Having by now showed me an abandoned (but not eerie) cemetery, as well as some locals living off the land tucked away in a small bay, and then the urban lake shore scenery of Mwanza, I was feeling pretty good about my new friend Daniel.

Adventure travel had struck again. And for second time in both cities thus far on this trek, I had bumped into a local young guy happy to show this foreigner around. Bumping into me my first morning in Mwanza, Daniel sported a bit of a ‘fro on his lanky frame. He dressed well with hip, white sneakers, jeans, and a white short-sleeve button-up highlighted with thin, blue stripes.

Now over a lunch of rice and beef at a streetside eatery, I shared with Daniel the next leg of my journey: taking a ferry from Mwanza to Bukoba.

Daniel heard me out and then offered me one better: the chance to cross the lake on a cargo ship. “Better” is in the mind of the beholder, of course, but I agreed that this would be a more interesting experience, as it would allow me to see a side of this region I’d never have the chance to view otherwise and was in line with the adventure mindset of taking the opportunities that present themselves–unorthodox they may be. Plus, I wasn’t too excited after having spoke to the passenger ferry guy about the overnight route that didn’t allow one to take in the beauty of the lake.

But there was one (actually there were a few catches) to the cargo ship. One was that it would leave from Bukoba. So I had to bus it again–something I was looking forward to avoiding. And I’d have to do so the next morning to meet the captain in Bukoba early the morning after.

I agreed.

The problem was that it cut short my time in Mwanza. Better squeeze in as much today as possible. Daniel helped me do so, finishing this day with an afternoon hike past a bunch of monkeys on the way up to one of the most incredible views I have ever laid my eyes on.

Enjoy the story, pictures, and video ahead.

***

All morning long, I had been commenting on how amazing the boulders were along Lake Victoria. But each time I did so, Daniel reliably–to the point of me knowing it was coming–would say, “That’s nothing.”

“How can THAT be nothing?” I finally offered incredulously while pointing to a massive, home-sized boulder in a middle of a green lawn.

Daniel pointed to that boulder and said that the largest rocks around here could fill the space between us and it.

A fifty yard wide rock?

“Please show me,” I said.

So he did. And not only was this the best place to see boulders, it also happened to be the best time.

Daniel and I took motorcycle taxis just outside of town–further beyond the home in which I was staying. Off the main road, down a smaller one, and then continuing to seemingly the middle of nowhere,  Daniel’s bike slowed and mine followed suit. He hopped off; I dismounted mine. And we started at a trail in the woods going up, up, up.

I knew this was going to be good. Such off-the-beaten-path destinations tend to be so.

Up the path, things went from dirt to rock. There was also the decoration of litter along the way. I was looking for a more lively ornament. Daniel had mentioned the monkeys. None yet as I started to breathe harder from the continued incline.

Hold on.

Daniel pointed to our right.

I first saw swaying trees. And then the causers of the sway.

The vervets would have been skiddish but for our peace offering: bananas, of course. I went closer to offer them a bite.

They were still skiddish, but their hunger overcame them. They’d come within fifteen feet to grab a morsel tossed on the ground. Male, female, adolescents, and babies; a band of these primates highlighting our walk to the top.

Dusk was approaching, Daniel warned. And we didn’t want to miss the view he promised lie ahead.

So we turned back and made our way to the top.

But first, some monkey footage:

Turns out the path was crude, because this was the back door monkey route known to locals such as Daniel. Now hopping up chair-sized stones, and with gratitude that it wasn’t the rainy season, we reached the top of the hill.

It was a flat of spotty trees, homes, and boulders of comparable size.

I followed Daniel along past buildings and residents.

Past the homes and rising a bit more, trees gave way as did the soil. It was nothing but stone. We first approached a stone-on-a-stone-on-the-stone monument, standing for the wonder of the natural and eliciting awe for something so massive and daunting.

Yet it appeared precarious in its stance.

I thought I’d secure it.

Funny business aside, just past this, and fulfilling our goal of a sunset view, the rock floor rose to a level plane dotted with boulders and extending to a cliff. With the energy of a child to the tree on Christmas morning, each accelerating step of mine gripped on the rough, uninterrupted bottom. Indeed, as I walked along, and then looked back on what I had been walking upon for sometime, I realized this was the stone of such enormity warranting Daniel’s continued dismissals all morning at the “pebbles” I had been pointing out.

This one, solid chunk of stone had a surface that could be measured in acres.

Making my way to edge of the acreage, we were rewarded with the view for which we climbed.

To the right was the peak of this peak: an enormous, American home-sized boulder with flat rising top. Daniel and I made our way up this roof to the roof of Mwanza.

Above even the homes we had just passed through, I looked down not just on the magnificent Lake Victoria, but captured the entirety of this community amongst the boulders.

The views weren’t impressive just out to the lake. Mwanza is a city and region sprinkled over a sea of rocky, forested waves.

Immediately below, boys played soccer in a dirt clearing.

Also from up here, we could look down upon the usual peak of this climb.

Just as Daniel had been pushing me to climb to the top, so now was he saying we must be going as we didn’t want to make the journey down in the dark. First we inched our way back down the awkward sides of the our home-sized peak. Then I took a few minutes to walk about the main acreage some more.

The feeling elicited by the view, the lives amongst, and the stone beneath my feet encapsulated this part of the world and exclaimed its distinction from my own in Minnesota.

I had to hold out for one more minute from Daniel’s call to leave. I had to milk this moment. And up until the sun started to sink below the surface of the lake, I did so.

Please enjoy the footage of me getting to the cliff’s edge, walking on that narrow peak, and then the locals interacting with a foreigner and his camera:

***

On our way down, we descended the conventional path, a wide, stone natural highway shared by a few others here also coming down. As we made our way, stone became covered by dirt; the descent gave way to a level bottom with cars, people, trees, and buildings. Back down into a Mwanza outskirt, Daniel and I had a meal: potato wedges with eggs and beef skewers.

When done, we flagged down a bike for me. Daniel would walk home.

I thanked him for his service today. Then I thanked Daniel again…and again. To meet a resident so willing to share about himself, the city, and then show you the treasures within, is a gift difficult to overstate.

Adventure travel had offered me two such presents. I’d now test the adventure mode when leaving the next morning, which was before I had planned to depart Mwanza, in a mode of transport I was planning to avoid, but with the faith that an unknown cargo ship captain would let me ride with him to the neighboring country–and that there would be no concerns along the way or when we landed in Uganda.

First, I had to get to Bukoba.