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It is the uncommon privilege of a father of four to embark on multi-day adventures. With my family in the States for a month to share Tessa with family and friends, I seized on the opportunity to tackle Uganda's Mount Elgon again, this time with two of my closest Ugandan friends, Richard Bazonoona and Tom Ngobi, and reunited with the guide of my first trip, Fred Kipsang. Our itinerary: six days, five nights, and four camps along the Sasa and Sipi trails covering a total of 54 Miles, including the summit, Wagagai which stands at 14,259 feet, the fourth highest peak in East Africa. For those who prefer only pictures to these thousand words you can link directly to the photo album. To share life on the trail with me, read on!
The backpacking mode of travel has fascinated me for fourteen years and countless trips, representing the perfect marriage of simple and extraordinary. Simple in that life becomes reduced to the most basic tasks of walking, sleeping, eating, and conversing. Extraordinary in that one experiences the marvels of God's Creation with a community of fellow travelers. People, Land and Time give every adventure a unique character. While Land and Time dictate the terms of the journey, it is ultimately People that create the memories and the stories that are retold and relived. I believe this will be especially true on this trip. Our group of seven is formed by three tourists, three porters, and our guide from four tribes, including my own of which I am the lone representative. Discovery will thus take us down new paths of culture and friendship. On a deeper level, I also expect to encounter my friend Adam, who lost his life on this mountain earlier this year, in memories awakened while I journey down the same trails we shared during our Elgon adventure in September 2006. That trip was a culminating event in our friendship, and I often reminisce back to help fill the void created by his absence. And so this expedition begins with heart, mind, and backpacks full!
Day 1: Bumasola to Sasa River Camp - 4 Miles - 9,735 feet
 We left Jinja this morning at 4:30 AM with the aim of reaching the ranger station at 7:30 AM. The plan was to leave our vehicle at the Crow's Nest at Sipi, and take a private hire vehicle to the station at Budadiri. We arrived at 8:45 after negotiating roads and transport, a respectable time by African standards, and were immediately greeted by the always-smiling Fred. I've enjoyed keeping in touch with Fred since he guided us last year, and am looking forward to venturing with him again, this year covering 27 miles of new trails. We concluded some last minute packing and gear distribution, and set off on the trail.
I love the start of a journey, where anticipation of new scenes and experiences is as strong as the moment itself. So much lies ahead that I can't help but walk with a sense of wonder: What will we be privileged to see and experience? How will our friendships be shaped and formed? At the same time, the present demands our full attention as our bodies labor up the mountain and conversations begin streaming about life and all that surrounds us.
The first two miles of the Sasa Trail are the steepest of the trip requiring us to climb over 3000 feet of elevation. The finale of this difficult stretch took us up the ladders, a series of muddy passages and steps to a cliff where we bade farewell to the cultivated lands and small villages sprawling below us. In moments we disappeared into Elgon's Rainforest where the Sasa River camp lies two miles away and 1000 feet higher. Here we entered the realm of the less familiar, at least to Richard, Tom and I - canopied rainforest, cool moist air, and icy waters flowing down from the mountain. Our journey has begun!
Day 2: Sasa River to Mude Camp - 3 Miles - 11,550 feet
 Today was an easy day. Our two main tasks, in addition to climbing 2,000 feet over 3 miles, were to simply enjoy the scenery while acclimatizing to the higher altitude before our summit push tomorrow. Within this short distance one seems to pass onto a different continent as tropical rainforest and stands of giant bamboo give way to highland shrubs, grasses, and the odd-looking groudsels of Elgon's heath zone. The air also feels autumn-like, cooler and dryer, concealing from our senses the fact we so near the equator. We arrive at Mude around midday, and after setting up camp, lounge in the soft grasses on the side of the ridge watching clouds move along the valleys below. Three Belgians and an American working in Gulu returned from the summit shortly after we arrived and I enjoyed hearing their stories of the work they are doing in Africa. They would be the only other tourists we would see during our six day trek.
 In a mixed group such as ours, personalities emerge and dynamics form within the first couple of days and enrich every step of the journey. Tom's enthusiasm is revealed in almost every remark while Richard and Fred's reflective demeanors and generous humor temper the group. I find myself instinctively asking Tom and Richard what they think at each new turn in the trail. Here we are only 100 miles from their home, and they are experiencing something so new, so different, and seemingly so inaccessible to most Ugandans. Mount Elgon is a national park, formed to conserve the environment for all Ugandans in both present and future generations, but this stated mission is a tough sell. Almost all park visitors are from outside of the country. Few Ugandans have the money or interest to come and climb Elgon or explore its environs. The park operates some community development and education projects, but many locals still perceive the government to be denying them access to land and resources. All this contributes to the paradoxical thought that I am acting in some capacity as a host/guide to Tom and Richard in their own country. Yet I realize that they are also hosting me by allowing me to experience Elgon with them and see it all through their eyes.
Day 3: Wagagai Summit - 10 Miles Roundtrip - 14,259 feet
 We woke at 6:00 AM to begin early our climb to the summit. The first 2.5 miles of the hike took us up 1700 feet of elevation and into the unique Afro-alpine moorlands which feature an array of unique vegetation, crater lakes, and rock formations rivaling in beauty anything I've ever seen. The morning started with promising weather but as we reached Jackson's Pool at the halfway point it became clear that we would hike the remaining distance to the summit in thick grey clouds. Every now and then, a quick break would tease us with glimpses into the caldera or some distant peak, but the scenes we sought remained hidden from view. Our consolation was the mystical atmosphere created by the swirling clouds and blowing wind while we walked in the thin air.
The summit ridge was very cold. Tom's running commentary on the weather and status of his body helped keep us warm though, and would eventually earn him the nickname "Radio Tom" for his willingness with words. High winds and freezing drizzle greeted us at the summit, which we reached within four hours of leaving Mude. While standing at the peak I was filled, not with a sense of accomplishment, but a sense of communion. The people with whom I was standing meant more to me then where I was standing, and this extended beyond the four of us, touching deep memories from last year.
I made it only half way to the peak from Mude last year, having been weakened by severe vomiting from altitude sickness the night before and the morning of the hike. I wasn't too disappointed at the time; I usually value the journey more than the destination and Elgon offers much more to travelers than its highest point. My strongest memory of that day was not failing to reach my goal but Adam taking care of me at camp, in the same way I would take care of him later on our journey. As the writer of Ecclesiastes says, "Two are better than one. If one falls down, his friend can help him up." Perhaps I fell that day so I could be helped up by Adam, so I could experience our friendship in a moment I can hold on to in his absence. But on this day I was determined to reach Wagagai. I wanted to stand on the summit with my friend Adam, even if I am a year too late.
Afternoon rains gave us permission to rest our tired bodies at camp in preparation for our longest hiking day tomorrow. Radio Tom facilitated the evening's entertainment around the campfire as his wide interests and passion compelled him to comment on any topic that might waft through the smoky shack of the porters and guides.
Day 4: Mude Camp to Kajeri River Camp - 14 Miles - 11,055 Feet
 We woke to blue skies and sunshine today with only a few clouds moving above and below us. Our hike began with a 3 miles stretch along the Simu Gorge to the Caldera Rim at 13,350 feet. The remaining 11 miles of trail traced ridgelines back into the heath zone, falling and rising across the gorges of the Muyembe and Sisiyi rivers. I have been continually amazed at the diversity of this mountain. Every mile reveals new vistas, rivers and their tributaries, and textured scenes of interesting plant life and rock formations. Our view into the Caldera from its rim was incredible. Peaks rose all around us, seemingly to keep watch over the 25 square mile basin. Here the Suam River begins and bisects the Ugandan and Kenyan side of the mountain. We are at the midway point of the journey, and I feel far away from both the beginning and end of our adventure.
 Kajeri camp lies in a protected pocket gorge near the origin of the Kajeri river. Camp rewarded us with simple pleasures: afternoon naps on soft grass in the cool air and warm sunshine after a cold bath in a mountain stream, which after 7 hours of hard hiking is a necessary, exhilarating, but painful experience. The hut at Kajeri was poorly designed to expel smoke from wet firewood and was more efficient at expelling us into the fresh air outside. But rich conversations about cultural differences, politics and religion keep drawing us in. These are often tense topics in an American setting but among our group are shared with a healthy mixture of careful listening and easy laughter. Our discussion of religion in particular allowed us to learn a lot from each other about African Christianity and the confusion that often surrounds its practice, especially sacraments such as the Lord's Supper. This biblical practice and all of its rich meanings becomes lost in questions of religious authority and who and who isn't allowed to participate. We invited Fred and the porters - Martin, John, and Rogers - to share communion with us tomorrow morning, a Sunday.
Day 5: Kajeri River Camp to Tatum Cave - 10 Miles - 8,580 Feet
The morning greeted us with sunshine. Our table today was a mossy stone at our camp around which we gathered. After reading from Luke 24 - the story of the disciples first communion with the resurrected Jesus -- we shared the resurrected Jesus together with crackers and juice from a single steel mug. After Richard prayed a blessing over our time and the meal, Fred made a comment that I have continued to reflect on: "Just as we drank from this one cup together, we are also together as one." I've perhaps never been so aware of the way communion can actually shape community.
 The ten miles we traveled today dropped us 2,200 feet from the heath zone through patches of giant bamboo into the rainforest. The caldera and the peaks were now hidden from view as we begin our descent of the mountain. Small streams carved deep gorges in the land, teeming with life and the sounds of rushing water. The path overall was much easier than our previous two days, and we reached our destination in less than four hours - the massive Tatum cave and waterfall. The cave is our home for the night, no tent required.
 The not-so-subtle subplot running through the story of our trip has been the unquenchable curiosity of Tom. Within minutes of arriving at a camp he is often at work pursuing some plan he had been crafting along the way or an idea inspired in the moment. Today it was showering in the freezing falls (a plan he had been boasting about for days) and searching for honey among the swarms of bees buzzing around camp. When the latter project failed, Tom turned his ambitions towards the three smaller cave entrances at far back of the cavernous opening. The chatter-like squeeks of bats echoed throughout the chambers of these caves which have never been fully explored and are rumored to go back for miles. Accompanied by the equally curious porters, he returned from his exploratory trips with enough information to draw Richard, Fred, and me into a larger expedition. Only 15 minutes into one of the smaller cave tunnels and the porters had found their gold mine: piles of bat droppings they bagged to fertilize their gardens at home. But the producers of those piles would find us en mass only a few feet further. When Tom, who was in the front of our line, announced that "the bats are knocking me!" we quickly reached consensus that it was time to retreat.
I couldn't help imagining my boys Luke and Connor running around Tatum which is only 7 miles back from the ranger station we will reach tomorrow. I made preliminary plans with Fred to take a father-sons trip with him and his 4 year old Eli as early as next year. Eli will be ready Fred assured me: "we are a tough species." As night fell our fire created a soft flickering glow on the walls of the cave that drew us into a warm and peaceful sleep.
Day 6: Tatum Cave to the Crow's Nest at Sipi - 10 Miles - 5,610 Feet
 Cloudless night turned to cloudless day as we woke at the mouth of the cave. Favorable trail conditions and the richer air allowed us to tackle the first 7 miles in less than 2 hours. We emerged from the rainforest almost suddenly and found ourselves surrounded by panoramas of cultivated slopes and the plains of Moroto extending beyond the mountain. From here our trip seemed to hurry to its conclusion. A planned "shortcut" to avoid the longer but smoother access road took us down the slopes of Sipi and fields of coffee, matooke, and maize. We arrived at the Crow's Nest around 1:00 PM and enjoyed a shower by water warmed by firewood before spending the lazy afternoon on the porch overlooking the Sipi falls. Tonight in a simple hillside cabin we sleep on the first level surface we've been on in six days.
It is sometimes difficult to tell what will be remembered and retold about journeys such as these as years go by. As life's circumstances and our relationships change, so too will the way we see this moment in time. But on this trip I have an immediate sense of privilege and gratitude to have shared the trail with Richard and Tom. In so many ways it was an extension of our journey off the mountain as we walk together and share with each other our problems, responsibilities, families, and dreams. And so I hope, several years down the road, we can share the stories of this trip as part of the larger story of our friendships within the bigger story of life in God's world.
Day 7: Adam's Place
 Remnants of my relationship with Adam are ever-present in Uganda. At the Crow's Nest, I found Adam and I's name on the visitor book from the time we stayed there after we traversed the mountain last year. Only a couple of miles from Sipi the road begins turning and sloping down the mountain towards Mbale. It was on one of these turns that the truck carrying Adam and Moses and four tons of coffee lost control and tumbled down a mountain side. It is hard to believe, amongst these scenes we had been gazing upon and admiring from above, something so terrible could happen. We stopped on the side of the road and locals narrated the story of what had happened, where the truck went off the edge and where it landed. We could only stand in silence and feel the fear, pain, and loss, holding on to the knowledge that death is not the final word.
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Mark's Table 
