Sacred Heights - Ol Doinyo Lengai: Detlef Palm

It bubbles and writhes, it hisses with toxic breath like something that refuses to sleep.   Every so often, it groans and squelches, with a guttural sound — the death rattle of a dragon, or the final gasp of a broken machine refusing to die. Two meters from our tent, yellow, foul-smelling sulfuric fumes rise rhythmically from a fissure in the earth.

 Now, sharp cracking sounds rip through the air —the unmistakable sound of stones being flung. For a breathless instant, we wonder: Perhaps… it’s not just the mountain exhaling. Perhaps the lava is moving toward us.

The Mountain of God

For the Maasai, Ol Doinyo Lengai is the seat of God. It is a formidable mountain, 2,962 meters high. It is one of Africa's most active volcanoes, and lies at a point where the African continent is drifting apart, for the last 1.2 million years and currently at a rate of about 3 millimeters per year. This doesn't sound like much, but the effects are dramatic, causing Ol Doinyo Lengai to erupt every few years, at irregular intervals. Its crater changes its appearance each time.

Lengai, recently photographed by our daughter Josi

(Click here to listen to the soundtrack while you continue reading)

Ol Doniyo Lengai is rarely visited and remains off-piste for most tourists. Nearby Kilimanjaro commands the full attention of mountaineers. Lengai is also close to the Serengeti, which many consider the greatest wildlife reserve on Earth. Above, Lengai, with its head in the clouds, seen from the Embakai/ Ngorongoro Conservation area.

On my earlier trip to the Mountains of the Moon (click here for the report) I had skipped Ol Donyo Lengai because of a complete lack of transport. In 1992, taking a break from Operation Lifeline Sudan (click here for the OLS story) and having deposited our children with friends in Nairobi, Gabi and I were determined to make it happen. 

To save time, we took a shortcut at Longido, south of the border crossing between Kenya and Tanzania. Beyond Kitumbeine, the faint path disappeared completely, and we had to navigate by sight for a dozen or so kilometers towards Lengai. Today it is possible to follow the established safari routes; or, to be on the safe side, travel via Arusha, Mto Wa Bu and the so-called Natron Road.

Sporting our multicultural company logo

Maasai at the foot of Ol Doniyo Lengai. At the top of the image, one can just make out how Lengai rises up. (As always, click on any image to enlarge).

We drive as far as the terrain allows and pitch our tent for an early start. Lengai shrouds its head in his own ominous cloud.

Due to perspective compression in photography, it doesn't look like it, but there are 1750 meters of  vertical elevation to climb. We are carrying a tent, sleeping bags, and water for two days. It's going to be a long and tough day.

We took our time, and reached the summit before nightfall. Unfortunately, the crater rim is too narrow and windy to securely pitch a tent. So we descend a bit into the crater.

Our tent overlooking the crater of Ol Doniyo Lengai. 

Lengai is known for its unique, very "cool", carbonatitic lava. Only a few hundred degrees Celsius warm, the molten lava does not have the red glow common to most lavas though you can, of course, get burned. After solidifying, it turns brown or white and breaks into something like chalk. When wet, this becomes slippery, and that's just one of the things that makes climbing Lengai quite arduous.

This cute cone, inside the crater is called T5T9 by volcanologists. I got its name many years later, from the Global Vulcanism Program of the Smithonian Institution, which often seems to be closed due to the periodic US Government shutdown.

The sketch kept by the Smithonian. It was drawn by a volcanologist shortly after our visit.   

We are lying in our tent, almost three thousand meters high, listening to the rumbling and hissing.  Since there is no level ground, it isn't particularly comfortable; my legs seem to dangle over the abyss. The setting sun creeps under the cloud cover and baths it in yellow light from below. Shortly after, the summit cloud will make the weather near the top resemble that of the Scottish Highlands.

Our hopes for watching the equatorial sun rise over Ol Doniyo Lengai were dashed by its own summit cloud and drizzle. Gabi trying to dry our belongings.
 

Looking for a way down from Lengai.

My knee is in terrible pain. One of the biggest occupational hazards during Operation Lifeline Sudan turned out to be descending the 24 floors of the Kenyatta Conference Centre in Nairobi after a donor conference - right in the middle of a power outage. I had injured my meniscus, but didn’t think much of it at the time. The long climb up Lengai has now made it much worse; I can barely bend my leg. As a result, I have to descend Lengai backwards, facing the mountain. 

Half through our descend. In the distance, Lake Natron. The pink color comes from the thousands of flamingos searching for food in the murky water.

Back where we started, we find a Maasai boy who claims to have watched over our car during the night. It’s hard to argue with him - the car is, after all, still there. Coincidence or causality? We thank him and reward his entrepreneurial initiative before taking the road via Mto wa Mbu to Arusha, where, late at night, we manage to find lodging and board.

Bonus picture - three of our kids at Lake Magadi, just north of Lake Natron and part of the Rift Valley ecosystem to which also Lengai belongs. The red coloration is caused primarily by halophilic (salt-loving), pigment-producing microorganisms flourishing in highly saline, alkaline conditions. During dry periods, the water becomes even more saline, allowing these pigmented organisms to multiply rapidly and intensify the red hue.

Recent history

Six months after our visit, in June 1993 Ol Doniyo Lengai violently erupted again, and did so in 1994 and every now and then. 

A Wikipedia picture from 2006. The crater is filled to the brim with lava and overflowed. In 2007, eruptions forced the evacuation of three villages.

Beginning in 2016, the volcano is being monitored by a seismometer and GNSS stations.

Today, anyone - including UN bureaucrats tired of pushing paper at Gigiri - can hire guides and book tours.  There now is faint "trail" to the crater; most visitors set off from their camp before midnight to avoid the equatorial sun during the day. 

Other photo-stories by Detlef:

• Lunae Montes - a journey to the source of the Nile, in 1980
• Pirates, Penguins, Patagonia (Voyage around Cap Horn)
• Operation Lifeline Sudan, the first years in pictures
• Duruusta Soomaaliya - The Somali Experience
• Mud Volcanoes and Candy Cane Mountains (Azerbaijan)
• New York - A Walk on the Wild Side
• Into the Midnight Sun (Journey to the North Cape)
• The Door to Hell and the Path to Health (Turkmenistan)
• Magic South (Southern Africa)
• Azhdahak (from Germany to Armenia, by road)
• Top of Mexico
• East Coast - West Coast, across the USA
• At the edge of the bog - where we live
• Rudaki, a Wedding and Proto-Urban Sarazm (Tajikistan)
• Off-Road - The Trail Is the Treasure (Eastern and Southern Africa)

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More Insights from Outside the Bubble, by Detlef Palm

Detlef can be contacted via detlefpalm55@gmail.com