Approaching Margherita

By the fourth day, at over 4,000 metres, the air grew thin and the landscape austere. Altitude slowed our pace, and headaches reminded us how far we had climbed. Still, the sight of Margherita Peak flashing in the sunlight restored our resolve.

At Hunwick’s Camp, the porters stoked a wood burner, filling the hut with warmth and laughter. Their energy was infectious. Around the fire, we planned our summit push, swapping stories as rain pattered on the tin roof. Few moments in travel feel as intimate or alive as that shared anticipation before a climb.

The Summit Push

At two in the morning, beneath a silver moon, we began. Crampons bit into ice as we crossed the first glacier, its surface glowing pink and purple in the lunar light. The silence was immense, broken only by crunching steps and breath drawn thin by altitude.

Our guide, Wusia, had summited more than 120 times; his calm steadied us as we moved through the darkness. Hours later, after scaling steep rock gullies and another shimmering glacier, we reached the narrow crown of Margherita Peak. A small sign marked Uganda’s highest point.

The view vanished into cloud, but it didn’t matter. The sense of standing on the roof of Africa — exhausted, exhilarated, and utterly present — was reward enough.

The Long Way Down

Rain caught us on descent, turning rocks into glass. We abseiled the steepest faces and waded through torrents that had been trickling streams only hours before. One teammate, struck by altitude sickness, was carried down by porters with astonishing skill and care. Their strength and spirit were the quiet heroism behind every success on that mountain.

Two days later we reached the trailhead, soaked, sore, and smiling. The Rwenzoris had tested every muscle and mindset, but they had also given back something rare — perspective. It is a place where time slows, where endurance meets wonder, and where the Earth still feels ancient and alive.