Making it up the mountain

The branch of the tree whacked me in the head as we drove under it sending my hat flying off onto the road. I wasn’t looking where we were going as I was staring down at Claire as she tried to move my foot from off her leg. I wasn’t able to it myself as I was far too squashed to move. “Stop!” I shouted and was joined by three others who had noticed my hat fall off the back of the truck. We ground to a halt and the man to my right, who was basically hanging off the side of the van jumped down, ran behind and grabbed my hat for me. I thanked him, he climbed back on and we continued on our way.

Claire and I were on the back of a pickup truck making our way up the windy and horrendously uneven roads that led up from Chitimba to Livingstonia. We were on our way to the Mushroom Farm, an eco lodge built on the side of the mountain where we were to spend the next few days. It was whilst we were at the bottom of the hill, looking up at the mountain we had to climb, that we met two locals called Mike Malawi and Fisher. They informed us that it was ten kilometres up the hill to The Mushroom Farm, and that the best way to get there was in the back of this truck. So we paid our money and climbed in.

We’ve travelled in plenty of cramped vehicles so far. We have shared buses with many other people, goats, chickens and other livestock. But this trip, this journey up the steep windy mountains over the bumpiest roads we’d seen so far, was most certainly the most uncomfortable. Picture a pickup truck. The driver was in the cabin with a couple of elderly people in the front. That was fine. I would have felt guilty if we were sat in the comfortable cabin and the old aged women had to sit in the back. So we climbed into the back with the luggage and loads of locals. Claire got to sit with her back to the edge of the truck, and I was forced to stand along with five other men at the front of the truck. We were, all of us, stood with our arms on the roof of the cabin. It was so incredibly cramped that some of us had nothing to hold on to. In fact, at one point I did manage to get my hands around a piece of a metal bar, but within minutes another man’s hands were on top of mine and I had been budged to one side. Words cannot describe just how squashed we were, but at one point I was so squished from either side, that both of my feet were off the floor. Claire had it just as bad as me with people stepping on her legs and her head unfortunately placed between the backsides of two men. It was so squashed in fact, that at one point a man fell off the back and had to run along behind the truck in order to throw himself back on. Luckily for him the roads were so bad that there was no way the truck was driving off quickly.

The crowded back of the truck

Eventually, the truck broke down. One of the men jumped off and stuck a rock behind its wheels to stop it from rolling back down the mountain and Claire and I got off. We’d had it. We had gone for an hour and decided that we might as well just walk the last bit. We jumped off, grabbed our bags and began our walk and within half an hour we had made it to The Mushroom Farm. And when we got there the entire struggle up the mountain was worth it. The place was stunning. A large open outdoor bar was playing cool music. There were lots of people enjoying themselves and the view was utterly gorgeous. We could see for miles. The lake sprawled out below us as did the rest of northern Malawi and we could also see the mountains of Tanzania in the distance. We checked in, put our tent up and enjoyed some well deserved beers.

The Mushroom Farm had the best atmosphere of any place we’d been. Cameron, the twenty-five-year-old American owner was a really great guy and we spent a lot of our time chatting with him and the many guests that came and went during out time there. The staff were also all lovely. The ladies in the kitchen, who were preparing some of the best food we’d eaten on our trip, were all incredibly friendly and the two barmen, who ran the show with Cameron were also incredibly friendly and great to chat to. Their names were Budget and Bishop.

The people staying at The Mushroom Farm were all very sociable too. I believe that was partly down to the fact that the place had a very social seating arrangement in the bar with just two big tables, meaning everyone had to mix. The dinners also helped us socialise. Where we were able to order breakfast and lunch off the menu, dinner was served at seven pm and everyone ate the same thing together. This meant we’d all sit around chatting whilst we ate.

We met plenty of interesting people including a big group of volunteers who were on a break from their work in Lilongwe. There were eight of them and one night they rallied everyone together to play a game called Warewolves. This game include cards and a bit of roleplaying and was quite possibly the nerdiest thing I’ve ever taken part of but it was quite fun. One of the volunteers, who was from Turkey, was the narrator of the game, which was sort of taking place in a horror setting with different people being warewolves and having to choose people to die whilst everyone else had their eyes closed. That’s about as far as I am going to go with explaining the rules, and whilst we were apprehensive at first it was quite fun to play with some people taking it more seriously than others. Anyway, the narrator was perfect for the game. She had long thick dark hair with one large white streak at the front and even spoke in an accent that sounded as if it were lifted from a Dracula movie. Turns out that Claire was one of the warewolves and killed me off rather early, so I just sat and watched most of the game. That was fine with me as I could go and get another beer.

Me with my feet up

The Mushroom Farm is located just a five kilometre walk from Livingstonia a town named after the explorer, missionary and philanthropist David Livingstone. He built his mission up there after spending some time in Malawi. He is a very famous man who also has a town named after him in Zambia. He inspired many other African explorers in the late 1800s, which actually, inadvertently led to the colonisation of most of Africa. ‘The Scramble’ wasn’t an idea of Livingstones’s but those who instigated it were, it seemed, inspired by what he had achieved. Claire and I took a stroll up to Livingstonia with Mike Malawi, the local guy we had met at the bottom of the hill. He was a wood carver by trade but seemed willing to do whatever it took to make a fair wage, which was admirable. He had told us that we could walk 60km for three days through the Nyika National Park, camping in the bush and cooking by camp fire. Claire and I had heard about this and were very interested so Mike was escorting us to Livingstonia where were to meet with Henry, an ex ranger in the park who could take us on the hike. Mike, who was arranging it all had offered to be our porter, so he would come along too helping us carry our things and make fires and tea for us.

Coffee shop in Livingstonia

After making it to Henry’s house, we agreed on the hike and arranged to leave on Wednesday morning, in three days time. Then Mike took us on a mini express tour of Livingstonia, which ended up being one of the most surreal places I have been. The town is built on top of a giant hill, and looks out over Lake Malawi with views that would rival The Mushroom Farm’s. It was built by Brits a long time ago and consists of lots of old British style buildings. Locals are now living in two story, terraced, red brick houses complete with chimneys and fireplaces and little front steps that lead down to the path. There was even an old English style church and a coffee shop. It felt like what I imagine it would have felt like to walk through England in the early 1900s. One minute you are in Malawi, the poorest country in the world, where many of the houses we’d seen were made from mud or wood and the next minute you’re thrust into a small English town with two story homes. Rows of houses lined the roads and there was even a large roundabout at the centre of the village with an ornament in the middle. Some of the houses were adorned with hanging baskets of flowers and the whole place was incredibly picturesque.