Contemplating checking ‘hill slayer’ in the urban dictionary? You don’t have to. It’s my reference to miniature mountain slayers – it felt so good it couldn’t be wrong.
Now that we have the definition issue out of the way, let’s proceed to the events of September 28, 2023, as a multitude of excited tourists who took part in the Explore Bunyoro campaign, embarked on a tour of the Kibiro salt fields and hot springs in what was dubbed the “Kabalega Challenge”.
The Explore Bunyoro campaign is the fourth edition of the Explore Uganda- the Pearl of Africa series, Uganda’s official destination brand operated by the Uganda Tourism Board. It was preceded by Explore North, Explore West, and the inaugural Explore Elgon campaign.
Located on the eastern escarpment of the western branch of the East African Rift System, Kibiro covers the small peninsula below the escarpment and the land extending from the escarpment shoulder towards the east. Rising from an altitude of 620 m above sea level at the rift floor and Lake Albert to 1,100 m on the Rift shoulder, the steep ridge gave the hikers a run for their money in the unforgiving noon heat.
With the temperature of the area ranging between 32 – 38°C, even the downhill tread got people sweating as they navigated the rocky slope to the foot of the ridge that seemed never to come into sight.
The ridge roof offered a magical view of Lake Albert and for many, myself included, we were treated to the reality of optical illusion – we couldn’t tell whether the waters seemed to be curving up into the sky or vice-versa. Sounds confusing? Yeah, confusion is all I got initially. I couldn’t mark the horizon.
A Descent from Hell?
Adventure is fun and all but once the bus drivers received alerts to not move an inch further on the ridge, I knew we were headed for a daunting trek. My imagination, however, wasn’t one of people slipping and tripping on the rocky, dusty slope, wishing upon the stars for a tree to hold on to for a moment’s stability.
The descent exposed hikers with a weak sneaker game and checked Kampala dwellers whose workout plans faced their demise before they had a chance to exist.
“So those of us who are single, what are we going to do?” one of the hikers lamented as a couple – man supporting his lady by the hand and waist, navigated a tricky section on the ridge.
I can authoritatively tell you that the hike also brought out the best in the gentlemen, the worst in humans with wobbly knees, and the tormenting life of people who lack coordination. I mean, even with my ever so sturdy, rugged boots I had a couple of slips along the way! Thank heavens for colleagues who offered a hand before I suffered the embarrassment of a fall.
A Valley of Wonders
Once done with the heavily fractured, crosscutting rock joints, geothermal manifestations ushered us into the Kibiro Valley; hot springs with a faint smell of ammonia, soggy ground with hot water jets, water puddles heating up to 86.40 C, and of course the less amusing salt gardens.
Unlike at the Katwe Salt Lake where evaporation in the dry season makes the saline water of the lake to concentrate making a hyper solution that forms salt, salt extraction in the Kibiro field is done by evaporation crystallization. Salty soil is scrapped off the ground, heaped, and leached. The scam is boiled to a crystallization point to produce the ash salt.
The residual soil from leaching is then mixed with fresh soil to repeat the salt production process.
The other wonder of the Kibiro Valley is the almost infinity sandy beach that stretches across the shores of Lake Albert. Clear waters and a million colors of seashells – a paradise for swimmers and beach fanatics.
It was exhilarating to finally kick the boots off, roll the god-forsaken jeans to the knees, and feel the refreshing cool waters. I was a bit disappointed because I preferred a much cooler temperature but having endured the scorching sun in the hot springs, anything less torrid was a haven. The carefree souls dived straight in to cool their burning, sweat-stained bodies while reserved individuals snapped the moments away.
Nobody said the uphill climb would be easy but….
No measure of time at the beach would be long enough. We stretched every second, every fraction of the wave, and every crack in the laughter as we jumped for those iconic photos. We made every second count, after all, we wouldn’t have a provision to smile heartily once we started trekking up the ragged ridge.
A few minutes into the hike, the burning in the thighs started to creep in, hands lurched on the hips, backs slouching forward and eyes squinting at the mirage a distance away. On the far right, we could see the early birds making stopovers and catching a breather under the clear blue skies.
I would be lying if I said we didn’t envy them, even though they weren’t at the top yet. At that point, it occurred to my colleagues and I that while we were having the time of our lives at the beach, fellows were shortening their distance uphill. The gentlemen were all out of help to render; shirts were coming off – no cares about the back or belly fat or who saw. The ladies had it even rougher; wishing for underboob deodorant for those well-endowed in that department, beads of sweat forming on the cheekbones – what a waste of foundation!
The petite human beings had the nerve to slither in some snide comments about their counterparts’ sweaty backsides as the journey became less bearable by the minute.
Cohorts jumped on morale-boosting songs; “eh Bobi – Bobi, eh Kyagulanyi” worked the magic for a couple of minutes before the group made it around another sharp corner winding into yet a new incline.
Once we made it to the top of the hill where we so longed to be, our happiness was short-lived when we realized we were only halfway into the hike up. The songs had died down, water bottles had only a few mouthfuls left, the sun was beaming scornfully and there was no place to hide. Deforestation has left Kibiro bare, thanks to the rigorous salt extraction process that requires way too much heating.
It was time to make a decision and decide we did.
Boda Bodas to the Rescue
At this point – where legs shook with every step, throats so dry they ached, our summiting dreams came tumbling down and we had no business toying with death from exhaustion, literally.
“Do we really have to be heroes of this wretched Kabalega Challenge?” our thoughts ran in unison.
Yes, we wanted the medals but we needed the legs for the Hoima nightlife too. After all, where was the shame in being vulnerable? One motorcycle after another, we boarded with heavy sighs of relief.
The tricky part was, for a motorcycle to have the equilibrium it needed up on the hill, weight had to be concentrated on the front half. I personally didn’t have the weight to get this whole mathematics and physics going so I boarded with a colleague, equally less weighted.
Picture this; three people on a motorcycle but there is more space to accommodate another being. Every minute of the journey felt as unsafe as it looked, one miscalculated move and the front tyre would be up in the air. There was no room for mistakes and thank goodness, we made it to the top of the ridge.
Kibiro humbled many of us, but I am glad I dared to explore. Oh, did I mention that I got a silver medal too? Until next time, I am off to work on my hiking skills. You should too. Cheers to the hill slayers!
