Do you sometimes stop, right in the middle of what you were
doing, and wonder “What kind of life choices did I make where I ended up here?”
Okay, now the reason I ask is because today we climbed a
volcano, named Mt. Bisoke, and let me tell you that while I was hiking- no,
sorry, scrambling and dry heaving-I was asking myself that very same thing.
Let me start from the beginning. We wake up, meet the
driver, drive, and arrive at some white person haven at the entrance to the
national park. After being surrounded by locals for so long, a dense white
population can be very overwhelming to some. And these are white people from
all over the world, so at least we got some diversity going on. Also, it might
be interesting to note that out of the 30 or so that arrived to hike Bisoke
that morning, not only were we the only Americans, but also the youngest of the
group as well.
So, with those two facts in mind, we were thinking “Yeah,
we’re young, we’re strong. We’re from good ole’ Colorado! We climb these peaks
in our sleep! Bring it on!”
Well. As we went uphill, things for us started to quickly go
the other way. Don’t get me wrong, from the get-go all five of us were eagerly
hiking directly behind our kindly guard and the two military men-hereafter
known as “guys with guns”- and didn’t struggle to keep up at all. But then the
stairs came. The dreaded stairs. Dear readers, image any staircase you have
ever climbed, no matter how tall it was, and now replace the stairs with old
canvas wheat bags filled with dirt and replace your what I’m hoping was a
pleasant mood with one of total despair and hopelessness. I might be
exaggerating a bit, but these stairs from hell just wouldn’t end. There is no
such thing as switchbacks in Africa apparently because the entire trail was
vertical. But the best part was that when there weren’t satan stairs, there was
steep mud slides of doom that you had to crawl up as the guides and guys with
guns would hop and skip gracefully up the side in rubber rain boots.
 |
| Mastering the stairs of death |
Okay, so there was my rant. Let’s go over why Bisoke is so
amazing, and a mountain that everyone should get the chance to see (once. Only
once. It’s still a hard hike, you know.) Remember in the beginning when I
mentioned the life choices question? Well while I just finished my 13th
set of the staircase of death, I took the time to look up for a bit and take in
my surroundings. Not even the best of my 11th grade literature class
descriptive skills can describe this view. I was walking in a rainforest in the
heart of Africa, surrounded by mist and strange flora and birdcalls that were
at times eerie but at others more beautiful than anything else. At the base of
the volcano were plots of farmland that extended anywhere you looked, and the
silver roofs of corrugated metal and the colorful cloths that covered the
people working in the fields. Directly in front of you were more stairs. But as
I heaved and my heart and lungs struggled to keep me alive and my legs
convulsed, I was amazed at where I was. While my body screamed “YOU DAMNED FOOL
ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME” my mind was entirely at peace. What a miracle that
my life had led me to this wild and foreign place.
Now, for
the moment you were all waiting for. In mid-ascension, one guy with gun told us
to quiet down, for while we walked by a patch of forest you could clearly see
an entire family of gorillas. About 15 of them; just hunkered down and watching
us. There were two males, relatively small in stature and plenty of babies, but
before anyone could get a good look we were hurried onward. You sometimes
forget that these animals could easily rip you apart. But what luck we had!
There are only 400 wild gorillas in the world, and we saw a family of them!
Finally, we
summitted. Well, not all together. Salka and Swartz, having to prove their
burliness and represent our hometown, made it to the top first and in good
shape. Then came some fit South African couple, then myself five minutes later,
and then the rest of the pack afterwards. From the top all you could see were
clouds, so there wasn’t much of a view, but the crater of the volcano was a
dark lake surrounded by trees so that was perfectly fine with us, and after a
lunch of lime-flavored peas, bars and beef jerky under the watchful eyes of the
guys with guns, we were en route for the base.
And let me
tell you that the sadistic steps of doom are much more enjoyable coming down,
and the mud slopes of pain turned into fun mud slides of pain! All while we
shared conversation with some worldly Spaniards. That, dear readers, was how we
climbed Mt. Bisoke, and while it was definitely not easy for even the most
seasoned climbers, if your life ever takes you in that direction, make sure to
take full advantage of it.
You’ll thank me later, but your calves won’t.
Hasta luego, amigos
-Steph
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