Madagascar 6 - Park Andringitra and Pic Immarloto...Pic Imaritooloo....Pic Boby!

Thought I'd had enough of slogging my pack up ridiculously big mountains I bet? Think again.

From Isalo I continued NorthEast to the considerably nicer Ambalavao. I really didn't know if this was a good move but geographically it's the closest town to the National Park Andringitra which features some amazing trekking and the opportunity to summit Madagascar's second highest peak 2643m per the guide book (2658 per the plaque and 2664 per the GPS altimiter).

I didn't really have an agenda except that I wanted to summit the peak, I wanted to not pay full solo trekking price and, once I found out about it I wanted visit the Zebu market where people march their zebu from all over the country to sell/buy or just chat about the latest zebu happenings.

I had to shop around a bit but managed to convince two of the local tour companies to get back to me later in the day so, as the taxi brousse had taken an unexpected two hour break in Ihosy for the driver to get a massage (or whatever) and it took me an while to sort out a hotel (even though it sometimes takes a while and sometimes costs a bit more - but not usually- I haven't yet made one advance hotel reservation except for the first one off the plane) I took an early dinner break.

Sitting there having a nice brouchette de zebu (the first of four straight) and a nice mini bottle of the local red wine (it had a maple leaf on the label so even though it was extremely average tasting I thought it best that I follow it up with another once I had some company). As I was finishing up a girl approached me and asked if I was looking for a group to go trekking. I said I was and we started chatting. A few minutes later another guy shows up and says the same thing. I waited nearly 2 full days at the guidebook recommended meeting place in Isalo and nothing. Now I'm at a random hotel that isn't even in the guide and apparantly all I had to do was order the local vintage red with an early dinner and we've got ourselves a group.

We sorted everything out and once again people were awed by my tenacity and willingness to voluntarily cary a ridiculously heavy pack over mountinous terrain. Though at this stage no one made reference to Chuck Norris and the shirt was really disgusting after three days of trekking in it. We managed to make our way to the park which, unlike Isalo, is in the middle of nowhere and is only accessible by quatre-par-quatre. But the sun was shining and we were all still on a high from having found a good group, me especially since the ultimate price paid was about 1/5th of the initial quote for me trekking solo.

Then two things happened: The first was, it started to rain. After 36 straight days of cloudless skys some big fluffy clouds were pushed up the leeward side (or is it windward) of the mountains and became big black ominous rainy clouds.

The second thing was that the Malagache trail system reared it's ugly head and started to beat me down as we ascended the 600ft from 1500 starting altitude to 2100 campsite altitude but hiking straight up a flight of stairs. Sure it's nice that they've gone to the trouble to arrange massive rocks in a sort of staircase up a mountainside but, as my storyboard drawing (not uploaded yet) illustrates, the preferred way to ascend a mountain when carrying a massive pack is in a nice meandering gradually inclining route. Not a straight line up the mountain. Fuck that was hard work. Our guide, also named David, kept really pissing me off too "Ca-va?" "Voulez-vous que je porte votre sac?" "Est-ce que je peux vous aider?"

"Listen mate, this is hard going, but I deliberately chose to carry this backpack because I'm training to climb a proper mountain in a few short weeks. If you fuckers could be bothered to carve out proper trails up your mountains I'd be able to keep up no problem. If you ask me how I'm doing one more time I will beat you until you won't be able to ask anyone anything ever again. Unless I tell you otherwise assume I'm fine. I know I'm going a bit slow but damit I was on time this morning, I waited for the car to get ready this (1hr) and for us to pick up the other group (.5hr) and for you guides to get your shit together at the park entrance (.5hr) so if it's getting dark that's your problem. I waited for you guys, to the extent it's necessary you can damn well wait for me."

I said all this with my eyes of course keeping my outward sunny disposition but man it was seriously hard work climbing stairs for 2 hours with a massive pack.


After a long 6 hour hike in the rain/fog/damp/drizzle we made camp and except for the fact that I was talked out of bringing my tent in favour if bringing a "two man" tent that actually turned out to be smaller than mine and much harder to set up, especially in the dark, I'd have another record time. At least the porters had hot water to drink (who needs tea bags anyway? When you're cold and wet you'll take what's on offer) and zebu brouchettes for dinner. Small ones but damn tasty ones.

Up early to climb to the summit I left the pack at the campsite as the staircase trail was just too steep (some of the steps were a good 2ft high!) but after all the recent heavy trekking I'd been doing this made me as spry as a baby lemur and I scrambled to the top with the front of the pack ( I actually had the stopwatch going but in my excitement at reaching the summit I forgot to stop it to check the time).

At the top we got to hear the story of why the peak is referred to as Pic Boby but is actually called something else. When a vazaha expedition team were charting the area in the twenties they decided that the first one to the top would get the mountain named after them. The expeditions pet dog Boby was the first one up. Subsequently the Malagache renamed it to, umj,; whatever it's called which I think means "Big ass staircase mountain that it is not recommended to take a heavy pack up lest your dog beats you to the top".

The knees and blisters got a bit of a serious workout on the descent but it's all part of the training. Once we got back to town and celebrated with a few beers and a zebu brouchette I was glad that I'd had such an intense stair climbing workout because that meant I could partake in all the zebu I wanted the next day at the market.
Photos: 1) Morning of the ascent. Now that I look at it I definitely notice a brotherly resemblance to Chuck Norris. 2) Rest stop at the top of the staircase. Man sitting and drinking water never felt so good. Note the pack is off and not in frame. 3) The group at the summit 1664m per Garmin. 4) DG at the zebu market "hmmm I like him but I've had zebu for three days in a row now I really think I should mix it up. Besides £150 seems a bit pricey. I'll give you 20 bucks for him. No? ok then, your loss.