To those who associate the name of the great African continent only
with visions of the steaming mangrove swamps of the west coast, the
luxuriant flower-carpets and grasses of the south, the trackless
sand-wastes of the north, and the undulating thirsty plains of ‘the
Bush,’ whose idea of Africa, indeed, may be summed up in three
words—sun, savages, and fever—to such, we say, it may be difficult to
accept the knowledge that snow-capped mountains exist in the very heart
of this dry and heat-engirdled land. But yet, there have been for ages,
strange tales of a wonderful mountain-mass in the tropical centre,
whose summit was perpetually covered with a mysterious substance which
the natives called ‘white salt.’ Now, as perpetual snow under the
equator was known only in Central America—nowhere else do mountains in
the tropics reach the snow-line—there did exist for ages incredulity
as to the existence of this alleged African Mont Blanc or Chimborazo.
The legend referring to it must have been known to the early Portuguese
travellers at least three centuries ago, for the Portuguese were at
Mombasa in the sixteenth century, and as Mombasa is within one hundred
and eighty miles of the mountain, and is the coast-limit of the
trade-route between it and the sea, they must have heard the stories of
the native and Arab traders. Others believed this Kilima-Njaro[1] to be
merely the legendary ‘Mountains of the Moon.’
The earliest authentic record of ‘discovery’ by a European is that
of Rebmann, a German missionary, who, on the 11th of May 1848, first
sighted the wonderful snowy dome. Baron Von der Decken, another German,
actually reached Kilima-Njaro in 1861, and stayed on its slopes for
some three months. On a second visit, Von der Decken ascended to a
height of ten thousand five hundred feet, although he did not reach
the snow. He was followed, in 1871, by an English missionary, the Rev.
Charles New, who made two journeys to Chaga—the native name for the
inhabited belt between three and seven thousand feet above the sea,
stretching round the mountain—and on the second occasion was robbed
and ill-used by Mandara, a native chief. Mr Joseph Thomson, after
making the journey _Through Masai-land_, of which he has published so
interesting an account, arrived at Kilima-Njaro in 1883. He journeyed
nearly all round the base of the mountain, but did not ascend more than
nine thousand feet. He also was robbed by Mandara.
It was reserved for Mr H. H. Johnston, F.R.G.S., to penetrate the
mysteries of the ‘Monarch of African Mountains,’ and to record his
experiences in a most interesting book, _The Kilima-Njaro Expedition_
(London: Kegan Paul). Mr Johnston’s experiences on the Congo qualified
him for African exploration; while his services to science in other
parts of the world, pointed him out as well equipped for the search
into and observation of the natural history of the locality, selected
for exploration by a joint-committee of the British Association and the
Royal Society. To solve the many interesting problems surrounding the
fauna and flora of this African alpine region, was the task delegated
to Mr Johnston. He left London in March 1884, and in due course
arrived at Zanzibar, where he was assisted by Sir John Kirk in getting
together a band of porters, servants, and guides. After some delay at
Mombasa, caused by a sharp attack of fever, Mr Johnston plunged into
the wilderness at the head of his long band of porters, carrying loads
of domestic necessaries, provisions, water, and ‘trade’ goods. The long
tramp inland was a weary one, for it was through a hot and thirsty
land, which sorely tried the endurance of the party.
The first glimpse of Kilima-Njaro was obtained long before the party
reached its base. And here it may be proper to explain that this name
is given to the whole mountain-mass, which consists of two huge peaks
and a number of smaller ones, just below the third parallel south of
the equator. The highest of the peaks is called Kibô, is eighteen
thousand eight hundred and eighty feet above the level of the sea, and
is always covered with snow on the top, and occasionally down to the
altitude of fourteen thousand feet. This is, so far as is at present
known, the highest mountain in Africa. The twin-peak, Kimawenzi, is
sixteen thousand two hundred and fifty feet high, and although above
the snow-line, is not continuously snow-clad. The whole mass is of
volcanic origin, and the two peaks are the craters of extinct volcanoes.
Approached from the south-east, the mountain has the appearance of
lonely isolation, and presents a truly remarkable spectacle, with its
peaks towering to the clouds and its glittering snow-caps. It is worth
while giving in Mr Johnston’s words his emotions on first gaining
sight of the goal of his desires: ‘With the falling temperature of the
small-hours, a brisk wind arose from the heated plain, and swept the
clouds from off the sky, all except the mass which obstinately clung to
Kilima-Njaro. Feverish and overtired, I could not sleep, and sat and
watched the heavens, waiting for the dawn. A hundred men were snoring
around me, and the night was anything but silent, for the hyenas were
laughing hideously in the gloom outside our circle of expiring embers.
At five o’clock I awoke my servant Virapan, and whilst he was making
my morning coffee I dropped into a doze, from which at dawn he roused
me and pointed to the horizon, where in the north-west a strange sight
was to be seen. “Laputa,” I exclaimed; and as Virapan, though he had
read _Robinson Crusoe_ and the _Arabian Nights_ in his native tongue,
had never heard of _Gulliver’s Travels_, I proceeded to enlighten him
as to the famous suspended island of Swift’s imagining, and explained
my exclamation by pointing to the now visible Kilima-Njaro, which, with
its two peaks of Kibô and Kimawenzi, and the parent mass of mountain,
rose high above a level line of cloud, and thus completely severed in
appearance from the earth beneath, resembled so strangely the magnetic
island of Laputa.’
It was not until the thirteenth day after leaving Mombasa, that the
party entered the state of Mosi, ruled over by the chief Mandara,
already mentioned. This little kingdom is of about the same area as
London, and is on the lower slope of the mountain, between three and
four thousand feet above the sea. Splendid views are obtained from
it over the plains below, and its condition is anything but one of
savagery. The agriculture is of a high order, and the people, although
nearly naked, are both intelligent and industrious. The fields are well
intersected by artificial water-courses, led from the mountain-streams
higher up, and ‘the air is musical with the murmur of trickling
rivulets and the tinkling bells of the flocks and herds.’ Wherever the
ground is not in cultivation, it is covered with brilliantly coloured
wild flowers of numberless known and unknown species; the hum of bees
is suggestive of endless stores of honey; and the flow of milk is
guaranteed by the innumerable herds of mild-eyed kine cropping the rich
pasture.
Finding that the feuds between the Mosi people and the other mountain
tribes were a bar to his progress through Mandara’s country, Mr
Johnston withdrew, and negotiated treaties of peace and commerce with
one of the rival potentates whose territory extended nearer the summit.
Before doing this, however, he had to retire to a place called Taveita,
through which he had passed on his way to Mandara’s. Of this place he
says: ‘From the day of my first arrival up to the time of my final
departure, it seemed to me one of the loveliest spots on the earth’s
surface.’
Taveita is the sort of trade centre of the district, and is ruled over
by a senate of notables, called the ‘Wazēē,’ or elders, who preserve
law and order, and arbitrate in disputes between the resident natives
and the nomadic traders. Its population is about six thousand.
From Taveita, Mr Johnston negotiated with the chief of Maranū state
rather larger than Middlesex, on the south-eastern flank of the
mountain. After many preliminaries and much exchanging of presents, he
was at length admitted into this kingdom, and had positively to crawl
into it through the defensive stockades, which it seems the custom in
this country for the separate peoples to erect around their domains.
Between the kingdom of Maranū and the summit of Kibô, there lay no
opposing tribe, so that, having obtained guides, Mr Johnston was, after
a little delay, enabled to continue his journey to the snow.
The route crossed a fine river, and lay at first through a smiling
and fertile country, with signs of cultivation and flourishing
banana-groves up to an altitude of five thousand five hundred feet.
Shortly after that, cultivation ceased, and a heathy district was
reached, with grassy knolls and numerous small streams of running
water. The ascent was very gradual, and the first night was spent in
camp at six thousand five hundred feet. Leaving this, a dense forest
was reached at seven thousand feet; then a district of uplands thickly
covered with moss and ferns, studded with short gnarled trees, and
teeming with begonias and sweet-scented flowering shrubs, but with few
signs of animal life. At nine thousand feet, the region was clear of
forests, and merely covered with grass; but higher up, the woodland
began again, and water became very abundant. The third camp was formed
at ten thousand feet, and here the party encountered a terrific
thunderstorm and rainfall. It was succeeded by a fair and serene
morning, leaving the two snow-peaks in full view against a cloudless
blue sky. At this point Mr Johnston resided nearly a month, actively
prosecuting his collecting and observing, and preparing for the final
ascent. Then, one day, with three followers only, he started for great
Kibô.
For some two thousand feet higher, vegetation is abundant; and even
at twelve thousand six hundred feet the party struck a pretty little
stream, on the banks of which were patches of level greensward and
abundance of gay flowers, while the spoor of buffaloes was also
observed. Strange sessile thistles, five feet in circumference, were
noticed; and an extraordinary lobelia, between three and four feet in
height, with bright-blue blossoms, as also other remarkable plants.
Bees and wasps were still to be seen at this high altitude, and bright
little sunbirds darting about. But beyond thirteen thousand feet,
vegetation was seen only in dwarfed patches, and the ground became
covered with boulders, lying in confused masses, with occasional huge
slabs of rock, singularly marked like tortoise-shells. At thirteen
thousand six hundred feet, the last resident bird was noticed—a species
of stonechat—although high-soaring kites and great-billed ravens were
seen even higher up. At fourteen thousand one hundred and seventeen
feet, the Zanzibari followers were thoroughly done up, and began to
show unmistakable signs of fear of the ‘bogey’ of the mountain, so they
were left to prepare a sleeping-place for the night, while Mr Johnston
continued the ascent alone.
At fifteen thousand one hundred and fifty feet he reached the central
connecting ridge of Kilima-Njaro, and could see part of both sides. The
‘Monarch,’ however, was veiled in clouds. What followed cannot better
be given than in the adventurer’s own words: ‘At length—and it was so
sudden and so fleeting, that I had no time to fully take in the majesty
of the snowy dome of Kibô—the clouds parted, and I looked on a blaze
of snow so blinding white under the brief flicker of sunlight, that I
could see little detail. Since sunrise that morning I had caught no
glimpse of Kibô, and now it was suddenly presented to me with unusual
and startling nearness.... Knowing now the direction of my goal, I rose
from the clammy stones, and clutching my sketch-book with benumbed
hands, began once more to ascend westwards. Seeing but a few yards in
front of me, choked with mist, I made but slow progress; nevertheless,
I continually mounted along a gently sloping, hummocky ridge, where the
spaces in between the masses of rock were filled with fine yellowish
sand. The slabs of rock were so slippery with the drizzling mist, that
I very often nearly lost my footing, and I thought with a shudder what
a sprained ankle would mean here.
‘At length, after a rather steeper ascent than usual up the now
smoother and sharper ridge, I suddenly encountered snow lying at my
very feet, and nearly plunged headlong into a great rift filled with
snow, that here seemed to cut across the ridge and interrupt it. The
dense mist cleared a little in a partial manner, and I then saw to
my left the black rock sloping gently to an awful gulf of snow, so
vast and deep that its limits were concealed by fog. Above me a line
of snow was just discernible, and altogether the prospect was such a
gloomy one, with its all-surrounding curtain of sombre cloud, and its
uninhabited wastes of snow and rock, that my heart sank within me at
my loneliness.... Turning momentarily northwards, I rounded the rift
of snow, and once more dragged myself, now breathless and panting, and
with aching limbs, along the slippery ridge of bare rock, which went
ever mounting upwards.... The feeling that overcame me when I sat and
gasped for breath on the wet and slippery rocks at this great height,
was one of overwhelming isolation. I felt as if I should never more
regain the force to move, and must remain and die amid this horrid
solitude of stones and snow. Then I took some brandy-and-water from my
flask, and a little courage came back to me. I was miserably cold,
the driving mist having wetted me to the skin. Yet the temperature
recorded here was above the freezing-point, being thirty-five degrees
Fahrenheit.... The mercury rose to 183.8. This observation, when
properly computed, and with the correction added for the temperature of
the intermediate air, gives a height of sixteen thousand three hundred
and fifteen feet as the highest point I attained on Kilima-Njaro.’
When he returned to the camping-place, Mr Johnston found that his
three followers had deserted him, being thoroughly terrified, and
certain that the white man had perished on the lonely heights. With
much difficulty he made his way to the station on the lower ground,
where the great body of his attendants had remained; and in due course
the whole party arrived safely again at Taveita. From there a new
route was taken, by way of Lake Jipé, to the coast at Pangani, where
the followers were paid off. An English mission afforded Mr Johnston
shelter until he could get a passage on an Arab _dau_ to Zanzibar,
where he caught the mail-steamer; and in little more than six weeks
after getting his last glimpse of the snow-peaks of Kilima-Njaro, from
the shores of Lake Jipé, the gallant explorer was in London once more.
Although attaining the highest altitude yet reached by man in Africa,
Mr Johnston did not complete the conquest of Kilima-Njaro. But he
reached within two thousand feet of the summit; and having shown the
way, it will be odd if some of the adventurous spirits among alpine
climbers do not essay the task of peering into the hidden depths of
the crater of Kibô. Be this as it may, the expedition has resulted in
the acquisition of a vast amount of valuable information about the
geography, the fauna, and flora of this strange district, where in two
days you can ascend from equatorial heat to arctic cold. Even in the
plains, the temperature is, for six months in the year, quite bearable,
and in some parts delightful. The extreme fertility of the mountain
slopes, the abundance of game, the stores of ivory to be obtained from
the vast herds of elephants, the rare and beautiful skins—in short, all
the known riches of animal and vegetable production, and the supposed
existence of mineral deposits, such as copper and nitrate of soda,
point to this district as destined to play an important part in the
future of Africa.