Blantyre Three Peaks Walk 1987
A first timer
remembers.....
A start in the dark at
5.15am from Blantyre club, with the dawn sky slowly lightening. Out went the 13
starters through Chilomoni on the way to Michiru. Venus as the morning star
shone on us just above a mountain crest and the sky reddened: soon it turned
orange and the sun rose as we reached the base of the mountain. The party was
already spreading out and forming into pairs or larger groups as we climbed.
Raoul Hunter, the 14th participant had joined us with a dramatic arrival,
driving fast past us as we left Blantyre, then leaving the car at the club and running
to catch us up. A breathless start. At the end of the day it was he and Roger
Davies and Adrian Cumberland however who were first in. On the last stretch to
the club they claim to have run it (witnesses??)
He sustained a
blistered foot during the day, which encouraged him to run and get it over
quicker. A bad foot had the opposite effect on Mike P who had to slow down and
hobble in last at around 5.00pm. In the late stages, there were four of us
together Jack Bannister, John Killick, Mike and I. The three of us however
lacked the courage to slow down (would we ever be able to start again?) so we
left Mike to his lone fate from Zingwangwa township onwards. During the whole
marathon I did myself run for a short time, but only early on near the Michiru
road when I thought I had taken a wrong turning! I was grateful for my week's
training beforehand, running in the hills behind Mzedi, which helped me to
complete the course.
On our way through
Chilomoni Township Simon le Gassicke lagged behind at first but later putting
on a burst of speed to pass us. In company with Mike Mossford I went through
the pine woods still feeling good and glad I had come. The first Three Peaks
you do is always a question mark will I be able to make it?? So far so good.
Frank and Iona Kippax were on hand at the meeting of the path and the car track
and Frank duly recorded us at the summit of Michiru. There was a jubilant mood
at the top - one down, only two to go but Jack managed to hit his head on the
black vanes of the trig point and spatter blood on his hair. I also stabbed my
head (what were we doing?) but didn't draw blood. A pleasant descent followed
(it was much harder on Ndirande and Soche) with Sarah Mossford in front of me,
she at 14 the youngest of the mad gang of us. The early morning light made the
tall mountain grasses gloriously orange as we passed through them head high, a
moment of vernal youth! Along the Michiru road we had breakfast, then took the
Swiya road to the outskirts of Blantyre, a city of Blantyre notice board
telling us where we were. In the company of the two Mikes and Sarah I enjoyed
the tramp along a brilliantly sunlit murram road winding up and down the last
slopes of Michiru. It would have been a good moment to quit while we were
ahead, but ..... no chance.
The track took us
through Swiya, the brick makers' village, at least in the dry season.
Production was in full swing, the wooden brick moulds being supplied by a gang
of youngsters passing mud and water to the moulder. Alongside this the puddling
(mixing earth and water) went on in mud wallows. In the Njerwa valley the brick
kilns stretched out in rows large oblong mounds, miniature pyramids made up
of thousands of bricks, the whole scene one of busy industry. Not like in
Zambia, said Mike P sardonically. Mike M in contrast had a theory about
brick-making it was just one stage in the erosion and regeneration of the
land here in Malawi, he said. When the soil would no longer grow crops, it was
made into bricks (with the help of some grass, therefore some wasteland was
needed). Then rainfall washed down the soil from the mountains (unprotected by
trees and vegetation), which filled the valleys. Crops could then again be
grown ... but after so many seasons the soil was exhausted and would not longer
grow crops .. so it was back to bricks again. A 'watertight' theory? To fire
the bricks of course much firewood is required and many trees of the rainforest
felled to provide it.
Because of the furious
pace set at the front and because she had no other teenager to talk to, Sarah M
was falling behind. Eventually she had to drop out at the Chileka road, sad for
her but she had made a valiant start. The rest of us carried on alongside the
railway line across the road and then across the bridge, keeping our heads down
to make sure we didn't put our feet in the gaps between the sleepers. Not a
time to look around and enjoy the view! We approached the Johnson's house,
marvellously sited as the land rises on the base of Ndirande mountain, and our
next pit stop. It looks across at the blue midday sleeping beauty of Michiru
and reminded me of the white Highlands in Kenya and the farms in particular at
the base of the Kinangop plateau above Naivasha (I last saw that in 1973). Here
on the lawn at the Johnson's we sat on chairs and ate dates from palms growing
in Thyolo. Another good moment to call it a day and .... go quietly home....
The climb up Ndirande
is a long one and the final section from the forest road directly up the wide
firebreak, a very long one. Adrian Cumberland is thought to have done this
section in 16 minutes; it took me more like 25 to 30 minutes. The gully route
takes you up a steep groove from 200 metres or so before it eases off and a
path is rejoined to take you to the summit. The sweat was fair dripping off us
as we went up the gully itself, I was in the lead of the second group by then,
the older participants. At the summit I had a genuine feeling of exhilaration
and delight after overcoming the obstacles on the way. It was like being in a crow's
nest, sheer sides all around. A Martial eagle floated into view spotted first
by John Killick. We watched it drift across the summit, huge wings outspread
and acknowledging but ignoring our massed presence. The Martial was close
enough to identify without binoculars. Some mocking comments were made in
connection with this eagle's name and the lack of a different kind of marshal
at the top of Ndirande. Hugh should have been there but hadn't made it.
Lunch next, half way
to Kamuzu view: we took only half an hour instead of the scheduled 45 minutes.
At this point there were two policemen, which Jack as organiser had asked for
as guards in case of 'incidents' involving us on the mountain, with thieves or
robbers. I chatted to them and one of them asked the immortal question
"What is the purpose of this walk?" No easy answer to that one, so I
told them it was to complete it. Touchι!! From Kamuzu view the descent was
straight down beside the power lines, a long grassy stretch being so slippery
that some of us took to bumsliding our way down. We were then on our way past
Nkolokoti township, home of 'ruffians', but we were met only with looks of
sleepy incomprehension. The track then led to Hynde dam and then on, after a
rest via the Limbe suburbs to the Radio dish. I mentally recorded all this, it
being my first Three Peaks, and fresh to the details.
On then to Soche and
our last peak. Through Grevillea Avenue and backstreet Limbe I walked and
talked with John Killick, the 'king of Mulanje' and at 59 the oldest participant
(I am writing this 17 years later when I am now older than John was at the
time, and I wonder if I could have done it myself at his age. I doubt it). Here
we had a final rendezvous before Soche and attention to Raoul Hunter's
blistered foot: he was feeling the pain. Since coming off Ndirande the lead had
been taken up by Anne Craig and Jane Ramsdale, the two remaining girls and they
set a cracking pace, always ahead of the schedule, 'floating along;' as Raoul
put it. This was repeated and became the sardonic comment on their
pace-setting. Anne was very fit and had the advantage of being one of the
youngest of the takers. From the radio dish I was again with Mike M and also
with Simon who set a serious pace as we went up the mountain. Luckily Mike insisted
on frequent short stops and that made hard work seem a little lighter. At the
summit Hugh was on site, but the younger group led by Anne and Adrian at once
set off down on the descent, just as we arrived at the huge rock dome.
The descent was 'free',
in other words in a general do it yourself direction with no special path in
mind. This was a running descent by the girls and their escorts while John K
slowed down and I kept him company. He was worried about incipient cramp coming
on, but it didn't and we were joined by the two back markers Jack and Mike P.
John and I were casting about slightly bemused for the right track but they
knew so we followed them, going to the left of 'Long Live Kamuzu' spelt out on
the hill. At our next stop, Chimwankhunda dam, the three splendid support
ladies, Janet B, Edith Meiras and Evelyn, the pensioner nurse, were on hand to
feed and water us. Then it was on your own for the last stretch.
Tired legs bore us via
a 'short cut' through someone's back yard in Zingwangwa. Here we heard another
classic remark as we passed three large and gaily dressed Malawian ladies
"Are you passing through?" I can make no sensible or polite answer to
this, nor could then! Mike P was by then falling behind but the other three of
us stumbled on, Jack being met delightfully by his son and daughter on their
bikes, and they made cheerful jokes about his sore knee and slowing pace. On
then through the Saturday afternoon crowd of citizens taking the air, down and
UP Victoria Avenue to Blantyre club. I just managed to avoid an OPEN manhole on
the pavement, the cover removed I felt in order to let me fall into it! This
was some 50 yards away from the gate to Blantyre club, a nasty test when you
are on your last legs.
Tea at last on the khonde
at the club. Everyone was deservedly jubilant and when Mike P hobbled in ten
minutes later we gave him much applause. The sun was setting with the same
orange and then red we had witnessed in the morning, a suitable seal on the
day. A sliver of new moon hung low in the sky, a symbol of content for tired
but happy three-peakers. I did the Blantyre Three Peaks on four subsequent
occasions but the first time is like no other, and I remember it now as I
reread my journal with the same sense of contentment I felt then at having done
something worth doing. The other walkers I haven't mentioned, no fault of
theirs or mine were Roger Davies, Andy Crabb, and John Herbst.
Peter 'Up the Down'
Tolhurst
©
WDYFO, 2005