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</o:shapelayout></xml><![endif]--></head><body lang=EN-US link="#0563C1" vlink="#954F72"><div class=WordSection1><p class=MsoNormal><span style='color:#1F497D'>Lynda, and any who care to read this lengthy excerpt,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='color:#1F497D'>I have the same problem with opening attachments, but they open if you hit f6, then down arrow, then spacebar. When I do that, I then change it to a word document.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='color:#1F497D'>I do not know why this is necessary as all of my documents and my fellow writers are in word.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='color:#1F497D'>However, I will cut and paste it, hoping everything, including photos, will stay in place.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='color:#1F497D'>(The photo captions changed in a few places, and some of the text does not read along the photos.)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='color:#1F497D'>I will also cut and paste the Query letter first, and have you tell me if it generates your interest. Here goes.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='color:#1F497D'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-align:justify'><a name="OLE_LINK2"></a><a name="OLE_LINK3">Jacqueline Williams</a><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal>1431 W. 7<sup>th</sup> Place<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Mesa, AZ 85201<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><a href="mailto:jackieleepoet@cox.net">jackieleepoet@cox.net</a><o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Date<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Name of editor<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Name of publication<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Address of publication<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Dear MS… (use name):<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>How many ninety-year-old women can look back on their lives and say they accomplished a mountain climb to the mysterious “Mountains of the Moon” in Uganda, East Africa? I have, and this experience I had fifty years ago has never been topped. So much of what I saw has changed since then and won’t ever be the same. This climb might have been impossible two years later because of the coup in 1971 of Idi Amin.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>My memoir, “Climbing the Ruwenzories, circa 1969” is an immediate first-hand account, taken from letters written to my family in 1969, of four ill-matched ex-pats who joined forces to make this formidable climb.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>This ___ word memoir features the amazing headman and porters who were there for us at every precarious step, the unusual gigantic flora and fauna, and the amazing glaciers. It illuminates the change in perceptions of the four characters and particularly myself, the author. Photos are included to document our journey.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>I believe this article will be of interest to mountain climbers and hikers; people in the Safari business; climatologists who study shrinking glaciers; those interested in stories about people who endure extreme physical hardship to reach a goal; women who now feel free to tackle activities traditionally done by men; people interested in African history and geography; Ugandans who are proud of their country’s heritage.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Thank you in advance for considering “Climbing the Ruwenzories, circa 1969” for publication in __________magazine.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Sincerely,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Jacqueline Williams<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><a href="mailto:jackieleepoet@cox.net">jackieleepoet@cox.net</a><o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:3.0pt;margin-right:0in;margin-bottom:3.0pt;margin-left:1.5in;text-indent:.5in;line-height:115%'><b><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>CLIMBING THE RUWENZORIES <o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:3.0pt;margin-right:0in;margin-bottom:3.0pt;margin-left:2.0in;line-height:115%'><b><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>Circa August, 1969, Uganda, East Africa<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:1.5in;text-indent:.5in;line-height:115%'><span style='line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>By Jacqueline Williams Words: 7,874 Photos: 19</span><span style='font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal align=center style='mso-margin-top-alt:3.0pt;margin-right:0in;margin-bottom:3.0pt;margin-left:0in;text-align:center;text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><b><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>Back home, sitting in bed savoring the many le tters that arrived during my absence, I looked hopelessly at the cast on my right foot and wondered how long it would take for those two appendages that once were legs to lose their balloon shape and regain their normal flexibility and contours.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>I would not trade one little bit of this pain for the adventure I just had. The only way to tell about it is to start from the beginning with the personalities involved, and relate the events as they occurred. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>For a start, there was Phil, slight of build, extremely agile, full of nervous energy, with quick movements, and a mustache. He was so British, he fit my preconceived picture of a colonialist. Thirty-six years old, an excellent tennis player, Phil had climbed the Ruwenzories before.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>Paddy, a 39-year-old British schoolmarm, put me on guard by a perceived aloofness, her hard-to-read expression, and her extreme practicality. We had little in common, except somehow we were climbing the Ruwenzories together.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>Tim, a 28-year-old ex-patriot, had been in Nigeria two years and in Tororo another two as a secondary-school biology teacher. Nightly, in the club bar, he put away eight pints of Tusker beer and often ended up on the floor, or being driven home, or breaking glasses against the wall. Tim had climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro, Mt. Elgon, and Mt. Kadam up in Moroto.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>I was the fourth, and while I cannot objectively describe my outward aspects, it’s enough to say that if you looked a long time you could not find a more oddly-matched foursome to tackle such a formidable climb. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>We spent the first eerie night in a small hut trying to judge which of the ex-patriate community would do what we were doing. What was our motivation? For Paddy, could it be a total reversal of her life of obligation to an aging mother, or a desire for a life of adventure and privacy of thought? For Tim, was it his need to see and do all there was to do before he destroyed himself? For Phil, was it his insatiable need to keep on the move and stay fit?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shapetype id="_x0000_t75" coordsize="21600,21600" o:spt="75" o:preferrelative="t" path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe" filled="f" stroked="f">
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</v:shape><![endif]--><![if !vml]><img width=222 height=185 src="cid:image039.jpg@01D54615.C68DB190" align=left hspace=12 v:shapes="Picture_x0020_19"><![endif]><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'> I think I needed to once more reach a peak and feel my father’s approval, even though he was no longer alive. I also needed to do something all my own, having nothing to do with being a “good mother,” a “good wife” or the mundane role of housewife.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>The Ruwenzori Mountains consist of seven peaks ranging from 14,000 to more than 16,000 feet, locally believed to hold the source of the Nile. They are shrouded in mystery partly because of the constant heavy mists that cover them. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>A mountain top breaking through the mist<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>Everything grows giant size — the heather, the groundsel, the lobelia, and senecia. There are trees dripping with moss and also a bamboo forest. There is bog and more bog, and bog surrounded by swamp, and the swamp by the Bigo bog.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>There are two seasons for climbing: December, January and possibly February. Then there are June and July, and, if you are lucky, a week or two in August. We counted on luck.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'> At one point we’d be crossing over a swinging footbridge high above a river — just like in a Tarzan movie.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'> It took quite a lot of planning for four of us to assemble our gear to be carried by eight porters. The biggest job was making everything waterproof, particularly our bedrolls. Equipment included two sleeping bags each, two round paraffin cookers, </span><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>a hurricane lamp <span style='color:black'>and various pots and pans. In addition to many sweets for quick energy, we had tinned meats, dried soups, cheese, nuts, salami, apples, raw carrots, porridge and tea. We had personal items such as snakebite kit, first aid kit, cameras, and flashlights, waterproof bags for every little thing, three pairs of boots each, and whistles. Two porters were needed just to carry their blankets and food, which consisted of dried fish, posho (flour for porridge), nuts, tinned beef, tea, and sugar. We, ourselves, carried nothing but cameras and canteens so as to leave our hands free for climbing.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>I was the last person picked up. When my gear was loaded, Phil’s station wagon was riding low with almost no visibility out the back window. We left binoculars at home because none of us were willing to carry more than the minimum in our own packs. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>Phil’s driving philosophy turned out to be like my husband’s: you’re wasting time unless you drive with skill at the car’s top speed. So we went to Fort Portal at no less than 60 to 80 miles per hour, 60 on the dangerous red-clay murran roads. Had I ridden with Phil before this trip, it could have abruptly cut short my mountain-climbing aspirations. However, once you’re on your way, there is nothing to do except hold tight and hide your eyes while passing on hills and curves, maneuvering past goats and cyclists. I was terrified. Surprisingly, Tim finally spoke up. It was pointless. Nothing changed.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>I only knew these people superficially. I thought that Tim drank too much and couldn’t possibly be in good physical condition. Phil was overconfident. I felt that Paddy was going to surprise me. She was a tourist from England, who wasn’t even used to the Tororo altitude, but she was unshakeable and seemed excited by the speed. She started methodically keeping the records for our trip. Since she showed signs of a woman used to managing things, I determined to keep my strong opinions to myself. Fortunately, we never crossed swords. I never discovered what made her tick, but certainly she had the qualities I’ve always admired in a woman.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>I was confident that I would uphold the image of the American who could surmount any obstacle, and put to rest the British idea that we Americans don’t know what the hell we are doing, nor how to do it properly. After all, I had put in a grueling training program.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal align=right style='text-align:right;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal align=right style='text-align:right;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>Tororo Rock, a volcanic plug<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>My son, Jeff, eight years old, and I climbed Tororo Rock no matter what the weather. The Rock is a volcanic plug that rises sharply about 1,000 feet from the nearby town of Tororo. It was so steep that four ladders had been installed to enable one to reach the top. </span><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shape id="Picture_x0020_18" o:spid="_x0000_s1043" type="#_x0000_t75" style='position:absolute;left:0;text-align:left;margin-left:122.35pt;margin-top:0;width:173.55pt;height:137.35pt;z-index:-251656192;visibility:visible;mso-wrap-style:square;mso-width-percent:0;mso-height-percent:0;mso-wrap-distance-left:9pt;mso-wrap-distance-top:0;mso-wrap-distance-right:9pt;mso-wrap-distance-bottom:0;mso-position-horizontal:right;mso-position-horizontal-relative:margin;mso-position-vertical:top;mso-position-vertical-relative:margin;mso-width-percent:0;mso-height-percent:0;mso-width-relative:page;mso-height-relative:page'>
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</v:shape><![endif]--><![if !vml]><img width=231 height=183 src="cid:image040.jpg@01D54615.C68DB190" align=right hspace=12 v:shapes="Picture_x0020_18"><![endif]><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>We were on our way by 7:30 a.m. My record times were 30 minutes up and 28 minutes down. That put me within the recommended time of approximately one hour for the round trip. The third day of training I thought I might die. My thigh muscles throbbed, and my knees quivered likeJello. On the days I didn’t climb the Rock I played 18 holes of golf. Twice a week I added badminton and swimming. My goal by the end of two weeks was to complete in one day: climb the Rock, play 18 holes of golf, swim, bicycle around the compound twice, climb the Rock again, and then play badminton all evening.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>The last time we made the training climb, I seemed to find myself in another dimension, feeling I could do anything. I believed I had the physical stamina for the big climb. Having arrived at the age of 40, with handicaps of weight and arthritis, compared to the other three, I had to believe I would not be a drag on them and would be successful. Also, I’d had to juggle my birth control pills so I would not have a menstrual cycle during the climb. The scent of blood was believed to attract the leopards known to be in the area.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>We arrived in Fort Portal Friday evening and made straight for Kitchwamba, a trade and technical school where Phil’s good friends taught and lived. They put us up and fed us. It was about eight miles from Fort Portal on the road to the Semliki Game Park and the Semliki Forest where the pygmies live. We finished our shopping for the porters at Bhimji’s store, and took a quick afternoon to go out to the game park. We saw the greatest concentration of Ugandan kob (antelope) that exist anywhere, in addition to warthogs, hartebeests, and a darker, smaller Congo elephant with her young one. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>Sunday morning we were up early for final packing of kit bags in plastic sheeting. The one thing foremost in our minds was to keep a dry bedroll to avoid danger of exposure, for we were told to expect a wet, muddy, misty existence for the coming days.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>We drove to what was fondly known as “Road’s End,” where about 70 porters milled about, hoping to be chosen. However, the headman wasn’t there, and Phil wanted him to make the final choice, so off he went, leaving us with our gear, surrounded by Bukonjo tribesmen who examined us in the greatest detail. I found myself wondering how these people could possibly be the invincible, strong, speedy porters who could bear a 50-pound load fastened across their foreheads solely by an inch-wide banana fiber, and carry it up a dangerous trail. They were all short, many were too young, many were too old, and all had spindly little legs but with bulging calf muscles.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>When Phil finally returned it was already 11:30, and for one hour we observed the fine art of making up a mountain-climbing group. The headman was Zedekiah, soon shortened to Zed by all of us. His first move was to put bundles into piles, testing and re-testing the feel and weight of them. <b><o:p></o:p></b></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>He decided he wanted nine porters instead of eight, and insisted that Phil go buy another blanket, shirt, and ration of food. Phil wouldn’t do this, knowing we only had poundage for eight porters. They finally decided on a ninth porter and we would pay his wages but he would share the food of the others and had no blanket of his own. Then we distributed potato sacks for them to put their bundles in. The men were picked by Zed after he knew the loads. He took all ages, and those with good recommendations written in their Ugandan work books.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='line-height:115%'><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shape id="Picture_x0020_17" o:spid="_x0000_s1042" type="#_x0000_t75" style='position:absolute;margin-left:-1.5pt;margin-top:133.5pt;width:174.75pt;height:119.25pt;z-index:251661312;visibility:visible;mso-wrap-style:square;mso-width-percent:0;mso-height-percent:0;mso-wrap-distance-left:9pt;mso-wrap-distance-top:0;mso-wrap-distance-right:9pt;mso-wrap-distance-bottom:0;mso-position-horizontal:absolute;mso-position-horizontal-relative:margin;mso-position-vertical:absolute;mso-position-vertical-relative:margin;mso-width-percent:0;mso-height-percent:0;mso-width-relative:page;mso-height-relative:page'>
<v:imagedata src="cid:image005.jpg@01D54613.CAD81760" o:title="" />
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</v:shape><![endif]--><![if !vml]><img width=233 height=159 src="cid:image041.jpg@01D54615.C68DB190" align=left hspace=12 v:shapes="Picture_x0020_17"><![endif]><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>Road’s End, Zed testing loads<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='line-height:115%'><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shape id="Picture_x0020_16" o:spid="_x0000_s1041" type="#_x0000_t75" style='position:absolute;margin-left:119.45pt;margin-top:334.55pt;width:170.65pt;height:137.3pt;z-index:251662336;visibility:visible;mso-wrap-style:square;mso-width-percent:0;mso-height-percent:0;mso-wrap-distance-left:9pt;mso-wrap-distance-top:0;mso-wrap-distance-right:9pt;mso-wrap-distance-bottom:0;mso-position-horizontal:right;mso-position-horizontal-relative:margin;mso-position-vertical:absolute;mso-position-vertical-relative:margin;mso-width-percent:0;mso-height-percent:0;mso-width-relative:page;mso-height-relative:page'>
<v:imagedata src="cid:image007.jpg@01D54613.CAD81760" o:title="" />
<w:wrap type="square" anchorx="margin" anchory="margin"/>
</v:shape><![endif]--><![if !vml]><img width=227 height=183 src="cid:image042.jpg@01D54615.C68DB190" align=right hspace=12 v:shapes="Picture_x0020_16"><![endif]><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>The party wasn’t quite ready to go at 12:30, and I was getting nervous. I remembered the young couple I met a week earlier, who said it took them seven hours to get to the first hut instead of the normal four, because they carried their own loads, and because daylight ended so early in the forest. So Paddy and I went ahead, allowing the others to catch up when they were ready. We followed a stream through the matoke patches, by the Bukonjo villages, and finally into thick brush where there were several choices of paths to take. Fortunately the men caught up to us there and Phil took the lead, having been over the trail once before.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal align=right style='text-align:right;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>Shamba of a Bukonjo villager<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>The first obstacle we hit was the Safari ants. They were like a carpet underfoot at some places. I didn’t even realize it until I stooped to tie a shoelace, and saw a necklace of ants that had bitten the lace so hard that when I tried to take them off and tie it, their heads became detached from their bodies. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:0in;margin-right:.5in;margin-bottom:0in;margin-left:.5in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent:.2pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>“Such is the strength of the ants’ jaws that, in East Africa, they are used as natural, emergency sutures. Various East African indigenous tribal peoples (e.g. Maasai moran), when suffering from a gash in the bush, will use the soldiers to stitch the wound by getting the ants to bite on both sides of the gash, then breaking off the body.” — <u>Wikipedia</u><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>All I can say is, “Thank God they never got higher than our boots.” We moved fast through this area. Soon we came upon great steaming piles of elephant droppings and a crushed and flattened area of bush in the bamboo forest. We heard crashes nearby. We moved up to trotting speed knowing elephants were close by, but we assumed they were moving away from our commotion. We had to use both arms to protect our faces from stinging nettles and bushes laden with pollen. Because we were still at the tail end of the climbing season, there was a definite path, and we did not have to break trail.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>Soon, Tim hit his climbing rhythm, which he was not to break throughout the entire trip. From then on, we girls didn’t see him except at mealtimes and overnights. His rhythm never broke, and he never stopped to rest. When there was a large step up, that step took the count of two normal ones. Phil wasn’t much behind him. They waited briefly at the first big river crossing to see if Paddy and I could balance across the narrow log.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='line-height:115%'><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shape id="Picture_x0020_15" o:spid="_x0000_s1040" type="#_x0000_t75" style='position:absolute;margin-left:-3pt;margin-top:118.5pt;width:171.75pt;height:132pt;z-index:251663360;visibility:visible;mso-wrap-style:square;mso-width-percent:0;mso-height-percent:0;mso-wrap-distance-left:9pt;mso-wrap-distance-top:0;mso-wrap-distance-right:9pt;mso-wrap-distance-bottom:0;mso-position-horizontal:absolute;mso-position-horizontal-relative:margin;mso-position-vertical:absolute;mso-position-vertical-relative:margin;mso-width-percent:0;mso-height-percent:0;mso-width-relative:page;mso-height-relative:page'>
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</v:shape><![endif]--><![if !vml]><img width=229 height=176 src="cid:image043.jpg@01D54615.C68DB190" align=left hspace=12 v:shapes="Picture_x0020_15"><![endif]><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>Looking down the river which we crossed many times.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal align=center style='text-align:center;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'> When we made it, they apparently decided we would be all right from then on, so off they went. Until then, I think Paddy and I had thought the climb would be easily achievable but we were hurting and terribly out of breath, hitting places that seemed like 90 degree angles up with no apparent end in sight. Then there were horrible slippery muddy places that went down at the same angle, and gave me the feeling of utter futility. I knew that somehow we had to make it up at least 2,500 feet of altitude that first afternoon. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shape id="Picture_x0020_14" o:spid="_x0000_s1039" type="#_x0000_t75" style='position:absolute;left:0;text-align:left;margin-left:273.75pt;margin-top:6in;width:188.25pt;height:140.25pt;z-index:251664384;visibility:visible;mso-wrap-style:square;mso-width-percent:0;mso-height-percent:0;mso-wrap-distance-left:9pt;mso-wrap-distance-top:0;mso-wrap-distance-right:9pt;mso-wrap-distance-bottom:0;mso-position-horizontal:absolute;mso-position-horizontal-relative:margin;mso-position-vertical:absolute;mso-position-vertical-relative:margin;mso-width-percent:0;mso-height-percent:0;mso-width-relative:page;mso-height-relative:page'>
<v:imagedata src="cid:image011.jpg@01D54613.CAD81760" o:title="" />
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</v:shape><![endif]--><![if !vml]><img width=251 height=187 src="cid:image044.jpg@01D54615.C68DB190" align=left hspace=12 v:shapes="Picture_x0020_14"><![endif]><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>We had climbed for three hours when a reaction hit that I have never experienced before. There were times when my breath would not come. I had to fight and heave and sound like the final death rattles of an asthmatic, just to get some air. Paddy doubled over, sick and dizzy. My body felt on fire with tingling sensations and bouts of shivering. We both started resting more often. Three times when I rested, I simply curled up on the ground. I looked at the nearest rock shelter, and thought I couldn’t possibly make it, so I would just stay where I was. The thought of a wild animal was much easier to face than the next step. By this time, all of the porters had gone by us with their 50-pound loads, at a dogtrot, with cheery smiles. Many hunters had passed us in either direction wearing rock-hyrax-skin hats, carrying spears and sacks, and taking the sharp rocks, mud, and ants, all in their bare feet.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>Zed caught up with us after about two hours of climbing. The headman is responsible for the safety of the entire party, and therefore he always stays behind the last climber. You can probably guess that before this day was over, Zed was my constant companion.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal align=right style='text-align:right;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>Zed - our headman, guide, and more<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal align=center style='text-align:center;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>By this time, Paddy was always one step ahead of me— my choice so I did not need to feel guilty about stopping to rest. We had both almost run out of steam when we topped out on a long high ridge, heard the rush of the stream far below us, and suddenly saw one of the porters without his load climbing up with a bucket of water. We knew then that the hut was only about half an hour away. Paddy was off like a shot following him. It started pouring rain. I tried to rev up my engine, but truly could not go any faster without danger of falling off the cliff into the river. By then my feet belonged to someone else and kept doing strange uncoordinated things.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>I had one moment of glory, when we broke through the gloom and rain to Nyabitaba hut. Three buoyant faces poked through the doorway and someone said, “Not bad, 4and 3/4 hours.” I snapped my fingers and did Dorothy’s dance step to “Follow the Yellow Brick Road” — then I fell on my backside, which was the first of many falls in the mud. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>It turned out that Tim and Phil made it in four hours, and Paddy in 4 and ½. They had made tea and soup, served with Ryvita crackers and peanut butter, more than any of us wanted. While we ate, Phil spoke very optimistically. Since we had all done so well, we’d skip the first alternate hut. Tomorrow, we would stay overnight in the second alternate middle hut, called the Bigo hut. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>Nyabitaba, the one we were in this night, means “Mother of tobacco” but we never found out why it was so named. Perhaps after your first night in the mountains it is so satisfying to smoke, or perhaps they used to grow tobacco in the forest around the hut. Phil would not tell us much about the next day’s climb except to say not to worry, we were half acclimated already, and would have no trouble. No trouble? Paddy’s big toenails had partially lifted off, and were turning blue.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>There was no fireplace in the hut, which was divided into two rooms. There was a bunk bed in one-half of it, which the boys nobly said we could have — wood slabs on a heavy iron frame. Paddy took the top bunk and every time she turned over the frame squealed. My air mattress had sprung a slow leak. None of the others even had air mattresses. Paddy, Phil and I spent a long sleepless night, while Tim, using only one of his sleeping bags, slept soundly. He agreed to get up early and make porridge next morning. That he did, but the first time around he used paraffin instead of water. They were in the same kind of containers. Then I got up and started to wash — using paraffin, a fuel they use here instead of white gas. Between us we put a dent in our carefully planned allotment of fuel, and all the cuts and scratches on my hands were set afire by the darn stuff. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>It took an hour to repack and load up the porters. The worst ordeal, and one that we had every morning, was to pull on our wet, cold, muddy pants, socks, and boots. It’s foolish to break out anything clean because 15 minutes after you start, you are ankle-deep in slime and bog mud.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif;color:black'>Phil hot-footed on ahead, saying he wanted to be across the bridge before we got there so he could take movies. Hah! Little did we know! Just from the hut to the river was a hair-raising descent. We had long staffs Zed cut for us, to help prop us in dangerous places, to lean on when we had to rest, and to help us balance in the slippery mud. In the steepest places we threw them down ahead of us so as to have both hands for holding on.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shape id="Picture_x0020_13" o:spid="_x0000_s1038" type="#_x0000_t75" style='position:absolute;left:0;text-align:left;margin-left:0;margin-top:168pt;width:170.25pt;height:158.25pt;z-index:251665408;visibility:visible;mso-wrap-style:square;mso-width-percent:0;mso-height-percent:0;mso-wrap-distance-left:9pt;mso-wrap-distance-top:0;mso-wrap-distance-right:9pt;mso-wrap-distance-bottom:0;mso-position-horizontal:left;mso-position-horizontal-relative:margin;mso-position-vertical:absolute;mso-position-vertical-relative:margin;mso-width-percent:0;mso-height-percent:0;mso-width-relative:page;mso-height-relative:page'>
<v:imagedata src="cid:image013.jpg@01D54613.CAD81760" o:title="" />
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</v:shape><![endif]--><![if !vml]><img width=227 height=211 src="cid:image045.jpg@01D54615.C68DB190" align=left hspace=12 v:shapes="Picture_x0020_13"><![endif]><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>It wasn’t long before we looked down at the river and saw Phil waving from the other side, but I’ll be darned if we could see anything that looked like a bridge. Finally we were upon it. It was an unbelievable contraption strung above the rapids in two sections. One section was a ladder propped on some rocks at one end, and nailed to two poles at the other. From these two poles cables were strung across to the other side with two thin saplings hung from those. Slats were nailed to the underside of the saplings, and about every fourth one had come loose and was hanging down by one nail. That was it! I tried the ladder but with nothing to hold onto I couldn’t get to the center poles without losing my balance. Next I tried a foot on the right side of a rung and it dropped six inches and the other side raised six inches. Paddy and I decided we could ford at least the first section of the river. We got wet to the waist, and I almost lost her over the rocks, but she had her staff, and I was holding her tightly. Then we shinnied up the two poles. One at a time, we started inching over the slats, testing each one before putting our full weight on it. We held on for dear life to the thin cables as soon as we could reach them.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>Phil was on the other side cheering us on, but not filming. His batteries were dead. We didn’t know why because he got new ones and tested them in Kampala. So that heavy movie camera was carried up and down the Ruwenzories to no avail.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>The dreaded bridge with slats hanging loose<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='line-height:115%'><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shape id="Picture_x0020_12" o:spid="_x0000_s1037" type="#_x0000_t75" style='position:absolute;margin-left:0;margin-top:362.25pt;width:160.5pt;height:150.75pt;z-index:251666432;visibility:visible;mso-wrap-style:square;mso-width-percent:0;mso-height-percent:0;mso-wrap-distance-left:9pt;mso-wrap-distance-top:0;mso-wrap-distance-right:9pt;mso-wrap-distance-bottom:0;mso-position-horizontal:absolute;mso-position-horizontal-relative:margin;mso-position-vertical:absolute;mso-position-vertical-relative:margin;mso-width-percent:0;mso-height-percent:0;mso-width-relative:page;mso-height-relative:page'>
<v:imagedata src="cid:image015.jpg@01D54613.CAD81760" o:title="" />
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</v:shape><![endif]--><![if !vml]><img width=214 height=201 src="cid:image046.jpg@01D54615.C68DB190" align=left hspace=12 v:shapes="Picture_x0020_12"><![endif]><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>Again Tim, Phil and the porters left us. Paddy and I kept the same speed for the next long stretch, with Zed to back us up. This was the devilishly difficult part of the climb. The boulders all leaned against each other, tangled with roots, and deceptively covered with moss. There were yawning holes and crevasses that you couldn’t see until your foot started to break through the roots or moss. It was up and over a million tree trunks, with foot-deep bog mud criss-crossed by roots to trip you. Eerie-looking moss hung from the trees. It just went on and on and on.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>Paddy climbing over fallen trees<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal align=center style='text-align:center;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>We were to lunch together at Nyamuleju. It got to be 1:30 and Paddy and I were afraid that we were going too slowly. The day was speeding by. Finally we got to the hut. Phil and Tim had been waiting for an hour and a half, thinking one of us had broken a leg. I could eat nothing except an apple, and I drank lots and lots of water.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='line-height:115%'><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shape id="Picture_x0020_11" o:spid="_x0000_s1036" type="#_x0000_t75" style='position:absolute;margin-left:7.55pt;margin-top:-1.25pt;width:173.3pt;height:134.3pt;z-index:251667456;visibility:visible;mso-wrap-style:square;mso-width-percent:0;mso-height-percent:0;mso-wrap-distance-left:9pt;mso-wrap-distance-top:0;mso-wrap-distance-right:9pt;mso-wrap-distance-bottom:0;mso-position-horizontal:absolute;mso-position-horizontal-relative:margin;mso-position-vertical:absolute;mso-position-vertical-relative:margin;mso-width-percent:0;mso-height-percent:0;mso-width-relative:page;mso-height-relative:page'>
<v:imagedata src="cid:image017.jpg@01D54613.CAD81760" o:title="" />
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</v:shape><![endif]--><![if !vml]><img width=231 height=179 src="cid:image047.jpg@01D54615.C68DB190" align=left hspace=12 v:shapes="Picture_x0020_11"><![endif]><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>Swamp? Bog? Endless? Yes.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>Phil warned us after lunch of the river to be forded, followed by the infamous Bigo Bog. He said there was about a mile of bog where only tussocks rose out of the mud and you must leap from one to the next. You daren’t fall in or you would sink to knee or thigh level. “So, girls, be careful!” After the Bigo Bog came the Bigo hut where we would spend the night. Of course, that part of the trek came near day’s end when all of our physical resources would be almost exhausted. Still, we felt that nothing could shake us now, so off we went. In half an hour I was convinced we were in bog, but Zed kept shaking his head. We were sinking ankle deep with every fifth step and it took all of our strength to pull our feet out.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shape id="Picture_x0020_10" o:spid="_x0000_s1035" type="#_x0000_t75" style='position:absolute;left:0;text-align:left;margin-left:4in;margin-top:244.5pt;width:175.5pt;height:143.25pt;z-index:251668480;visibility:visible;mso-wrap-style:square;mso-width-percent:0;mso-height-percent:0;mso-wrap-distance-left:9pt;mso-wrap-distance-top:0;mso-wrap-distance-right:9pt;mso-wrap-distance-bottom:0;mso-position-horizontal:absolute;mso-position-horizontal-relative:margin;mso-position-vertical:absolute;mso-position-vertical-relative:margin;mso-width-percent:0;mso-height-percent:0;mso-width-relative:page;mso-height-relative:page'>
<v:imagedata src="cid:image019.jpg@01D54613.CAD81760" o:title="" />
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</v:shape><![endif]--><![if !vml]><img width=234 height=191 src="cid:image048.jpg@01D54615.C68DB190" align=left hspace=12 v:shapes="Picture_x0020_10"><![endif]><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>We arrived at the wide river with its many rapids. Zed stopped and we both thought he was out of his mind. He motioned across, and we shook our heads. But off he started with his long climbing axe testing each foothold, and holding out a hand to Paddy. She went with him. They leaned forward into the water against their footholds to resist the current. I failed to get a picture of Paddy being held in place by Zed after losing her footing. I was busy tying my gear around my neck and wrapping plastic bags around my camera. When Zed got her across he came back for me, and I had the advantage of knowing the danger spots, so we made it all right.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal align=center style='margin-left:3.5in;text-align:center;text-indent:.5in;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>The rapids we crossed<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>Suddenly we looked across this huge expanse of funny-looking mounds from three to six feet high. The Bog! Zed pointed to a valley far off in the distance. With that, Paddy took off on her own, leaping for all the world like Nijinsky, from tussock to tussock. Every now and again I couldn’t see her, and I’d think “Oops,” but I was having my own problems. I’d take maybe five in a row and then the next one would be out of reach, and all that momentum kept me swaying while I looked for a new direction. Sometimes I would hit several high ones in a row, then a really low one which made it difficult to leap up again. Finally I misjudged and went in down to my knee. Pulling that one leg out of the mud used up all my elasticity. From then on Zed went in front of me testing each one, and making a way through occasional dry spots. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>Twice more I fell, once on my backside which fortunately is broad enough to keep me from sinking too deeply. Would you believe my stoic companion, Zed, looked like he was secretly enjoying the proceedings?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>This was the stage of the trip when Paddy started getting fit, and I started to realize that my knees were going to give me serious trouble. We must have jumped a few hundred tussocks to make it to Bigo Hut, but make it we did.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>The hut was so small we had to move the table to put down sleeping bags. The stove smoked so badly we couldn’t use it. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>The river ran close to the hut so Paddy and I went down, stripped to bra and panties, and scraped the mud off in the icy water. We were blue and aching and actually had to use our fingernails to peel off the mud. Later one of the porters took our boots down to the stream and washed the mud off and out of them. Mine were borrowed boots which had rubber toes and heels, and laced tightly half-way up the calf. These are the only climbing boot to use; the suction of the mud pulls off any other kind.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>We had soup again, tinned steak and kidney pie, fruit, and chocolate.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shape id="Picture_x0020_9" o:spid="_x0000_s1034" type="#_x0000_t75" style='position:absolute;left:0;text-align:left;margin-left:0;margin-top:327pt;width:173.35pt;height:134.3pt;z-index:251669504;visibility:visible;mso-wrap-style:square;mso-width-percent:0;mso-height-percent:0;mso-wrap-distance-left:9pt;mso-wrap-distance-top:0;mso-wrap-distance-right:9pt;mso-wrap-distance-bottom:0;mso-position-horizontal:left;mso-position-horizontal-relative:margin;mso-position-vertical:absolute;mso-position-vertical-relative:margin;mso-width-percent:0;mso-height-percent:0;mso-width-relative:page;mso-height-relative:page'>
<v:imagedata src="cid:image021.jpg@01D54613.CAD81760" o:title="" />
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</v:shape><![endif]--><![if !vml]><img width=231 height=179 src="cid:image049.jpg@01D54615.C68DB190" align=left hspace=12 v:shapes="Picture_x0020_9"><![endif]><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>My bedroll had gotten wet in the river, even after all my precautions. I was uncomfortable and a bit frightened that night. I shivered for about three hours, and I guess I finally warmed up the wet fabric enough to sleep. We had stuffed moss under our bags to give some insulation and to make it softer. I was the last one in so I had the job of moving the debbie of concrete in front of the door of the hut to keep the leopards out. We agreed that if anyone had to go at night they would wake someone to be the lookout, because, truly, the leopards were serious around there. The rock hyraxes started whirring and screaming at dark, and soon after the leopards were hunting them, or sniffing around for food that might have been left outside. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>The final day of climbing we got into beautiful country. We followed a stream through a meadow that was less boggy than most, climbed through the giant groundsels and lobelia, looked down on spectacular views to see just how far we had come. We arrived at Bijuku Hut, close to beautiful Bijuku Lake lying beneath and between Mt. Stanley, Mt. Speke, and Mt. Baker. We finally glimpsed those famous peaks. They were still partly hiding from view, because of the mists that continually drift over them.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>Mountain top with glacier<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal align=center style='text-align:center;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>Though there was a hut for the porters on top, only Zed and one other chose to stay on that last leg with us. The others left us when we came to a Sulphur hot springs where occasional bubbles of gas were seen as spirits warning them to go no higher. Several climbers had died of high altitude pneumonia above that point. The believers spent their time in a large rock cave until we were ready to descend. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>We made it by 2:00 and when Paddy and I arrived, the sun was shining warmly. The boys had spread the bedrolls to dry, made tea, and were about to leave for a short hike while Paddy and I organized the hut for our next two-and-a-half days. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal align=center style='text-align:center;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal align=center style='text-align:center;line-height:115%'><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shape id="Picture_x0020_8" o:spid="_x0000_s1033" type="#_x0000_t75" style='position:absolute;left:0;text-align:left;margin-left:0;margin-top:0;width:193.95pt;height:150.05pt;z-index:251670528;visibility:visible;mso-wrap-style:square;mso-width-percent:0;mso-height-percent:0;mso-wrap-distance-left:9pt;mso-wrap-distance-top:0;mso-wrap-distance-right:9pt;mso-wrap-distance-bottom:0;mso-position-horizontal:left;mso-position-horizontal-relative:margin;mso-position-vertical:top;mso-position-vertical-relative:margin;mso-width-percent:0;mso-height-percent:0;mso-width-relative:page;mso-height-relative:page'>
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</v:shape><![endif]--><![if !vml]><img width=259 height=200 src="cid:image050.jpg@01D54615.C68DB190" align=left hspace=12 v:shapes="Picture_x0020_8"><![endif]><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal align=center style='text-align:center;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>Phil, Jackie, Zed, and a porter on top drying bedrolls.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal align=center style='text-align:center;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>This hut was luxurious compared to the others. Eighteen could have slept there. It was lined by two levels of shelves, foam padded for our sleeping bags. There were shelves for all of the foodstuffs, pegs for hanging clothes, a stove that actually worked, with a drying rack above it. We had a big brown rat that scurried around exploring. Before we left, I could hand-feed him. I never thought I could like a rat, but he was beautifully soft, walnut brown, friendly and with the sweetest expression. Tim felt like I did, I guess, because when Paddy lifted a shovel to bang him we both stopped her.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>Paddy had a bad first night, convinced that the rat was running across her sleeping bag. She must have moved three times. Phil was on the top level and by morning was convinced that stove and lantern fumes were asphyxiating him, so he moved. We suffered some headaches and nausea, but nothing like the altitude sickness we had been led to expect. Tim, of course, didn’t get sick, and even when it was snowing he used only one of his sleeping bags. About this time I was thinking I trained wrong. I should have drunk eight beers a night instead of climbing the Rock. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>I vowed that night to try to keep my knee problem to myself, and offer to cook and tend the fire during the next two days. Come morning I could barely stand</span><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shape id="Picture_x0020_7" o:spid="_x0000_s1032" type="#_x0000_t75" style='position:absolute;left:0;text-align:left;margin-left:282.8pt;margin-top:386.6pt;width:184.85pt;height:151.85pt;z-index:251671552;visibility:visible;mso-wrap-style:square;mso-width-percent:0;mso-height-percent:0;mso-wrap-distance-left:9pt;mso-wrap-distance-top:0;mso-wrap-distance-right:9pt;mso-wrap-distance-bottom:0;mso-position-horizontal:absolute;mso-position-horizontal-relative:margin;mso-position-vertical:absolute;mso-position-vertical-relative:margin;mso-width-percent:0;mso-height-percent:0;mso-width-relative:page;mso-height-relative:page'>
<v:imagedata src="cid:image025.jpg@01D54613.CAD81760" o:title="" />
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</v:shape><![endif]--><![if !vml]><img width=246 height=202 src="cid:image051.jpg@01D54615.C68DB190" align=left hspace=12 v:shapes="Picture_x0020_7"><![endif]><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'> but the thought of them climbing to Speke Glacier without me was intolerable, so I didn’t say anything and went. This was our real climb. We weren’t equipped for true mountain or glacier climbing, but in places during this day we were doing both. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>Zed would drive his ice axe hard against a rock to give me a foot- or handhold where there was none. There were places where I was sure if we got up, we could never get down again. Finally after four rugged hours we were standing between Speke Glacier and Grant Glacier at a point where we should have been able to look far out into the Congo. It was world’s end because we were in the heaviest mist and there was nothingness on all sides of us. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal align=right style='text-align:right;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>Phil and Paddy, real mountain climbing<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal align=center style='text-align:center;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal align=center style='text-align:center;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal align=center style='text-align:center;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal align=center style='text-align:center;line-height:115%'><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shape id="Picture_x0020_6" o:spid="_x0000_s1031" type="#_x0000_t75" style='position:absolute;left:0;text-align:left;margin-left:135.55pt;margin-top:0;width:186.75pt;height:2in;z-index:251672576;visibility:visible;mso-wrap-style:square;mso-width-percent:0;mso-height-percent:0;mso-wrap-distance-left:9pt;mso-wrap-distance-top:0;mso-wrap-distance-right:9pt;mso-wrap-distance-bottom:0;mso-position-horizontal:right;mso-position-horizontal-relative:margin;mso-position-vertical:top;mso-position-vertical-relative:margin;mso-width-percent:0;mso-height-percent:0;mso-width-relative:page;mso-height-relative:page'>
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</v:shape><![endif]--><![if !vml]><img width=249 height=192 src="cid:image052.jpg@01D54615.C68DB190" align=right hspace=12 v:shapes="Picture_x0020_6"><![endif]><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal align=center style='text-align:center;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal align=right style='text-align:right;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>Tim, Jackie, Paddy, Phil on the top - “World’s End”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal align=center style='text-align:center;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>We could not take one step farther. We waited perhaps 20 minutes for it to clear and then started back. Suddenly Speke Glacier cleared, and I got a picture of it.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:.5in;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:.5in;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>Speke Glacier<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal align=center style='text-align:center;line-height:115%'><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shape id="Picture_x0020_5" o:spid="_x0000_s1030" type="#_x0000_t75" style='position:absolute;left:0;text-align:left;margin-left:0;margin-top:180pt;width:169.4pt;height:148.5pt;z-index:251673600;visibility:visible;mso-wrap-style:square;mso-width-percent:0;mso-height-percent:0;mso-wrap-distance-left:9pt;mso-wrap-distance-top:0;mso-wrap-distance-right:9pt;mso-wrap-distance-bottom:0;mso-position-horizontal:left;mso-position-horizontal-relative:margin;mso-position-vertical:absolute;mso-position-vertical-relative:margin;mso-width-percent:0;mso-height-percent:0;mso-width-relative:page;mso-height-relative:page'>
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</v:shape><![endif]--><![if !vml]><img width=226 height=198 src="cid:image053.jpg@01D54615.C68DB190" align=left hspace=12 v:shapes="Picture_x0020_5"><![endif]><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>Turning around, I could see two other mountain tops with their glaciers, but I was not sure which ones they were.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal align=center style='text-align:center;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal align=right style='text-align:right;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>Mountain top clearing through the mist<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='line-height:115%'><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shape id="Picture_x0020_4" o:spid="_x0000_s1029" type="#_x0000_t75" style='position:absolute;margin-left:288.4pt;margin-top:289.55pt;width:176.55pt;height:137.25pt;z-index:251674624;visibility:visible;mso-wrap-style:square;mso-width-percent:0;mso-height-percent:0;mso-wrap-distance-left:9pt;mso-wrap-distance-top:0;mso-wrap-distance-right:9pt;mso-wrap-distance-bottom:0;mso-position-horizontal:absolute;mso-position-horizontal-relative:margin;mso-position-vertical:absolute;mso-position-vertical-relative:margin;mso-width-percent:0;mso-height-percent:0;mso-width-relative:page;mso-height-relative:page'>
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</v:shape><![endif]--><![if !vml]><img width=235 height=183 src="cid:image054.jpg@01D54615.C68DB190" align=left hspace=12 v:shapes="Picture_x0020_4"><![endif]><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>I don’t know what to say about this climb. It made everything worthwhile. Each aching step was sheer exhilaration. What you go up, you somehow can manage to come down. Zed was marvelous — never a misstep. Paddy without her toenails was taking miraculous chances and making it, just like a mountain goat. Phil and Tim helped us until we were out of the most dangerous parts before they forged ahead. Somehow we became a group that day where we had only been individuals before. <span style='color:black'>Ten days of grueling physical trials have a way of meshing the individuals into a team and causing differences to fall away.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>That night was hell on wheels for me. I gobbled aspirin, put pressure bandages around my knees, and realized I’d never get down if I didn’t take care. The next day Paddy, Phil and Tim climbed to Scott Elliott Pass, which is the break between Mt. Stanley and Mt. Baker. That’s the way you would take if you were to come down the mountain using only the rock-shelter route instead of the huts. However, because you hit snow, you must go with no porters as they are not trained in snow climbing. Tim would have liked to go down that way if he could have talked a porter into it, but I guess he decided to stick with us because of lack of knowledge about the other route.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>We were really sad to leave Bijuku hut. I’d had a wonderful day by myself tending the fire, fixing a feast, feeding the rat, and getting things ready to pack. I started off on my own very early the morning we left. Soon I got cold feet, and got lost in the bog, so I waited for Paddy. She had decided that she was not going to lag behind the men. We planned to go down in two days, whereas we had taken three to get up. Our first night was to be past Bigo and into Nyamuleju, where we had eaten our lunch on the trip up. I pushed myself like I had never pushed before to keep up with Paddy. As soon as Zed came up behind me I gave up and just enjoyed the descent. I took all of the pictures I didn’t have time for on the way up. We found an easier place to cross the river. I somehow developed a second sense about the bog and didn’t make any missteps. I was only a bit behind the group when we hit Bigo. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>I informed them not to worry — I was going to take my time down to our overnight hut. I was having a lot of trouble with my knees and trying to avoid bending them which really made for awkward climbing. Phil was unhappy about the prospect of Nyamuleju hut for an overnight and would have tried to make the next hut, but for my problem. Still he was happy that we were on schedule. I was in a world of my own with Zed. I was his charge by now, and he really didn’t seem to mind. I had one spectacular fall on my backside, and was mud from my neck down to my heels when I creaked into Nyamuleju an hour later than everyone. Phil got a good laugh. He took my picture when I’d turned my back.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>Dusk was upon us. I was freezing and needed a change into clean dry things. All three of them were sitting and cooking on the other side of the stove. I quietly started changing in the back of the hut. When I was changing my underpants, balancing on one foot, I lost my balance momentarily, regained it on the same foot just as a bone snapped like a pistol shot. I heard it, felt it, and couldn’t believe it, all in an instant. For gosh sakes, I’d climbed up to Speke Glacier. How could I break a foot doing nothing?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>I managed to finish changing and sat on the edge of the bunk for ten minutes. The others had apparently been making too much noise to hear it. I couldn’t think of a way around telling them, so I just blurted it out. “I seem to have broken my foot.” There was dead silence, then Tim said, “What the hell are you talking about? You walked in here in one piece.” He came over, looked at it, felt it, and said very kindly, “You do not have a broken bone.” I decided to believe him, stood up and could not take a step. A quiet gloom settled upon everyone. I’m sure they were wondering if it was a put-on. I tried to figure out how to walk. I taped my whole foot tightly, then put on a pressure bandage, two socks, and my good leather boots for use only in the cabin. I tried to walk. I still couldn’t.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>I got my staff to use as a crutch. With Paddy’s help I managed to make it around the corner of the cabin. By the time I got back in we had all relaxed a bit. Tim and Phil decided it was the funniest thing they had ever heard of. I think we all hoped it would go away by morning. At least we would sleep on it to see what we should do. I had to cut the tape during the night because my foot started to swell and my toes were turning numb. I spent a sleepless night deciding what I would do, and I awoke to do it.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>I was having no one carry me over that suspension bridge, so I had no choice but to get myself down. I would start early with Zed. They all had other ideas, for me to stay there with Paddy while Phil went all the way down to Road’s End and dispatch porters to carry me out. It would mean another overnight with an entire day of waiting. I informed them I was going to walk out, and Paddy gave me hell. She said I could jeopardize all of them if I only made it halfway to the next hut. Then they wouldn’t be able to get me back or to the next one. So I made a deal. If I could make it the first hour on my own, they’d let me go. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>In the meantime, Phil went straight down and Paddy started for the first hut. Tim and Zed stayed one on either side of me. I’d taped my foot again and fixed it the same as the night before. I somehow got it tight in the boot, which I sewed on with fishline as tight as it would go. This was support against displacement, and so the boot wouldn’t come off in the muck. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>The first hour was a nightmare of pain. Two things got me through. One was Lawrence of Arabia’s saying, “It isn’t the pain, it’s learning not to care about the pain.” The other was the image of that suspension bridge with four porters, a stretcher, and me helpless in someone else’s hands. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shape id="Picture_x0020_3" o:spid="_x0000_s1028" type="#_x0000_t75" style='position:absolute;left:0;text-align:left;margin-left:-.05pt;margin-top:242.15pt;width:172.5pt;height:134.25pt;z-index:251675648;visibility:visible;mso-wrap-style:square;mso-width-percent:0;mso-height-percent:0;mso-wrap-distance-left:9pt;mso-wrap-distance-top:0;mso-wrap-distance-right:9pt;mso-wrap-distance-bottom:0;mso-position-horizontal:absolute;mso-position-horizontal-relative:margin;mso-position-vertical:absolute;mso-position-vertical-relative:margin;mso-width-percent:0;mso-height-percent:0;mso-width-relative:page;mso-height-relative:page'>
<v:imagedata src="cid:image033.jpg@01D54613.CAD81760" o:title="" />
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</v:shape><![endif]--><![if !vml]><img width=230 height=179 src="cid:image055.jpg@01D54615.C68DB190" align=left hspace=12 v:shapes="Picture_x0020_3"><![endif]><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>At the end of an hour I’d learned I had to take the right hand side of the path, for if I slanted my foot the wrong way, I’d almost pass out. I had more gimmicks worked out than you could believe, and I knew I’d make it somehow. Tim and I got to be buddies on this stretch. He never left my side. When I’d start to break down he told me about all the botanical wonders we were passing, for he knew the names of all the plants. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>Looking up while struggling down<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal align=center style='text-align:center;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>I had a terrible time with nausea. Tim said I could rest when I was a fourth of the way there. I could have a drink when I was beyond the next curve. He was more fun than a barrel of monkeys (which were not in a barrel but in the trees watching us.)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>Twice, when taking the right hand side of the path, I went head-over-heels, held just by vines twined around my right foot. Zed and Tim pulled me back upright. I knew Tim dreaded the bridge, but I was looking forward to it. Once past that, I would feel home free.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>It was a long day, and I’ll never forget it, nor do I want to. I suppose it was during those eight hours that I put to rest doubts any of them could have had about my fitness and guts. I learned a lot about a young man I had thought was a worthless alcoholic. I found him to be kind, intelligent, full of humor and like the Rock of Gibraltar. When I made it across the bridge and met the porters coming with the stretcher, I knew Phil had done a superhuman job for me. Paddy was waiting in the hut with my bed made up, hot tea and soup, and a pan of hot water to bathe me. I was overcome. I didn’t let the porters carry me in and told them I would walk down the next day. Wisely, Paddy and Tim just settled them in for the night and told them to wait until morning.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>When I tried to get up, I could not move. I had swelled up like a balloon. My eyes were slits. My knees and ankles were so swollen I had to wear shorts. I couldn’t get any shoe on my foot except one of Tim’s. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shape id="Picture_x0020_2" o:spid="_x0000_s1027" type="#_x0000_t75" style='position:absolute;left:0;text-align:left;margin-left:0;margin-top:79.9pt;width:179.6pt;height:135.75pt;z-index:251676672;visibility:visible;mso-wrap-style:square;mso-width-percent:0;mso-height-percent:0;mso-wrap-distance-left:9pt;mso-wrap-distance-top:0;mso-wrap-distance-right:9pt;mso-wrap-distance-bottom:0;mso-position-horizontal:left;mso-position-horizontal-relative:margin;mso-position-vertical:absolute;mso-position-vertical-relative:margin;mso-width-percent:0;mso-height-percent:0;mso-width-relative:page;mso-height-relative:page'>
<v:imagedata src="cid:image035.jpg@01D54613.CAD81760" o:title="" />
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</v:shape><![endif]--><![if !vml]><img width=239 height=181 src="cid:image056.jpg@01D54615.C68DB190" align=left hspace=12 v:shapes="Picture_x0020_2"><![endif]><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>The porters got the sling ready. The only way to describe it is to imagine the way they carry a tiger from a hunt — with his front and hind paws tied to a pole. They tied a length of unbleached muslin to the pole at each end. Then they lowered it and I was slung into it. I clutched the pole with my hands and between my knees. Off we went. There was too much sway so they stopped, ripped a potato sack in a wide strip, tied it around my hips to the pole, and we were off again.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:.5in;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>Jackie in the sling<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>To this day I don’t know how I had made the climb from the river to that hut the day before. That day had taken me eight long hours, and we got there just before dusk. There was one tall, worried young porter who would trot for some distance, leave his load, and come back to take Tim’s place, take my hand and literally pull me along. We had all the strength of the world in that handclasp, and I had grown to trust him as much as I did Zed. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>When they started carrying me through the truly bad parts, where it was a single-file pathway, with those steep angles up and down, he and Zed would get at the front and back of the pole. I could always tell who took over when they changed hands, from the gait of the men. Zed would carry until I could actually feel the quiver of his muscles coming through the pole. You can’t imagine the strain it must have been on those men until you have tried to climb that path alone, carrying nothing. The purpose of the pole is to allow several men on either side to help heave it up over steep places using only one hand so they can help hold on and climb with the other. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shape id="Picture_x0020_1" o:spid="_x0000_s1026" type="#_x0000_t75" style='position:absolute;left:0;text-align:left;margin-left:284.65pt;margin-top:429pt;width:173.85pt;height:135.75pt;z-index:251677696;visibility:visible;mso-wrap-style:square;mso-width-percent:0;mso-height-percent:0;mso-wrap-distance-left:9pt;mso-wrap-distance-top:0;mso-wrap-distance-right:9pt;mso-wrap-distance-bottom:0;mso-position-horizontal:absolute;mso-position-horizontal-relative:margin;mso-position-vertical:absolute;mso-position-vertical-relative:margin;mso-width-percent:0;mso-height-percent:0;mso-width-relative:page;mso-height-relative:page'>
<v:imagedata src="cid:image037.jpg@01D54613.CAD81760" o:title="" />
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</v:shape><![endif]--><![if !vml]><img width=232 height=1 src="cid:image057.jpg@01D54615.C68DB190" align=left hspace=12 v:shapes="Picture_x0020_1"><![endif]><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>My first hours in the sling I was terrified. As often as possible they would turn me so I wasn’t going down the steep incline head first but sometimes they couldn’t. I started to realize that they were going to extraordinary lengths to keep my backside off the rocks. Slowly I began to trust them all, relax and enjoy looking at the beautiful sky through all kinds of intriguing foliage. I had seen the Ruwenzories from the top down, and now I was seeing them from the underside up. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal align=center style='margin-left:3.5in;text-align:center;text-indent:.5in;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>A Tarzan trail<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>At every stop Paddy would swab my face with cool water, and give me my canteen. I drank pints of water on the way down. I didn’t need to hold on. She tied my knees together so I didn’t have to put pressure on them. Tim carried my camera and took pictures of the proceedings.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>Finally we reached the flats and the porters broke into their famous dog trot as rain started pouring down. They dropped me only once when the porter at my feet slipped in the mud, went down, and pulled the one at my head off balance. Fortunately I wasn’t hurt. Instead of walking the narrow log, all eight of them forded the river holding me up high.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>When we got to the bottom, we all went into a little tin hut. The 16 porters, plus every extra tribesman who could fit, squatted down in a circle around the edge as Zed untied me and lifted off the pole. Paddy whispered urgently, “Jackie, sit up!” Finally I got into a sitting position, managed a grin and said “Thank you” to all of them, then the tension relaxed and they all started laughing and joking. They had gotten Memsaab down safely. My next desperate whisper to Paddy was, “I’ve got to go.” She whispered, “You can’t. Look outside.” The entire village of men, women and children were abuzz and trying to peer into the hut. When you’ve been tied to a pole for eight hours it really doesn’t matter who is around, so I told Paddy it was about time they saw how a Muzungu lady did it. She would have to drag me out with my staff. As we went through the door I said, “Shoo,” and waved my arm off to the right. We veered left around the hut and, believe it or not, I had my moment of privacy.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>Phil arrived with the car, and Paddy and I waited while he and Tim paid everyone. They were in there for an hour, and all of a sudden they were in the car and Phil gunned the motor. One of the porters had become “kali,” which is angry, because he thought he wasn’t treated fairly. Phil said he paid them all what had been agreed on, plus a tip for Zed. He paid extra to the young boy who helped me and the boy who washed our boots. Whether he wrote in their work books I don’t know. I do know that I had turned all of my money over to Phil, and was helpless to do anything. I might have tipped more because it was me they saved. How much is one’s life worth? I’d have distributed all of my money among them, but that would have made it hard for the next climbing group.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>We went straight to the club in Fort Portal to find the best hospital. We were sent to the Catholic hospital, where they had an X-ray unit. It was Sunday, the gates were locked, and there was no doctor or X-ray technician available. I opted to go to Phil’s friends’ house to sleep, and return to Tororo next day for help. The meal Paddy fixed that night was the best I ever ate in my life. Sausages, eggs, French fries, broiled tomatoes and toast. I knew I had lost ten pounds over those ten days, at least. They put me to bed with a pain pill, and went to a movie at the club.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>Monday morning, I was all doped up as we took off to Tororo. Dr. Kim told us that the X-ray machine had stopped working and they shipped it to Kampala, along with the technician. He wrote an order for Mbale hospital, and I went through my fourth night with a broken foot. The doctor was concerned because the swelling was so bad that perhaps more than my foot was injured. The next day in Mbale he X-rayed both ankles and both knees as well as my foot. However, only the outside long bone of my foot was broken and there was no displacement. The severe swelling was caused by straining all of my joints to compensate for the bad foot. Back in Tororo they finally put on a cast. They gave me no medication, only said to keep my feet and legs elevated. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-indent:13.7pt;line-height:115%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman",serif'>That brings me back to where I started. The next day my fame had spread throughout Western Uganda as the girl who climbed to Speke Glacier, then broke her foot changing her knickers!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Arial",sans-serif'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='color:#1F497D'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='color:#1F497D'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Arial",sans-serif;color:#1F497D'>Jacqueline Williams<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Arial",sans-serif;color:#1F497D'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Arial",sans-serif;color:#1F497D'>Clarity is just questioning having eaten its fill.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Arial",sans-serif;color:#1F497D'> Jenny Xie<o:p></o:p></span></p></div><p class=MsoNormal><span style='color:#1F497D'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div><div style='border:none;border-top:solid #E1E1E1 1.0pt;padding:3.0pt 0in 0in 0in'><p class=MsoNormal><b>From:</b> Stylist [mailto:stylist-bounces@nfbnet.org] <b>On Behalf Of </b>Linda Lambert via Stylist<br><b>Sent:</b> Monday, July 29, 2019 12:10 PM<br><b>To:</b> 'Writers' Division Mailing List' <stylist@nfbnet.org><br><b>Cc:</b> llambert@zoominternet.net<br><b>Subject:</b> Re: [Stylist] Interview is now live -<o:p></o:p></p></div></div><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><span lang=EN-ZW>Jackie, I got the attachments but my screen reader cannot read them.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span lang=EN-ZW>They are secure documents and it won’t read them.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span lang=EN-ZW>If you can send them just as a Word document that would work – so sorry.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span lang=EN-ZW>Lynda<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span lang=EN-ZW><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div><div style='border:none;border-top:solid #E1E1E1 1.0pt;padding:3.0pt 0in 0in 0in'><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><b>From:</b> Stylist <<a href="mailto:stylist-bounces@nfbnet.org">stylist-bounces@nfbnet.org</a>> <b>On Behalf Of </b>Jackie via Stylist<br><b>Sent:</b> Monday, July 29, 2019 1:03 PM<br><b>To:</b> 'Writers' Division Mailing List' <<a href="mailto:stylist@nfbnet.org">stylist@nfbnet.org</a>><br><b>Cc:</b> Jackie <<a href="mailto:jackieleepoet@cox.net">jackieleepoet@cox.net</a>><br><b>Subject:</b> Re: [Stylist] Interview is now live -<o:p></o:p></p></div></div><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><span lang=EN-ZW><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><span style='color:#1F497D'>Lynda,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><span style='color:#1F497D'>Congratulations. I changed to Microsoft Edge as my browser, and JAWS goes dead in short intervals regularly. I could not get Shelley’s attachment either.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><span style='color:#1F497D'>What I head seemed like “Lynda” and true to your work ethics, and motivations. Also, I could see there was a colorful picture there, but could not see the details.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><span style='color:#1F497D'>Do enjoy your holiday from the pressures.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><span style='color:#1F497D'>Did you ever get my two attachments?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><span style='color:#1F497D'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Arial",sans-serif;color:#1F497D'>Jacqueline Williams<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Arial",sans-serif;color:#1F497D'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Arial",sans-serif;color:#1F497D'>Clarity is just questioning having eaten its fill.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Arial",sans-serif;color:#1F497D'> Jenny Xie<o:p></o:p></span></p></div><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><span style='color:#1F497D'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div><div style='border:none;border-top:solid #E1E1E1 1.0pt;padding:3.0pt 0in 0in 0in'><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><b>From:</b> Stylist [<a href="mailto:stylist-bounces@nfbnet.org">mailto:stylist-bounces@nfbnet.org</a>] <b>On Behalf Of </b>Linda Lambert via Stylist<br><b>Sent:</b> Sunday, July 28, 2019 10:13 AM<br><b>To:</b> 'Writers' Division Mailing List' <<a href="mailto:stylist@nfbnet.org">stylist@nfbnet.org</a>><br><b>Cc:</b> <a href="mailto:llambert@zoominternet.net">llambert@zoominternet.net</a><br><b>Subject:</b> Re: [Stylist] Interview is now live -<o:p></o:p></p></div></div><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><span lang=EN-ZW>Can you believe that July is on it’s way out the door?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><span lang=EN-ZW>My months have been flowing by so quickly I barely get my balance, and a new one pops up.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><span lang=EN-ZW><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><span lang=EN-ZW>Recently, I was asked by Janice Spina, to do an interview with her for her blog. I agreed, and this was the results from our conversation about writing and life in general. She wanted to release the interview as soon as my book was launched, and so she held off till last week – so she could be first in line to make the announcement and do the interview. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><span lang=EN-ZW><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><span lang=EN-ZW>You may find it here:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><span lang=EN-ZW><a href="https://jemsbooks.blog/2019/07/24/interview-with-author-poet-lynda-mckinney-lambert-and-her-new-book/">https://jemsbooks.blog/2019/07/24/interview-with-author-poet-lynda-mckinney-lambert-and-her-new-book/</a><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><span lang=EN-ZW><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><span lang=EN-ZW>meanwhile, I am having problems with my one blog – I am locked out of Walking by Inner Vision the past 2 days. I am hoping the woman who hosts my blog on her server can get it fixed. This has happened before a few times – and well, it does give me a break for a bit, but I’d really rather be blogging!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><span lang=EN-ZW><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><span lang=EN-ZW>It won’t be long until I get to begin working with Finishing Line Press as they are publishing my first chapbook<span style='color:red'>, first snow,</span> which will come out in the pre-sales in September and the official publication date will be in January. So, for this moment, I can work in my flower beds and play with my dogs and cats, and have some time-off from my schedule. I love it all! After I signed with FLP, I had another good offer from a different publisher who wanted it – but maybe, next time. I was very pleased that 2 publishers wanted to have my first chapbook – so I am certain there will be more coming in the future. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><span lang=EN-ZW><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><span lang=EN-ZW>Thanks and enjoy your day, wherever you are.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><span lang=EN-ZW>Lynda<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><span lang=EN-ZW><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><span lang=EN-ZW><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><span lang=EN-ZW style='font-family:"Arial",sans-serif;color:red'>Lynda’s Authors Page- Amazon:<a href="https://www.amazon.com/author/lyndalambert">https://www.amazon.com/author/lyndalambert</a> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><span lang=EN-ZW style='font-family:"Arial",sans-serif;color:red'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><span lang=EN-ZW style='font-family:"Arial",sans-serif;color:red'>Lynda’s Official Authors Page: <a href="http://www.dldbooks.com/lyndalambert/">http://www.dldbooks.com/lyndalambert/</a><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><b><i><span lang=EN-ZW style='font-family:"Arial",sans-serif;color:red'><o:p> </o:p></span></i></b></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><b><i><span lang=EN-ZW style='font-family:"Arial",sans-serif;color:red'><o:p> </o:p></span></i></b></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><b><i><span lang=EN-ZW style='font-family:"Arial",sans-serif;color:red'>Lynda’s 2 Blogs:<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><span lang=EN-ZW style='font-family:"Arial",sans-serif'><a href="http://www.lyndalambert.com/">Website & Blog</a>: Walking by Inner Vision – personal blog<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><span lang=EN-ZW style='font-family:"Arial",sans-serif'><a href="http://www.llambert363.blog/">Scan-A-Blog</a> – A quiet Place of Inspiration, Art, Nature, Literature<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><span lang=EN-ZW><o:p> </o:p></span></p></div></body></html>