Ashley and I thought it would be fun to do Kilimanjaro. We talked to some people that did it, they seemed to like it, though expressed that it was a touch difficult. So we decided that it was a reasonable endeavour. Turns out people usually train for the climb…maybe going for a jog occasionally may have been a good idea, or perhaps take up smoking to have a reason for failure. Smoking is expensive…
We arrived 12 hours off the originally scheduled flight time, were bumped to an adjacent hotel due to some climbers that succumb to altitude sickness, and the rancid tuna that I insisted on eating caused projectile vomiting. Planning on starting the Marangu 5 day ascent early the next morning, Ashley made the appropriate executive decision to delay the trip 24 hours, and add a 6th day on the Machame route. Substituting huts for tents, and traveling with 6 others, we set to go. Our companions, all of whom we are now forever attached, in the way that people who go through something profound or terrible together are, were an international crew. Mike and Mei, 53 and 47, originally Chinese, living in Toronto for 20 years, eldest of the group, and hiked 20-25 kms per weekend with 25 kgs on their back to prepare. They were the best outfitted couple for the trip, complete with collapsible piss-pot for the tent. Dennis and Saskia, Dutch, early 30s, a gregarious adventuring couple, essential in the group entertainment following the daily treks. Michail and Barak, early 20s, Israeli married couple on a 4 month tour of South and East Africa. Both so ridiculously giving. And, the staff employed for the trip were each athletes of Olympic standard, transporting all cargo nimbly and quickly through the rough terrain. All 8 of us would marvel at their fortitude and chuckle at our sissiness.
On the first 2 days, the hikes were dragged out so we added 1-2 hours to the guide predicted time, so dubbing us “the turtles”. We wound our way through tropical rain forest, into temperate flora with trees adored top to bottom in ‘old man’s beard’, and into alpine scrub and grass. The last 3 days of ascent were spent above the clouds; the sun hot, the shade frigid. Dust and wind were our nemesis, but we found the early parts completely doable. Above 3500m, following several hours of hiking, played on our mind like a six pack of beer, and we continued to laugh heartily into the thinner air. Every morning met by the jubilant ‘water for washing’ wake up call, and every night tea and carbs. The last day, we arrived at Barangu camp, 4.6km into the sky, at about 3pm. The hike that day was long and hot, and we were schedule to sleep from after supper until 11pm for our final ascent at midnight. As the sun went down, the wind picked up. When I say the wind was our nemesis, it was a true bastard that night. We rested, but had no sleep that evening, tent pegs clinging to the rocky cliffs. At wake up call, we adorned ourselves in every layer that we brought, and began the serpentine vertical ascent of almost 1.5km, 7km across. We both did well, if somewhat freezing, into the late night. Gusts of ice crystals nearly toppling us were to last no more than one hour, but stayed to challenge the group for the entire climb. 4 hours in, Saskia and Michail began to complain of nausea, Saskia vomiting several times. Later, Dennis cited severe headache and Mei was falling behind the tempo – later to find that she was having difficulties seeing. The night bore on, and after 6 hours of winding hike, Ashley’s previous inexhaustible energy began to feel the effects of the extreme altitude. Nausea, headache, and freezing extremities smeared the last few hundred meters to attain Stella point (5700m) into an excruciating hour. Finally breaking the initial summit, to watch the sunrise, gave us a tremendous sense of relief and accomplishment, but the wind would not let us lose focus for long. We hobbled another 45mins across the barren arctic landscape to Uhuru summit at 5895 meters, nearly 6km into the sky. When Mei ambled her way to Uhuru, blindly, 20 minutes later, we enjoyed the successful climb of all in our group, snapping pictures and hugging. I would love to say that the fun was over, but 7 hours up meant at least 3 hours down. Fuck our faces. Ashley’s trouble was increasing the longer we stayed above 4000m, and it was to nearly paralyze her on the descent. We stopped momentarily to rest, to vomit, and rushed on weary legs down the steep slopes. We rested at the 4600m camp for an hour, then quickly descended to 3100meters that afternoon. In less than 24hours, we ascended, summited, descended and ended our day like the first, in the tropical rain forest. It was an amazing, masochistic, punishing, satisfying, surreal, and tiring experience. And we ain’t never gonna do that again.
