Polepole kama kinyonga

I've been putting off writing for a full week now and the unreliable computers and internet cafes across Tanzania haven't helped things. I'm back in Tanga and finally recovered from my week long trek up and down the incredible Mt. Kilimanjaro.

I first met with the rest of my group and my guides the morning we started and was happy to discover that I'd be spending the next week with a brother and sister from South Africa. Theunis had a great sense of humor, keeping our guides on their toes constantly, and Mariaan proved to be excellent company for the entire trip. Day 1 began walking through the cloud forest from Machame gate at roughly 1900m to Machame camp at 3000m. I had been warned that we would have to walk really slowly, but our pace actually was painfully slow. Taking such small steps at that pace meant that we never got out of breath and our bodies had a chance to acclimatize to the change in altitude. Early on in the morning we spotted a little green chameleon - kinyonga in kiswahili - walking up the path with that signature halting and wobbly gait. The little guy didn't mind that we were watching him and kept going up the hill so slowly, so Theunis created a new team motto - "polepole kama kinyonga" - accompanied by the same ridiculous walk as our amphibious friend. For the next 7 days we'd recite this to our guides and any downtrodden looking porters, who would always giggle at our stupidity and butchering of their native tongue. The walk through the rainforest was really beautiful even though we got caught in a bit of rain that would leave our gear wet for the remainder of the trip. At camp the first night we met a lot of the other people on the trail and were totally spoiled by our guides and porters who prepared snacks, dinner and tea for us before resting up for the next day.

I knew I was really spoiled (that or I was getting my money's worth out of the crazy expensive trip) when one of the porters brought me "bed tea" at 6:30am the next morning. I really wasn't expecting to have coffee served to me in bed while camping! After packing up and eating we set off for Shira campsite at 3800m, through rocky valleys & plateaus and low-lying shrubs. Eerie mosses hung from the branches of spindly trees and clouds drifted by us all day long, changing the temperature from hot and sticky to cool and misty. The view downhill to wards Moshi was really beautiful and we could see the forest we had come through on the first day. The scenery was amazing and the sky so blue as we walked for several hours in the morning. The porters carry all the luggage except for a small day pack, so hiking during the first few days was fairly easy, especially at our kinyonga pace. There were ton of tents at Shira camp and a lot of creepy looking black Ravens who were picking up any food scraps they could find. Once we had eaten and rested for a bit at camp we wandered over to some disappointingly small and littered caves and waited for the clouds to lift so we could catch a glimpse of the summit for the first time. We got rained on and the clouds hung around through dinner and the late evening so I settled into a good book and fell asleep early in my little green tent.

Altitude does funny things to you as you ascend. For some reason it makes you pee a lot, so I was drinking 3-4 litres of water every day plus tea and juice and whatever else. At high altitudes, headaches, nausea, swelling of the hands and feet, and malaise are common. For the first few days I only had to deal with the water issue, and woke up in the middle of the (freezing cold) night to trudge over the rocky terrain to the poorly-maintained toilet facilities (a hole in the floor of a wooden enclosure - so unpleasant). When I walked out of my tent at midnight on night 2, I caught a glimpse of the peak for the first time ever and exclaimed something along the lines of "holy shit, what have I gotten myself into!?" as I looked WAAAY up to the snowy summit. Pretty spectacular. Very daunting.

Day 3 was a crappy day for me. We walked from Shira camp at 3800m up to the Lava tower at 4600m and back down into another valley, to Barranco camp at 3900m. This day was crucial for acclimatization and followed the climbers adage of "climb high, sleep low," but it definitely messed up my head with altitude sickness and made Mariaan feel pretty bad too. We were walking polepole and trying to keep morale up with jokes and all kinds of really interesting conversations about Africa from Theunis' experience living in many parts of South and West Africa. Once we reached 4600m, Mariaan and I were suffering from the altitude, feeling exhausted and spent any chance we could get lying flat on our backs on boulders. The walk down to Barranco camp seemed to take forever, but the spiky and unearthly looking senecia plants made for an interesting distraction until we finally reached camp and indulged in popcorn, tea and well-deserved rest.

On day 4 we scrambled on hands and knees up a huge wall to a flat rock summit and back down to Karanga camp at 4040m. The climb up the very steep wall was actually a lot of fun because we weren't just trudging along at a ridiculously slow pace and had a few little challenges to distract us from the increasing altitude. We hung around at the top of the wall and talked to some of the other hikers from all over the world and with all kinds of reasons for making the trip up to Uhuru peak. One guy with MASSIVE sinewy legs and an Arnold Schwarzenegger-esque upper body was trekking in only spandex, was carrying a very big hunting knife and had filled his backpack with 30kg worth of rocks. He was Brazillian-American. We nicknamed him Rambino and giggled every time we crossed paths. We got a beautiful sunset over Mt. Meru at Karanga camp and could see the summit again from our tents.

We hiked from 4040m at Karanga camp to 4600m at Barafu camp through barren, lifeless terrain on Day 5. My guidebook said that this terrain would be perfect for George Lucas' next Star Wars film and I couldn't agree more. Fortunately, I had acclimatized well and was feeling pretty good, so the cold and the snow didn't bother me as we trudged over several false summits up to Barafu camp. We arrived at camp early, but knew that we'd be making the final push up to the summit that night so all of us were feeling pretty antsy and couldn't rest. Here, I met Sean Wisedale, who has reached the top of all seven summits around the world. He was leading a group up to the summit that night as well and everyone was under strict orders to get some rest. After sitting in the snow drinking tea and eating popcorn and cookies I went to (try to) sleep in my tent for a few hours before the big night.

I woke up at 11pm and got dressed for the cold. This involved putting on thermal tights, pants, snow-pants and then waterproof pants on the bottom (along with 2 pairs of thermal socks, hiking boots and gaiters), and SEVEN layers on top - thermals, shirts, 2 sweaters, a down jacket and a rain jacket. I was too hot for a while, but would appreciate it all at the top. My friends from the US who I'd been hanging out with in Moshi gave me those little hand warmer packets to stick in my gloves and hiking boots and they were also greatly appreciated! I packed only water and some snacks in my bag and kept my camera underneath my down jacket to keep it from freezing up in the cold.

At 12 midnight we started walking up to Stella Point. Our pace was ridiculously slow and easy at first, but I got hit with a bit of altitude and soon had a pounding headache and some intense muscle aches going on in my back. Nausea kicked in halfway through the night too, so I had little interest in the Lindor dark chocolate I had saved just for the occasion. The moon just so happened to be full on summit night, so we walked in just moonlight, without our headlamps. It was really gorgeous, with the Mawenzi peak over our right shoulder and the moon hanging over us to the left. The trail zig-zagged upwards on steep gravel scree that slipped away in parts - very frustrating when coupled with the cold and altitude sickness. This last bit up to Stella point was really tough. Other groups were hanging around on the trail, some vomiting, some complaining of exhaustion or nausea. A lot of guides were singing and trying to keep things upbeat, but it was hard to keep a positive outlook when everytime you thought you were almost there you realized you had only reached a false summit. Theunis decided we should rename that last leg of the trip Heartbreak Hill.

At one point when I was feeling really crappy and thinking all kinds of negative things I decided I needed to do something about it or I'd be done. I asked the guides if they knew any songs like the other group's guides were singing but they couldn't think of anything. Then I remembered the Kiswahili songs that my kids taught me at school and I started singing that. The guides and porters started laughing so much and asking where I learned these songs from their childhood. I got them to sing for a bit, as ridiculous as it may have seemed, and that woke me up again.

By 7am I had reached Stella Point and realized that I was actually going to make it. From the rim of the crater I could see the ash pit inside and the massive glaciers to the left of Uhuru peak. Unfortunately, Stella Point is something like 50 metres lower than Uhuru peak, so I had to trudge along the crater rim for another 45 minutes to reach that stupid sign. I was feeling downright horrible, my head was pounding, my stomach turning and my brain struggling to make sense of my surroundings. I lagged behind my South African companions on the final stretch but Mohamoud kept me company as I dragged my feet towards Uhuru peak. When I was almost there I was getting pretty emotional and I ran into that Sean Wisedale guy who had just reached the top. He shook my hand and congratulated me and a few minutes later I found myself getting a photo taken in front of the sign. I reached Uhuru Peak - 5895m or 19,340ft - at 8:10am and I didn't even take a second to read the sign. The five minutes I spent at the summit are pretty foggy in my memory. I blame altitude sickness. A surreal experience, in any case. The glaciers were astoundingly beautiful - I remember that for certain.

And then we came back. We came down the mountain at a pretty good clip, sliding down the loose gravel as if we were skiing until we reached camp. My symptoms from the altitude didn't subside all day. The trip up to the summit took about 8 hours, the trip down took about 3. We had some lunch and then packed up right away and skidded down the mountain for another 5 hours. SO, in a very short period of time I went from 4600m at Barafu camp to 5895m at Uhuru peak, back to Barafu and then all the way down to Mweka camp at 3000m. We covered over 17km that day and were so bagged by the end of it. I don't think I've ever slept so well, especially in a tiny tent in the rain. On the seventh day we ran down the mountain for a couple hours until we reached the gate at 1600m. The park ranger printed out and signed our certificates and we all drove back to Moshi together before heading our separate ways.

In hindsight, the trek was a really great experience because it forced me to push myself to my physical limitations. Failure was never an option for me - mostly for myself, but also because I had told so many people at home that I was going to do it, and there was no way I could come back and tell anyone that I had just given up part way through. The first 5 days were a lovely walk in the park compared to the final night when altitude and cold made an otherwise moderate trail so much more trying, but the scenery was incredible all the way through and the camping and hiking experience was simply awesome. If you would have asked me right after Summit night if I would do it again, I would have said "Hell no" but it was totally worth it and my project manager here in Tanga is already talking about setting up a Kilimanjaro fundraiser for me to lead in the future...