The third waterfall of the day and our final hike was to
the 'biggest waterfall' on Mt. Elgon. Saving the best for last, or so we
thought.
We couldn’t have been more wrong. . .
Our trek started out with our guide joking about how hard
this final hike is and did we all think we were tough enough to do it. All of
which was said with a big grin and a lot of chuckling. ‘Of course he’s messing
with us,’ we all thought, though not completely convinced.
He wasn’t.
What started out as a nice easy journey quickly turned
into a hike from hell as the trail took a downward turn, literally. We were no
longer hiking a mountain, we were scaling a cliff! And that is NOT an
exaggeration. I went down twice. The first because we were attempting to walk
down an especially steep area and the dirt started rolling under my shoes and I
couldn't get any traction - a few seconds later 'I can't stop!' Luckily,
Danielle was in front of me and threw out an arm for me so I could stop. If I
thought that was bad, I was in for a rude awakening.
Enter the ‘Walls of Death.’ A rickety wooden
staircase/ladder mutation that becomes completely vertical about halfway down.
Descending the contraption was not so much difficult as it was frightening, due
to the fact that if you slipped you’d fall to a ton of broken bones, at the
very least.
So far throughout our hike we’d had a few rain showers,
using banana leaves as umbrellas. Now however, there were no more showers, just
a downpour. Through this we made it to the bottom of the falls.
While enjoying the view, which was
incredible, we couldn’t help but dread the answer to ‘how are we getting back
up to the top?’ To our monumental disappointment our fears were confirmed. The
only way back up the mountain was the exact way we came down.
Going back up the sheer mountainside was pretty much the
worst thing ever. Imagine the worst, most exhausting workout of your life and
then double it – at least.
My second fall of
the hike I think Karma played a hand in. Earlier in the day (during lunch after
our morning hike) I made a comment how I was glad I didn't 'pull an April.'
Which means going for a walk before dinner and coming back all muddy . . .
because you fell down . . . in the mud, or in our case, falling on the trail
and getting all muddy. Needless to say, this comment was followed by peals of
laughter from me. Fast forward to going back up the mountain, in the pouring
rain. There was a particularly slippery spot where even our guide had trouble.
I started up it and even with his help I still ended up dirtying my pantaloons!
(ok, in reality they were jeans – for any of you who look up the real meaning
of pantaloons)
It was a really hard struggle to the top, complete with
frequent breaks, dread of the climb remaining, and many attempts at
self-motivating internal cheerleading. I was so tired afterwards! My clothes
were drenched and muddy and we were all soaked to the bone.
I think it’s safe to say that this is an experience I will
never forget, and truth be told never want to repeat. But hey, it makes for a
good story!
He wasn’t.
Going back up the sheer mountainside was pretty much the
worst thing ever. Imagine the worst, most exhausting workout of your life and
then double it – at least.
Thursday afternoon after returning home from sewing class, Lori, Vanessa, Katie and I loaded up our stuff in the private hire car we'd called and set out on the 3.5 hr journey to the mountains. Along the way we were blessed (for the majority of the trip) with incredibly good roads and got stuck at the tail of a funeral procession for some political figure going somewhat slowly and preventing anyone from passing around it.
