The snows of Erukenya
 |
Story Tools
| ON CNN TV |
Watch "Adventures on the Edge" on Headline News Wednesday and Sunday at 7:30 a.m. and 7:30 p.m. Also on CNN Thursday at 11 a.m.
|
RELATED
|
To follow the full adventure ...
|
SPECIAL REPORT
|
|
YOUR E-MAIL ALERTS
|
Follow the news that matters to you. Create your own alert to be notified on topics you're interested in.
Or, visit Popular Alerts for suggestions.
|
|
Part 2 -- Point Lenana
Next day our goal is to walk through the bamboo forest, see some elephants, and eventually set up camp in the open grasslands by Lake Alice. Off we march, following a faint elephant trail through the thick brush. So as to heighten the cinematic effect of our adventure, we are not on the tourist route to the base of Mount Kenya. Every other step is an ankle-deep mud bath, and mosquitoes perpetually buzz in our ears.
An hour and a half into it and we're already a sweaty, muddy mess, stopping often to strip layers and chug water. To make matters worse, Kristen's and Justine's skis, strapped to their packs, snag on every bamboo stalk we pass. They try strapping the skis on vertically and then horizontally -- nothing works. Eventually Justine takes her skis off her backpack and uses them like a machete to clear the way.
The guides and porters don't seem fazed by the conditions. Wearing jeans and battered hiking boots, but no hats or sunglasses, they march onward into the jungle as if it's a Sunday stroll. They think it's amusing the way the skis keep getting snagged, and after hours of frustrating bushwhacking, Dixon and Elvis finally convince Kristen and Justine to allow them to carry their skis. Dixon throws a pair over his shoulder and struts along the faint path, vowing that he too will one day ski Mount Kenya.
Although we see plenty of elephant dung -- fresh and steamy, in fact -- and footprints the size of frisbees, we never actually see any of the huge animals. Ambrose says they can sense us from a distance; although enormous, they are also agile and can quickly hide among the thick bamboo.
As the sun slowly sets and the temperature cools down to a comfortable 65 degrees Fahrenheit, we exit the bamboo maze. Miles of grassland stretch ahead to the jagged peaks of Erukenya. We walk side by side through the soft grass up to Lake Alice, enjoying a cool breeze and a fiery sunset. The sparkling stars overhead reflect on the mirrorlike lake. By nightfall, the temperature plummets to well below freezing, so we build a fire and enjoy dinner in our down jackets.
After dinner Dixon starts drumming on a pot with two wooden spoons. Soon all of our guides and porters are up, dancing furiously around the fire, still full of energy after the brutal day's hike. They teach us some Swahili songs, then switch to "I Feel Good" by James Brown. The hyenas heckle us from the surrounding fields, so we tighten up our food supplies, hoping not to be bothered by these gangsters of the night.
Morning breaks cold, with frost lining our tents and the grass. The sun's rays refract as the thawing process begins, sending sparkles every which way, and we continue onward toward Mount Kenya. Though we walk and walk, we don't seem to be getting any closer to the peaks. Hours pass. By noon it's 80 degrees at 12,000 feet. It feels as if we're being fried under a giant magnifying glass. Our goal is "God's Billiards Table," a square-mile, flat-topped grassy plateau that stands 1,000 feet above the surrounding plain.
Six hours after our departure from camp, we drop our massive packs at Hall's Tarn, an opaque blue pond at 13,200 feet. Although there's plenty of space to camp on the grass, our guides choose to cram into a rundown shack on the site, the Pico Hut. It has a leaky tin roof and a few mattress-less bunks, but the guides are happy there, singing and dancing into the night.
Day four unfolds with an unreal sunrise in the subfreezing dawn. Kristen is up early, excited about the fresh snow that came unexpectedly during the night. It is thin around our tents, but higher on the mountain it looks as if about a foot has fallen. The prospect of getting up above the snow line motivates everyone to pack up and start walking.
As the sun climbs overhead, the temperature at 14,000 feet soon reaches 60 degrees. Finally we ascend past tree line and enter a realm of volcanic rock. Following a track in the dusty pumice, we skirt boulders and aim for a V-shaped notch on the horizon. Our guides march far ahead of us, and when we finally gain the pass we find them there, bopping to the sounds of cheesy pop music on an AM radio station from Nairobi and smoking cigarettes in the howling wind.
Finally, we feast our eyes on our next campsite, the logically named Top Hut. To our delight, no other climbers occupy the hut, so we drop our packs and relax on the porch. The three peaks of Erukenya loom directly in front of us, Nelion and Batian towering to the left, Point Lenana, with the Lewis Glacier crawling down it, on our right. At an elevation of 15,800 feet, Top Hut is small and simple but efficient in this harsh environment. About 50 yards away are a few flat spots, perfect for pitching the tents.
An almost-full moon has risen in the equatorial sky. The cluster of stars in the Milky Way overhead is thicker and brighter than I've ever seen. Shooting stars fill the sky. The dark rock of the peaks is silhouetted against the night, and the white snow shines. Awakening to the sounds of hail pinging against the tent and of Ambrose whistling along to a reggae song on the crackling radio, we find ourselves in a thick soup of fog. Just before dawn a front had moved in, accompanied by winds of up to 50 miles an hour.
The second night in the tents is worse, as gusting winds threaten to blow us into the void. The next day is more of the same. Cards, tea, and African rhythms get us through the day, and we benefit from another 24 hours to relax and acclimatize.
At 4:20 a.m. the alarm sounds, and we peek outside to see what Mother Africa has in store for us today. We scramble about in the cold, dark morning, and a half-hour later, all that can be seen is a chain of headlamps moving across the snow-covered scree field toward the Lewis Glacier. Fresh snow has blown in and around the crevasses, with the virgin powder forming wind lips and snow bridges on the protruding glacial features.
The rising sun lights up the towering peaks in cheery pink, then slowly makes its way down to us as we reach the glacier. We pack away the headlamps and down parkas, rub on sun block, and make our way up to the col. Dixon and the porters stay back, a wise decision given that they only have one pair of crampons between them. Kristen and Justine promise to give a yell before they drop in so everyone can finally get to see how the skis work.
At last we reach the summit of Point Lenana, atop the vast African continent, and after lugging our planks halfway around the world, it's finally time to ski them. Justine drops in and arcs a few turns, rooster tails of snow wisping behind her. It's just past 10 a.m., Central African Time, and the freeriding has begun. Kristen drops in next, skiing along a fresh wind lip and sending a small sluff of snow down the glacier. Below, Dixon and Ambrose are yelling and waving their ice axes in the air, their cheers echoing off the peaks.
The women ski together down the smooth gully, leaving figure eights in their wake. When they reach the guides they are greeted with high-fives and huge smiles. Dixon and Ambrose seem completely blown away by what they've just witnessed.
The lower part of the glacier still awaits, another 1,000 feet of steep and icy terrain.
Traversing toward the heart of the glacier, Kristen and Justine pass by huge, gaping crevasses and precariously hanging seracs. The blue ice at the heart of this ancient ice flow shines like diamonds under the scorching sun and is as hard as steel. A slide-for-life here would surely mean tragedy. So the women carefully tiptoe around the shiny blue aspects and soon find themselves atop a white swath of wind-driven snow. Making a run for the glacier's terminus, they ski down the final pitch one at a time.
At the bottom, alongside an emerald-blue tarn, they kick off their skis and treat themselves to what may be the coldest, freshest water in all of Africa. Back at the hut, all of us collapse on the porch just in time to watch the sunset give way to an encroaching hailstorm. Africa gave us one day to ski on Erukenya's sacred garden, and now it is clearly time for us to leave it in peace. We look back toward Point Lenana, but the "mountain of clouds" is obscured again. Never mind. With our guides leading the way, we dance to African rhythms in the dark, stormy night.
Copyright 2004 Warren Miller's Snow World. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
