CHAPTER XVIII

A Climb to the Snows

It is impossible to live any length of time in close proximity to Ruwenzori without being overcome with a desire to reach the land of glittering ice that resembles an enchanted city with its pinnacles, turrets and domes pointing upward to the sun, which with all its equatorial strength has ineffectually endeavoured to displace the age-long snows and ice. The highest point has, in recent years, been estimated to reach an altitude of 20,000 to 22,000 feet. The snows are not often clearly visible, for in the dry season the hot heavy mist that envelops the whole country completely hides the range from view, while in the wet season clouds frequently veil the highest peaks. From the glaciers rush numerous streams that flow down into the Albert Edward Lake, and out again by the River Semliki to the Albert Lake and the Nile. In ancient times an Egyptian caravan road extended right down into these interior districts along the route of this great natural watercourse. Doubtless the Egyptians, and probably Solomon, drew their supplies of ivory from the vast herds of elephants that still ramble about round Ruwenzori with tusks some weighing 150 to 200lbs. each.

[Illustration: STIFF CLIMBING: A CLIMB TO THE SNOWS.]

The old legend that the sacred river Nile had its source in Heaven may have originated from the reports brought back by traders that one of its most important tributaries flowed down from a mountain that seemed to reach into Heaven. The Baganda call the mountain “Gambalugula lufumba ebiri,” which means “the leaf that cooks the clouds.” This has reference to their custom of cooking all their food in banana leaves. Their imagination regards the mountains as a big leaf which holds the clouds over the boiling springs that bubble up from the base of the mountain, the mists that sweep down the mountain sides is the stream from the “cooking pot.”

Ruwenzori does not consist of one single snow peak like Kilimanjaro and Kenia, but vast fields of intercepted snow and ice extend for over twenty miles North and South.

The late Sir Henry Stanley heard of its existence in 1875, but not until his second visit to its locality in 1887 did he obtain a complete view of the snows.

Since that date several have tried to reach the glaciers, but only three expeditions had been successful up to the time of our ascent. Others had proved unfortunate in the time of year, for it is impossible to accomplish the task in the wet season. Mountain sickness, and pneumonia among the carriers had compelled others to turn back from the attempt. Until 1904 no one had tried to reach the snows from the Western side of the mountain range. From the east several had unsuccessfully endeavoured to discover a route to higher altitudes, but the one along the course of the Mubuku River was the only one that had proved practicable. During our visit to Mboga we were very fortunate to obtain continual views of the snow peaks, and we were convinced that an ascent from that side of the mountains would prove more resultful. This has been conclusively confirmed since by a recent explorer, Dr. David, who reached a point 16,000 feet high; that is, 1,200 feet higher than anyone previously. To scale Ruwenzori’s highest point must remain an impossible task. No one could endure the penetrating cold for the period of time required to master the prolonged and precipitous heights. Besides a complete Alpine outfit being required, tent and food would be compulsory, and no native would undertake the transport of these things beyond the lowest glacier point, and even if this difficulty could be overcome, camping space might be sought for in vain. Judging from the angle at which my bed was placed at one camp, I can picture an over ambitious adventurer, having pitched his tent within 3,000 feet of the summit, suddenly finding himself and his belongings toboganning down over the glaciers at lightning speed, only stopping to find himself landed in a freezing morass.

[Illustration: A PEEP AT THE SNOWS.]

In 1903, Rev. A. L. Kitching, Mr. Fisher, and myself started off for a trip to that unfrequented region. Our baggage looked more suitable for a Polar expedition than a climb on the Equator. Every conceivable fusty and moth eaten winter garment was hauled out and packed into a waterproof sack; eider-down quilts, India rubber foot warmers, and bales of blankets for ourselves and boys formed part of the caravan. The reports of our mountaineering predecessors led us to anticipate an arduous and colossal task, but our ambition was not to attempt more than those who had a wider experience in mountain climbing than ourselves, but to stand on that untraversed land of ice where scarcely mortal foot had trod, and to inhale its cool life-giving air so that we might be refreshed for a return to work in the hot tiring lowlands.

January was the time fixed on for the expedition. That is generally regarded as one of the most reliably dry months in the year, but the mountains manage to upset all one’s calculations, and in Toro fine weather is more the exception than the rule. So we found ourselves in a few very stiff storms before we had even reached the base of the mountains. Our porters were aggravatingly discouraging, and on the first day, regarding my skirt flapping about after a drenching shower, shook their heads, and said, “Perhaps the two Bwanas will reach the snows, but who ever heard of a woman doing it.” They did not understand that their very argument was one of my strongest incentives! Four days of strong marching from Kabarole brought us to a village of the Bakonjo called Bihunga. It was about 6,000ft. high, tucked away in the very heart of the mountains. Frowning peaks and ridge upon ridge of dense foresting completely shut us in from the outside world. Save for the noise of the River Mubuku, as it rushed madly down and tumbled into the valley beneath, there was no sound to break the deep silence of the mountains. All nature was at perfect peace with itself, and the few clouds that seemed wearied in their flight through the hot, dry air rested for a while on the green slopes as if to enjoy the quiet and beauty of the scene. It was to these strongholds that the Batoro fled in past times for security when the raiding King Kabarega of Bunyoro made plundering expeditions into their country. Although they found safety and shelter in the thickly-wooded crevices and creeks, the refugees searched in vain for food, and while some were able to drag through the time of their temporary captivity by subsisting on the roots and leaves of wild plants, hundreds are said to have died from hunger and exposure.

The so-called village at which we halted was a collection of three tiny circular huts, built of poles packed as closely together as possible. Round and outside these was tied a thick padding of dried banana bark, leaves, and saplings, as protection from the gales and storms that blew down from the snows and whistled round these little dwellings.

[Illustration: SNOW PEAKS.]

A grandsire and his dame, two sons, one daughter-in-law, and an infant composed the entire population. The old man, in a very contented state of mind, sat in the doorway of his hut smoking a pipe over a foot in length. He gave us a most reassuring smile of welcome. The two females, heavily decked round the knees and arms with scores of plaited and greased bracelets, immediately made off with themselves into the thick vegetation, and only came out of their hiding by a great deal of persuasion. We explained to the people the object we had in view, and how we wanted to leave our Batoro porters with them to await our return, while we took on men from among them who were acquainted with the mountains and inured to the cold. The two young men at once offered their services, and promised instantly to get together as many other porters as required. We wondered how they could do this, as there was no sign of a habitation, excepting two lonely huts on a far distant height. But, after making a long, far-reaching sound with their lips, there suddenly appeared, as if by magic, quite a number of figures emerging from far and near. The Bakonjo, in the old times of rapine and oppression, had chosen out the most secluded spot where they might safely build their homes, and they still adopt this practice, from custom—no longer from necessity. Among the dense forest growth it is quite impossible to detect their huts, and as only a very small minority of the Bakonjo cultivate the soil, there is nothing around to indicate human existence.

As is the case among most of these tribes, the women do all the digging and sowing, but they are very few in number as compared with the men, and in consequence are regarded as valuable property, and not to be worked to excess. Being naturally more prone to indolence than industry, the furnishing of the daily board depends almost solely on what the husbands can bring in from the hunt and exchange, but they generally keep in store a stock of arum roots (the women’s cultivation) on which they can fall back when fortune fails the huntsmen. The men are a striking race, their arduous searching after rats and conies (hyrax) often leads them up to the regions of ice; this constant climbing and exposure to the cold have developed their muscles in a remarkable manner, and with the surefootedness of a mule and lightness of a gazelle they spring up the steepest bank and rock, experiencing no fatigue.

Besides being their chief item of diet, the coney supplies them with practically their sole clothing. Six or eight of the little skins are sewn together, and worn over the shoulders, secured by a thin piece of hide round the neck.

Although the conies have enough sense of self-preservation to burrow among the rocks for shelter, they have not sufficient instinct to escape their capturers when once they have tracked them down. The men sit patiently for hours outside the conies’ entrance door, and when at last the little creatures come out in single file to search for a meal, a stick suddenly descends on one head after another; sometimes fourteen to fifteen in one family are killed off in this way.

Twenty men were chosen out, from those that offered, to act as carriers, two more were appointed guides, and two of special strength were told off to help me over the exceptionally rough bits of climbing. While the necessary agreements were being gone through, the sky became suddenly overcast with dense, threatening clouds, and a loud clap of thunder, that reverberated all round us again and again, scattered us in every direction with great speed to our several homes. From the tiny window of our bedraggled tent we peeped out at the storm, as the forked lightning struck one peak after another almost simultaneously, and the thunder concussions made the very mountains tremble.

[Illustration: SNOW PEAKS.]

An Academy picture, of many years back, illustrating Dante’s Inferno, seemed to have assumed living form here. It was almost impossible to believe that such a transformation could have taken place in so short a time, for in comparatively few minutes day was plunged into night, calm into torrential storms, and quietude into a fierce battle of the elements.

When we at last ventured to draw back the canvas doorway the rain had ceased, and mud, mud, mud lay everywhere. The storm had left behind it a cold, raw, dismal evening. And there drawn up in single file before the tent were our twenty porters and guides, who, in order to appear more pathetic, had come without their fur shoulder garments. One of the guides stepped forward as spokesman and explained that they wanted to be paid in advance. They absolutely refused shells and rupees, and would only accept calico, which, they said, would protect them from the cold on the journey to the snows. Judging from the quantity of clothes we had heaped already on ourselves to keep off the penetrating damp wind, their demand threatened to be a real difficulty, as we had only equipped ourselves with a limited supply of calico. They were then asked what length of material each required as wages, and in a half timid voice, as if afraid of uttering such an extortion, the answer came “three hands apiece” (one and a half yards). Our calico managed to run to that, and thereupon each man received his advance payment. With a broad grin of satisfaction and pride they struggled to tuck as much of themselves as possible inside their fifty-four inches of material. The result was quite ludicrous, but they appeared perfectly delighted. Evidently their plea had only been a ruse to insure their wages, for none of the calico was seen on the journey. The only personal impedimenta with which most of them travelled were a few strands of smouldering grass encased in a bark sheath. This was brought out immediately we struck camp, and they had ferretted out a shelter for themselves under a rock or trees. A fire was quickly kindled, and round this they all squatted and roasted the conies they had entrapped during the day’s climb. At night they did not attempt to erect a hut or covering, but maintained this same cramped position round the fire; they interlaced arms, and each one slept with his head resting on the next man’s shoulder. On one occasion the rain poured down upon them all night long, and although their little shoulder coney-skins were hopelessly inadequate to insure them against a thorough soaking, they turned up in the morning in the most cheerful spirits, absolutely unaffected by their uncongenial surroundings.

In preparing for the actual ascent to the snows from Bihunga we were obliged to reduce our outfit to mere essentials. A large caravan would have experienced considerable difficulty in the matter of food; and each man was only able to carry a load of twenty to twenty-five pounds, which was fastened to a strong sling of fibre and slipped round the forehead. This method of carrying is adopted by the Bakonjo tribe, and leaves the arms perfectly free for climbing up on fours, which is so often necessary. I was the only member of the party privileged with a bed; the two men had to content themselves with waterproof sacks and blankets. Our boys judged spoons, forks, and knives as non-essentials and reduced us to two forks and one pen-knife, so for some days we had to return to the most primitive manners at meal-times. Our first day’s real climbing began in a kind of retrograde direction, for we had to slide down a hopelessly greasy track for some two hundred yards. My two supporters evidently anticipated a lively time; they were required to render aid at once; the fact was, my feet refused to stick, and in struggling to keep me back with yards of calico brought round under my arms, I nearly succeeded in dragging them down head-first. They were urged to manage better than that, and they promised to improve, but explained how they had had no practice at that kind of travelling, and were a little unprepared for it. I again tried the plan of a calico body sling when a very steep bracken ascent had to be scaled, and the sun was at its height. The men went in front, each pulling most vigorously at the calico end which he held, but they somehow always managed to jerk in the wrong place. Just as I had breathlessly succeeded in securing a foothold a big pull from the front almost robbed me of my last gasp. So I dispensed with such questionable aid and found all the help I wanted in a long bamboo which our guide presented to me as a kind of charm, for it had taken him up to the glacier when he escorted Sir Harry Johnston’s expedition. At an altitude of seven thousand feet we reached the point where tropical vegetation assumes its most exquisite form. The river Mubuku had to be crossed and recrossed six times in the one march, and all along its river bed was the richest display of varied forms of vegetable life. Several species of palm trees, a few wayward bamboos, tree-ferns, a tree resembling the English yew, and the bright red-flowering Ekirikiti tree. The forests passed through frequently recalled some of the most charming parts of Devonshire; the ground was carpeted with ferns and moss interspersed with forget-me-nots and orchids.

[Illustration: CROSSING THE MULUKU RIVER.]

At Bihunga we left behind all human habitation. Our first halt after leaving it was under a rock at a height of eight thousand feet. From the almost intolerable silence it seemed as if we had also got beyond all animal life. We listened in vain for the insect’s hum, the bird’s chirrupping, or the squabbling of the monkeys. However, similar welcome sounds had not entirely ceased, for very occasionally a night bird hooted, a rat squeaked, or a solitary fly cheered us with its living presence.

Our camping space was decidedly cramped, and the tent felt very insecure, for it was impossible to drive poles or pegs into the rocks; the canvas merely had to be balanced by tying the ropes to large stones. Water was also very scarce, and, in spite of a consuming thirst after our hot climb, we were obliged to content ourselves with two cups of tea and half that amount for a wash down.

The region of Bamboo Forests was next reached, and it was disappointing to find that what looked so attractive from a distance beneath when seen from within was nothing but a monotonous stretch of stiff brown sticks surmounted by masses of green grass. The bamboos had completely monopolised the soil to the exclusion of almost every other plant. For hours we were pushing our way through these obstinate poles that would not bend or budge an inch to let us through. Men went before to slash them down, and as we stumbled over the broken stems my poor skirt was literally torn into shreds, even though it had been shortened eight inches the previous day. Emerging from bamboo-land we crossed a stretch of marsh and found ourselves surrounded by frowning bare rock peaks which rose almost perpendicularly from where we stood. Pointing up to a spot about one thousand feet above us, our guide indicated the only possible halting place. Although so near, it took us over two hours to reach; with the utmost caution we had to drag our bodies up the sheer face of the rocks. At one place we had recourse to a rough native ladder formed of two long bamboo poles with rungs of the same tied with grass. This was placed against an absolutely smooth-faced stretch of rock, where for a space of ten to fifteen feet no hold could be obtained. To add to the danger, strong mountain streams were pouring down over the rocks, not only soaking us through, but making our grip less secure. Certainly I had never before been in such a critical position; it was quite impossible to get a real firm footing, and one slip might have resulted in dragging others down into the seething waters and rocks that lay beneath.

[Illustration: KICUCEI CAMP.]

On reaching the top, vegetation assumed an entirely new form. The only trees were gigantic heaths, but it was almost impossible to distinguish them, for the stems were covered with a thick moss, which in some places was 12 inches deep. In colouring it varied from a dark brown to a light golden or deep red. The trees were almost entirely denuded of leaf, and festoons of whitish lichen hung from branch to branch. The ground was very marshy, for the hills that enclosed us emptied down into it numerous small torrents. About fifteen square yards of dry land was found on which to erect our tent and hang up the clothes to dry. Our stout marching boots had already succumbed to the rough usage, and we each took a strong needle and thread to see who could turn out the neatest job. In the evening the rain poured down upon us in a deluge, and continued all night till it even penetrated the double roof of our canvas waterproof tent; besides this, as we were now at an altitude of 10,000ft., the cold was indescribable. Each breath we took seemed to cut at the chest like a knife, and, in spite of blankets and an eider-down, it was impossible to sleep with the damp piercing cold. All the following day the rain continued and kept us prisoners at this indescribably cheerless spot. I had time to overhaul the shattered skirt; it looked a hopeless task, for it really would not bear shortening again. The advice was then given me to cut it up and put it into bands under the knees, which I acted upon on hearing the toughest bit of climbing was yet to come. When we were at last able to push on, and the garment was worn with puttees and a football jersey, I felt like an evoluted man.

For three hours from Kicucu camp we did not once touch the ground; during the whole of that time we were slowly climbing with hands and feet over fallen heather that for scores of years must have lain in that position, only becoming more seasoned with time. The thick moss that still clung on to the slender bark was very deceptive, and, when mistaken for firm soil, broke away from the tree and one suddenly found oneself slipping down, down between branches and barks; fortunately there was a depth of fallen forest underneath, and this saved me from disappearing beyond the armpits. These heaths grow on the rocks in a very thin surface soil which is not able to support them when they reach great heights, consequently the tree falls, and in this way the irregular jagged rocks have been bridged and joined up by the continually increasing amount of timber thrown across.

[Illustration: MULUKU GLACIER.]

Having once disentangled ourselves from this tumbled-down forest, a weird scene was opened out before us. Almost surrounded by a lofty ridge of rocks was a wide river basin fed by the melting snow from above. With the exception of one waterfall which poured down from a height of about 200 feet, the water did not descend in streams, but fell slowly in sheets from the surrounding rocks. The few trees visible were entirely enveloped in the white lichen, and the ground was covered with thick drab moss, dwarf cactus plants, and a tall green poker called by botanists lobelia, but resembling in shape Cleopatra’s needle. The effect was that of a world tottering in its old age on the verge of death—it was easier to imagine it another planet, for is it possible to recognise Earth without voice, without colouring, and almost without life. We plunged through this morass and found the moss saturated like a sponge with freezing water. The effect was chilling in the extreme, and before we had crossed it half way my limbs felt quite numbed with the cold; I scarcely knew how I dragged myself up into our last camp. The roof only of our tent was somehow fixed up under a rock, over the entrance of which water continuously trickled. But these little discomforts were quite forgotten when towards sunset the clouds rolled away and the land of snow and ice was revealed crowning near ridges and peaks with its dazzling whiteness, while in the hollows and clefts all round lay patches of glistening ice. Before sunrise next morning we were all astir, impatient to reach the goal of our expectations. The air was clear and crisp, patches of freshly fallen snow lay around us on all sides, icicles hung from the rocks, and little frozen puddles glistened like glass. The wet penetrating cold of the two previous days was now exchanged for the dry frosty breezes that nipped toes, finger-tips, nose, and ears. Although the thermometer had fallen to freezing point, no numbing sensation was experienced; but as the blood tingled through the veins it seemed to impart a feeling of rejuvenation, and an uncontrollable exhilaration laid hold of the spirits. In the valley of the Muluku glacier vegetation had once more assumed its healthy green colouring; a little silver-leafed buttercup even ventured to peep out at us, and a tiny white flower, almost identical with the Swiss edelweiss, concealed itself among the rocks. This beautiful little fertile spot seemed a special pet of the snow mountains, for they clasped it in their great white arms as if desiring that its only life should impart some degree of warmth to their implacable nature.

Ruwenzori certainly has not left one point of its snows unfortified against intruders. Having taken possession of the most unconscionable heights, all sorts of subtle man-traps have been laid up the mountain’s sides, and even if an attempt is made to merely stand on the threshold of its domain an almost impassible rock barrier guards the portal, just as the adventurer imagines all difficulties have been passed. But that realm of ice allures one on to dare much, and so while two ropes were thrown down from above the forbidding rocks, one was hastily tied round the body and with the other we slowly climbed up hand over hand. Twice we attempted this performance, and twice we succeeded in mastering the situation, and then—we stood face to face with one of Ruwenzori’s glaciers. It was in the shape of a huge, open mouth, and as it slowly pushed its way down into the valley, the tongue collected the few fragments rubbed off the rocks and taken up from the soil, but the cave itself was one spotless mass of dazzling white.

We had decided to dismiss any idea of prolonging our stay at this altitude, realizing the terrible suffering that this involved among the porters in previous expeditions, so, instead of using any of the precious time in attempting to reach a higher point, which seemed futile without Alpine implements, we explored the Muluku glacier cave, from which flows that remarkable river that carries its cool, life-giving stream into the scorching plain till it loses itself in the Albert Edward Lake.

Only one of our personal boys had succeeded in facing out the difficulties of the climb. While standing on the ice with us, he took out from his pocket a little tin pot, which he filled with ice. He explained it was a present for his wife. Afterwards, when we had descended to camp, he took it out to show the other boys, and, although disgusted beyond measure at the trick nature had played him, he consoled himself by taking the water to his wife to explain to her how it was once a stone.

Scrambling up on to the glacier, we looked beyond over miles and miles of ice that for hundreds of years God—the Creator—alone had been beholding. Although we were standing nearly 14,000ft. above sea-level, the highest peak, that rose as a white dome above its companions, appeared miles above us. It was difficult to judge of its approximate height, as so many other points intervened, but it could not have been much less than 20,000ft.

[Illustration: BACK FROM THE SNOWS: BAKONJO PORTERS.]

Having climbed above cloud-land, there was nothing to break the reflex in the ice of the deep sapphire sky, and as the sun poured down its white heat, the whole world around glittered and sparkled with iridescent hues.

“A step ... opened to my view, Glory beyond all glory ever seen By waking sense or by the dreaming soul! The appearance, instantaneously disclosed, Was of a mighty city—boldly say A wilderness of building, sinking far And self-withdrawn into a boundless depth Far sinking into splendour—without end! Fabric it seemed of diamond and of gold, With alabaster domes and silver spires And blazing terrace upon terrace high Uplifted ... Forms uncouth of mightiest power For admiration and mysterious awe.”