Karanga Valley

Notes from Karanga Camp, Kilimanjaro

I carry a small notebook in my shirt pocket when I travel. I scribble in it furiously. These notes are the starting point for many of the stories and POTDs that appear in Bible Land Explorer.

The following observations and reflections were made on the afternoon of July 22, 2019. On that day I reached Karanga Camp (elevation 12,992 feet) by foot. The camp rests directly under the peak of the Kilimanjaro.


The afternoon siesta gave me opportunity to recharge (watch and camera and self).

The resupply group arrived from Moshi. We’ll see what dinner holds. Lunch was ugali (corn fufu) and spinach with fruit on the side. I don’t see the appeal of ugali. Starch balls. Ugh!

The porters lounged . . . perched on rocks like lizards soaking up the sun.

White-necked ravens hunted hikers’ crumbs or tidbits from the dishwashing station. When one finds something he gobbles it up or tries to carry it off. The others pursue him, zooming through the tents and rocks of the camp in a mad game of Top-Gun.

It’s not the most comfortable napping spot on the mountain, but the view is without rival. Kibo, the central cauldron of Kilimanjaro, rises in all its fuming glory.

It’s not the most comfortable napping spot on the mountain, but the view is without rival. Kibo, the central cauldron of Kilimanjaro, rises in all its fuming glory.

I reclined on a rock and studied the mountain. It leans over me frosty and blue . . . glaciers creep downslope like icy fingers . . . lines in the talus below suggest watercourses or paths where boulders or ice chunks have tumbled down. From this side it seems unassailable.

Patches of small clouds passed. Their shadow gave momentary relief to the eyes. The sun is so bright up here.

I tried photographing the ravens and the moorland chats flitting about. The chats are drab little birds from the flycatcher family. They are friendly and funny when they puff out their feathers. Look like fuzzy tennis balls. This must be some heat-saving tactic.

I lay on the rocks in the sun and rested a long time.

Chef Julius gives me a dinner preview. All meals are prepared on this propane stove. At night, the dirt-floored mess tent converts to sleeping space for Julius and several of the porters.

Chef Julius gives me a dinner preview. All meals are prepared on this propane stove. At night, the dirt-floored mess tent converts to sleeping space for Julius and several of the porters.

I heard Julius was working in the mess (tent). He was carrying on a fierce conversation with two or three others.

I stopped in to see what was cooking. They seemed happy to see me and show off their work. They invited me into the tent. I thanked kindly but stayed in the door (in part, because there is no room inside and because it must have been 150 degrees in there!). Julius pulled alum foil and a lid from the top of a pot so I could see sizzling veggies inside. The lid was scalding. He juggled it between his fingers. I told him to be careful or he will never play the piano again. Laughter erupted in the tent. We chatted awhile. I eventually excused myself. From my tent I could hear them continuing to chatter in Swahili (or is it Chagga?) occasionally inserting the (English) word “piano.” Each time they said it, the laughter would repeat itself.

Back in my tent, the music of John Denver’s “Rocky Mountain High” drifted by. In East Africa? Now that’s hilarious.

A blanket of clouds swaddled the mountain. Meru is visible on the horizon to the right. Photograph by Bryan, a member of our Kandoo Adventures team.

A blanket of clouds swaddled the mountain. Meru is visible on the horizon to the right. Photograph by Bryan, a member of our Kandoo Adventures team.

Moshi was not visible below—low clouds swaddled the mountain. Only Meru (the fifth highest peak in Africa at 14,967 feet) had the strength to raise its dark head above this woolly blanket.


Darkness settled over the Karanga Camp. We embraced it. It will likely be our last full night of sleep. Tomorrow we make for Barufu Camp (15,239 feet). We will nap for part of the night there, then begin our summit bid.


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Mush balls

Mush balls

West African fufu has a an unusual odor and taste. And that's just the upper end of the experience. This is why I shuddered when they brought in the East African ugali.