TravelStream™ news feed for member thesunroseclear on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/thesunroseclear en-us Copyright ©2010 TravelPod.com Thu, 28 Jun 2007 05:42:32 -0400 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesunroseclear/concord-0607/1158585180/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesunroseclear/concord-0607/1158585180/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesunroseclear/concord-0607/1158585180/tpod.html Thu, 28 Jun 2007 05:42:32 -0400 Asmara to the cape

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Simien mountains, Ethiopia

Today Freddy, Christian and I completed our 5-day trek in the Simien Mountains, which was decidedly disappointing for two kinds of reasons. The reason that's easy to explain is that I started feeling slightly ill near the beginning and developed a bad sore throat and general achiness that I'm still recovering from (I hope) with the help of antibiotics.

The other reason is that the experience was too much like Ethiopia in general, i.e. everything was a lot more complicated than it needed to be, and it feels as though you are constantly being followed around by people trying to extract the birr. The entourage that is forced on the visitor, although all nice and well-intentioned individuals, seems to make the experience less rather than more enjoyable.

For a start, a scout is compulsory. Ours was Fekeru, a local villager (because as Christian observed, the park is not only populated, it's over-populated) who was very helpful although he spoke no English, and carried a gun. Presumably if the baboons attack you he shoots the baboons, and if you attack the baboons he shoots you (although to be fair there was a rumour of leopard).

Then you're going to need mules, because even if you want to carry all your own gear (which we didn't), you need one for the scout. We had two mules. Every mule has to have its own mule-driver, it's a rule ("Like in the circus?" I asked. "Do they ride bicycles?") Well, fair enough, it provides employment for the people, and it's only 20 birr per day per person and 20 ($3 CAD) per mule. Sadly, our mules left after us and arrived before us at camp every single day, and took a different route (i.e. the road), so we never had a chance to bond with our mules.

We were going without a guide but were talked into taking one, Semaamelak, at 75 birr per day. He was a good fellow, and the guides have been specially trained.

We did turn down the cook. The first day we had fun cooking for ourselves, but at the second camp the hut was small, dark and smoky, and when we were about to start cooking they said "They are already cooking" and after that we never cooked. At every meal they would ask us, "Do you want more soup? or porridge?" or whatever it was, and we would say yes, and then eventually we would say no we're full, and on the last day there was no more food, although we had started with way more than enough. So we were feeding our staff (not part of the deal), and that's why they didn't mind doing the cooking for us.

On the last morning, they wanted to pack up everything after breakfast and I said what about lunch, and they showed me some rice and half a cabbage, do you want that? ... not really, what about those sardines I bought? and they showed me the empty tin, though none of us had sniffed a sardine ... what about those packet soups? ... what packet soups? But this is a minor complaint.

The stages are all very short. Even on the fourth day, with me quite weak and calling extra halts, we finished the "6-hour" stage in 5 hours and a quarter. Freddy, who did the whole thing in sandals, could have halved the times. The third day was just a local tour of three viewpoints, only one of which was especially interesting, which could more sensibly have been incorporated into the following day. But the entourage has no interest in going farther, or in going away from the villages. For the same reason the camps are all near villages rather than near good views. Then in the morning by the time you get to the view you've missed the best light.

The park is very small, and so to stay within the park the prescribed trek is up-and-back rather than a circuit. There is a road all the way to the last camp, though you walk mostly off the road. On the last (fifth) morning, F and C decided to walk a bit farther rather than idly waiting for our vehicle. The rule was that they had to pay for an extra day, because the extra two hours they walked was designated as part of the sixth day.

But everyone was very congenial. Freddy's trademark was the non-sequitur question series, as in (Hugh Grant accent) "Can you make tea from chat? Hmm ... Do many tourists fall over the edge? Erm ... Is there anything that eats baboons?" His first act was to cut off one of the sleeves of his shirt and use it as a hat. Still at uni, he had taken a double-gap-year and travelled continuously over all continents, including a trek with a companion through Senegal and Mali "in the footsteps of Mungo Park".

The most interesting information we gleaned was that 6000 tourists had fallen over the edge last year, although this was soon amended to, 6000 tourists had visited the park last year.

There were 9 tourists at our last camp. At 8:30 on the last day there are no fewer than 14 Ethiopians standing around the cooking hut, of whom two or three are working, and four have been staring at me for the past half-hour as I write this. But despite our disappointment we tipped our entourage generously (not their fault).

I can't help comparing with Lesotho (admittedly 25 years ago) because the topography and the lifestyle are so similar. There you could base yourself at one of the simple lodges and walk freely. Everywhere people would greet you with a joyful "we-are-all-bantu" gleam rather than a calculating squint. Well, tourism corrupts, and absolute tourism corrupts absolutely, and I'm part of the process.

Our land cruiser shows up right on time, and after 6 hours we're back in Gonder. We pay Hermon the remaining half of his fee. Two hours later as we go for dinner, Hermon and his sidekick show up again asking for a tip. They follow us all the way into the restaurant of the Circle Hotel and a major argument ensues. Their principal justifications for the tip they didn't get: (a) We introduced you to each other. (b) we only made 100 birr. (c) Everyone tips.

The day after tomorrow Christian and I leave Gonder having somehow managed to alienate every tout in town.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesunroseclear/concord-0607/1157888400/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesunroseclear/concord-0607/1157888400/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesunroseclear/concord-0607/1157888400/tpod.html Thu, 28 Jun 2007 05:31:32 -0400 Asmara to the cape

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Konzula, Ethiopia

When the ferry docked here I stayed on board with the luggage while Bob (from Glasgow) hurried off to secure accommodation at the only hotel. The assistant ferry captain considered our situation and predicted, "You will find a room ... but it will not be satisfactory."

This is Ethiopian New Year's Eve, Happy 1999 (in the Ethiopian calendar). we are staying in a 20-birr ($3) nameless hotel with attached bar, where the bathing facilities consist of a standpipe in a narrow courtyard separating two rows of mud-floored rooms, with a squat toilet at the end. It's the standard model for a small-town shoestring African hotel, which typically doubles as a kind of brothel. I suppose you could define a "small town" as a place where this is the only accommodation available, and a "village" as a place where they don't have one. Apparently they only have one padlock for the entire hotel. Bob used that one and I have my own.

The assistant ferry captain showed up a bit later. He used to be a navy man in the port of Massawa, before the country carelessly misplaced its coastline.

We had bought a "first-class" ticket for 131 birr for this two-day trip, but contrary to both touts and guidebook, there are no classes on this ferry. Local people pay much less of course. There was a bit of a crush getting on at dawn, we didn't get a seat, and I was just about ready to abandon the trip. Luckily the numbers decreased at each stop, no doubt because everybody was going home for the holiday.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesunroseclear/concord-0607/1157557860/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesunroseclear/concord-0607/1157557860/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesunroseclear/concord-0607/1157557860/tpod.html Thu, 28 Jun 2007 05:26:45 -0400 Asmara to the cape

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Addis Ababa, Ethiopia

I decided to fly back to Addis Ababa rather than face another series of potentially debilitating bus rides. However, because Eritrea and Ethiopia do not recognize each other in the aftermath of Eritrea's recent war of independence from Ethiopia, you have to fly via a third country (Djibouti is closest). The first leg only goes twice a week, and from Djibouti to Addis Ababa the cheapest way is Ethiopian Airlines, but you can't buy a ticket in Eritrea. They were able to make a reservation for me, though, and I would pay at the airport in Djibouti.

Dani and Asilka accompanied me to the airport in Asmara. We arrived at 7:30 as advised for the 10:30 flight, but we were too early to get into the terminal and had to wait in the parking lot for a while. Then they would only let travellers into the building. Although there were no other flights in or out during the 3 hours I was there, they still managed to set a record for passport and boarding pass checks. Here's a hint: If you want to find somebody without a boarding pass, try the parking lot.

I had given the rest of my nakfa to Dani and had no Djibouti francs, but was well supplied with biscuits and bananas. At Djibouti I was ushered into transit where I spent the afternoon reading The Poisonwood Bible. At 5 o'clock negotiated my way backwards through immigration to look for the Ethiopian Airlines counter, only to learn that you can't buy a ticket at the airport, have to go to town. I quickly bought a visa ($20) and got a taxi to accept $22 and reached the office just before they closed.

Got to a hotel in Addis Ababa just before midnight.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesunroseclear/concord-0607/1156840260/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesunroseclear/concord-0607/1156840260/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesunroseclear/concord-0607/1156840260/tpod.html Thu, 28 Jun 2007 05:21:31 -0400 Asmara to the cape

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Danakil desert, Eritrea

Up at 5 am to prepare for the 2-km walk to the bus station. Dani had a wheeled frame on which he piled all his luggage and pulled it along. We arrived at 6:15 but the long process of loading didn't begin for another hour. It was the same price (180 nakfa = $12) to either Massawa (on the coast) or Asmara (the capital, in the mountains, 4 hours farther), and since we were going to Massawa our stuff was loaded last. Then they wanted another 500 nakfa for the luggage. I only had the one bag, and I've never heard of paying extra for a single bag, but Dani had several bags, and he was becoming furious, and I didn't want to weasel out of it and put all the pressure on him. Eventually they settled for 300 nakfa, most of which I paid, as Dani said he had no money left. I realized by now that he (wisely) always had a bit more than he admitted, but I don't think he had much. To give him his due, he did always try to pay back the money I loaned him.

Nobody was able to pin down how long the trip would take, not even to the day (variously one or two). The three of us had a 3-person seat to ourselves, so not too crowded, although we were on the dreaded wheel-well hump. There was also a well-dressed Djiboutian on board, carrying a briefcase and looking even more out-of-place than I. Occasionally he appealed to me for commiseration, and his brief but scathing mutterings in polished French drifted up throughout the journey.

This was an example of a bad road being worse than no road at all. In places the surface was corrugated to a fine precision that could not have been improved upon if you were trying to devise a torture or a cure for kidney-stones. "Dur et fatigant," muttered our new friend, and later "fatigant sans cesse."

We were close to the Red Sea most of the way, at times within metres. The desert surface varied from stony to sandy to that broken-asphalt effect. For stretches there was no visible vegetation at all.

But in the midst of this, one of the most arresting images I have seen: a wide, flat-topped thornbush on which a small flock of about 8 goats were standing, browsing, while the goat-herd rested in the shade beneath; like a child's puzzle in which the pictorial elements have been randomly arranged.

Asilka liked to play Scrabble. She would call out, "John, a fruit, P,L,E,A,P," and I would think a bit and say "APPLE?" and then give her one. I taught her a new game by writing ATR and showing her how to get BUS by advancing alhabetically. She liked this game, clever girl, and was able to figure out on her own that Z wrapped around to A, and she tried to fool me by giving me one that went backwards.

We stopped 4 or 5 times for document checks, which also served as bathroom breaks. At a place called Edi we shared injera with potato and lentil sauce. In late afternoon, opposite a checkpoint in the middle of nowhere, a solitary tree sheltered a lean-to selling nothing but coca-cola. "Le coca est frais," remarked our friend. There was no refrigeration, but it seemed slightly cooler than the air, maybe 30 degrees ... the new definition of cool. Back on the bus: "long et penible."

At 9 pm we stopped for dinner and I surprised myself by getting down a plate of spaghetti. Then just a kilometre farther on we stopped to sleep stretched out in the desert. At 2 am they herded us back on the bus, where we were immediately submitted to another document check that took most of an hour.

Dawn broke on the same scenery, but then someone said "Massawa 25 km." And it was true. We arrived at 7:30 after 22 hours (25 if you count the loading).
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesunroseclear/concord-0607/1156512960/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesunroseclear/concord-0607/1156512960/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesunroseclear/concord-0607/1156512960/tpod.html Thu, 28 Jun 2007 05:11:46 -0400 Asmara to the cape

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Moulhoule, Djibouti

In the morning we bought a fish on the beach, had it cooked and ate it for breakfast and lunch. We hashed out a number of issues, with the help of my inflatable plastic globe. Dani impressed us with the 169 varieties of bananas that grow in Indonesia, although Abdul maintained that a well-chosen Somali banana could trump all of them. Dani was skeptical. I tried to break the deadlock by mentioning that "In Canada, world #1 banana ... Canadian banana!" but although Abdul found this funny, Dani's scowl intensified.

Although admitting that the Indonesian government is very corrupt ("#6 in world, Pakistan #5" ... as a coach you must be aware of who is ahead of you in the rankings), Dani claimed that Indonesia is still the best country in the world to visit, because you can get a full meal ("fish, chicken, vegetable, everything") for 35 cents. I mentioned that meals are also very cheap in Malaysia, plus they frequently have air-conditioning. "Malaysia 50-cent dollar, Indonesia 35-cent dollar" Dani asserted, bringing that discussion to a close.

When Abdul stepped out for a moment, Dani appealed to me: "I see Somali people with no food, also no government, many guns, but he say Somalia is better."
- "It's natural for everyone to have good feelings about their own country."
But Dani wasn't buying this. He was holding out for a more objective set of criteria.

At 3 pm the dust stirred. Abdul waved good-bye, headed for Tadjoura and Djibouti town. We were off for the border, 2000 fr each to sit in the back of the same 4WD I had jumped out of 24 hours earlier, which had never left Obock. According to Dani the driver was "not a good person." It was carrying 6 other people, and sacks of rice from Somalia marked "Gift of the government and people of the United States of America - not to be sold or exchanged." We were assured that at the border, a place called Reheilat, there would be lots of onward traffic ("very easy"), and we imagined reaching the next real town, Assab in Eritrea, before sleeping.

There was no road now, just a desert track, usually in sight of the sea, sometimes plain gravel desert without vegetation, with hills resembling gigantic construction projects, and in places some scattered thorn-bushes.

At Moulhoule at 5:30 we were told to get down, and the vehicle turned back. It was a police post surrounded by a wall and barbed wire, at the entrance of which the officers and hangers-on were playing boules. Around the post there was a collection of temporary-looking huts made out of sticks and scrap metal. This was the Djibouti side of the border, but it was still a half-hour ride through no-man's-land to the Eritrea post, and no hope of continuing this day.

Oddly, there was also a well-constructed wooden box they referred to as the "mission", empty inside, with an empty door-frame and an empty window-frame, and a gap all round where the walls didn't quite reach the ground. This is where the three of us were encouraged to sleep, while the other passengers (women and kids) drifted off in the other direction. "They will rob us," said Dani, "we stay with the local people," and I felt the same way.

He went off for a long time while Asilka and I sat with the luggage (she apparently much less nervous than I was) and darkness fell. A grey-haired man with stick legs was brought out of one of the huts on a frame cot. A line was strung above him from the ends of the cot, and from the line hung a moist cloth. "Too ill to be moved," someone said in French. He would end his life in the desert, probably where it began. After remaining motionless for a long time he reached up and touched the cloth.

When Dani finally emerged from the deep dusk, it was to urge me in the strongest terms to "Sit! Sit!"
- "What do you call this?" I shouted back from the perch I had occupied for far too long, in my opinion. "What is happening?"
- "Is okay. Sit!"
- "No, you have to communicate! Tell me!"
- "We sleep with the local people. The leader has arranged it."

He had prayed with the others, and the man leading the prayers had then argued with the man who had encouraged us to sleep in the "mission". Although Dani could not understand their language, he was convinced that the fellow-feeling of a co-religioinist had saved us from the predations of desert jackals, and I had the same sense. Lucky for me I had not gone out alone the previous day.

We were offered mats which we spread out under the stars immediately adjacent to the local people. I took out my sleeping bag (although it was way too hot for it) and air mattress (apologies to Wayne and Thesiger ... that's Shaw and Wilfred, not Johnny and Frank), put all my money in the sleeping bag, locked both backpack and daypack into the duffle bag and slept with one arm through the strap of the duffle bag. Dani stretched out beside and above me, across the top of his four bags. I slept quite well and the stars were brilliant, but I was happy to see the first glimmer of dawn over the sea.

In the morning I forgot to check whether the old man was still there.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesunroseclear/concord-0607/1156424280/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesunroseclear/concord-0607/1156424280/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesunroseclear/concord-0607/1156424280/tpod.html Thu, 28 Jun 2007 05:05:37 -0400 Asmara to the cape

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Obock, Djibouti

In the morning I took a taxi to the port but was unable to find a boat. Got rid of my excess francs and acquired some Eritrean currency at 26 nakfa to a dollar. Back to the hotel, and the driver promised to keep me informed about the boat.

At mid-day he came back for me, and when we got back to the port he wanted to charge me for an extra trip he said he had made on my behalf. I didn't feel I had authorized this, but we compromised in the end, and starting now for the next couple of days it was a scramble to pay people in a mixture of three currencies.

The boat to Obock was waiting for a shipment of chat (the mildly stimulating leaf) from the airport, and when it arrived we were off in a rush. It was a 20-foot open speedboat with a 75-HP motor, supposed to be 3000 francs but at the last minute he wanted 5000, which I didn't have, but I engaged a tout to get him to accept 600 nakfa and gave 1000 francs to the tout.

Only 6 people on board including two women and a boy. The chat was soft, but it was still a rough 1.5-hour ride with a lot of bouncing and swelling and spray coming in. My backpack was in the duffle bag as usual (first time I've used this system and I like it) and I managed to protect my day pack.

In Obock there was a ride to the border for 2000 francs (coincidentally exactly what I had left), but as I was sitting in the back of the truck Dani showed up and persuaded me to spend the night there, where he was sleeping for free in the visitors' room at the mosque.

Obock is a small town with no paved streets (unless you consider garbage a form of paving) where people and goats live more or less on an equal footing. Goats perch on the windowsills of the low mud houses, gazing down on people drinking coffee as they crouch on low benches in the meagre shade in the dusty main street. Small boats bring in fish in the early morning.

Dani has been travelling for 10 months with his 12-year-old daughter Asilka. They have covered 21 countries, which she can list in order, all by land or ferry. Unsolicited details gradually emerge. It seems they started by crossing to Singapore with a car containing who knows what, and he is still lugging a bag full of tennis racquets. He is a tennis instructor with testimonials from former students. There cannot be many 12-year-olds who have had a year as interesting as Asilka's has been, but although she is very good-natured and resilient, it must often be boring for her, and I don't think he is making the most of it on her behalf.

These two and a Somali named Abdul were ensconced in a simple open-air restaurant where you could get fish, spaghetti or a meat dish, and bread. Soft drinks were the same price as in Djibouti. After dark we locked our stuff in the mosque and slept on the beach ("the billion-star hotel"), along with a good proportion of the population.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesunroseclear/concord-0607/1153721100/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesunroseclear/concord-0607/1153721100/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesunroseclear/concord-0607/1153721100/tpod.html Thu, 28 Jun 2007 04:54:15 -0400 Asmara to the cape

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Ipoh, Malaysia

Everybody I meet here says it's too hot to walk, and generally we drive to the Jusco department store, even though it's only 300 m away. But the main deterrent to pedestrianism is not the heat but bad urban design. Streets are narrow, there are no sidewalks, cars always assume right of way, drivers are aggressive by North American standards, and the verges, although they may appear smooth and grassy, conceal significant holes.

In Kuala Lumpur, Frances and her brother live a stone's throw from a mall, but there is absolutely no way of walking to it short of dashing across a 6-lane dual carriageway.

In the evening, we drive to Seenivasagam Park, where we toss stale chapati and uncooked pasta (also expired) into a pond teeming with fishes and tortoises. The fish were quicker, but the tortoises were getting away with some questionable blocking manoeuvres. Apparently there was no referee.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesunroseclear/concord-0607/1156692180/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesunroseclear/concord-0607/1156692180/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesunroseclear/concord-0607/1156692180/tpod.html Thu, 28 Jun 2007 04:52:03 -0400 Asmara to the cape

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Assab, Eritrea

Back to Zoba Immigration at 8 am, where we learn that not only are they still closed but it's the wrong office, go to Zoba Administration. Luckily everything is close together here, though it must be 40 degrees at 9 am. At Zoba Administration, same story: (a) they are closed; (b) go back to Immigration. We'll figure it out tomorrow. Maybe throw a party and invite all of them.

Dani and Asilka will go to the beach while I write, but first we both decide to move to the Assab Pension, though for different reasons. I because it's cheaper at $3 and just about as good, though without air con; and Dani because the people at his hotel are bad people.

- Really? The woman seemed quite friendly. She whipped us up a nice dish of goat, not expensive, asked us to sit with her, smiles a lot.
- No good. Today they say they have no meat. They have meat.
- Maybe they needed it for later. Also you just opened the freezer and looked inside. Sometimes take their word, don't check everything.
- Bad people. They try to cheat.
- Really? But the woman lent you 100 nakfa [not just credit, he actually borrowed cash to spend elsewhere until he could exchange]. That's unusual, for a hotel-keeper to lend money to a guest.
- Cheating people. I have a gold ring I buy in Oman for $40. They want to buy for $10.
- Maybe they didn't want it or didn't have more money. I might not give you anything for it, but I don't consider that a stain on my character.
- Bad people!
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesunroseclear/concord-0607/1161672240/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesunroseclear/concord-0607/1161672240/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesunroseclear/concord-0607/1161672240/tpod.html Thu, 28 Jun 2007 04:40:25 -0400 Asmara to the cape

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Minto's hut, Mt Kenya, Kenya

Day 5 dawned clear at Austrian Hut. Irungu and I were up at 4:30, had tea, started at 5, climbed easily on the hard snow, and at 5:45, just as it was light enough to turn off the torches, we reached Point Lenana. The air was perfectly calm. On one side the orange horizon, on the other the slightly higher summit of Nelion coming into the light, Austrian Hut (and my tent) visible just below us, and a broad valley stretching out into the distance, white and then green. We could see the lights of Nanyuki and well beyond.

We stayed up for 45 minutes (my camera batteries died because I had not accounted for the effect of the cold), then down for the usual huge breakfast.

At 9 we started walking down to the Chogoria route on the opposite side (the east side), having come up on the west side. It now became apparent that David, having walked without snowglasses the previous day, was snow-blind. Irungu was somewhat disgusted with David's lack of foresight ("He has sunglasses but he didn't bring them") but said that it was not unusual among porters, and indeed, even the caretaker at Austrian Hut admitted sheepishly that he didn't have any sunglasses.

I tried to fashion him a set of Inuit-style goggles (slits in a piece of cardboard), but it was still too painfully bright, he said; I suppose these goggles are good for preventing the condition, not for solving it. He put a piece of dark green (garbage-bag) plastic over his eyes to shield them, but he couldn't see anything at all. I gave him my walking stick and he walked blind, with Irungu instructing him from behind in Swahili (left or right) and me in front ("this way") to give him a bearing. Also I switched packs with him for a couple of hours (his pack was now not as heavy as on day 1, when I could hardly lift it), so at least that made it easier for him to stand up each time he fell, which was frequently.

Two things in David's favour as we proceeded: it clouded over, and we descended below the snow. After we passed Square Tarn, looking like an outdoor rink in late March, he wanted to switch the packs back, I think feeling that he wasn't doing his job, so I didn't insist, although it was no trouble for me going down. Still, his eyes were clearly hurting, and when we arrived in thick mist at the windowless Minto's hut (a real dump, by the way) he lay down in the dark until dusk.

I had a nap in my tent, and then at 4 pm the mist started to lift, and for the last two hours of the day I roamed near the four small nearby tarns and the gorge, with wonderful views as the drifting mist hid and revealed the high peaks ranging across half the horizon, and the giant lobelias in the foreground looked on.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesunroseclear/concord-0607/1161261960/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesunroseclear/concord-0607/1161261960/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/thesunroseclear/concord-0607/1161261960/tpod.html Thu, 28 Jun 2007 04:33:25 -0400 Asmara to the cape

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Nanyuki, Kenya

Now just a 20-minute walk north of the equator, looking at Mount Kenya on the other side. Another newly rediscovered luxury is an English-language press, and not only that, papers that publish thoughtful analysis and criticize the government of the day.

A guy calling himself Junglemaster who works with local street kids and handicapped kids latched onto me and showed me around, and I gave him a modest donation. He warned me: "Do not give money to the head teacher at the school for the handicapped, because it wouldn't all be used for its intended purpose. By the way, some people may gossip about me, don't listen to them."

The main thing I did today was organize (through the trekking office at the Riverside Hotel) my 7-day Mount Kenya traverse, to go up the Sirimon route from Nanyuki and back down the Chogoria route on the opposite (eastern) side. My guide is Irungu who will double as cook, porter is David.

For those who may be interested, costs in $US were as follows:
- guide/cook $20 x 7 days
- porter $14 x 7 days
- food $50
- park fees $20 x 7 days
- camping $5 x 6 nights
- transport to Sirimon gate 1500 Ksh (shared private land cruiser)
- transport down from Chogoria gate 3000 Ksh (same, but not shared)
- transport from Chogoria back to Nanyuki 1400 Ksh (for 3 of us)
At 75 Ksh = $1 this comes to $538 US; with tips, eventually, $605 US or about $100 CAD per day for 7 days.

After I had paid, Irungu decided we needed a second porter (Robert) for the first three days to get the stuff up the mountain, but the cost to me didn't increase, which it would have if we were in Ethiopia (whoops, I promised I wouldn't talk about that any more).

Irungu: "Just advising you, if you want to make a donation to the handicapped school, give it to the head teacher; if you give it to Junglemaster not all of it will reach the school."
]]>