The Trek to Wagagai

The last time I spent longer than a day hiking anything, I was probably smaller than the backpack I was carrying. It would therefore not be unreasonable to see committing to hiking the second tallest mountain in Kenya over four days as highly optimistic.

To be precise, though Mount Elgon straddles the Kenya – Uganda border, its highest peak is located entirely in our neighbor to the west. This made it an ideal meeting place for our Easter weekend get together. Friends in Zambia who used to live in Uganda were eager to come for a visit, and another friend from Lusaka had recently moved to northern Uganda, while Emily, our colleague and I were easily able to hop over from Bungoma. That’s how we came to gather at the ominously named but enormously helpful Rose’s Last Chance outside of Mbale, Uganda one late March evening.

Rose, of Last Chance fame, helped us organize porters and guides for our trek ahead of time, so we were in pretty good shape to leave the next morning once we managed to cram all our supplies and cooking gear into our packs. It was still early morning by the time we were taking our first steps through villages and farms, heading towards the border of the national park.

To get the same feel of that first day, you could drag a stairmaster out into the summer sunshine. Once we entered the park, things got vertical fast. Eventually though, we entered the rain forest-esque zone and the pitch of the ground flattened out some.

As we hiked up we passed through more zones; surprisingly varied ecosystems stacked on top of one another. The higher we got, the more the trees thinned out. The scrub was replaced by tall brown grass, fields of it, dotted with prehistoric trees shaped like old multi-light street lamps. Once we were up in the foothills of the mountain, these vistas rolled along to either side of us, just high enough to keep the peaks out of sight.

We camped the first night at significant elevation and prepared for a summit ascent in the early morning. “Summit ascent” carried a certain weight in my mind, conjuring an image of ice axes, crampons and oxygen tanks, but of course it was nothing like that. We started behind schedule, as we did every morning, so consistently in fact that our guide started to work it into our wake up calls. By the time we left the loose cover of the small grove where we’d camped, the sun was stretching white rays across the brown grass. We were bundled up even then, as the light didn’t chase away the chill, but we’d come to learn how strong it could be at altitude.

By this time we could see the first, slightly shorter peak that we would eventually skirt around. The climb was gradual, with only a few short steep pitches, while the altitude was the real challenge. Our steps took more attention, and it was amazingly easily to become winded. We were careful to avoid overexertion and altitude sickness, and I certainly didn’t mind lots of little breaks.

At mid day we crested the ridge leading to Wagagai Peak, and it was only an hour or so until we summited. The exact height of Wagagai is a satisfying 4,321 meters (14,000 ft) above sea level, but the view wasn’t the precipitous drop I had imaged. Instead, stretched around us were the rolling foothills we had just navigated. Through a pass in the distance we could make out a village our guide told us was in Kenya. Weary and accomplished, we sought out worn patches of rock or little bits of grass to rest on. Enjoyable as that respite was, the sun really worked us over, and I got some of the worst burns I’ve ever had. I suppose the ridiculous outfits I had to sport afterwards for extra protection, including gloves, were the silver lining for all of us.

We spent that night in the same campsite after descending from the summit, and readied ourselves for the distance we’d need to cover the next day to reach the other side of the mountain. It really was a trek: 33km over rolling hills, climbing out of a gorge only to descend back into the next one, then the next one, and so on. The views were stunning when we were on hilltops and able to look down the long valleys. Crossing the caldera, the site where this ancient volcano essentially imploded, we were ringed by tall chimneys and jagged crests of red rugged rock protruding from the earth.

Most of us were feeling very weary when we finally stopped for lunch, not halfway to our next campsite. The rest of the day was a blur of sun, sweat and heavy breathing, but we finally allowed ourselves some optimism upon entering the thickening brush signaling the end of the plateau and the start of our descent.

Not too long after, running from a gathering storm that thankfully never reached us, we were standing at the mouth of a massive cave, Tutum Cave, with a stream of water falling front and center. It was here under this water, with the waning light and the high chattering of the bats roosting within, that we washed off days of dirt and sweat and cleaned the wounds and blisters we now boasted. The campsite, though muddy to reach and infested with ants, was inviting in the knowledge that it would be our last.

The following morning, squeezing bandaged feet into sodden shoes, we started our final descent. The trees changed from bamboo forests to thick vines and trunks, and the downhills became steeper and more direct. And suddenly, the birdcalls were playing harmonies with chainsaws and we could look down and see a town, and the edge of the park. At the gate we managed to haul ourselves onto motorcycle taxis, which carried us at relatively astonishing speed down the dusty roads to deposit us at a crumbling guesthouse near Sipi Falls. We sat and admired one of these stunning falls, beer in hand, feet released from their prisons, before treating ourselves to a real shower, a nice meal, and a bed.

I've heard people refer to Type II fun, something you don’t necessarily enjoy at all times throughout but look back on in a positive light. I think this would qualify; certainly I can’t remember the last time I pushed myself that hard. But there’s a real sense of accomplishment in traversing an entire mountain, especially when you think back on how far you’ve come. Cliché as it sounds, this particular hike pushed me to enjoy the journey, since the whole thing was a journey really, and to appreciate the subtle changing beauty of our surroundings. Even with more realistic expectations, I’d still set out on a trek like this again. Or maybe that’s the Type II fun talking…

(We traveled from Budadiri, bottom right, up to Wagagai Peak, down to Tutum Cave, then exited through Forest Exploration Center)

 (The upper ecosystem, first peak visible in the distance)

(Circumventing the first peak)

(Post summit nap)

(Valleys stretching from the caldera)

(In the caldera. Photo by Jeff)

(Help with sun protection. Not pictured, my gloves. Photo by Jeff)

(Colorful little guy we ran into)

Tournament and Travels

March brought the rains on its coattails. Long rains- named for both the length of the season and the duration of the daily downpours. Roads are muddy and potholed and power is much more inconsistent, but on the plus side, the dust and heat have been minimized. Even though it happens every day, it’s hard not to be awed every time the enormous black thunderheads gather, build tension, and at last release an absolute torrent of water.

The end of March also brought a spell of traveling which has kept me busy and happy. First, we traveled to Lake Naivasha in Kenya to participate in the annual FEAST ultimate frisbee tournament. While weekly frisbee was only recently revived in Bungoma, we had almost 30 OAF staffers sign up to compete, both expats and national staff. We caravanned down to Naivasha, where most of us tented right next to the field where the games were taking place. Our 3 OAF teams made up a full 1/3 of the tournament, and what we lacked in skill and practice we made up in heart. The only games any OAF team won during the tournament were against each other, but those were also the most fun. The other teams were generally pretty gracious, and we typically put up a good fight, so it was still lots of fun. After a full day and a half of games, I enjoyed a much-needed break reading by the lake before heading back.

A few of Emily’s college friends were also visiting, so the following weekend I met up with them in Jinja, a town on the Nile just across the border in Uganda. It was great to meet her friends, and though I had just been in Jinja in March, this trip was mostly new for me. We stayed at the house of OAF Kenya’s country director, which is a really cool, fully solar powered building in the wilderness along the banks of the Nile. It’s a great place to relax, but also located right between some of the rapids on the river. We were picked up one morning on the opposite bank by a rafting company and spent a day rafting our way down the river. It was my first time on the Nile, and while the rapids were fewer and seemingly less intense than the Zambezi, the scenery was really beautiful- green hills, exposed rock, and pine forests all lined the banks of the big, winding river.

(Sunset view from the house's dock)

Back in Kenya, after a quick stop at home, some of Emily’s friends headed for the airport while the rest of us continued east to Kakamega, just a couple hours away and the site of the future One Acre Fund headquarters. Kakamega’s claim to fame is the rainforest that borders the town. It’s a small surviving slice of the ancient Guineo -Congolian rainforest that once spanned much of the continent. We stayed at a quaint and quiet retreat within the rainforest with heavy English influence in the buildings and tea culture. It actually really reminded me of home with its similarities to New England architecture and design. We spent a relaxed weekend there, reading on our verandah overlooking the thick forest and of course taking regular tea breaks. The house even had a fireplace, which was perfect for the cool evenings. On one morning we took a pre-dawn hike. Lucky to find the path in the dark, we made it to a hilltop in time for sunrise. The view was wonderful: orange and blue skies over a misty green forest. Hiking back through the thick growth, we chanced on some black and white colobus monkeys, who, in their decadent get-up, look as though they're wearing fringed white leather jackets. 

A few weekends later was my birthday, and Emily surprised me with a trip to the nearby city of Kisumu for sailing on Lake Victoria. It was awesome to take a boat out on the water, I haven't sailed one so small since college. Emily was patient as I got back into practice, though neither of us were really ready to push it and risk tipping with hippos occasionally in sight. Despite their vaguely threatening grunts, we had a really relaxing time sailing around the lake, and even enjoyed a little picnic on board.

It was a busy few weeks of traveling, and there's another stretch ahead. Work is taking me to Zambia, a homecoming I am extremely excited for, and there's a trip to the US in the near future as well. More on all of that soon!

Jinja Retreat

In February 2012 a group of fellows from my Princeton in Africa class gathered in Nairobi for a retreat. Over two years later I was on my way to attend a second one, this time in Jinja, Uganda. The experience our year was informally organized, but was both productive and fun. We were able to explore the big city and enjoy some leisure time while also mixing in activities to help us process our fellowship experiences up to that point. In fact, the retreat was one of the most memorable experiences of that year, and certainly the most important in connecting my fellowship class. The bonds built during that week had a positive impact on the rest of my experience, and many still persevere to today.

I was excited when the PiAf staff reached out to me last year about helping facilitate the 2014 retreat. First, it was a trip to a country I’d never visited. Second, it was a chance for me to help another group of fellows have as fun and profitable of an experience as we had. My trip had a couple inauspicious starts, with me coming as close as I ever have to missing a flight due to some slow-moving money changers at the airport. Delay notwithstanding, I made the flight and arrived in Entebbe, Uganda in the early morning hours. Entebbe is home to the airport which services the capital Kampala, but it’s over an hour away even with no traffic. Worst I’d seen up to then was Namibia and even that’s less than 45 minutes from the capital. Eventually I got to my hostel where I managed a few hours of sleep before an early morning wake up call to head to Jinja, the town on the Nile where the retreat was taking place.

My travel companions were Stephanie and Agatha, two employees of PiAf and the actual organizers of the retreat. For the first day and a half in Jinja we did last minute shopping, preparation of material, and confirming with all the local businesses we’d be dealing with. While in town I took the opportunity to visit the FINCA branch, where the branch manager knew many of my current colleagues. It was cool to see that a bond exists across subsidiaries. We also took scope of the place where we’d be staying and hosting the activities, Nile River Explorers, a beautiful camp overlooking the Nile from a cliff. The first 24 hours there was a little rocky, with my work phone being stolen the morning we arrived and me having to spend a few hours at the local police station getting a report. However, thanks most likely to serious doggedness on the part of NRE’s manager, I found the phone turned in at reception the next morning. After that second speedbump it was pretty smooth sailing.

(Visiting FINCA Jinja Branch)

(View of the Nile from NRE's patio)

The Fellows started to arrive at NRE that Friday and we opened the retreat over dinner along with Frank, a PiAf founding member and an integral part of every class’s experience. The schedule was far more organized and busy than my year; timing had been calculated very precisely and everything ran pretty much like clockwork (no small feat in a “beach” town). The caliber of the activities and events was very high. Many were ones carried over from my year, other were new. I ran a couple, one on career paths and another one using skits to express challenges in their jobs or experiences, which they did incredibly well. All the sessions were well designed to promote sharing, growth and free expression among the fellows. I was very impressed with their mindset coming into the retreat. They all seemed ready to open up and be honest with each other, and it was great to see how quickly the bonds started forming.

We did manage to squeeze some fun into all that serious personal growth. On Sunday we took a boat trip up the Nile to a tiny island on Lake Victoria, where we enjoyed some swimming and Frisbee and tried not to be freaked out by the alarming number of birds nesting there. There were also excellent group dinners at an Indian restaurant and a pizza place. It’s worth noting that my favorite African beer, Castle Milk Stout, which is so rare in Lusaka it’s only found at one store, was stocked in every bar and restaurant we went to in Jinja. I’m not embarrassed to say it was a pretty big highlight of the trip for me.

("Source" of the Nile, beginning of Lake Victoria)

(Frisbee on Bird Island)

On top of everything else, I was also lucky enough to get to visit with my good friend Rahul at his place in Kampala before leaving. He timed his birthday dinner for that night so I was able to meet his friends and girlfriend, which was excellent. Hard to believe it'd been about 2 years since we'd last seen each other. Things felt just the same, it was only that every aspect of our surroundings had changed. Despite initial fears, spending the night there didn't result in me missing my early morning flight home, and the trip back was uneventful, if roundabout.

In my mind the retreat went really well. The organizers did a fantastic job, and the fellows really held up their end of it by being enthusiastic and invested in every activity that weekend. Personally, I left feeling doubly refreshed by the trip. First, just from being near the water in such a beautiful environment, and second, by being surrounded by people whose stories, challenges and passions reminded me of my own feelings and reasons for being where I am.