves in Africa, I believe starting up coffee plantations. After a series of adventures (one being the finest mountain expedition, ever, to one of the world's most beautiful peaks, Nanda Devi), they found them selves on Everest in 1936. Again, a small team, traveling light, taking on a big dragon. Eric Shipton was on the very short list of leaders for the 1953 Mount Everest Expedition. The one that made the first ascent, and put Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay on top.

I had high hopes for a Shipton/ Tilman route.

We left in dry weather at 5AM and walked for about an hour to Stihlman Pass. Just before the pass we cut off towards our route. The big mountains in the Ruwenzori are massive conglomeration of summits. They are like a spiked hairdo. All the peaks coming off the top of the mass that makes up the mountain. For this reason, traverses are appealing, if you can figure out the wetland trails. The big peaks are Baker, Speke and Stanley. The highest being a summit of Stanley, Mt. Margherita. How it got that name, I don't know, but I'll still drink to that.

There is a vast gulf in styles of guiding and protecting your client as we travel around the world. The Russians, on big mountains, like to act like sheep herders. European guides maintain low client to guide ratios of 2:1 or less. And they go like hell. American guiding tries to get the numbers up a bit (to cut costs for the clients) and we cater to the client more. We will walk with our clients. Euros meet you at the hut. We walk slowly. Euros don't have a low gear. Euros are in mountains that are often more dangerous. Euros trips can be done out of nice cute backpacks. Americans are often out for weeks, pulling sleds and carrying a pack that would have made John Henry eat a couple of extra flapjacks for breakfast....

I certainly was expecting to see plenty of differences in guide styles in the Ruwenzori. It is a remote, rarely visited area. Most of the visitors would, I expect, be pretty avid adventurous, high-skills types. An what I found is pretty true to my guess.

We started off with a bang. Vittorio happened to be carrying the rope. He, from the top of a 100' plus rock step, was hoping we would scramble up a rock slab. Easy enough, but I am not risking someone's neck on an inconvenience. The rope is... let's just say up above. Vittorio hoped we would batman up, using the thin climbing rope I had brought, as a hand line. 8.5mm rope, gloves, steep move at the top of the step... it could be a bad way to start the day off. My partner is a good climber and had no problem with any of the climbing we did. However, there is an excellence International Mountain Guides has doggedly cultivated over the many years they have been guiding. I needed to uphold the high standards they have set.
So we got the start worked out. As any mom would tell you, "A journey of a thousand miles still starts with getting in the car." The start. OK, little bit of a rocky start. Lets get on with it. The terrain stays a little too steep for my comfort zone. Easy enough ground, but a fall would often go 50'. Rather than the full rope work program, a cordolette between myself and my partner was just enough protection so we could relax. It also helps transfer a steady pace and eases communication between partners.

 If your country has been through a terrible war, or genocide, or a horrible dictator, I am guessing you have a different view on hazards. We are very lucky, in America, to have a very soft perspective on what is dangerous. I would argue it is too soft. To the point of impacting individual toughness, problem solving, and tenacity. With pitbull lawyers and a system that lets it go on, it is hard to change it up much. American society is softer than its competitors. There are certainly exceptions a plenty, but for the 333 million of us, on average... we are not Eastern Europeans.

Lets just say, I disrupted Vittorio's schedule quite significantly. We moved along slower than he wanted to. He did things differently. I argued, do only what will work. We held a very few, quick clinics on technique and I really tried to let him do his job. Really, Really tried. Hard.

You know what Yoda says about Try. I was still only trying. He took the indiscretion like a man though. He kept his mouth shut and did his job. Vittorio, as I suspect is very common in... East Africa, has an exceptionally sweet way about him. I suspect they have been through enough Hell for all their collective lifetimes. In the end, I can't help but have the highest of respect for the people. These guys just need some access to the outside world.

During our day, we had the curtains drawn, some rain, some snow, but not too much heat or cold. I wore the same clothing through out the day.

 When we finally got onto, what I would call, the remnant glacier, My boot selection was at the forefront of my consciousness. The fallacy of my ways, bringing a trail shoe style boot and a lightweight crampon for this terrain was a mistake. The Katoolah spikes I brought are a great set of lightweight spikes, but the tines are too short for alpine conditions. There may not be much of it, but 40-degree-glacier-in-retreat-equatorial-ice is still steep and hard. As much as my Keen boots are my typical go to boot, they aren't a mountaineering boot. What I wanted was a light alpine boot, with a sticky rubber sole, that would take full sized crampons.

The descent was slow. I bit my lip for the bulk of the time, coming down last. The size of the mountain is multiplied by the unending easy-but-not-easy-enough-to-un-roped-in terrain.

Mt. Speke is a large mountain. It fits in well for an acclimitization climb, but there is nothing there I would recommend as a route. Now a traverse of the mountain. It would probably be a 2 day program. That would be a worthy trip.

But, for my first full-on Shipton/ Tilman route, I was disappointed. It is a peak bagger route, not quality climbing, or a grand situation. Obviously, they evolved. As a writer, Bill Tilman is a quiet treasure. The route they did on Speke isn't their best work though.

The source of the Nile

 Soon after leaving the John Matte Hut, we climbed up a rise to a large plateau. Here was a mildly vast wetland area. Vittorio explained he had once been with researchers up in the Ruwenzoris for 29 days. Their focus was on the Lower Bigo Bog (at least that is what I think he was talking about. I came at this very same topic three or four times over our eight day trip).

 The piece that I had to make very clear is the part where the bog is the source of the Nile River.
"How can the bog be the source of the Nile?"
"The plants in the bog pull water out of the ground. More than the rainfall and snow melt."

Now, for an area like this, that, is making quite a comment. I took this to state that the vegetation pumped water to the surface, which overflowed into the adjoining river, which is the highest elevation water flows in the direction of the Nile. On the western side of the Ruwenzori, I would think that water flows to the Congo River.

"What were the researchers looking at for 29 days?"
"The bog."
"Did they think it was the source of the Nile?"
"Definitively." He used that word. Vittorio is quite well educated.







So here I am, little old guy from Columbus, Ohio, bumbling along some trail in Africa to climb a mountain and just inadvertently hike up and over a world heritage site that is the source of the Nile.

My great, 'Man, I did not prepare for this one.' was not bringing a small empty bottle with me. I could have had a bottle containing a bit of the source of the Nile. I could put it on the mantle next to my squashed penny  from Yankee Stadium. And my Viewmaster slides of the West.

All kidding aside. There are places on the earth where you can't help but notice the energy there. Mount Rainier is a place. So is the Washington coast, west of Olympic National Park. Similar energy along the waterways on the inside of Vancouver Island, north of... Vancouver. Yellowstone. Tibet. New Zealand.
Even I could feel it. The guy who wouldn't notice the Dali Lama, if he was sitting next to him on the Bus. To start conversation, I'd probably ask him about how he does his trash pick up.

But, the Bigo Bog has this, 'Beginning of Man' energy about it. This pureness. So pure, I was not brave enough to drink from the source of the Nile.
Another one of life's opportunities missed.
This kind of stuff is the difference between people like me, and... Hemingway.
Some people live life. I just walk around the perimeter.

The trail through the bog is a boardwalk, to protect the bog. This boardwalk had the earmarks of the UN, or at least an NGO: 24" diameter plastic culvert pipe (the expensive kind), stainless steel bolts, sawmill wood (any piece of it would have, at home, sold as an exotic African hardwood). The boardwalk was well built and made the right statement. This place is too beautiful and valuable to scar up with a pig slop through it.

At the bog's end, we climbed through some higher ground and into the Upper Bigo Bog. It is not quite as much of a power center. Although the boardwalk here does possess less of a
'right-outside-National-Park-Service-headquarters-in-Washington-DC feel to it though. The boardwalk lays directly on the wet earth and may last an additional five years before it begins to rot too pervasively.

Above the Upper Bigo Bog, is beautiful Bijuku Lake. It is accompanied by a hut of the same name just above it. With a lake holding water here, acting like a battery for a solar panel, Why would this not be the source of the Nile? I asked Vittorio if it was so.
"Yes"
"Both the bog and this lake are the source of the Nile?"
"Yes."
Clearly, the concept of an ultimate piece of real estate doesn't compute here in the Ruwenzoris.

I'm glad it doesn't. Here is a place where 'this tree is no better than that one', 'you get the same respect others get, when it is deserved' and 'Nothing here is worth more than another element. Its value is as a complete system. You can't break it up and sell it for the most any and every single piece can demand.'

A reference to Vittorio Sella

I inserted a nickname I gave to our guide, without the story behind it. I think its worth hearing, so, pity the reader. It comes out of an email I sent out to my climbing friends, thereby, I had this impression everyone had seen it. Sorry. Time to bring the story up to speed.

The Duke of Abruzzi came into the Ruwenzori in 1906. The area had been observed. A couple of Europeans had walked into the mountains, but not far. They had not mapped the valleys, even. I know of 4 expeditions the Duke had masterminded: Mount Saint Elias, K2, The Ruwenzori and an Arctic attempt. I have been to the first three areas and have some very real opinions to the tenacity, strength, thoughtfulness and quality of the projects the guy took on. Each a magnificient trip. And well done to boot.

He brought a brilliant photographer on his trips, Vittorio Sella. For my money, Vittorio captures the loneliness, beauty, the bigness and the romance of these big peaks and the experience. He can stand next to any of the big boys: Ansel Adams, Bradford Washburn, etc.

On day two, while wallowing through some mud, I proclaimed my photography guideline. If you only take pictures of good weather, people think the trip was a celebration of good weather, good times, light loads, sitting around drinking good coffee every morning and laying around in the sun.

If I return to work at Utility Technologies International, a pipeline engineering consultant and contractor, could you imagine if the guys in the ditch (who I work with) saw only the sunny side of my trip? They would plant me in the mother of all mud holes, and leave for lunch. Just to preserve my dignity around the shop, I must photograph the hard times.

Capturing the hard times is the goal of the photography experience for me. I have rarely succeeded. Its a shoot from the hip; keep your eyes open when they are packed full of mud; be ever willing to ruin your camera for a shot- world. I see several visions of heart stirring shots a day, but ever so rarely, can I capture them. The perspective is challenging. I am usually busy. Most of the time, I'm tired. And, I just don't want to ruin my little point and shoot camera...

Within those shots, though is an unusual insight into the Human Spirit. Why do we go to battle for that next step upward, when for the same effort, we can take 100 downwards? Why do we increase the risk to our existence, when we could have stayed home and ben warm, safe and dry? Where does the energy come from to keep us moving farther? Why keep going deeper into the misty, cloud shrouded mountains in the distance, knowing any injury will turn our dreams into nightmare?

For all these reasons, my partner, in his deep wisdom could see the artistic aura around our guide, and handed him his camera for a few snaps of the mud.

Suddenly, this man was transformed. Every shot required three takes. Every species was recorded. Each beauty of the area had to be documented. The subtle gray on gray of the sky was realized. He was capturing images he hoped would help publicize his beloved mountains. In so doing, the world would come. The community would be able to afford to educate their children, buy medicine and hopefully improve their world slightly.

The net effect? We rarely saw our guide, or my partner's camera after he got his hands on it.

Hence, the reference to our guide, Vittorio.

In each day's review of the images shot, we realized the guy was taking some nice shots. It was humbling that this remote mountain area, our once-was-a-porter companion had a better grasp on the art of photography than myself after dangling one of the things around my neck for 35 years or so... A photographers images can hang on a wall and be scrutinized from close up and back at a distance. Some of my snaps can hold up to 8 seconds of investigation on a projections screen, with the distraction of a story and maybe music going on at the same time

Malaria in camp

The really unique element to the Ruwenzori Mountains, is the vegetation. We walked through three vegetation zones today. The Ruwenzori circuit follows a river until its confluence with an additional one. Near the confluence, we take the right (north) branch. The return will come in on the left branch. The initial day will be re-visited on the exit to the park gate.

The day was a blur of photos and gentle rain slowly moving in. To add some spice, we ran across some occasional boggy ground. The definition of trail here, is sticks and logs laying on/in the ground so you can walk, rather than wallow. You would be unable to go far with out the ground preparation. I did the best I could to stay on the logs, but as many disappear underwater (muddy water), there is an element of faith that some prankster did not saw the invisible part out. In fact, that must have been the case each time I found myself boot-topping in wet mud. The type that is trying to pull your boot off your foot. The Muckboot must have been designed for here, because it is ...pretty... mucky. With the frequent high steps, my Marmot Precip rainpants were mud up to the crotch, on the inside of my legs.

Tomorrow, we will hit the more extensive bog.

When arriving at the John Matte hut, I tried to log a GPS location, but the satellites were not cooperating. The steep ridges on both sides of us block out any satellites near the horizon. I am also sending out daily SPOT Satellite Messenger notes. Africa is a new area for SPOT.  

In review, all the 'pings' worked well. 
 
The SPOT Messenger is a very cost effective device and seems very dependable. Messages also include Google Earth links to our location. When I sent one from a summit, I heard wails of complaint from a friend, neck deep in school. Sorry Bill, I didn't mean to rub it in quite so hard. I was trying to be gentle. My intention was to alert family and friends that we were doing well.

A second button will call for help and the operator is allowed a moderate length message. The message is pre-written, having been uploaded online, with the email and text message addresses prior to the trip. The crux is what to say on the help message. Finally, there is the 911 signal. I can only guess that, here, they send out the National Guard. For 911, there a single contact person, with phone numbers. Here, you can also write up a profile of the participants, for the rescue folks. The SPOT Satellite Messenger is a valuable piece of gear. I think it would be negligent to not have one as a professional, with paying clients, or students. It is the least expensive way to ensure communications.

While I am milling around with various pieces of technology, Vittario approaches me with, "One of the porters has Malaria. Do you have any medicine for him?" No, I don't have any Malaria treatment medicine, just our daily pills. After a moments thought, I pulled out my Kindle. On it, there a couple of medical books. After lots of reading between the lines, it became clear the same medicine for prophylaxis is used for treatment. The book called for 1 gram in treatment, of course of a different drug than we were carrying. I am sure our meds are new to the area, so the Malaria is not resistant to it. The info that came with the drug, Doxycycl, from the pharmacy was consulted as well. None gave any guidance for our situation....


My partner and I concluded to give the porter some of our meds. The devil being, how much? If 100mg is a daily prophylaxis, a gram of Old Standard is treatment, then,.... let's try 200mg of new-on-the-block Doxycycl. Give him some Mortin for the fever (it's all I had) and lets give him 2 hours. We'll give him more D if we need to.

I kept the medical record on the Kindle, as a note in the Malaria information of Medicine for Mountaineering, a standard medical text. Over the years, I have likely read it 6 times. I still can't remember a thing in it.

                 26 yr old pt
                 lost his appetite. vomited a small amount. chills.
                 fever/headache. has history of malaria. with last
                 about 1 year ago.
                 vomited 15:00
                 we were notified 17:15.
                 elevation...11,000ft?
                 rr 16/18 easy and regular. he is well acclimated.
                 carrying here often.
                 sctm color good. temp warm. moist.
                 pt complains of fever. I do not feel a significant
                 warmth. we have no thermemeter.
                 last oral intake. drank a liter of water, hoping to
                 reduce the headache.
                
                 17:30 gave pt 2- 100mg doxycycl
                                       2- 200 mg Motrin

                 18:15 pt feeling better
                 19:15  pt was encouraged to get up join crew by fire
                 drink some tea and eat something. i was told he did.
                 20:30 pt was given 3rd doxycycl. 3 for day, from
                 17:00 to 20:30

             ....plan
                 pt and strong friend will begin walking out in the
                 morning. rms will send up porters to help with the walk
                 out.
                 we will send the pt with doxycycl for 3 sets of two
                 caps. we will send equal amt of motrin.
                 send off with- food
                                      foam and sleeping bag
                                      sufficient clothing
                                      meds record

23% of folks in Uganda have Malaria. it is common knowledge here.
The moral I walk away with, 'learn the common ailments of the country you are visiting. Carry some meds for these ailments. A unique book, for just this situation is, Where there is no Doctor. There is no digital copy for the Kindle- hear that Amazon? It is an important resource, akin to John Muir's, Keeping you Volkswagen Alive.

On the trail

 The Ruwenzori Circuit, first camp- Nyabitaba Hut. 16:30, sitting in a dry t-shirt, not hot, not cold, just right.
I had the impression these huts were small, uncomfortable buildings. The old hut here has a front and back 'apartment' and probably 12 bunks. There are foam mattresses, covered with a cotton cover. No guessing when the last time it was changed. Then there are pillows for each bed. I'm thinking I'll sleep with my head on my pack instead.
We had a pleasant five hour walk. There was maybe an hour of flat ground, followed with a couple of hours more of gently ascent.  

(On the descent, eight days later, I was rather impressed with how much of the day was fairly steep uphill. Obviously, there was still the 'glow' of a new place distracting my judgment when I wrote this.)

A lunch stop is reputed to be half-way through the day. Like many statistics, such information inspires heartbreak and inspiration, depending on one's mood, how it is presented and the experience with/of the subject/statistician.

There are at least four measurements 'halfway' could be referring to: distance, elevation gain, energy, and finally, time.
Distance is nearly useless in the mountains and with increasing altitude. It just isn't a realistic representations of a day for this scenario; unless there is, far and away,.more of it than elevation gain.


Energy is a bit esoteric,
but, at least, I can prepare myself mentally and nutritionally.
Time, is skewing the focus towards pain. Or hardship. With a perspective on 'time,' it almost begs the participant to focus on, "How much is left." I don't even want to go there any more. "Transcend time, Grasshopper (after the Master of th TV show of my youth, Kung Fu). There is plenty of it, yet you shouldn't waste any of it. But, in the end, it does not matter any way. Trying to measure, or project, time.
We are left with elevation gain. The knife stab here is, yet again, how much is left to go. Looking up. The same outcome, measurement and projection amounts to pain.

A well traveled high altitude climber has a particular expertise and insight into this issue, having spent seeming lifetimes wrestling with the slope above.

By far, the least painful attitude is to enjoy walking. If simply walking is pleasant, there is no pain. Each step can become an alignment and centering of your soul. It is best to not use two ski poles, for they insulate the participant from the pleasure of balance. OK, one is a good compromise. The process of sustained uphill walking requires a rest step. The single most valuable technique on any mountain of this planet. There should be flow from one step to the next, where there is a pre-cognition of where I want to be in the next moment. Looking at the immediate ground ahead, I know what I need to do to get there. Each transition is founded on the easiest step from here to there.

This can be a very easy substitute for meditation. And, that, will get us up a hill.

If only making a decision was as easy.



At Nyabitaba, there is a new hut under construction. Being the closest to the trailhead, Ruwenzori Mountaineering Services wants a larger, even more comfortable structure for two day programs, Nearly complete, it promises to be a very nice night out. These guys are laying the groundwork for an excellent program.

Back to the... modern world

We are out of the Ruwenzori Mountains. For such a legendary, rarely visited area, I went in ready for anything. As it usually happens, what I found, I really was not expecting.

There were no: poison blow darts hitting the tree just ahead of us, no drumming rolling up from the neighboring Congo, no monster crocs slipping into the water when we crossed rivers, we didn’t see any boats like the African Queen, there was no quicksand, no huuuge snakes dropping out of trees to strangle us, no cool English encampments, no staying up all night around the fire to ward off lions, no shrunken heads hanging in our path, ....

What we did find was an extraordinary place. Every day, we were changing vegetation zones, sometimes several per day. The glaciers are quickly disappearing. The local people have a fairly sophisticated ‘co-op’ to guide, cook for and porter for trekkers and climbers who come into the area. Last year, the managing director of Ruwenzori Mountaineering Services told me they had only 900 visitors. This included the circuit trek. About 25% of that number were climbers.

The circuit hike is a fairly tough undertaking. I really can’t call it a trail. It seems like every day, sometimes all day, we walked on logs and sticks laid on the boggy ground, so we could avoid sinking in. After the first day, I saw no reason to use a hiking boot. The rubber boots were the boot for the trip. I was glad I had sprung for a good boot. The MuckBoot, Wetland model, performed well.

Most of the mountains are pretty. The highest one, Margherita Peak, is likely the prettiest.
When you can see it.

The peaks would be great for traverses. However, the weather may complicate the undertaking. You would want to make sure the trails would work out. I don’t think I would even consider cross-country travel in any valley. You may find yourself stuck waist deep, in bogs, waiting for help to yank you out.

The place truly deserves the world heritage site ranking, a UN designation for the most valuable locations on the planet. This appears to have been awarded for the uniqueness of the environment, the misty history of the Mountains of the Moon (from before Ptolemy’s day) and because it is the source of the Nile river.

The locals are all but pleading for every visitor to tell their friends. Have them come. They know that what is in their back yard rivals any place on the planet. They know that tourism is the solution to the financial straits they are trying to claw out of.
They are striving to develop programs to entice lucrative guests who are taking part in gorilla trekking in southwestern Uganda.

They mirror a feeling I got where ever we traveled through Uganda. The people are rebuilding their country after many years of hard, hard times, politically. I saw much building going on. The people are honest, hard working, ready and willing to take advantage of opportunities that come their way. The country is beautiful. The place and it’s people are positioning itself for tourism. I believe they hope it catches on, knowing alternatives of mining and oil do not really benefit the people.   

Tourism does.

Tourism is one thing we can do to improve the lives of these people. Uganda, and areas like Uganda, are real adventurous travel destinations. Your dollar goes a long way, you will be educated, your heart will be broken, but I don’ think it is possible you won’t return home a better world citizen
.
Because I dropped the ball on my capability to send out daily dispatches, I am going to drop back and begin sending out dispatches from the beginning of the trip. We went in on the 5th of February and came out on the 12th.

At least there will be photos.