The Black Mountain

Location:
Tanzania

Mountain, unknown, Tanzania

By Steve Foreman

THE BLACK MOUNTAIN

My wife and I, and a group of friends and their families from Dar es Salaam, stayed for Christmas at Baobab Camp, which lies in the valley of the Great Ruaha River at the foot of the Udzungwa Mountains , and it was during this time that I, in the company of John Kuria, Peter and Daniel King, and two Maasai warriors, went for a trek up the nearby (and unknown, in tourism circles) Mlima Mweusi (the Black Mountain). With two donkeys carrying the food, water and camping gear, we set off through the lower Baobabs of the valley on what proved to be a fairly tough and adventurous two-day hike. As the trail climbed, so did the level of difficulty, and the vegetation changed to a mixture of combretum bush and commiphora trees, interspersed with various other broad-leafed varieties. We were literally ‘off the beaten track’!

After some six hours of climbing and pushing through some fairly thick and in places difficult bush, we came – hot, sweaty and tired, covered in the dusty detritus of vegetation, and with some seriously aching feet - to an open area of exposed granite slabs. Nearby was a freshwater spring that seeped out of the hillside and filtered down through a small sinister bed of thick papyrus to become a narrow stream that wandered off down a valley. It was here we set up a very basic camp for our overnight stay. For some reason yet to be established, the King contingent had brought no tent with them. But John and I had, and as soon as the tent was up and the gear unpacked, I went off to a small deep pool that had formed in a rocky basin where the water emerged from the papyrus. I stripped off my sweaty clothes and sat naked in the cool, refreshing water; the itchy dust and muscular aches gradually dissipating. Despite the clouds of silt disturbed by my hot aching feet, the tadpoles nibbling at my wriggling toes and the hairs on my legs, and the dragonflies trying to settle on my head, it was a moment of total peace and relaxation. However, a few moments of this little bit of heaven was brought to an end by a slithering noise in the tall grasses and papyrus that bordered the stream. Being an ideal habitat for python – but not really for human – I quickly rinsed the silt from my body as it emerged from the pool, wrapped my kikoi around me and went hurriedly back to the camp, not waiting to see if the slither was snake or imagination. Collecting fallen wood from around the area, we soon had a good fire going, and before long were tucking into a meal of pasta and bolognaise sauce (or something that looked and tasted similar), washed down with some red wine from the bottle that John had secretly brought with him. By the time darkness fell it was pissing down with rain and we were ready for bed. A snort of Gammeldansk from Peter’s stash was a welcome nightcap, and no doubt helped the tentless Peter and Daniel survive a night in soaking wet sleeping bags! Soon the natural night noises of the forest were accompanied by the unfamiliar and tuneless strains of human snoring – the lead singer in this choir being undoubtedly Peter – despite his dawn protestations to the contrary, and the shifting of blame onto the dripping Daniel.

Early next morning, leaving all the camping gear and the donkeys with one of the Maasai, we set off for the top of the mountain. Again the terrain was fairly difficult in places – especially in the thick brushy forest that constituted the first two hours of steep trekking. The surrounding views, glimpsed only occasionally through open spaces in the trees, were blocked by rain clouds at first, then later by thick mists rising with the heat of the hidden sun. Finally we came out into the open, and were afforded good but cloudy views across the hills to the peaks of the Udzungwa Mountains National Park. We could also see the summit of our objective, wreathed in mist, and still seeming far off across the upper reaches of a small valley, up from which roiled billows of damp cloud. We were all tired from the climb, and the prospects did not look good. This caused some initial debate in the group, as to whether we should push on or not. The weather was unsuitable for my requisite photography, and my dodgy left knee was sending early signals of the pain I was later to endure on the descent, so I did not bother with the last stretch (poor excuse!). But with a renewed burst of energy (no doubt aided by Gammeldansk), Peter strode off into the mist, and an hour or so later became King of the Hill!

We returned to our makeshift camp, and after John’s haphazard but welcome breakfast of pancakes cooked in sardine oil (who forgot to bring the Mazola?), we packed up and set off back down the mountain. The descent was, as always (and especially so in my case), hard on the knees, and I was very glad to get back to the camp – where our loved ones and cold beers awaited us! Only those present will know which we embraced first.

Further Information

Other helpful information: A good off-the-beaten-track mountain for adventurers who want to stay away from the crowd.

Must see/do at this place: Stay at Baobab camp. It lies just off the main road from Mikumi to ruaha in Baobab Valley. Easy signpost to spot.

You should avoid here: The owner of Baobab camp. He is nuts!