We were up early and I was forced to eat an entire tin of baked beans on top of my two egg butties after a misunderstanding with Carlyn, who didn’t really feel like eating much. We got ourselves down to the Forestry office to pay our hut fees and park admission and finally got underway around 8 o’clock. I was carrying all the food as well as Carlyn’s sleeping bag, as she only had a small rucksack and the occasional sunshine breaking through the clouds was soon enough to bring me out in a healthy sweat.
The climbing wasn’t too arduous and I was able to enjoy the beautiful woodland surroundings as we passed up a deep cleft on the massif’s western flank. Occasionally, through breaks in the trees, we’d glimpse magnificent views back over the plains behind us. We passed many smiling woodcutters, carrying improbably heavy loads and yet, quite happy to pass the time of day and seemingly genuinely pleased to meet us. We stopped at a picturesque waterfall, where it would have been nice to take a dip and enjoy the peace and quiet of our surroundings. However, the sun – not to mention the majority of the mountain – remained resolutely hidden behind thick grey clouds and drifting mist so the ambient temperature wasn’t warm enough for swimming.
The girls (from the flat lowlands of The Netherlands, don’t forget!) were finding the going a little tougher than me, despite their lighter packs. At one point Chalna was forced to borrow Carlyn’s inhaler to suppress a bout of mild asthma and, unfortunately, the high dose of Ventolin had the unpleasant effect of increasing her heart rate to a worrying, fast flutter. We slowed the pace somewhat after this to keep her from over-exerting herself and inducing a panic attack. Still, we continued to climb through the attractive, indigenous forest, peppered with bright flowers, including aloe veras in full bloom. Eventually though, as we neared the level of the lower plateau, we found ourselves trudging through unsightly, managed pine forest. In an effort to restore indigenous flora to the area, the Forestry workers had been felling the pines for several months in order to replace them with the Mulanje cedar. It was through the uncleared detritus of this felling that our path led and, as well as being non-too-pleasing on the eye, it forced us to pick our way around the frequently-blocked path.
We arrived at the Chambe Hut, ready for a change of clothes and a little rest. The view of Chambe Peak was impressive enough with its sheer cliffs towering above us but the destroyed pine plantation in the foreground was undeniably ugly and sitting on the veranda was not as pleasant as it could have been. We sorted out our gear and then took a break until it was time for Francis to guide us on a short, afternoon walk. The same woodland was nothing to write home about and the walk merely served as a means of stretching stiff muscles and keeping warm in the cloudy heights.
In the end, as we tramped back to the hut, the sun finally came low enough in the sky to break free from the clouds and the girls were able to bask in the remaining daylight as I started preparing vegetables for dinner. I made a passable tomato and potato stew, which Carlyn and I gobbled down with bread and butter. The others has brought a bag of pasta and a tin of pilchards in tomato sauce…so nobody starved.
Once night had fallen and a good fire was roaring in the hearth, the mountain hut finally came into its own. The daytime clouds had cleared and we were able to gaze at the unfamiliar ocean of southern hemisphere stars, without the annoyance of sodium light pollution. There was a slight breeze stirring the fresh mountain air and we all agreed that the climb had been worth it, if only to be so close to the stars and so far from the sounds and smells of habitation.
Disturbingly, later in the evening, Francis had to warn us about a robbery from the hut just a few days previously, explaining that we should keep all our belongings inside the dormitory and not to go to the toilet alone. While I remained unfazed by the tale, reasoning that the perpetrators would be unlikely to return to the scene of the crime, it really worried the girls – to the point where they were too scared to go to sleep. I stayed in front of the warm fire for a while, trying to give them chance to drop off before I came in and started sawing out the Z’s but I’m sure they were all still awake when I finally went in and bedded down.
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