Day 6: Base of Pic Imarivolanitra

Following a restful night we began the day by visting a local zebu market in Ambalavao. The market was bustling with locals stood around in crowds dressed in the traditional lamba (a wide colourful fabric wrap). The zebu are used for both a source of labour and meat and it was clear as they buyers examined them carefully before bargaining with owners that this was not a decision to be made lightly. Children skipped around and grinned shouting “madame, madame” with their hands open as they politely requested treats, saying “bonbon madame”. A local man shouted over to Hery in Malagasy while looking at me and I asked Hery to translate, he hesitated and giggled nervously saying “He asked if you are available to buy!” I laughed and looked over to the man as he chuckled sheepishly with his group of friends, he waved nervously and shouted “bonjour madame”. Before any sales were completed, we left the market and piled into 4X4 vehicles that would be needed to navigate the challenging road conditions of the route to the base of the mountain.

The mountain we’d be climbing is situated in Andringitra National Park, known as Madagascar’s Yosemite. It is a wonderland of granite peaks, rivers and waterfalls and a hotspot for biodiversity. The main attraction is Pic Imarivolanitra (2658m) – the highest climbable peak on the island, the name translating to “close to the sky”. The mountain is also referred to as Pic Boby for short, named after a dog that was reportedly summited before his owner, a Frenchman who was the first to summit the mountain in 1956. The dramatic silhouette, rugged beauty of the granite formations contrasting the lush greenery of the surrounding valleys and remoteness is captivating. To quote one of my friends I have 2 modes either “aggressively working” or “aggressively climbing hills”. I’ve been embarking on adventures with almost a sense of urgency for the last few years, purely because I have an endless list of challenges and desires I wish to fulfil. I find one adventure acts as the catalyst for the next and leaves me seeking higher altitudes, lower temperatures, more active volcanoes(!) and more remote wilderness. Climbing Pic Imarivolanitra appealed to me as it’s offers unique scenery and the ascent passes through rice paddies and villages, forests, meadow plateaus and granite outcrops. It also fits into my long-term ongoing project of climbing the highest peaks across the African continent. Life on an adventure is one of contrasts; the constant highs and lows, the elation and the despair, the excitement and the fear that entwine to build a rich tapestry of memories. From having a meltdown eating dried fish on a glacier, to running down ash caked slopes of an active volcano, attempting to unfreeze my eyelashes to see a caribou on a snowy summit and having a crisis with a stubborn husky that was unwilling to follow instructions while trying to admire the northern lights. The fear and admiration of seeing an Alaskan grizzly bear grazing on blueberries, the uncontrollable giggles when being repeatedly hit with a stinging leaf by a Shaman in the Amazon, learning to count to ten in Swahili while running down the dusty slopes of Kilimanjaro and the adrenaline fuelled chase of a tent up a windy Scottish hillside. These snapshots of adventure span the last 15 years of my life, and I am still experiencing the lasting glow and impact they have had on my life. My comfort zone has been broadened from living off dried food, carrying heavy packs in sub-zero temperatures and heat waves, digging my own toilet and sleeping in mountain caves and snow holes. Collectively these experiences have helped increase my confidence, develop resilience and a positive attitude that I try to utilise in life outside of adventures. I reflected on this as we headed towards the trailhead of the mountain and recognised that all too familiar feeling of anticipation bubble to the surface.

The 4x4 drive was exhilaring and I took deep breaths to keep the motion sickness at bay as we were knocked around while our skilful driving swerved around the bumps and cautiously crept across the unstable bridges. Occasionally the drivers would have to stop and retrieve wooden planks that they carried in the back of the vehicles to temporarily patch over the bridges, making them slightly more acceptable to cross. It certainly gave me sweaty palms and I attempted to avoid looking down at the sharp drop we would fall down if the driver made any misjudgements. Eventually we arrived to the beginning of the trail where our porters were already loading up their gear and heading to the first camp. Our chef prepared a buffet lunch which was by far the best food I had eaten on the trip so far, as Philibert handed us each a route map and pencil in order for us to follow his briefing. He explained the distance and duration of the coming 4 days, gear we should be carrying in our day packs and reassured us that he and his fellow guides would be willing to help with anything we needed so we should always ask for support if needed. I was delighted that we were given a map and folded it carefully, placing it inside my passport as if it held equal importance. I think my ultimate happy state is being gathered around a map of a mountain route, a mug of tea and pencil in hand, marking on campsites and points of significance as a man outlines factors such as minimum temperatures, elevation gain and daily distances – I can’t help but smile and feel excited!

Following the briefing we began the first section of the hike, a gentle amble through villages and rice paddies on the way to our first camp. We passed through a local market where people wore beautiful colourful clothes and sold fruits and vegetables. We walked on narrow stretches of dirt between the flooded rice fields and crossed streams and rivers on extremely narrow wooden planks. Fabrice was already in his element for his first time guiding on a mountain and offered his hand to anyone that needed assistance on the river crossings, smiling as he supported them and distracted them from their shaky legs. It was clear that Philibert and Jenoux were local celebrities in the area as children shouted their names and ran to them, cuddling their legs as they ruffled their hair. Here French is less widely spoken so “Salama” is the greeting from the locals along with a frantic enthusiastic wave and warm smile.

After a couple of hours in the rice paddy fields we began to ascend more steeply through a woodland trail where red bellied lemurs bounced through the trees, almost guiding us to the campsite. On arrival to the campsite, the porters had already set up our tents and a jug of fresh passion fruit juice and a plate of freshly roasted peanuts and dried plantain awaited us. The toilet was simply a hole in some wooden planks in a hut with a straw roof, with a beautiful view across the terraced land. Before dinner Jenoux led us into the forest with our headtorches on in search for nocturnal wildlife. He excitedly pointed out chameleons and a poisonous plant, translating the Malagasy name to “mother in law plant” as he cheekily giggled. Dinner was lovely, fresh vegetables from the morning market served with noodles followed by pineapple soaked in rum and vanilla. I climbed into the tent after a fun first section of the mountain and was looking forward to what lay ahead.