Chapter XXVIII: To the Albert Edward Nyanza (2)

At 11 A.M. we reached this forest and found it to be one of
bamboos, at first open, and then getting denser as we ascended. We
had noticed a complete and sudden change in the air from that we
had just passed through. It became much cooler and more pure and
refreshing, and all went along at a faster rate and with lighter
hearts. Now that the Zanzibaris had come so far, they all appeared
anxious to ascend as high as possible, and began to chaff each
other as to who should bring down the biggest load of the “white
stuff” on the top of the mountain. At 12.40 P.M. we emerged from
the bamboos and sat down on a grassy spot to eat our lunch.
Barometers, 21·10 and 27·95/100. Thermometer, 70° F. Ahead of us,
and rising in one even slope, stood a peak, in altitude 1200 feet
higher than we were. This we now started to climb, and after going
up it a short distance, came upon the tree-heaths. Some of these
bushes must have been 20 feet high, and, as we had to cut our way
foot by foot through them, our progress was necessarily slow and
very fatiguing to those ahead.

At 3.15 P.M. we halted among the heaths for a few moments to regain
our breath. Here and there were patches of inferior bamboos, almost
every stem having holes in it, made by some boring insect and quite
destroying its usefulness. Under foot was a thick spongy carpet of
wet moss, and the heaths on all sides of us, we noticed, were
covered with “old man’s beard” (_Usnea_). We found great numbers of
blue violets and lichens, and from this spot I brought away some
specimens of plants for the Pasha to classify. A general feeling of
cold dampness prevailed: in spite of our exertions in climbing, we
all felt the cold mist very much. It is this continual mist
clinging to the hill-tops that no doubt causes all the vegetation
to be so heavily charged with moisture and makes the ground under
foot somewhat slippery.

Shortly after 4 P.M. we halted among some high heaths for camp.
Breaking down the largest bushes we made rough shelters for
ourselves, collected what firewood we could find, and in other ways
made ready for the night. Firewood, however, was scarce, owing to
the wood being so wet that it would not burn. In consequence of
this, the lightly-clad Zanzibaris felt the cold very much, though
the altitude was only about 8,500 feet. On turning in the
thermometer registered 60° F. From camp I got a view of the peaks
ahead, and it was now that I began to fear that we should not be
able to reach the snow. Ahead of us, lying directly in our path,
were three enormous ravines; at the bottom of at least two of these
there was dense bush. Over these we should have to travel and cut
our way through the bush. It would then resolve itself into a
question of time as to whether we could reach the summit or not. I
determined to go on in the morning, and see exactly what
difficulties lay before us, and if these could be surmounted in a
reasonable time, to go on as far as we possibly could.

On the morning of the 7th, selecting some of the best men, and
sending the others down the mountain, we started off again upwards,
the climbing being similar to that we experienced yesterday
afternoon. The night had been bitterly cold, and some of the men
complained of fever, but all were in good spirits, and quite ready
to go on. About 10 A.M. we were stopped by the first of the ravines
mentioned above. On looking at this I saw that it would take a
long time to cross, and there were ahead of it still two others. We
now got our first glimpse of a snow peak, distance about two and a
half miles, and I judged it would take us still a day and a half to
reach this, the nearest snow. To attempt it, therefore, would only
end disastrously, unprovided as we were with food and some better
clothing for two of the men. I therefore decided to return,
trusting all the time that at some future camp a better opportunity
of making an ascent would present itself, and the summit be
reached. Across this ravine was a bare rocky peak, very clearly
defined and known to us as the south-west of the “Twin Cones.” The
upper part of this was devoid of vegetation, the steep beds of rock
only allowing a few grasses and heaths in one or two spots to
exist.

The greatest altitude reached by us, after being worked out and all
connections applied, was about 10,677 feet above the sea. The
altitude of the snow peak above this would probably be about 6,000
feet, making the mountain, say, 16,600 feet high. This, though, is
not the highest peak in the Ruwenzori cluster. With the aid of a
field-glass I could make out the form of the mountain-top
perfectly. The extreme top of the peak is crowned with an irregular
mass of jagged and precipitous rock, and has a distinct crater-like
form. I could see through a gap in the near side a corresponding
rim or edge on the farther of the same formation and altitude. From
this crown of rock, the big peak slopes to the eastward at a slope
of about 25° until shut out from view by an intervening peak; but
to the west the slope is much steeper. Of the snow, the greater
mass lay on that slope directly nearest us, covering the slope
wherever its inclination was not too great. The largest bed of snow
would cover a space measuring about 600 by 300 feet, and of such a
depth that in only two spots did the black rock crop out above its
surface. Smaller patches of snow extended well down into the
ravine; the height from the lowest snow to the summit of the peak
would be about 1200 feet or 1000 feet. To the E.N.E. our horizon
was bounded by the spur which, standing directly behind our main
camp, and mounting abruptly, takes a curve in a horizontal plane
and centres on to the snow peak. Again that spur which lay south of
us also radiated from the two highest peaks. This would seem to be
the general form of the mountain, namely, that the large spurs
radiate from the snow-peaks as a centre, and spread out to the
plains below. This formation on the west side of the mountain would
cause the streams to flow from the centre, and flow on, gradually
separating from each other until they reached the plains below.
Thence they turn to W.N.W., or trace their courses along the bottom
spurs of the range and run into the Semliki River, and on to the
Albert Nyanza. Of the second snow-peak, which we have seen on
former occasions, I could see nothing, owing to the “Twin Cones”
intervening. This peak is merely the termination, I should think,
of the snowy range we saw when at Kavalli, and has a greater
elevation, if so, than the peak we endeavoured to ascend. Many
things go to show that the existence of these peaks is due to
volcanic causes. The greatest proof that this is so lies in the
numbers of conical peaks clustering round the central mass on the
western side. These minor cones have been formed by the central
volcano getting blocked in its crater, owing to the pressure of its
gases not being sufficient to throw out the rock and lava from its
interior; and consequently the gases, seeking for weak spots, have
burst through the earth’s crust and thus been the means of forming
these minor cones that now exist. Of animal life on the mountain we
saw almost nothing. That game of some sort exists is plain from the
number of pitfalls we saw on the road-sides, and from the fact of
our finding small nooses in the natives’ huts, such as those used
for taking ground game.

We heard the cries of an ape in a ravine, and saw several dull,
greyish-brown birds like stonechats, but beyond these nothing.

We found blueberries and blackberries at an altitude of 10,000 feet
and over, and I have been able to hand over to the Pasha some
specimens for his collections, the generic names of which he has
kindly given me, and which are attached below. That I could not
manage to reach the snow and bring back some as evidence of our
work, I regret very much; but to have proceeded onwards to the
mountain under the conditions in which we were situated, I felt
would be worse than useless, and though all of us were keen and
ready to go on, I gave the order to return. I then read off the
large aneroid, and found the hand stood at 19·90. I set the
index-pin directly opposite to the hand, and we started down hill.
At 3 P.M. on the 7th, I reached you, it having taken four and a
half hours of marching from the “Twin Cones.”

I have the honour to be, &c., (Signed) W. G. STAIRS, Lieut. R.E.

P.S.--The following are the generic names of the plants collected
by me, as named by the Pasha:--

1. Clematis. 14. Sonchus. 27. Asplenium.
2. Viola. 15. Erica arborea. 28. Aspidium.
3. Hibiscus. 16. Landolphia. 29. Polypodium.
4. Impatiens. 17. Heliotropium. 30. Lycopodium.
5. Tephorsia. 18. Lantana. 31. Selaginella.
6. Elycina (?). 19. Mochosma. 32. Marchantia.
7. Rubus. 20. Lissochilus. 33. Parmelia.
8. Vaccinium. 21. Luzula. 34. Dracœna.
9. Begonia. 22. Carex. 35. Usnea.
10. Pencedanum. 23. Anthistiria. 36. Tree fern }
11. Gnaphalium. 24. Adiantum. 37. One fern } unknown.
12. Helichrysum. 25. Pellia. 38. One polypodium }
13. Senecio. 26. Pteris aquilina.

Might we have been able to obtain a view over the Semliki Valley we should have enjoyed one of exceeding interest. But we were unable to see more through the thick sluggish mist than that, wide as it may be, it is covered with a deep forest. The mist soared over the whole in irregular streams or in one heavy mass, which gave it the aspect of an inverted sky. Sometimes for a brief period a faint image of endless woods loomed out, but the mist streamed upward through the foliage as though a multitude of great geysers emitted vapours of hot steam. In the immediate foreground it was not difficult to distinguish elevations and depressions, or round basin-like hollows filled with the light-green forests of banana groves.

One of the Twin Cones was visible a few hundred yards from camp, and after a careful measurement with alta-azimuth it was found to be 12,070 feet.

[Sidenote: 1889.

June 5.

Mtarego.]

After a halt of three days we struck camp, descended the precipitous walls of the gorge of the Rami-lulu, and, traversing the narrow level, shortly ascended up the equally wall-like slope on the other side, discovering a fact which, but for the ascent and descent, we might not have thought of, namely, that the Rami-lulu had channelled this deep ditch through a terrace formed of the washings and scourings of soil off the slopes. It was a débris, consisting of earth, rock, boulders, and gravel, which had been washed down the gap and accompanied by landslips of so great a magnitude as to have choked up the course of the river and formed quite an extensive and elevated tract, but the Rami-lulu had eventually furrowed and grooved itself deeply through, and so the great bank of material lies cut in two, to the depth of 200 feet, sufficiently instructive.

At early dawn a Madi chief was speared by a bold native. About a mile from Mtarega the grassy strip to which we had clung in preference was ended, the forest had marched across the breadth of the Semliki Valley, and had absorbed the Ruwenzori slopes to a height of seven thousand feet above us, and whether we would or no, we had to enter the doleful shades again. But then the perfection of a tropical forest was around us. It even eclipsed the Ituri Valley in the variety of plants and general sappiness. There were clumps of palms, there were giant tree-ferns, there were wild bananas, and tall, stately trees all coated with thick green moss from top to root, impenetrable thickets of broad-leafed plants, and beads of moisture everywhere, besides tiny rillets oozing out every few yards from under the matted tangle of vivid green and bedewed undergrowth. It was the best specimen of a tropical conservatory I had ever seen. It could not be excelled if art had lent its aid to improve nature. In every tree-fork and along the great horizontal branches grew the loveliest ferns and lichens; the elephant ear by the dozen, the orchids in close fellowship, and the bright green moss had formed soft circular cushions about them, and on almost every fibre there trembled a clear water-drop, and everything was bathed by a most humid atmosphere. The reason of all this was not far to seek; there were three hot-water springs, the temperature of which was 102°. This tract of forest was also in the cosiest fold of the snow mountains, and whatever heat a hot sun furnished on this place was long retained.

We camped in a dry spot in this forest, and the next day, after marching a distance of six and a quarter miles, we emerged out of it into the superb clearing of Ulegga, and sought shelter in a straggling village within a bow-shot reach of the mountains. Banana groves clothed the slopes and ran up the ravines, and were ranged along the base line, and extended out in deep frondiose groves far into the Semliki Valley. There were bananas everywhere; and there was no lack of tobacco, or of Indian corn, or of two kinds of beans, or of yams, and colocassia.

We entered into this district suspicious and suspecting; the death of the Madi chief had impressed us that we should not be too confident, and that vigilance was necessary day and night. At the first village the advance guard encountered men who unhesitatingly resented their intrusion, and began hostilities, and this had created an impression that an important effort would be made. Wherever we looked there were villages, and if courage aided numbers the people were capable of an obstinate resistance. So we pressed bands of armed men up to the mountains, and the skirmishing was brisk, but at 4 P.M. Matyera, a Bari interpreter among the Pasha’s followers, managed to get speech of a few natives, and succeeded in inducing the chief to consent to peace. He came in and said that he had come to throw himself at our feet to be slain or saved. The trumpeters sounded to cease firing, and within two minutes there was a dead silence.

This chief and his friends were the first representatives of Ukonju we had seen, and the devoted mission of the chief instantly won our sympathy and admiration. I was rather disappointed in their appearance, however, though needlessly upon reflection. There is no reason, save a fancy, why I should have expected those mountaineers familiar with mountain altitudes to be lighter in complexion than the people in the Semliki and Ituri Valley forests; but the truth is, they are much darker than even the Zanzibaris. Supposing a people dwelt around a base line of the Swiss Alps, and an irresistible army of Scandinavians swept up to them, the aboriginal inhabitants would naturally take refuge up the mountains, and in the same manner these dark-complexioned people of the true negroid type found themselves unable to resist the invasions of the Indo-African Wachwezi and the coppery-faced tribes of the forest, and sought shelter in the hills, and recesses of the Equatorial Alps, and round about them ebbed and flowed the paler tribes, and so the Wakonju were confined to their mountains.

[Sidenote: 1889.

June 10.

Ulegga.]

During our march to Mtsora on the next day we crossed five streams, which, descending from the mountains, flowed to the Semliki. One of these was of considerable volume and called the Butahu River, the temperature of which was 57° Fahrenheit.

At Mtsora we received in a short time a good local knowledge from the Wakonju who were now our friends. I learned the following items of interest.

We were told that a few miles north of here was an arm of the upper lake which we had heard so much about, and which I discovered in January, 1876. They call it the Ingezi, which in Kinyoro, means river, swamp, or small lake. The Ruweru, or lake, was two days’ march south.

They also called it the Nyanza; and when I asked its name, they replied, Muta-Nzige, and some of them knew of three Muta-Nziges--the “Muta-Nzige,” of Unyoro, the “Muta-Nzige,” of Usongora, the “Muta-Nzige,” of Uganda.

As for Nyanzas, the number became perplexing. There is the Nyanza of Unyoro, the Nyanza of Usongora; the Nyanza of Unyampaka; the Nyanza of Toro; the Nyanza Semliki; the Nyanza Unyavingi; the Nyanza of Karagwé; and the Nyanza of Uganda. So that a river of any importance feeding a lake, becomes a Nyanza, a large bay becomes a Nyanza; a small lake, or a greater, is known as a Nyanza, or Ruweru.

[Sidenote: 1889.

June 11.

Mtsora.]

Those semi-Ethiopic peoples who were known to us at Kavalli, as the Wahuma, Waima, Wawitu, Wachwezi, were now called Waiyana, Wanyavingi, Wasongora, and Wanyankori.

Ruwenzori, called already Bugombowa, Avirika, and Viruka, by the forest tribes, became now known as the Ruwenzu-ru-ru, or Ruwenjura, according as a native might be able to articulate.

The Butahu River separates Ulegga from Uringa.

The Wara-Sura were gathered under Rukara, a general of Kabba Rega, King of Unyoro. Some of these ferocious raiders were said to be stationed at the ferry of Waiyana, a few miles north of here. The Wakonju offered to assist us to drive them out of the land.

We were told that Rukara’s headquarters were at Katwé, a town near the Salt Lakes, which are somewhat to the south.

That on the western bank of the Semliki are the tribes Wakovi and Wasoki, and that there are also Watwa pigmies.

We were informed that Usongora and Toro had submitted to Kabba Rega; but the inhabitants of the lake islands refused to promise allegiance, and it was said Kakuri, the chief, had applied to the Wanyavingi and Wanyankori for assistance against Kabba Rega. We were promised the submission of all the Wakonju and Wasangora if we entered into treaty or agreement with them, and I accepted the offer.

The Wakonju people are round-headed, broad faced, and of medium size. They affect circlets manufactured of calamus fibre, very slender, and covering the ankles by hundreds. They also wear a large number on the upper arm. The chiefs also are distinguished by heavy copper or brass wristlets. The women’s neck decorations consist of heavy iron rings coiled spirally at the ends. On the slopes of the mountain, I am told, is found much fine crystal quartz.

At the entrance of almost every village in Ukonju may be seen a miniature tent, with a very small doorway, before which the natives place a banana or an egg. A tradition exists that Mikonju, the founder of the tribe who first cleared the forest, and planted bananas, initiated this custom to prevent theft. It is a tithe offered to the fetish or spirit to remind it that they wish their banana groves, or the eggs whence issue fowls, protected.

On the 12th of June I despatched Lieutenant Stairs, with sixty rifles and a number of Wakonju guides, to proceed to the Semliki, and satisfy all doubts about it; and on the next day he returned, having been favourably received by the natives, who tendered their submission, and accompanied our officer to the river explaining to him every matter of interest. He found it forty-two yards wide, and ten feet deep, sunk between banks of fifty and sixty feet high, and with a current of three miles per hour. After tasting and looking at it, and questioning all the natives who could impart information, he concluded that:--I. Because of the unbroken appearance of the range westward, which has faced the Ruwenzori range ever since leaving the Albert; II. Because of the peculiar grey, muddy colour; III. Because of the peculiar flavour, which is slightly saline, and “unsatisfying,” like that of the Albert Lake; IV. Because of the unanimous statement of the natives that it flows a little west of north, then north, then north-easterly to the Lake of Unyoro, which is the Albert; V. Because of the positive assurance of one native traveller, who is acquainted with the river along its course, from its exit out of one lake to its entering into the other; the Semliki river leaves the upper lake, takes a winding course, with a strong inclination to the western range, when, after turning to the north-east, it gradually draws nearer the Ruwenzori range, flows through Awamba forest and Utuku into the Albert Nyanza.

From an anthill near Mtsora, I observed that from W.N.W., a mile away, commenced a plain, which was a duplicate of that which had so deceived the Egyptians, and caused them to hail it as their lake, and that it extended southerly, and appeared as though it were the bed of a lake from which the waters had recently receded. The Semliki, which had drained it dry, was now from 50 to 60 feet below the crest of its banks. The slopes, consisting of lacustrine deposits, grey loam, and sand, could offer no resistance to a three-mile current, and if it were not for certain reefs, formed by the bed-rock under the surface of the lacustrine deposit, it is not to be doubted that such a river would soon drain the upper lake. The forest ran across from side to side of the valley, a dark barrier, in very opposite contrast to the bleached grass which the nitrous old bed of the lake nourished.

[Sidenote: 1889.

June 12.

Mtsora.]

We had a magnificent view of Ruwenzori just before sunset one evening during our halt in Mtsora. A large field of snow, and snow-peaks beyond the foremost line, appeared in view. During the whole day our eyes had rested on a long line of dark and solemn spurs, their summits buried in leaden mist; but soon after 5 P.M. the upper extremities of those spurs loomed up one after another, and a great line of mountain shoulders stood out; then peak after peak struggled from behind night-black clouds into sight, until at last the snowy range, immense and beautiful, a perfect picture of beautiful and majestic desolateness, drew all eyes and riveted attention, while every face seemed awed. The natives told us that the meaning of the word Ruwenzori means the Rain-Maker, or Cloud King.

On the 14th of June, escorted by a large following of Wakonju, we marched four and a half hours, and entered Muhamba, in Usongora. Soon after leaving Mtsora we had descended into the grassy plains, which had been within a calculable period a portion of the bed of the lake we were now approaching. About half way, we passed a respectable tributary of the Semliki, called the Rwimi, which separates Ukonju from Usongora. One of the streams we crossed soon after issued from a hot-spring.

[Sidenote: 1889.

June 15.

Karimi.]

The next day, an hour’s march from Muhamba, we left the plain and commenced the ascent of the mountains, as the range declining towards the south forms a lengthened hilly promontory, dividing Usongora into western and eastern divisions, lying on either side of it, and both being in past times covered by the lake. After an ascent of about 1,500 feet, a world of hills rose before us, and a view worthy of memory would have been obtained but for the eternal mist covering the grander ranges. Still, it was a fascinating sight, and one that in the time to come will be often painted and sketched and described. It reminded me greatly of the lower Alps, as viewed from Berne, though these successive ranges of African Alps are much higher; but the white-headed mountain kings rose far above these even, and at this time were hidden in the murky clouds. Having crossed the promontory, we descended 300 feet, and, crossing a profound and narrow valley, camped at Karimi.

At 5.15 P.M. the mists and fogs were blown away from the crowns of Ruwenzori, and for once we enjoyed the best view obtained yet, a description of which must be referred to in another chapter. The photographic apparatus was up in a short time, to perpetuate one of the rarest sights in the world, of one of the grandest views that Africa can furnish.

[Sidenote: 1889.

June 16.

Rusessé.]

On the 16th June, after a long march of four and three-quarter hours, we arrived at the zeriba of Rusessé. We descended from Karimi about 700 feet to the plain of Eastern Usongora, and an hour later we came to Ruverahi River, 40 feet wide, and a foot deep; an ice-cold stream, clear as crystal and fresh from the snows. Ruwenzori was all the morning in sight, a bright vision of mountain beauty and glory. As we approached Rusessé a Msongora herdsman, in the employ of Rukara, the General of the Wara-Sura, came across the plain, and informed us that he could direct us to one of Rukara’s herds. We availed ourselves of his kind offices, which he was performing as a patriot son of the soil tyrannised over and devastated by Rukara; and fifty rifles were sent with him, and in fifteen minutes we were in possession of a fine herd of twenty-five fat cattle, which we drove without incident with our one hundred head to the zeriba of Rusessé. From a bank of cattle-dung, so high as to be like a great earthwork round about the village, we gained our first view of the Albert Edward Nyanza, at a distance of three miles.