Mt. Kilimanjaro

The prospect of climbing the tallest mountain in Africa, and the tallest free-standing mountain on earth had seemed like a good idea, once. 5895m, 19,341ft, that's not that tall right? How hard could it be? Certainly I can make it, a week of hiking, sleeping in a tent, no big thing, piece of cake.

I flew to Tanzania on Monday, it's not a long flight from Nairobi to Kilimanjaro International Airport, only about 30 minutes in the air. But as soon as you take off from Nairobi and look out the window of the plane in a southern direction, you see it. Snow covered peak, poking out of the clouds, with nothing else around. Mt. Kilimanjaro beckons.

Monday consisted of a short trip to Moshi to hotel I would be staying in that night. A short briefing session explaining when we would be leaving the following day, and a brief meeting with my climbing group and head guide. My group was small, only 3 people, myself, and two girls from Montreal. Thankfully their english was MUCH better than my french, so we had no problems chatting. That night would be consist of relaxing, enjoying the last hot shower for a week, and getting one more nights sleep in a bed, albeit a tiny, single one.

Tuesday morning began with breakfast at the hotel, and then mass 'organized' confusion, as the different groups of people tried to get all their gear together and onto the right vehicle with the right guide, etc. Finally we were in a van, with our guides and our gear and on the way to the mountain. We arrived at the gate and got our luggage all sorted out, and headed over to the park office to get registered. Then were told to wait, and keep waiting, and wait some more. It turned out that the credit card processing machine was not working, so none of the tour companies could process any payments, so none of the groups were allowed to leave yet. After about 3 or 4 hours, things were finally fixed, and we strapped on our packs and were on our way. Pole pole (po-lay po-lay). A phrase we would be hearing all week. Pole Pole. Slowly. Day 1 was a pretty easy hike, about 4-5 hours of hiking up to camp at 3000 metres, arriving just before dark.

The first 3 days of hiking were pretty much the same. The terrain changed around us, and at times the hiking morphed into climbing over rocks, etc. But the days were about the same. Up at around 7, breakfast, then hiking until around 1 or 2. Which was good, because it seemed that the weather patterns were pretty consistent on the mountain as well. The mornings were clear and sunny, then around 1 or 2 it would start raining(sleeting, hailing, snowing...), and rain until around 6pm. It would then clear up in the evening, and stay clear overnight. Overall, Mt. Kilimanjaro was seeming pretty easy at this point, just a nice hike, not too difficult, not too easy. Things would change on day 4.

Hello Mr. Chameleon

Day 4 began the same, up at 7 breakfast, pack up camp and head out on our way. The terrain very quickly changed though. It seemed the first half of the morning would be spent like goats scrambling over large rocks, as we made our way up steep rock face. This was definitely the most exciting climbing we had done yet. Sheer drops to one side, rock face to the other, this was exhilarating. We reached the ridge on the top of the rock wall and it was time to take a break. The rest of the morning was spent descending an incredibly steep ravine, and then scrambling up the other side. We finally made it to camp around 1, however, it turned out we would not be staying at this camp. We had a quick lunch at this camp, and then headed out, we had about 3 and a half more hours of hiking until we reached the last camp before summit .

Things starting getting pretty miserable at this point. It started raining hard, then sleeting, then hailing. But we marched on. About 20 minutes from camp, the inclement weather subsided, but by this point we were exhausted. To top things off, one of the girls in my group had an asthma attack, which from what I understand isn't all that enjoyable at sea level, let alone 4600m where the air is very noticeably thinner. Thankfully she did have an inhaler along, and finally was able to breathe, nearly normally again. She would later that evening smartly decide that she would not risk going any higher on the mountain, and would wait at this camp for us. We had finally reached the highest camp, and although none of us were really hungry, our guides implored us to eat as we would need the energy for the summit attempt. After forcing down a bit of food, it was time to try to get some sleep. It was still only about 6pm, but we would be getting up at 12:00am and leaving shortly thereafter for our summit attempt. Almost the entire attempt at the summit would be under the shroud of darkness, the plan was that the sunrise would be around the time we were reaching summit. So we tried to sleep, however for me the attempts were somewhat futile, I think I only slept about an hour between 6:30 at 12:00.

Home Sweet Home.

At 12 we were up, and sitting in our dining tent drinking tea and eating some cookies, waiting for our guide. We ended up waiting over an hour for him to be ready, as it turned out he had to find another guide to go to summit with us as our assistant guide was going to stay behind with Mary (asthma) to make sure she was ok. So finally at 1:30am, we headed out. Armed with bottles of hot water and headlights, we started toward the summit. As you would look up, you could not see the mountain at all, all you could see was what looked like a glowing caterpillar, slowly moving its way up the mountain, a long line of climbers, head lights glowing in the darkness, slowly trudging up the mountain. It was impossible to tell where the line of climbers and their headlights ended, and where the stars began. Very soon after departing, we did everything in our power to avoid looking up. The terrain was steep and difficult, and in the cold darkness, we were tiring quickly. Seeing the seemingly endless string of lights going up into the night sky only galvanized the feeling that we would never reach the top. After two and a half long hours of climbing, the other climber in my group, Tina, was nearing complete exhaustion, and our guide suggested that I go on ahead with the backup guide he had brought along, Kahawa (which means coffee in swahili). I was near complete exhaustion myself at this point, but I was still determined to reach the summit, so we pressed on. The trail got steeper, and each step became more painful. Accidental glances upwards that would show the trail of climbers far ahead were excruciatingly demoralizing. At this point I was having to convince myself to take every single step, just one more step, come on Steve, one more step, just ONE MORE STEP. I had no idea how much further the summit was, and I didn't want to ask, I was horrified of what the answer would be, and was certain I would give up if I knew. I had a headache, I felt nauseous, I felt as if the breaths I was taking were useless, but I forced myself to continue moving, one step at a time, keep going. As it turned out, it was good I didn't know how much further it was. I continued to talk myself into each and every step, for three agonizing hours. Three of the most physically, and mentally draining hours of my life. Three hours that took me to what I thought were the bounds of my physical and mental toughness, and then far beyond. Three hours in which I proved to myself, that my mind was stronger than my body.

Finally, to the east, a faint glimmer of light, a faint glimmer of hope. The light timidly crept up into the sky, and began to reveal facts about what lay ahead, and above. An exhausted glance upward, and a tiny ray of hope. Could it be? Am I imagining this? Is the end actually within sight? It was. I wasn't. It actually was within sight. Still far in the distance, but, visible. I've gone this far, there's no giving up now. We pressed on, and shortly after 6:00am, reached Stella Point, 5739m. Kahawa collapsed onto the ground in exhaustion, and I doubled over and tried to breathe. 5739m, already well higher than any other mountain in Africa, but, not yet at the peak. We caught our breath for a few minutes, looked at each other, sighed, and then pressed on. The trail from Stella Point to Uhuru Peak was not nearly as difficult as the climb up to Stella Point, and the added adrenaline of reaching Stella Point, paired with the enthusiastic encouragement of those that had already made it to Uhuru and were on their way back down propelled us forward. 157m of elevation, and about 20 minutes later, we arrived at Uhuru Peak, 5895m. The tallest point in Africa. The peak of the tallest free-standing mountain in the world. It was 6:30am, it had taken 5 hours. The sun was just peaking out from behind Mawenzi peak, it felt almost as if it was a dream. Complete exhaustion, complete elation. We snapped a couple photos from the summit, and then began heading back down. As we slowly descended back to Stella Point, I returned the favour of those that made it before me and cheered on those that were pressing on towards the peak. As we were arriving back down at Stella Point, just making their way over the final few steps up to Stella Point were our guide, Bwashee, and Tina. She had made it too! We sat on the rocks for a few minutes and drank some tea. We shared in the ethereal experience of the sun rising up over Mt. Kilimanjaro. Tina and Bwashee then headed for Uhuru Peak, and Kahawa and I headed down, back to camp. Now, descending from the summit of Kilimanjaro is much easier than ascending. It's steep, and the descent path is basically a huge mountain of loose gravel. So we ran, and we slid, and we skied down the slopes, back towards camp. Now we left at about 1:30am, and reached Uhuru Peak at about 6:30am, a 5 hour climb. We left Stella Point at about 6:50am, and arrived back at camp, just before 8:10am, an hour and twenty minute descent. Now I would rest. But not for long.

I attempted to sleep for a couple hours, until Tina got back, but soon found that a tiny one-man tent, at 4600m, with no wind, and no shade, and a cloudless sky, quickly turns into a one-man oven. So I slept maybe an hour, but could not stay in the tent any longer, I was being cooked. That and Tina arrived back at camp shortly thereafter, and we had to then eat breakfast, and yes, we would have to hike another 4-5 hours down the mountain yet. Well the old adage states that misery loves company, and the three of us were definitely all miserable. We had slept only 2 or 3 hours in the previous 30, and had ascended from 3600m, up to 5895, then back down to 4600, and now we were on our way further down. Oh yeah, and it started pouring rain. So we trudged through the mud for hours and hours and finally reached our very last camp. We had hiked for about 22 of the previous 36 hours, and had changed elevation by over 4000m. I think it's pretty safe to say I have never been that tired before in my life. Supper was very quiet, and it quickly became bed time at about 7pm. This would also prove to be the best sleep I had on Mt. Kilimanjaro, forget about sleeping like a baby, I slept like a corpse. I don't think I moved at all for 11 hours.

We woke up the next morning, packed up one last time and had one last breakfast. Our team of guides, cooks, and porters than sang some songs for us and we had a chance to thank them each individually and take a couple photos as a group. It was then time to don our packs one last time, and head out for 130 minutes more of hiking, back down to the gate. Shortly before noon, we arrived down at the final gate. We had made it. Total hiking distance of about 110km. 6 days, 5 nights on Mt. Kilimanjaro. The only thing that was left to do after that, was take a hot shower.

-steve