Getting High (Part 2)

We were relieved to see Fiona reappear from the crowd after tense negotiations- the village chief wanted to ensure that he got a fair price for us to pass through and we also agreed on a fee for us to stay in the village overnight.  We were allowed to pitch our tents in front of the goat pen and it was midnight when we finally got our heads down.

We were awoken at 5am to an extremely loud call to prayer so used this as an opportunity to get going early and head to the next and final village before the climb, Sinekoro.  This really is the end of the road and even before we could enter, we had to get the villagers to shift a large tree that had recently fallen and blocked the road.  On arrival, we were again summoned to meet with the chief and village elders.  Wooden benches were brought out to the front of his house and we were all invited to sit for negotiations while seemingly all the children in the area gathered round to observe proceedings.  Discussions were less tense this morning and we agreed prices for a guide director, team of porters and a gift for the chief.  A local volunteer porter named Bala, educated in Freetown spoke good English and was able to assist in our efforts.

We packed our equipment, locked the Defender and departed the village accompanied by a gang of excited children as far as the first river crossing, a small makeshift bridge requiring a steady head and good balance.  The route started with several small stream crossing, passing through farmers’ fields and palm plantations scattered with giant termite mounds before entering the forest with the high mountains towering above in the distance.  A short while after entering the canopy, we arrived at camp one and it was after this that the real climb began. 

Setting off from Sinekoro

The ascent from camp one to camp two is around 1000 metres through dense tropical forest so steep in parts that scrambling up using tree roots as hand-holds is required.  In certain sections, there had been recent forest fires and the ground was ankle deep in ash, logs were still smouldering and the heat given off from smoking patches of ground added to the general unpleasantness of the climb.  After several hours at a pace that I was less than comfortable with, we emerged onto a grassy plateau, the other side of which was a shaded camp two, located next to a small stream; the only source of water on the mountain with which to refill empty bottles and to allow us to prepare our dinner for the evening.  Amongst the vital rations, we had brought a bottle of gin and it was a welcome end to the day to watch the sun go down over the surrounding hills sipping a G&T out of a plastic cup while the pasta slowly cooked on our camp fire.  I even briefly forgot that I don’t like gin.

The ascent to Camp 2

The following morning, we filled and chlorinated our bottles from the stream, ensured that the porters were fed and hydrated and set off for the top watched from a distance by a curious, lone deer standing atop a neighbouring ridge.   The park is remote enough that it has been relatively protected from logging and poaching, there is an abundance of wildlife and much of the ancient forest here is original canopy.  It is only another 600m ascent to the summit from camp two over fairly gentle terrain until the final push which involves another short scramble up steep grassy slopes to the exposed rocky plateau that marks the top of the mountain.  

Summit in the background

The summit (1948m) is marked by a rocky cairn and offers a 360-degree panorama over the surrounding hills and forest.  Despite, the fading Harmattan dust, the views were impressive and I think we all had an immense feeling of satisfaction, not just in completing the climb but in actually getting to the mountain in the first place.  As far as we are aware, we are only the third group to climb the mountain this season.

Bala, our porter adding to the summit cairn

We made the descent back to camp two cautiously, this would not be the best time to sprain an ankle, or worse.  After a brief rest, we collected our tents and made the arduous trek back down to Sinekoro.  We arrived in the village at dusk, as the light from the setting sun gave the surrounding fields a golden yellow glow and the locals were making their way home after a hard day tending their crops. After ten hours of walking we were tired, weak-legged and very dirty.  A cold bucket shower felt like heaven and one of the women in the village even kindly prepared our food.  The journey back to Freetown took the entire next day but was uneventful.  We had made it to the high point of West Africa and I was still on a high when we returned home.

A well deserved beer on our return to the village -still slightly cool!