The roof of Africa................................

Mt. Kilimanjaro is actually a cluster of three volcanic cones, Mawenzi, Shira, and Kibo, with Uhuru peak being the highest point on the African continent at 19,341 feet above sea level and the objective that I and six other intrepid adventurers dared to confront. Mt. Kilimanjaro is not a technically challenging climb however, because of the high winds, low temperatures and most importantly the extreme altitude, it is still difficult and dangerous.  Most people will suffer some symptoms of acute mountain sickness (AMS), but there is also the possibility it could advance to the more serious, even fatal, high altitude pulmonary edema (HAPE) or high altitude cerebral edema (HACE).  Something like 40,000 people attempt to climb the mountain each year, only about 70% actually make it to the top. We saw many people who had succumbed to the altitude; ataxic and glassy-eyed, being led by their guides down the mountain, never having made it to the summit. 

You can climb it and drink it!

There are several trails up the mountain with varying climbing times from 6-10 days and numerous trekking companies to select from and you are required to have a licensed guide. Since I was going to invest significant time, effort, and money in this endeavor, didn’t want to die on the mountain, and knowing that the best chance of success was by going slowly and acclimatizing to the altitude, I chose the 12 day (9 days climbing) Lemosho route with Tusker Trail. Many people do the climb in six days, but these tend to be the younger crowd. Our troop of seven had only one person under age fifty, and he had asthma, with two in their 60’s; the oldest being Jimmy age 69. We were definitely the most mature group climbing at that time. You had to log in at the various campsites along the way and one of the columns asks your age. Looking at the ages of the people who had signed before us, you saw the majority was in their 30’s, many in their 40’s, few in their 50’s, and I did not see one person 60 or above, yet we had two in our group.  In addition to the longer acclimatization period, I also chose Tusker because 

number one with them is safety, with number two being reaching the summit.  This was borne out by the twice daily health checks; the fact that one porter always followed us carrying oxygen tanks, medical supplies and a portable hyperbaric chamber; the sanitation procedures in place; and the compassion and care provided when a couple of folks in our group needed special attention. Without the support of the fantastic Tusker team I can’t imagine how much more difficult the journey would have been and if we would have had the same success.

We had introduced ourselves through email; Lisa, an environmental attorney from California; Sharon, an expat Canadian living in the Netherlands and working for the International Criminal Court in The Hague; Merle, another Canadian, working in the field of energy; John and Jim, retirees and brother-in-laws, from South Carolina; and Jose, our youngest member from Puerto Rico, but met face-to-face for the first time over dinner at our cozy hotel in Moshi, a small town in the shadow of Mt. Kilimanjaro. The following afternoon we met our guides, Simon, Gaudence (sp?), and Kembo, for our climb orientation, to check out our equipment and to answer any final questions. It sounded

pretty simple; basically all we had to do was haul ourselves and our daypacks up the mountain each day while the Tusker team of 35 porters lugged everything else; food, water, tents, cooking supplies, toilet and a myriad of other things. These guys are amazing. They carried at least twice the amount we were carrying, usually on their heads and without the aid of trekking poles. We would leave in the morning, then they would break down camp, pass us on the trail and have it all set up at the next campsite by the time we arrived that evening, and with smiles on

 their faces the whole time. I know it sounds like this was just a luxury camping trip, but I’ll tell you again, without question, this was one of the most physically demanding activities I have ever undertaken. These guys earned our respect and gratitude.

The first morning we were in high spirits and full of adrenaline as we boarded our high ground clearance, 6-wheel drive vehicle (this should have been a sign); little knowing that soon we would need every tire, tread and ounce of power that the truck could deliver. As luck would have it by the time we arrived an hour and a half later at Machame gate, where we had to log in and have all our equipment weighed, it had begun to rain. There are limits on the amount that porters can carry and the weighing is done to assure you have enough porters to safely carry your

equipment. From there it was to be a short 30 minute drive to the start of the trail. This was one of the wildest rides in my life. The road was a sea of wet, red, slippery mud that turned into a road of wet, red, slippery mud with deep tire grooves. We were going up, slipping and sliding, the drivers hands moving around the steering wheel like he was playing a piano concerto and sometimes when the tires got into the grooves he would just take his hands off the wheel altogether because it jerked so fast he would have broken an arm or wrist had he tried to control it. We were moving up the road like one of those cars at Disneyland that drives itself on tracks, and then it got interesting. We came to a spot in the road where there were about a dozen guys just sitting around waiting to make a few bucks by pushing stuck vehicles out of the mud (another sign). Not only did this section have the wet, slippery, red mud with deep tire grooves; it also was steeper and narrower with the sides of the hill at least five feet high. Our driver must have gotten his training from those guys who drive those monster mudder trucks because he just put it into gear and gunned it up the hill. We were making slow but steady progress, sliding left and right, jostling back and forth, the driver’s hands moving spastically to keep us from getting stuck. At times he was even using the sides of the hill to bounce the truck off like a ball on a billiard table. I was never worried that we would turn over because the road was so narrow and deep that it would have been impossible and then …boom we hit something. We either lost our muffler or poked a hole in it because after that the engine noise was much louder. Did this completely? No, only temporarily. He reversed it a bit and gunned the engine. Our wheels were spinning like mad and we were just digging ourselves deeper into the mud. I thought for sure this was the end when suddenly we started moving forward, unfortunately we were heading straight for a tree, which by the look of the bark that had been ripped from its trunk, had

been recently visited by another vehicle. Sharon and I were sitting closest to the front, looking out the windshield and were certain we would be picking splinters from our teeth when somehow the wheels got caught in the ruts, the truck veered violently to the right and we missed the tree by I would say fractions of an inch. Mr. Toads Wild Ride is your grandmother driving on Sunday compared to this.

Shortly afterward we arrived at the trailhead, got out of the truck, donned our raingear and finally began our climb. For me it was like Mt. Fuji all over, except in addition to the rain, we were climbing in rivers of mud; and at one point there was even some hail. What an inauspicious start. We made it to camp (~9000 feet) just as it got dark and started the process which would become our routine for the entire trip.

Let me tell you about camp life. Typically we would arrive in camp between 4pm-6pm. Once in camp we were to get out of our wet, cold clothes and put on something warm and dry. You would usually get your sleeping bag ready at this time as well. Then it was get a warm drink from the mess tent; tea, coffee or cocoa with a couple of teaspoons of sugar for energy. Dinner was at 7pm followed by our health check. By 8pm you were heading for bed because we had to get up early. In the morning you were awakened by Boyette (sp?) who would come to your tent at 6:30am and bring you a hot beverage. (I told you sometimes it was like a luxury camping trip.) Breakfast was at 7:00am at which time all your things should be pack and ready to go. As we ate breakfast, the porters were breaking down the camp.  After breakfast you would have your health check and by 9:00am we were on the trail to start the process all over.

Health checks. There are no secrets when it comes to the state of your health on this trip and you get to know people maybe a little more than you want to, especially when it comes to excretion. We had a standard set of questions form on a scale of 1-10 how do you feel, to when was the last time you pooped. After the first day, we all were able to joke about it. In fact I have one memorable quote that Jose said I could use.  He had been having some intestinal challenges for a few days and after it started to correct itself his comment was “I’m starting to fart like a normal person” (You had to be there).  In addition to the questionnaire we had our lungs checked and pulse-oximeter readings. These could be quite telling. For the first few days my oxygen reading was in the 90’s, as were most of the others, but when Sharon and I stayed at Crater Camp (~18,300) my reading was 65 and hers was 58; that is significant and the reason that climbing at altitude becomes so difficult.

Thankfully it didn’t rain on day two because the trail was harder and steeper with lots of rocks, mud and deep narrow tracks. We left the rain forest behind, climbed into the heather and on to the Shira Plateau (~11,500). You could definitely notice the change in flora. The climb was more difficult but we went pole, pole (Po-lay, Po-lay), it’s Swahili for slowly-slowly and another way to avoid AMS. At this point you force yourself to go slowly because you feel so good, but getting into the habit is good practice and on summit day you won’t even have a choice, your body will be making that decision for you. Jimmy was struggling today, fell behind and Merle carried some of his pack. At this point I would have said that he would never make it to the summit, but little did I know how much grit and determination this guy had.

Day three was uneventful and I can’t remember much about it. So let me talk a little about the food. Our cook was fantastic. We always had hot soup at dinner (yummy!) and porridge at breakfast (yucky!); hey I’m not a fan of porridge. Other items on the menu included toast, eggs, and French toast for breakfast, with various stews with spaghetti or rice, and …..French fries. That’s right, French fries. They were delicious and one of our favorites.  And popcorn, with not one kernel burnt (Luxury camping).  The only thing I have documented is a comment from Merle.  We were watching the porters climb effortlessly carrying things on their head and he said “They can balance a 50 pond duffle bag on their head and I can’t even balance a hat”. It’s funny when you’re at ~13,500 feet.

Today was an acclimatization hike; “climb high sleep low”. We climbed up to the Lava Tower at ~14,900 feet to have lunch before descending to Barranco Camp (~13,000 feet) for the evening. I had a pretty big headache but Lisa, who is the only person in our group not taking Diamox for altitude because she is allergic to sulfa drugs, is suffering quite a bit. You can climb without it, but as with the people in Tibet, it does make a big difference. Today we also saw the effects of AMS on one of our porters. He apparently had not honestly reported how he was feeling, collapsed on the trail suffering from hypothermia and had to be rescued and brought down from the mountain. It’s was a sobering image and a reality check to the real dangers of our expedition.

The next day we climbed the Braranco Wall. For me this was the most fun, interesting and if not for the rain and fog, scenic part of the climb. We had to ditch our trekking poles for the first half because you needed both hands to scramble up the rock face. This part came the closest to actually “climbing” the mountain. It was also a very slow and narrow route where we actually had a backup of people waiting to climb. The route later mergers with another route,  Machame, becoming a trekking superhighway. It rained the whole day we were climbing and everything was soaked, but we did get to see a wonderful view of Kibo at Karanga Camp (~13,200) before dinner. We are staying here two nights. We were supposed to do an acclimatization climb the next day, but because of the rainy weather, we stayed at camp and attempted to dry our clothes. Dry clothes are more important than the climb. We were lucky and had a couple hours sunshine which really helped dry the clothes and give us a good look at goal.

Today we climbed to Barafu Camp (~15,000) our last camp before climbing to the summit. It was funny even though we had rain gear, we had just gotten it dried and would need it for summit day tomorrow so some of us wore plastic bags over our rain gear. I know that sounds silly, but you would not believe how important warm, dry, rain gear would be on summit day.

Today would be the ultimate challenge, summit day.  Jimmy started climbing at 4:00am, because Tusker knew it would take him a little longer if he wanted to make the top and Merle went along with him because he had been helping Jimmy the last few days and that’s the kind of caring and compassionate person he is. The rest of us started our climb at 6:00am. Everyone was given a box of glucose powder and told to eat a small handful every so often along the way for energy so you know this was going to be serious. It was cold and very windy as we made our way pole-pole up the mountain. We walked single file like mute zombies; breathing was more important than talking. On and on we climbed, putting one foot in front of the other like we were moving in slow motion, cold and struggling to breathe. Hours went by and at some point we caught up with Merle and Jimmy and sadly passed them by pole-pole. Around 1:00pm we stopped for lunch at Stella Point (~18,500) hungry, tired and winded. From here we only had about 500 feet to go, but it would take us almost an hour to complete that distance. After lunch I felt invigorated as we started our final push.  I didn’t think reaching the top would be as emotional as it turned out to be.

When that old wooden sign announcing that you had reached the highest point in Africa came into you, I was overcoming with a wonderful feeling of accomplishment, amazement, and sheer joy. It wasn’t just me, everyone was flooded with emotion and more than one tear was shed.  Each individual had their own personal reasons for climbing and feelings surrounding them poured forth when we reached the top; Uhuru Peak 19,341 feet above sea level, the roof of Africa.  It was an awesome sensation. Of course the weather did not do us any favors. Sometimes the mountain is clear and sunny, but for us it was gray, overcast, cold and damp. After about twenty minutes of celebrating and picture taking who should come walking through the mist but Merle and Jimmy; they made it. It was quite an accomplishment. All the guides starting singing and dancing around Jimmy, it was a beautiful moment and one that will bind us and live with us forever.

Of course everything that goes up must come down. Sharon and I had decided to stay at Crater Camp and visit the glacier while the others chose to descend back to Barafu Camp that same day. The choice was dependent on how felt and would you be able to withstand a night at ~18,300 feet. At the time it seemed like a good idea. We made if from Uhuru Peak to our camp in about 30 minutes while the other folks had to climb down about four hours before they could rest. We explored the glorious glacier for about 30 minutes before heading to our tents where Boyette had popcorn and biscuits waiting for us and shortly thereafter brought us hot drinks as well. He would bring dinner later, a bowl of beef stew; it was the only time I did not have an appetite, not because of the food, but because of the altitude. As I ate my snacks, I prepared for bed which was a challenge since task was taxing; you even had to take a rest between removing each boot.  The next day was when I been regretting my decision to stay at Crater Camp for not only would we have to get an early start to get down to Barafu Camp and meet up with the rest of the group, but we would then have to do that days climb from Barafu down to Mweka Camp. In many ways going down the mountain was harder than going up the mountain. What you covered in 7.5 days coming up you cover in 1.5 days going down and my downhill muscles aren’t as strong as my uphill muscles. The climb down to Barafu Camp was incredibly hard for me. For most of the way you are going down a giant ash pile. It’s like climbing down a big sand hill. You can take giant strides and your feet continue sliding down for some distance. You can cover a lot of ground but it is a killer on your

quadriceps and mine were screaming for mercy. By the time we came into view of camp my legs were like jelly and I didn’t think I could take another step. Sharon was behind me and said I was staggering and weaving back and forth like a drunken sailor, and I knew she was right, I was going to collapse at any minute. At least I knew I would have a chance to rest and have lunch before we continued on, but I was mistaken. They were already breaking camp when we arrived and I barely had enough time to catch my breath before we started heading down once more. The group filled us in on what had transpired since the summit. Lisa had suffered some significant effects of AMS; severe headache and nausea, John was having some respiratory problems and left early that morning to get back to Moshi and Jimmy had to be helped down by Tusker guides. As it turned out Jimmy would need to be helped down the rest of the way by Tusker and John saw the doctor, got some antibiotics and is doing fine. Merle and I both suffered injuries to our big toes. When you’re coming down your toes tend to get pushed to the front of your boots. Merle lost the nails on both big toes while mine were swollen and blue. I thought I was going to lose the nails, but neither came off although I wish the left one had. The right toe healed fine, but the left one is still swollen and turning green; I think it’s gangrene. Of course the last day it rained and we had to trek through rivers of mud once again. We started with mud and we ended with mud, but best of all everyone in our group made it up and down the mountain safely. That’s why Tusker!

Climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro was one of the most challenging, amazing, incredible, emotional, fun educational, personal experiences I have ever had.

If you can dream it, you can do it!

norb