Kilimanjaro

Kilimanjaro

It has been almost a week since I climbed Kilimanjaro and I know that I have inadequately relayed my experience.

Here is the journal I was keeping when climbing

Pre-trip preparation

We started the day with great anticipation. To be honest, I was slightly afraid. The day before I had felt slightly feverish and achy. I kept thinking to myself what am I getting myself into. My body has been mined by worms, amoeba, bad sleep and malaria since I arrived here. I had not done any training, as a hiking trail is not common in Africa. What would the trip hold in store for me? Somewhat ill prepared and sick, I handed over the money. What pushed me to it? I had decided to climb it almost on a whim. Taking a bus from Arusha to Morogoro, the early morning air was quite clear and passing Moshi, the mountain stood out in all her splendor and glory. I spent the next few hours deciding if I could fit such a trip in my budget. A good SJ friend Daniel encouraged me to go forward with the trip. Now, the day before the climb, I felt the unreasonable and eerie feeling that I could somehow meet my end on this mountain. That night before, I put myself on my knees and prayed. It’s true that somehow sentiments of ones own death pushes one to unexpected places in prayer. I asked for the strength to do this trip and the health to abide my fears. I also prayed for the special intercession of Mary. Somewhat disorientated, I realize in shock that the first day of my climb would be on a Sunday. I said, in shock, I won’t be able to attend mass. Fr. Balige offered to say a mass in the morning for me. I, using tongue and cheek to hide my own fears, asked Balige if he would also do last rites.

Sunday morning, I prepared myself to go. At mass, the first reading was from Nehemiah. It is the story of the reintroduction of the Law to the Jewish people. Upon hearing God’s law, everyone was in a state of misery at the realization that they had been disobeying the Law. The scribe, however, told them to not be afraid, but that “the Joy of the Lord is our stronghold.” This last phrase proved to be quite poignant, and stayed with me through all the ups and downs of the climb.


On the trail: Day 1. MACHAME CAMP

My arrived at the gate, ready to hike. We had some time to spare as all our papers and travelers checks were sorted out, so I spent some time bartering down prices with the locals for a hat, a walking stick and bandana. I saw these really fancy walking poles that would go for about 5 dollars, but one of the men, who recognized my frugal spirit, pulled out a hand shaped wood walking stick that he would sell to me for 1 dollar. The romantic in me couldn’t help but take him up on the deal. The moment I set foot on the trail, I was full of energy. Hiking in the cool breeze under the trees set my mind longing for the forest of Tryon creek. I felt healthier and more alive than I have felt since I came to Africa. Even a downpour only served to further echo sentiments of home and lift my spirits. “the joy of the lord is our stronghold” continued to stick in my mind. Even though our guides tried to get us in the habit of going slow, this first day was hiked at our direction at a voracious pace and our 6 hour hike ended up being only 3.
In our group there were 2 canadians from the Toronto region named Tim and John. These two were planning a 7 day climb. There were also 3 men with me doing the 6 day hike from Holland named Jerome, Peter, and Case.
We scattered across the mountain, only really meeting up for lunch, but otherwise taking to the trail at a somewhat breakneck speed. I knew one didn’t have to be concerned about altitude sickness till the 3rd day, so I took my pent up energy and spent it.

Day 1: 2 am

This is perhaps the coldest night of my life. My 7 degree Celsius sleeping bag is completely inadequate. I even pulled out my emergency blanket to keep myself warm.

Day 2: Shira Hut: 3840 m
After the cold night, I knew I had to find some other sleeping option. Hiking the mountain on a whim, I was somewhat ill prepared. John’s bag never arrived from the airport and they were to bring it up the mountain to him by porter when it did arrive. I would then take his rented sleeping bag and line it with my own. In the meantime, my head guide offered me his. I am forever indebted to him.

Steeper than yesterday, the climb began to wear on us. We started hiking at 8 am. Our head guide had pleaded with us to go slower and we acceded. 200 people had started with us the day before and only one had at this point turned back. It seemed that the whole mountain was with us on this narrow trail. Not exactly what I thought my Kili Experience would be. I have taken since arriving in Africa to talking to my body. This sounds weird, but since reading that most illness is caused by the body’s overreaction to bacteria, and having to endure long hours on busses without bathroom stops, I have told my body to deal with it. On this journey, feeling a slight headache, I told my body to start producing more red blood cells. These cells are essential in carrying oxygen and the body copes to the altitude by breathing deeper, increasing the heart rate and making more cells. My body doesn’t always listen to me. I taught the guys that night how to play hearts.

Day 3: Baranco Camp (3900 m) reached lava tower (4600 m)

After the circus that was the trail yesterday, we decided as a group to head out early. We still got up at the same 6 am wake up call, but quickly put our bags together, chowed down food and hit the trail by 7 am. This was the Kilimanjaro I hoped to climb. We were the only ones on the trail.
I regularly got the feeling that I was part of the fellowship of the ring, setting off on the journey with our packs and walking sticks, heading for Mt. doom.
It started cold, but as soon as the sun peeped out the temperature rose ten degrees. Water is amazing. The ground was still frozen as we hiked. Somehow the water freezes and expands from the ground straight up. It would appear that there were blades of frozen grass, each one pushing up a small pebble. We were promised a hot lunch on the trail and our porters and cooks quickly overtook us. When we arrived at the foot of lava tower, a wonderful leek soup was ready for consumption. Lava tower was the highest point reached that day at (4600 m). Living in the North west, these formations were nothing to spectacular and the trip was taken there mainly to help our bodies acclimatize. I do get to check off the list taking the highest grounded bathroom break of my life at 4600m. Squat toilets are no fun, particularly since most climbers on the trail are not familiar with them. The only advantage is that the cold takes away most of the smell. The cold has somehow fixed my watch which has been showing multiple numbers on it over the past 2 months.
After climbing lava tower, we descended through a valley, past some prehistoric looking trees and on to our camp at Baranco.

Day 4: Barafu camp (4600m)

Our ascent began again at 7 am, zigzagging our way up a cliff face next to baranco camp. Today we would hike to karango valley and then up to Barafu before our final ascent. Descending from lava tower the day before, my right knee started paining me. I decided that using my walking stick, I had somehow changed my stride. my knees began to ache again descended through the valleys. I only got a taste of what would be in store for me hiking down the mountain.

We had a small lunch at karanga valley before I group split in two. John’s bag would finally arrive that night, so he gave me a few extra granola bars and his bellaclava. Tim, who had some prescription anti altitude sickness drugs that his doctor had prescribed to him, gave me two of them that he had extra. Both these signs of kindness proved indispensable on the mountain top. With that our fellowship was broken

We began our upward descent again. I would feel a few slight tensions of a the head and a slight wave of nausea. I would use these as reminders to slow down and breathe deep. I even employed some of my singing experiences and breathed from the diaphragm. Hiking up hill from the valley, I got the distinct impression that I was somehow entered Dante’s inferno. The landscape was bare and the black rocks were covered with a yellow lichen. While our new guide Faustine took the lead at a fast pace, a habit which could prove to be disastrous, I took it at my own pace, slow and steady. Stopping for a break amongst the shale rocks, it began to hail. All the sudden were surrounding my the tinkling music of the mountain.
Arriving in Barafu camp I could feel the altitude pressing down on me. I decided to rest for a while. With John our porter, Jerome and Peter, we took the trail again to acclimatize our bodies. We hiked up another 100 m to Kosovo. I began to massage my neck on the trail and my headache seemed to disappear. Was it altitude sickness or just bad pillows that had been giving me trouble. All the same, I had figured out one trick to keep me safe going up the mountain. Following dinner (which included my anti-altitude sickness pills), I sent myself straight to bed, preparing my body for the 12:30AM departure time.

Day 5: Uhuru peak (5895m)

I awoke with a start at midnight. It is hard to function at the hour, and even though I had energy, I still felt clumsy on the trail. Many climbers had begun 30 minutes earlier. We could see the halogen lamp lit snake of climbers zig-zagging up the trail. As we got closer to the mountain, it was hard to know where the climbers ended and the stars began. Our guide had set a dangerously fast pace and we quickly overtook two groups. I kept telling him pole pole. At one point during our break, when I took two minutes longer to tie my shoes, he gave me a hard time. I calmly replied that I planned on making it up the mountain and I wasn’t involved in a race. Nearly one hour in, our guide mentioned something to the porter and seemed to disappear. Now it was just porter john at the lead and our assistant guide following behind. While John went slow, we seemed to take almost no breaks. The mountain quickly got colder and colder. Every time I took off my gloves my hands began to go numb. The pace continued slowly but surely. Almost no one spoke. All thoughts, all eyes and all movements were directed towards the mountain. We saw climbers begin to slow down, stop and some ever turn around, but we trudged on. Despite the early hour, I began the hike full of energy. I can admit that the past 5 days had begun to wear me down though. Soon we were surrounded by snow, walking through cuts into this ice, Our asst. guide stopped near the top as his shoes seemed to be falling apart.

We reached stellar point and began to walk around the crater rim. All the sudden we were surrounded by white. I had entered a whole other world. The glaciers were showing their exposed receding faces to us, the fields of ice, smooth and unbroken covered the landscape and then I turned and saw it.

It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. With hues of blue and yellow preceding the sun, the land of Kenya and Tanzania canvassed with a sea of clouds, and Mt. mawenzi perfectly sillohetted the sun began to peek awaken the world once more. Staring there, I understood beauty. Thanking god for this moment, I felt my throat clench, my sinuses tweak and I began to cry. I wish words or photos could somehow express this moment, but all seem shadows compared to this beauty. Returning to the task at hand, the snow all the sudden took on the glow of the sun. Turning to Stephan, a French man who I met there on the trail, I told him in French that it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. He in turn began to cry as well.

Rejoining my group of four, we took to the summit. We continued to stop, struck by the evolving beauty of the landscape. Holding hands, we reached Uhuru peak at 6:49 AM on Jan. 25th, 2007. With only our porter left, we had summited mount Kilimanjaro.
The crater itself held its own beauties, as fields of snows seemed to lead to a city of ice.


Day 5: the descent Mweka camp
The only problem with climbing up a mountain is that you have to climb back down. I made the mistake of not taking the time to be sure that all gear and all clothes were properly set for descent. Walking stick in hand I began going down the steep mountain. Never more have I regretted renting shoes than here. Taking perhaps an hour more than I might have in good condition, I reached the bottom of the mountain with feet covered in blisters. After 10 hrs of hiking I reached camp. There I saw the smiling, congratulating faces of John and Tim. They welcomed me into camp and I sat telling them of my whole experience. Our fellowship was once again renewed, and we shared one final hot meal before we split again. I continued my slow descent, developing two more blisters on my feet. That final day we hiked a total of 15 hrs since midnight. Back at mweka, we grabbed some beers, played some cards and finished off our night.

Day 6: Mweka Gate
Our final hike was but 3 hours. The heavy descent continued and I could feel it in every step. All I wanted was to be done. How short our memories are. I seemed to forgot all the beauty of the mountain in this downward descent. Perhaps this forgetfulness was the real inferno. I was reminded, however, of the old words of coach corey: pain is temporary, pride is forever. We reached the end, received our certificates, set plans for a later meeting for beers in moshi and set to our homes. I had done it though. I had climbed Kilimanjaro and I will never regret it.