Awoke at 7.30 very pleased that the netting on the windows and the blasting we had given the room with insect killer had done the job. Despite sleeping without any covers, I didn't seem to have been bitten. After eating a half-reasonable breakfast in Morogoro "town", we set off to try and buy some water. This proved impossible and the same was almost true for buying coke without the lids taken off. Eventually we found a wholesaler who allowed us to pay a deposit.
After sorting out some drinks for the climb, we set off for the mountain. From halfway up the mountain the view was very spectacular. We looked across vast flat plains of land with mountains on every horizon. A little further up the going began to get very tough, if not impossible. It was clear that we had to make a decision as to whether we should cut our losses and guarantee our survival or press on like the intrepid explorers we are. Naturally, we decided to go for broke, despite the fact that we couldn't even see the peak from where we had got to.
View of the mountain from Morogoro.
All the way from that point to the peak we climbed a 1:1 gradient, and it was perfectly clear that the descent was going to be totally impossible. We were wearing trainers, shorts, and a rucksack. Climbing boots, a helmet and some rope were almost essential. At the top (a huge boulder), the view was absolutely awesome, despite the clouds swirling around us. However, the rain and slight chill from the altitude along with our uncertainty about leaving the mountain alive rather numbed our sense of achievement.
As we had fully expected, the first part of the descent was extremely dangerous and painfully slow. For three quarters of an hour we struggled down treacherous ground, getting absolutely filthy and slashed to pieces. Eventually, we reached the site of our unfortunate decision and almost immediately as she came into sight, a woman who had jabbered aggressively at us in Swahili on the way up started the same routine again. She seemed to be concerned about us marching over her crops. It was an incredibly silly place to plant crops in the first place, in my opinion—halfway up a mountain for God's sake! Anyway, she was waving a rather vicious-looking long-handled machete around with a startling degree of competence so we allowed her to guide us to her preferred route.
As we struggled down the mountain away from her, she was in constant communication with two men further down the slope. With consummate ease, they moved along the hillside and one of them appeared to be attempting to intercept us. He too carried a machete and we weren't sure how long we would be in possession of our money and camera. As it turned out, however, he was simply guiding us towards a path down the mountain. He was very friendly—he even spoke some English which is rare even in the town of Morogoro, let alone in a mud-hut village on a mountain.
Descending the mountain near Morogoro.
The path down took us through some amazing scenery. The ridges running up the mountain were lush and beautiful, nicely set off by tiny mud-hut settlements scattered here and there.
As we walked along one particular ridge, one of these settlements came into view on the other side of a little valley. As we came into view the many children living there went crazy. They jumped up and down waving their arms in the air shouting “Jambo! Jambo! Jambo!”. We did roughly the same, leaving out the jumping up and down bit. Some of the older (and braver) children walked a little way to meet us at the top of the valley, as they knew our path took us across there. As we reached the little village the kids had worked themselves into a frenzy! They all crowded round us shouting and laughing, although some were visibly nervous. It was obvious that many of them had never seen white men before.
With our procession trailing behind us, we stepped into the centre of the six-house village. Sitting outside the door of one of the mud hits was a woman in her late thirties. She was also swarmed by children. Clearly she was as pleased to see us and excited as the infants. She reached into a pot she was holding and beckoned us over. When we reached her, she passed us a huge handful each of deep purple berries. I have never seen anything similar to those things before. Under the purple skin was a pinky white flesh and a light green stone. I'm afraid to say that they tasted foul! After our first mouthful, we nodded our approval vigorously and said "Mmmm!". This was a mistake because she then attempted to foist another huge handful our way.
This really was one of out best experiences of the trip. We were surrounded by incredibly beautiful countryside and people who were delighted to see us. There was also a tremendous feeling that our trip was definitely a great idea. Not many people can claim to be the first white man seen by children of a Tanzanian mountain village.
Mud-hut village on the mountain near Morogoro.
After slowly chewing the evil-tasting berries and smiling a lot at the people around us, we decided to make a move. One of the older children appointed himself our guide and showed us the path down the mountain. Not surprisingly, the rest of the children followed, many of them careful to keep a safe distance though! Again we were amazed at the sure-footedness of these people. Our guide, like all the villagers, had bare feet, yet he set for us a very tough pace indeed!
After walking for about five minutes, the lad was confident that we could find our way to the bottom, so we shook hands with him and he made his way back to the village. Some of the children, in their curiosity, followed us for much longer. It seemed that the curious children of the village were also the nervous ones, as every time we stopped, they stopped also, in order to maintain a safe distance from us.
On our way down the path took us through several little villages. It was fun watching the startled faces of people as we strolled past them. We greeted one old bloke as he walked up the hill with a basketful of crops on his shoulder. He looked up to return our greeting and nearly jumped out of his skin! His eyes were as wide as dinner plates!
When we were near the bottom of the mountain range, we were able to look up at our achievement. We were absolutely stunned by what we saw. Our peak appeared to jut sharply out of the landscape like a spear-point. Ours was not the highest peak in the range, but, apart from one that appeared to consist of a cylindrical cliff face, ours was the most formidable-looking from a climber's point of view. At last, we had a sense of achievement!
That evening we ate at the same café where we had eaten breakfast. We were so hungry that we ate two meals: Goat Biriani as well as samosa and chips. The goat was a bit chewy, probably due to the sheer hardiness of goats in this mountainous region.
After that, we walked across to the Morogoro Hotel to meet Joe and write our diaries over a couple of drinks. Very relaxing.
Joe turned up with Anil and his wife a little late as usual. But the free beer and food that followed more than compensated for this!
After dinner we drove to Mikumi itself, which is about an hour from Morogoro.
Our accommodation was in a special little complex of huts in the middle of the wildlife park. They were basic but pleasant. Each hut had five beds, each with a mosquito net provided.
It was dark when we arrived, and when we got out of the car we were able to see the Milky Way really clearly.
After sorting out some drinks for the climb, we set off for the mountain. From halfway up the mountain the view was very spectacular. We looked across vast flat plains of land with mountains on every horizon. A little further up the going began to get very tough, if not impossible. It was clear that we had to make a decision as to whether we should cut our losses and guarantee our survival or press on like the intrepid explorers we are. Naturally, we decided to go for broke, despite the fact that we couldn't even see the peak from where we had got to.
View of the mountain from Morogoro.All the way from that point to the peak we climbed a 1:1 gradient, and it was perfectly clear that the descent was going to be totally impossible. We were wearing trainers, shorts, and a rucksack. Climbing boots, a helmet and some rope were almost essential. At the top (a huge boulder), the view was absolutely awesome, despite the clouds swirling around us. However, the rain and slight chill from the altitude along with our uncertainty about leaving the mountain alive rather numbed our sense of achievement.
As we had fully expected, the first part of the descent was extremely dangerous and painfully slow. For three quarters of an hour we struggled down treacherous ground, getting absolutely filthy and slashed to pieces. Eventually, we reached the site of our unfortunate decision and almost immediately as she came into sight, a woman who had jabbered aggressively at us in Swahili on the way up started the same routine again. She seemed to be concerned about us marching over her crops. It was an incredibly silly place to plant crops in the first place, in my opinion—halfway up a mountain for God's sake! Anyway, she was waving a rather vicious-looking long-handled machete around with a startling degree of competence so we allowed her to guide us to her preferred route.
As we struggled down the mountain away from her, she was in constant communication with two men further down the slope. With consummate ease, they moved along the hillside and one of them appeared to be attempting to intercept us. He too carried a machete and we weren't sure how long we would be in possession of our money and camera. As it turned out, however, he was simply guiding us towards a path down the mountain. He was very friendly—he even spoke some English which is rare even in the town of Morogoro, let alone in a mud-hut village on a mountain.
Descending the mountain near Morogoro.The path down took us through some amazing scenery. The ridges running up the mountain were lush and beautiful, nicely set off by tiny mud-hut settlements scattered here and there.
As we walked along one particular ridge, one of these settlements came into view on the other side of a little valley. As we came into view the many children living there went crazy. They jumped up and down waving their arms in the air shouting “Jambo! Jambo! Jambo!”. We did roughly the same, leaving out the jumping up and down bit. Some of the older (and braver) children walked a little way to meet us at the top of the valley, as they knew our path took us across there. As we reached the little village the kids had worked themselves into a frenzy! They all crowded round us shouting and laughing, although some were visibly nervous. It was obvious that many of them had never seen white men before.
With our procession trailing behind us, we stepped into the centre of the six-house village. Sitting outside the door of one of the mud hits was a woman in her late thirties. She was also swarmed by children. Clearly she was as pleased to see us and excited as the infants. She reached into a pot she was holding and beckoned us over. When we reached her, she passed us a huge handful each of deep purple berries. I have never seen anything similar to those things before. Under the purple skin was a pinky white flesh and a light green stone. I'm afraid to say that they tasted foul! After our first mouthful, we nodded our approval vigorously and said "Mmmm!". This was a mistake because she then attempted to foist another huge handful our way.
This really was one of out best experiences of the trip. We were surrounded by incredibly beautiful countryside and people who were delighted to see us. There was also a tremendous feeling that our trip was definitely a great idea. Not many people can claim to be the first white man seen by children of a Tanzanian mountain village.
Mud-hut village on the mountain near Morogoro.After walking for about five minutes, the lad was confident that we could find our way to the bottom, so we shook hands with him and he made his way back to the village. Some of the children, in their curiosity, followed us for much longer. It seemed that the curious children of the village were also the nervous ones, as every time we stopped, they stopped also, in order to maintain a safe distance from us.
On our way down the path took us through several little villages. It was fun watching the startled faces of people as we strolled past them. We greeted one old bloke as he walked up the hill with a basketful of crops on his shoulder. He looked up to return our greeting and nearly jumped out of his skin! His eyes were as wide as dinner plates!
When we were near the bottom of the mountain range, we were able to look up at our achievement. We were absolutely stunned by what we saw. Our peak appeared to jut sharply out of the landscape like a spear-point. Ours was not the highest peak in the range, but, apart from one that appeared to consist of a cylindrical cliff face, ours was the most formidable-looking from a climber's point of view. At last, we had a sense of achievement!
That evening we ate at the same café where we had eaten breakfast. We were so hungry that we ate two meals: Goat Biriani as well as samosa and chips. The goat was a bit chewy, probably due to the sheer hardiness of goats in this mountainous region.
After that, we walked across to the Morogoro Hotel to meet Joe and write our diaries over a couple of drinks. Very relaxing.
Joe turned up with Anil and his wife a little late as usual. But the free beer and food that followed more than compensated for this!
After dinner we drove to Mikumi itself, which is about an hour from Morogoro.
Our accommodation was in a special little complex of huts in the middle of the wildlife park. They were basic but pleasant. Each hut had five beds, each with a mosquito net provided.
It was dark when we arrived, and when we got out of the car we were able to see the Milky Way really clearly.
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