To climb alone is very expensive, so I agreed to join a group and ended up being paired with an italian couple on their honeymoon. Can you say third wheel? Actually they were incredibly welcoming and we both enjoyed each other's company. The first two days were easy trekking but from the first few steps I could tell that the honeymooners were going to have a hard time. The motto on Kili is “Pole pole” (slowly, slowly) so that your body has time to adjust to the altitude, but these two took it to the next level.
On the third and fourth days, I realized that I was wasting energy at this painstakingly slow pace and started to walk ahead at my own pace. I wasn't in any rush but enjoyed walking alone, relishing the peaceful silence on a mountain that is often crowded by tourists and keeping a steady rhythm stopping only to take pictures. The porters got a big kick out of my independent style. When I arrived at camp on the third and fourth days they greeted me with warm smiles and laughs asking where the other two were.
The porters really appreciated my efforts towards learning Swahili. I spoke mostly in Swahili with them and we laughed and joked together throughout the day. On the third night after I had eaten a hearty meal of pasta, a Tanzanian attempt at western food, the porters invited me to come eat with them. “Karibu ugali,” they said. Though I was stuffed it would have been terribly rude of me to refuse the plate so I joined them inside the small cooking tent around the camp stove and tasted their “ugali na mboga” (boiled cornflower with vegetables). The food was quite good, but the company was even better. We sat around laughing and talking in Swahili and feeling good.
Finally it was time for the big ascent. We arrived to the fourth camp at about 4pm and had time for a quick nap before dinner. The day had been long, and though it had not been overly strenuous, my legs were starting to feel the burn. Since the start we had ascended at 1811meters (5,942 feet) we had climbed to 4,662 meters above sea level (15,295 feet). We stood 327 feet above Kili's smaller sister Mt. Meru which poked out above the clouds to the west and were higher than I had ever been in my life. Though I was lucky enough to not feel any symptoms of AMS (Acute Mountain Sickness) altitude affects everyone. If you have ever been above 15,000 feet you can understand that it just feels different.
Tired and excited for the next day I tried to get some sleep before the 11:30pm wake up call. There was an eerie tension in the air as thunder reverberated across Kili's stone and Ice walls. It was almost as if Kili was laughing in the faces of those attempting to summit. It was a little unnerving and disruptive, but after about three and a half hours of restless sleep, it was time to push back and go for the top.
I woke up tired but excited. We drank tea, an essential part of a Tanzanian day thanks to the English, and dressed for the cold. At 12:30AM we took our first slow steps into the snowy night following the path illuminated by our headlamps. Looking up I could see a trail of lights dancing back and fourth dawned by those ahead of us. There was something beautiful about the sight of the lights moving slowly up the steep incline.
For the first half hour the two Italians, the two African guides and I stuck together, walking at a frighteningly slow pace. I knew after about five steps that the honeymooners weren't going to make it. I am reading a good book about Kili that refers to this as “attitude sickness,” which can be nearly as dangerous on the mountain as altitude sickness. Not only would it have taken them more than seven hours to summit at their slow pace, but they didn't have the necessary strength because they did not have confidence in their abilities. They feared rain, walking too far and just about everything that the mountain might throw at them.
Fully understanding this reality, our assistant guide Octavian called me forward at about 1:00AM. We moved together, slowly but persistently through the night. Slowly we caught up with climbers who had left ahead of us. While some groups stopped to rest, we stopped only to pee or adjust our many layers of clothing. About halfway between Barafu camp (summit base camp) and the crater rim, the adrenaline had warn off and the previous day's climb combined with little sleep and very little in my stomach began taking its tole. We pushed on. Step, step, step... my mind cleared of all thoughts except the placement of my footing and the hope for the prize ahead. Step, step, step... I began thinking about all the formative experiences in my life that had given me the strength to complete the task ahead. We passed more climbers and continued to make headway as we neared the summit.
The last hour of the vertical climb was difficult. I did a little research on altitude and learned that the pressure at 19,000 feet is about half of that at sea level. Therefore, the atmosphere pushes about half as much oxygen into your lungs at this altitude and your body must work much harder to gain the oxygen needed to survive and function. Furthermore, the last half hour before the crater rim is one of the steepest points in the trail. Despite this fact, I could not let a little discomfort stop me. At 4:50AM we reached Stella Point, the edge of the crater which stands at 5,745 meters (18,848 feet). The vertical difference between Stella Point and the summit of Uhuru is only 493 feet and the walk is probably only about a mile, but I swear on my life that this is the longest mile I have ever walked. Every few steps you stumble a little because your are exhausted and your muscles lack oxygen. Even Octavian stopped and swayed like a drunkard along the path.
With desire in my heart and a drive to succeed that kept me going, we reached the summit at 5:30AM. Despite leaving Barafu camp a half hour after most climbers, we were the first climbers from our route to reach the summit that day by at least twenty minutes. As you can tell I don't have a competitive bone in my body. I was very proud of my achievement and stumbled over to grab the sign marking Kili's highest point. Octavian and I had reached the summit of Africa at 5,895 meters (19,341 feet). I will never forget that morning on Kili.
The story wasn't a fairy tail for everyone. The Italian newlyweds made it about halfway to the summit before they nearly collapsed. Even more interesting is the story of a Belgian couple that I met on the third night. Both parties are physicians. The man specializes in dive medicine, and the woman specializes in altitude and climbing medicine. They say that doctors make the worst patients and here's an example of why.
The Belgains set off for Uhuru Peak at 12:15AM. They had felt fine up to this point with the exception of mild headaches, normal side effects of adjusting to altitude. They were in phenomenal physical shape and the climb hadn't bothered them thus far. About an hour from Stella Point, the woman started vomiting and feeling terrible. Knowing that this was a symptom of cerebral edema, the man gave her a shot of cortisone which reduces the swelling in the brain. Later that day they explained to me that had their judgement not been clouded by a desire to reach the top and the time and money spent planning the trip, their medical senses would have told them to descend immediately. However, they continued trekking and reached Uhuru Peak. I passed them on my decent as they trudged the last forty five minutes between Stella Point and the peak and wished them well. However, upon reaching the peak it became apparent that all was not well. The woman was barely coherent and sat dumbly. The cavity surrounding her brain had begun to fill with fluid and if she did not descend, the disorder could be fatal in as little as two hours. Acting quickly, the man and their guide took turns literally running the rag doll of a woman down the slopes to Barafu camp. Once at a lower altitude she began to recover and was soon back to normal. This is an example of how dangerous climbing any mountain in any conditions at this altitude can be. I thought a lot about what had happened to her and wondered what I would have done in her position. I have to admit that I think I would have pushed on just as she had. I learned a very serious lesson that day and will not forget it for future climbs.
The rest of the trek was not so interesting or beautiful. We descended quickly and arrived back at camp at 7:45AM. After about a half hour of blissful sleep we ate breakfast and continued our decent another 11.5 kilometers (7.15 miles) to Mweka camp on the decent route. This was a miserable walk, after such a long morning, but I bit my lip and pushed through it. In the afternoon after a short nap I enjoyed one of two overpriced Kilimanjaro beers that I bought from the ranger station at the camp and shared with Octavian. It seemed only fitting to share such an appropriately named beverage and we smiled as we toasted “maisha mrefu” (long life).
Climbing Kili was an experience that I will never forget. I made new friends in our lead guide Freddy and some of the porters. I experienced some breathtaking scenery that will be forever etched in my mind. I learned some valuable lessons about altitude and will be more prepared for future climbs as a result. Finally, I achieved a substantial goal, and I am very proud of this accomplishment. Now when I look up at Kili's snowy Uhuru peak, I smile. My burning sense of wonder has been replaced by incredible memories.
The view from Barraco Camp on Night 3. The "Breakfast Wall" awaits us in the morning. It's a much better morning wake up than a cup of coffee.
Uhuru is getting closer. I stand at the top of the "Breakfast Wall" excited for the climb ahead.
Mawenzi peak, one of the three peaks on Kilimanjaro rises to the east of Uhuru. The sun casts a beautiful glow over the peak the night before the climb.
Success! Octavian and I smile and hug in excitement and 5895 meters (19,341 feet).
As I descend, weary climbers continue the ascent under the light of the rising sun. Mawenzi rises in the east.
After a tiring decent to Barafu Camp in the morning I look east to Mawenzi which has been blanketed by snow from the previous evening.
Guides, porters, and mzungus pose for a team picture on the final morning.
