The Lamya Valley to the Mountains of the Moon

Alex Bertulis

Despite threats from rebel tribesmen to impale porters hiring out to mountain climbers, the incomparable Mountains of the Moon, on the Uganda-Congo boundary, are once again accessible to the foreigner. On August 5, 1966 we set out. That our undertaking succeeded, despite innumerable obstacles and a close call with disaster, surprised even the most optimistic. The plan, proposed by Ron Hockey and Chris Robson, both teachers at Nyakasura School in Fort Portal and veterans of numerous expeditions in these mountains, was to enter the Ruwenzori Mountains by an unprecedented approach northeast of the range, the Lamya Valley, climb the Portal Peaks (c. 14,400 feet) from Bukurungu Pass, continue to the Mount Stanley massif, attempt a new traverse of the peak from the Congo to Uganda and exit south via the Nyabataba Valley, the regular connection to civilization. From Fort Portal we drove to the roadhead at Bundibugyo, picking up Joseph Matte on the way, a Nyakasura student and enthusiastic mountaineer. Matte was our fourth climbing companion and invaluable as an interpreter during our many conflicts with the porters. At Bundibugyo we were surrounded by curious villagers, but our porters were nowhere to be seen. They were hiding in the hills thanks to the threats of rebel tribesmen! Around noon, as our patience ran out, eight porters and headman showed up with embarrassed smiles. Late that afternoon we camped on a promontory inside the forest line. Cultivation, scattered huts and villages, and the vast expanse of the Congo were now below us. Ahead was the Lamya Valley, which no white man had yet ascended.

On August 6 we hiked up a steep ridge and entered the thick, cool, dry bamboo forest that was to stay with us for two days. Where the hunters’ trail was cluttered with dead bamboo and vines too dense for our pangas (machetes), we would crawl on hands and knees. Besides soldier ants, there were thorn trees, thorn grass and thorn bush. The continuous sting from a solid wall of nettles did help us forget the strain of rucksacks. Fortunately we did not encounter elephants or buffalo. Late on the third day and considerably higher, the terrain changed to weird, velvety “giant heather” forest. On the fourth day the porters declared the going too tough and refused to continue. After arguments and threats, the mutiny was averted; we sent back only three men, two of whom had minor injuries and the third, who was a trouble-maker. We were forced to abandon the steepening sides of the valley for the impossible bog of the middle. By late afternoon Ron and I reached Bukurungu Pass and established camp on a knob in the middle of the bog. Toward dusk the last of the straggling porters arrived. So far we had been very lucky with the weather; if it had rained, as is normal, I am not sure that just the porters would have been eager to turn back.

August 9 we spent climbing the Portal Peaks by a new route from the west. The porters rested and hunted. Though Chris and I paired off to try the sheer rock faces, we soon found the moss growing from the cracks too frustrating. By the time we reached the summit, for the third ascent, we were enveloped in mist, but we had had dramatic views through shifting clouds. Ron was happy, since he was probably the first to have climbed all the major peaks of the range. At camp we celebrated over stewed rock hyrax, caught by the porters. This small, rodent-like animal is the size of the marmot but a relative of the elephant. At night we continually heard his throaty screaming, a hideous, subhuman noise. The following morning Matte, who had become ill, and two sick or injured porters turned back to Bundibugyo while we continued over Bukurungu Pass.

It was a particularly clear day. The valley was thick with exotic lobelia and giant groundsel plants, giving the Ruwenzori a science-fiction setting. Baker, Stanley and Speke, all over 16,000 feet, stood before us in white splendor. Far below, at the foot of Mount Baker, we could see Bigo Bog, where our route met the regular trail, all downhill but the most tortuous day yet. For hours we fought through the dense helichrysum brush. This weed, with attractive blossoms which stay in permanent flower when picked, has dry, wiry branches, which refuse to bend but break when you least want them to, gouging skin and tearing clothes. In the flat valley below we were in for knee-deep bog-hopping. We were intent on reaching Bukuju Hut the same day, two-and-a-half hours from Bigo. Reluctantly our exhausted porters agreed to continue for double wages.

In the morning, Chris, Ron and I headed over Stuhlmann Pass and into the Congo. It was the seventh day of our trip and the weather still held miraculously. We crossed over Mount Stanley’s northwest shoulder and began to traverse the Alexandra Glacier. The steepening, diagonal ice made awkward footing. Behind me I heard Chris slip and fall. Instantly he was speeding down the ice studded with loose rocks but managed to arrest himself within a hundred feet. In his fall he had crumpled a crampon and injured his right hand. That night we camped in the Congo on the shores of Lac du Vert. Our spirits improved with the warmth of a large fire built from the peculiar giant groundsel. The following day we escorted Chris back to a notch in the northwest ridge of the mountain. From this point he could return to Bujuku Hut in a few hours and without difficulty, or so we thought.

Ron and I traversed over to the formidable west face. Due to the geological tilt, the Stanley massif is much more dramatic from the Congo than from the east. The west faces, encrusted with hanging glaciers of spectacular proportions, drop off abruptly and reach into the green jungle below. Our panorama was soon obscured by thick mist. We left the glacier and started up a rock buttress that pierced the glaciers hanging from above. After a few enjoyable rope-lengths, the rock submerged into an icefall. Using artificial means, we started up vertical ice, which soon angled off to 65°. The next two leads eased off to 55°. The fourth required direct aid and a considerable amount of icicle chopping since much was overhanging. With only a 300-foot rock face between us and the summit, light began to fade and it started to snow. Instead of the summit, we settled for a semi-protected ledge on the northwest ridge at 16,300 feet. The crisp, clear morning sun illuminated the sharp slopes of Mount Emin (Pasha). After shaking ice out of our bivouac sacks, we proceeded upward. In a strenuous layback or chimney, the altitude and the rigors of the past nine days began to show on us, though a week of “touring” Kilimanjaro had left me well acclimatized. Still early in the morning we crested the summit of Point Albert and soon after of Margherita, Stanley’s highest peak (16,763 feet), which floated on a carpet of clouds. On Uganda’s highest point we congratulated ourselves for the new route and marvelled at our luck with the weather. The notoriously wet and stormy Mountains of the Moon must not have seen such a “drought” since the Duke of the Abruzzi’s visit in 1906. Not without many corrected efforts did we rappel, climb and crampon down the complicated east face. Yet our expedition was not coming to its expected happy end. Exhausted, we reached Bukuju Hut and found hard to believe the news that awaited us: Chris had not returned!

Immediately we launched a rescue operation. For five miserable days we searched the roughest terrain any of us had ever seen for all possible areas of exit but found only leopard lairs and an abundance of fresh kills. Chris had two sleeping bags but no other equipment vital for survival. Our conclusion was that he had lost all sense of direction and either had wandered into the Congo, where a battle with rebel Simbas was raging, or he simply had walked off a precipice. Deeply distraught, we called off the futile ground and air search and hiked out. After our return to Fort Portal, a message arrived from the mountains by runner which stated that Chris had walked into Bukuju the day after we had left the hut! Reunited with our scraggy partner, Chris explained his misadventure. Within fifteen minutes of our leaving him, he was enveloped in mist and mistakenly proceeded to descend into the Congo. When he finally realized his error, he chose to follow the valleys that eventually led him back to Stuhlmann Pass and the Bukuju Hut. During his seven-day ordeal, he ate a total of twenty raspberries and nothing else. Chris learned from the mistakes he made. All I can add is that Ron and I seriously underestimated the endurance of a young man without food in difficult terrain.

Summary of Statistics.

Area: Ruwenzori, Uganda-Congo frontier

New Routes: West Face of Portal Peaks, c. 14,400 feet, (whole group) on August 9, 1966.

West Face of Mount Stanley, 16,763 feet, (Bertulis, Hockey) on August 13, 1966.

Personnel: Alex Bertulis, American; Ronald Hockey, Christian Robson, British; Joseph Matte, Ugandan of the Bakonjo nation.