Lost

With our trip wrapping up soon, Chris, Brad and I took one last adventure. Like just about everything on this trip, it was obviously bound to shift off course.

Early on in our trip planning, we'd come across Mlilwane Wildlife Sanctuary; though it lacks the complete "Big 5" (only home to Leopard... no Lion, Elephant, Rhino, or Buffalo there), its picturesque scenery and fantastic hiking make Mlilwane the most popular park in Swaziland. We took a taxi (also a new experience for the trip... we were all a little confused when our cab driver showed up with a friend sitting shotgun) about 30 minutes east of Manzini into the Ezulwini Valley. The cab dropped us off at the reception gate (a small building containing a desk where we paid the entrance fee and a small museum on the history of conservation in Swaziland), and the adventure began.

We split out from the reception gate into the park on foot; while there was no chance of, say, a lion popping out of the brush, since we spent nearly all of our time in Africa on safari in vehicles or with a guide, it was pretty thrilling to be walking down the hard red clay of the dirt road with zebra, impala, nyala, blesbok, and wildebeest in the plains surrounding us. In the distance, our destination, the "Rock of Execution", awaited us. In the distant past, according to what I found, those convicted of crimes against the king were marched (by spear point) to the top, and thrown off, plummeting to their death.

We should have known that we were in trouble from the start, when we struggled to find the first rest camp where we would be picking up our map. In our defense, the tracks are not marked, and with a Swazi accent, it's impossible to distinguish whether or not the clerk said to turn left at the "white" or "wide" intersection (and we came to some of both). After a couple gut decisions, we managed to stumble in to camp. We rented the map that showed the path to the top (which was only partially useful, and as we set out, the camp guide told us they'd send help if we weren't back by dark... turned out to be less of a joke than we thought.

Map in hand, we confidently continued our trek into the park. First stop was a large hippo pool, where we spotted a few basking hippos, as well as a few crocs and good numbers of birds. Anxious to climb, we pushed forward, entering a large stand of eucalyptus (to protect our manhood, I'll go ahead and pretend that the three of us didn't talk about how nice the air smelled). The habitats continued to shift as we walked, and we coursed through cool, wet forest, weaving through breaks between boulders and scampering up hillsides. As we moved up in elevation, the foilage reflected the much more arid conditions, with the land taken over by dry grasses and aloe plants.

As we became closer and closer to the top of the mountain, we encountered a number of animals at very close range, including nyala and impala. Nothing scared Brad quite as much as the Rock Hyrax we encountered (an example of the oversized hampster to the left); as we rounded a bend, it scampered off of a rock into the brush, which sent him jumping back into Chris and I with a string of words that probably aren't blog appropriate. Despite Brad's shaken nerves, we pushed forwards, coming to a split in the trail, and the peak of our adventure.

The guide down at the rest camp advised us that the hike would be easy, with a trail marked by "rocks with footprints on them the entire way". While we figured we were on the right trail, in the 2 hours thus far we'd seen maybe 3 of those rocks. We came to a split in the trail, directly under the cliff face of the peak. One branch, thick with grass and brush, headed directly under the peak, though we couldn't really make our where it eventually went. The other worked behind the mountain, though was much clearer, and similar to the path we'd been hiking. We chose the second path, until we began hiking down (at a good decline) for about 10 minutes, wrapping behind the mountain. Deciding we were on the wrong trail, we turned back to try the second option. When that trail became even more treacherous, to the point where we weren't even sure if it was even a game trail, we retried the first path.

We headed back down the decline we'd just deemed the wrong path, assuming it had to be the right trail, given the state of our second option. We continued beating down the mountain, now moving away from the peak, and nowhere near where the map said we ought to be (not on any marked trail actually, and likely moving into the northern section of the park, where a guide is required). Eventually, we stopped, and I offered to peak a little further ahead on the trail to see if it looked promising. Committing the cardinal sin of wildnerness hiking, I lengthened this peek to a 20 minute exploration, moving out of hearing range of Chris and Brad, as I continued hopping to each new bend (each of which actually looked promising). The jungle grew thicker, and flocks of birds started exploding ahead of me as I walked (at least I hoped they spooked because of me).

I started to get pretty nervous; while Mlilwane doesn't have most of the more dangerous animals, and the mountainside wasn't going to be hosting any crocs or hippos, the habitat looked great for leopard. At one point, certain that Brad and Chris wouldn't hear me if I yelled, I pulled my switchblade out of my pocket and opened it. Why I didn't decide to turn back then, I don't know (seems like a sign), and how I thought I would defend myself with the 3.5 inch blade against whatever I thought was going to attack me, I have no idea, but it made me feel a little safer (though the most likely outcome was tripping and accidentally knifing myself). Eventually, I gave up and hustled back to Chris and Brad, and we again returned to the trail break. As we walked, the jokes we'd been making about having to spend the night on the mountain quickly disappeared as we became more and more nervous about our situation.

While Mlilwane doesn't have many predators, it does have its share of poisonous snakes; risk was low, since snakes are not very active this time of the year, but the tall grasses and thick brush we were now essentially wading through seemed like the perfect places for snakes to hide (and I HATE snakes, and I wasn't alone in that thought; at one point, Brad brushed a shrub, which made a hissing-like sound against his backpack, and he jumped back into us for the 2nd, but not last, time). After about 20 minutes of swimming through brush and monkeying over boulders, we came to the first sign that we were maybe on the right path: a rickety plank bridge, tacked to the side of a cliff, with a healthy drop beneath it. I'm not sure how it was supported, and I was really glad to be across it. The trail continued like this, thick brush, boulders, and the occassional rickety bridge, for about 45 minutes; determined to get to the top, but running our of daylight, we kept pushing.

Finally, we hit a sign that pointed to the summit. After another 15 minutes of heavy hiking, sometimes climbing up rock faces on all fours, we reached the peak. Exhaused, we sat on the edge, gobbled down PB and Js, and punished whatever water we had left. The hike was completely worth it (and the extra kms we added as well), as the view was spectacular; with the rock falling away on three sides (in the picture to the right, the brush visible beneath me are trees... it is quite a drop) the valley opened up on all sides of us, with the hippo pool visible in the distance. Swaziland's landscape is gorgeous, especially this time of the year, with brown and yellows of dried grass broken up by patches of green plants and trees, covering a very rugged horizon; the view from the Rock of Execution really captured that. With our time drawing to a close, we all thought it was a fitting end to our time here.

With only a few hours left until dark (the hike, from the main gate, took about 4.5 hours with our detours), we scampered back down the mountain. Obviously, the going was a lot quicker on the downslope. On the way down, we had a few good, close encounters with animals. Around one bend, a gorgeous female nyala was standing in the middle of the trail. We walked very slowly to pass it, and it tolerated us, continuing to feed at less than 10 feet while we watched. Soon, we made it back to the hippo pool. At one point, the trail curves down by the water; Brad, about 15 feet ahead, again turned, this time, running back towards us yelling. Chris and I both crouched, ready to react to whatever (we assumed, based on his reaction) was charging towards us (hippo?). It took us a second, with the trail clear, to make out the crocodile basking (peacefully) on the bank (oddly, this, even with the most dangerous animal, is the only of the three startles that we give Brad any flak for, and we do need to give him credit for being in front at all three of these points). The croc was a monster, looking to be at least 4 M in length. Naturally, being stupid, 20-something dudes, we crept closer to the beast to pose for pictures.

Eventually, we made our way back to the rest camp, were we turned in our maps, grabbed some more water, and rested our legs and backs while watching another hippo pool (this one packed with birds, including a heron rookery). Worried about the approaching dark, we started on the last leg of our walk, walking through the same woods and fields, filled with wildlife, while the sun sank behind the mountain we'd climbed behind us. Another (mis)adventure in the books, we taxied back to Manzini.