But also Ramson did a good job as our porter and although he didn’t look very strong, he turned out to be a tough guy. Okay, our backpack was not very heavy but he kept climbing the mountain as if he had never done anything else - which was surprising because we found out that this was only the second time he got a porter job on Mount Mulanje. Apparently, every healthy young man in Likabula is registered as a guide or porter with the Forest Station and as they try to be fair and give away jobs in turns, people actually don’t get to go frequently. At least, this helps to generate income for different families. Plus, being a porter was also some kind of a local sport. We had already learned at the Forest Station that there was an annual Porters’ Race where volunteers, carrying a weight of 18kg, race up and down the mountain on the very same path that we took (and which would take us 14 hours in total). And guess what, the record was established by someone who won the race in 2 hours and 18 minutes... unbelievable!

After we had reached the first plateau and took a Coca-Cola-with-peanut-butter-sandwich-break, I felt revitalised again and the last hour before we reached Chambe Hut was pleasant walking. We arrived at the hut before noon and it was a very scenic spot to spend our first night. The place itself was very simple, basically just a wooden hut with two rooms, one of them with a fire place, one table and two benches. Water came from a pump outside and a small path led to an outhouse (Plumpsklo) close to the forest. That was it. Very simple but somehow all you need on a mountain in the woods. After catching our breath and having another coke, we could finally take off our boots - oh boy, what a relief. By the way, Coca Cola and beer were the only drinks you could buy at the hut for 50 Kwacha per bottle (less than 0,40 Euro). Just by the fact that Coca Cola has made it up to here, you can tell that this softdrink has conquered even the most remote locations on earth...

Later we prepared instant tomato soup for lunch and spent the whole afternoon chilling out at the hut. From the veranda we had a beautiful view of the south-eastern face of Chambe Peak (2557m). The scenery here was really amazing, so much green, so silent and peaceful. The only person around was a caretaker who lived in a small hut behind the one for guests. This was also where the guides and porters spend their nights. As usual, there was a strict separation between (white) tourists and (black) locals - somehow really a pity...

As we learned from the caretaker, it was eight years that he was working at Chambe Hut. He shared the job with another man and each of them would spend two weeks on the mountain and then two weeks with their families in the village. Two weeks up here, two weeks down there, for eight years without interruption. Can you imagine? At least he said he liked his job and made a very content and happy impression. Admirable.

Emily and I were both into our books when two other travellers and their guide and porter arrived at the hut later this afternoon. They had started their hike yesterday and crossed the plateau from the other side. They basically came from where we were planning to go tomorrow. Andrew was a British student who had spent some time working in Africa. This was his last trip before returning to England in a couple of days. He was hiking with his friend Dan, a Zimbabwean who now lived in Malawi. Dan was actually the first white native African I ever met. Both guys were really very nice and we had a lot of fun this evening, playing cards and sharing our modest dinner supplies. I will never forget the piece of cheese they shared with us... God, I hadn’t eaten cheese in over two months and this was the best delicacy ever!!! (Plus, we got the boys to take our pot out of the fire – very useful to have them around.)

When it was time for bed, the guys chose to sleep in the room next door, whereas Emily and I wouldn’t move an inch from the fire place. We told them that they could stay, after all the room was really big enough, but they politely declined. By now, it was so bloody cold that our breath would create small clouds in the air. I put on every piece of clothes I had with me and as long as I stayed close to the fire, I was fine. This night was also the first time I ever used my fleece blanket. So far, I had only carried it around at the very bottom of my backpack and I had almost given it away in Tanzania because I thought I would never use it in Africa. Thank God I didn’t! When we finally pulled our mats close to the fire, wrapped up in our sleeping bags, I couldn’t help but smile and enjoy. Well, obviously this is the kind of romantic situation you would rather share with a guy but hey, apparently you can’t have it all...