Missed Part 1 of the adventure?
Two rest days at Tsarasoa Lodge turned out to be exactly what our bodies needed. We wandered through the village, spent hours playing chess and reading in the sun, and I tried to play a guitar that was lying around the bar but missing its top 2 strings. I also discovered a telescope, which I used to watch a team of 3 German climbers doing a route called Pectorine. It was their first route in the valley, and they had, like us, underestimated the walk off, returning home late at night from a long ordeal trying to find abseil anchors in the dark on the top of the mountain.
Preparing for Out of Africa
By the second rest day it was time to think about our next objective: Out of Africa. Jorge had left by now, strapping all his bags onto the back of a motorbike which dropped him back in town, so we were relying on some vague directions he had given us before he went. We packed everything we needed into our black hole of a haul bag, with the portaledge sticking out awkwardly from the top. Then we set off to stash it all at the base of the wall.
What followed was us being temporarily geographically challenged (no, not lost!). We found ourselves in a long stretch of bushwhacking through thorny scrub, during which I ripped my shirt and Victor lost his sunglasses. Eventually we broke out at the base, dropped our bags, and found the correct trail a short way off. The path back was overgrown, but much easier to follow and I saved the GPS track on my watch and walked back along the proper path, knowing the next morning’s walk-in would now be smooth. We made it back just in time for dinner.
Out of Africa – First 7 Pitches
We had decided that an early start for this route was pointless because the wall only goes into shade at around 3pm. We strolled in at 10 or 11, took our time at the base, and set off up the first pitch.
The first seven pitches were very run-out, but I didn’t feel that it was unsafe. Sound logic had been used, and the crux sections on the harder pitches were well bolted, and the runouts came on the easier ground where a fall is unlikely. We were in full sun until 3pm, but it never felt oppressive, and our sun hoodies and caps did their job. My sunglasses, however, were still sitting back at the lodge. By the second day my eyes had absorbed so much glare and sun that I felt like I had arc eye, which is a terrible scratchy feeling in the eyes as well as a headache behind them – as experienced by welders from looking at welding arcs with unprotected eyes.
Pitch 7 (6c/6c+) was the highlight of the day. It had a sustained crux at the end of the pitch on some pebbles that stuck out of the wall, where you must full crimp them with 2 or 3 fingers and make delicate, balancey moves from one to the next. I loved every metre of it.
Night on the Edge
Then it was time to set up the portaledge. It was our first time using one on a real big wall, with only a couple of gym wall attempts behind us. It took us a good while to work it out again. The ledge had been well used and was repaired with bits of string, but the fabric had a lot of give compared to the new one we practiced with at home. We were tied in the whole time, but standing in it still felt sketchy, as if we might go right through it. Once it was adjusted, we settled in just in time for a beautiful sunset over the mountain range in front of us. Clouds were rolling in over the peaks, and we wondered whether bad weather was on the way, but luckily, it held off.
As the light faded, a large, winged shadow scythed through the air past us on the ledge. My headlamp caught two glowing yellow eyes, front-facing, and for a second I thought it was an owl. The wing shape however made me think more of a bat, with straight geometric edges, unlike that of an owl. It was huge though, I couldn’t picture a bat that big! We did some research afterwards that suggested a Madagascan flying fox, a type of giant fruit bat. We’ll never know for sure, but it was a magical thing to see. Then the stars came out. The Milky Way sparkled clearly in the most light pollution free sky I’ve ever seen. Looming above us, the huge black silhouette of the rock face, contrasting sharply against the bright Madagascan night sky with billions of stars, was something I’ll never forget.
Dinner was another freeze-dried meal, improperly cooked by us, because as I said in Part 1, there were no hiking gas canisters to be found in Madagascar. A Google search had suggested cold water and patience would work, so we let them soak for 30 minutes and then tucked in. It was hardly fine dining, but it was fuel.
I barely slept that night. The wind would pick up and I would freeze, so I’d put on extra layers, then the wind would completely drop for half an hour and I’d overheat. This continued all night. I had also set the ledge up with my head slightly downhill, which didn’t help. Still, waking up to the sunrise from the wall is something neither of us would trade for anything. The way the valley lit up with crispy blue skies was unreal. Lemurs grunted away as they woke up in the greenery below; Swifts danced a jig through the air in front of us and below us. We wolfed down some very squashed bread with peanut butter, and then swiftly began the chore of packing away all our gear, to begin the days climbing.
Out of Africa – Day 2
The next seven pitches were not so fun. The sun beat down on us from early in the morning, and this was the big flaw in our two-day plan: we had focused on day one and not thought enough about day two, when there would be no shade at all on the wall. The harder pitches were also in this last batch of 7 pitches, with the two 7a crux pitches included. I got the sharp end for both pitches and got spanked on both. Dehydrated and mildly disappointed, we go into ‘let’s just get to the top of this thing’ mode. We thought we had run out of water, until we found a forgotten 2-litre bottle while repacking the bag at the top. It was like finding gold. We downed most of it, then realised we should have saved more for the walk back, and we ran dry again on the descent. We staggered into camp the most dehydrated we’ve ever been, but once again we had called ahead and dinner with hearty Malagasy beer was thankfully waiting for us.
Les Vazahamateurs
After two more rest days, we climbed our last route of the trip: Les Vazahamateurs (6c). At only 8 pitches it was shorter than the others, but it contained one of the best pitches of the whole trip. It finished on top of the amazing feature of rock called the Chameleon, with the most amazing view of the valley. Clouds threatened rain and a light drizzle arrived at the very end, but we topped out without trouble. With no haul bag this time, we were done in half a day.
The Journey Home
The next day we began the grand trek back to the airport. A 4×4 took us as far as Fianarantsoa, the town we had passed through about 2 weeks before. From there, we had to hustle for a ride back, because it was the end of the week and all the buses back to Antananarivo were full. We managed to hitch a ride with a guy named Mr Namby, who asked if it would be okay if his cousin rode with us. We agreed, and the four of us set off, driving the whole day to cover the bumpy 400kms of tar/gravel road back to the capital. We arrived at our accommodation next to the airport, a ramshackle BnB.
The next morning, we went on the hunt for a coffee and something to eat and were pleasantly surprised to find fantastic coffee with delicious deep fried rice balls inside a small street vendors informal shelter, right next to a busy road. We sat there for a while, and it was interesting to see the different people that came in and out, going about their lives, a policeman, a pregnant woman, a motorcycle delivery man. Each one came in for a quick cup of coffee, drank it in 5 minutes, then left to start their day.
As our plane lifted off the tarmac the next day, I knew I would be coming back to this place. The unique climbing, massive mountains, the friendly people, the funky animals – all just across the pond from us!
