I don’t know how long I have wanted to go to Africa. Maybe since seeing Out of Africa who knows how long ago, maybe since the first time I ever saw those incredible animals in the zoo, maybe since I have become addicted to Animal Planet, National Geographic, Nature, and all of the other animal shows on TV. Whenever it was, the idea has been in my mind to go. So, when my friend and frequent travel companion Maureen put a trip together, I was eager to make it happen.
My first hurdle was timing. The trip was first proposed for 2010. That year was our ten year wedding anniversary, and my husband and I had already planned a return to the island where we had been married. It turned out that others invited on the Africa excursion also couldn’t make it for various reasons, so the trip was postponed until 2011.
Maureen had done her homework. She wanted to be in the Serengeti during the Great Migration. She found out that February is a great time to see lots of babies, and therefore lots of predators. Maureen had also added a small bonus to this trip; a quick climb up Mt. Kilimanjaro.
Hmmmm, I thought. Do I really want to climb this mountain? I am not much of a hiker, have no gear, and not super excited about backpacking and sleeping on the ground for a week. Well, no matter. If Maureen wanted to do this, then what the heck, I was in. The next major hurdle was to convince my husband, Stan, to get on board. When I brought up the topic in 2010, he wasn’t too interested, but left open the possibility of going later. So when I brought it up again later in 2010 for a trip in 2011, he had done an about face and said he was not interested in going to Africa at all. There were several reasons, but none of them seemed legitimate to me. So we had a few discussions about it, and I told him that I wanted to go, and that I wanted to experience this trip with him, but that if he decided he couldn’t do it, then I would go alone. He contemplated this for a few days, and then decided that he would go. Hurray! In retrospect, I don’t know how I would have been able to do the climb without him. It would have been so much harder.
We set about researching the climb, found all sorts of web sites about climbing the mountain, read list after list of stuff to bring, bought backpacks, camel backs, long underwear, jackets, boots, gators, socks, hiking pants, (did I mention that we didn’t hike and had NO gear at all?), head lamps, iodine tablets, balaclavas, more socks, more long underwear, sleeping bags to 10˚, sleeping mats, rain gear, and on and on.
We spent a small fortune before we even knew what our flights would be! We began hiking around San Diego County to prepare for our assault on the roof of Africa. I have to give Stan credit, once he decided to do it; he was committed and kind of excited about the whole thing. Out initial thoughts were about climbing this mountain that neither of us had any real aspirations to climb. I figured that the safari and the subsequent trip to Zanzibar (isn’t that a cool sounding place?) would be the restful part of the trip, and we didn’t have to think much about that part.
One thing we weren’t sure about is what route we would be taking. As the time approached, we found out it was to be the Machame Route. This route had been dubbed the Whiskey route (probably because you needed some at the end of each harrowing day). Maureen had eschewed the “easier” Coca Cola route (the Marangu route) as being “namby-pamby,” and that the more challenging route we had chosen was supposedly much more beautiful. Of course, having not done the Manangu route, I can’t say for sure if it would have been easier or not, but over the course of 6 days, I think we were all willing to have taken the namby-pamby easy way out!
I got a book about all of the routes and read about ours. It really didn’t seem like it would be all that hard. The first day was about 10K. Gee, how many of those runs have I done? If it takes me less than an hour to run a 10K, then how long could it possible take to walk one? I figured maybe 3 or so? The increase in altitude was about 1200 meters. I didn’t really take that into consideration at while I was figuring all of this out. The 2nd day was only 5.3 K. Wow, this should be easy! That couldn’t take more than a couple of hours. I wondered what we would be doing all day at the 2nd camp. The altitude change on that day was listed at 818 meters. Should be a piece of cake. Day 3 was another 10-11K with an increase in altitude of 147 meters, then a decrease of 641 meters. So there was going to be some uphill, followed by some serious downhill. I am thinking maybe 4-5 hours or so? Day 4 was only 8.5K with an increase in altitude of 676 meters. I didn’t think that would take long either, but I did note that this was the route to the final base camp from where we would summit at midnight that same night. I figured this would be a long and brutal day. This base camp was at 15,295 feet. Then that night to the summit which is another nearly 5K straight up. I figured this would be hard after no sleep. To top this off, when we returned from the summit, we would eat, rest a few minutes, and then head down to the lower last camp. It is about another 6K. You go from the summit at 19,341 feet to 10,190 feet. Anyway, after reading this, I figured it was doable. I was ready, but definitely apprehensive.
Reality
The big day arrived. We departed San Diego on a red-eye to the Dulles airport in Washington, DC. We had met up with Mary Ann in San Diego. Once in DC, we had several hours to wait for our next flight to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. We met up with the rest of our travel partners; Maureen and Augie, and Ryan, Mary Ann’s son. We had a long, but uneventful flight to Ethiopia on Ethiopian Airlines. Once there, we changed planes for a 4-hour flight to Kilimanjaro airport.
We arrived at our hotel in Moshi, the Springlands Hotel. This hotel was the base for our outfitter Zara tours. It was hot and dusty when we arrived. The hotel grounds were attractive, almost charming, but the rooms were closer to dumpy. As with many hotels in 3rd world countries, lots of stuff didn’t work, or didn’t work well. The power went off frequently. There was no air conditioning at all. Each room had what might be called a swamp cooler, but these contraptions produced no cool air. They turned out to be glorified fans. The water pressure was fairly non-existent; the drains were slow. The rooms were very small, and had two twin beds with holey mosquito nets. We had so much gear, that it took up most of the room.
During the next day (my birthday), we watched groups come and go from the mountain. It was some sort of organized chaos. We quizzed people who had come back; What route did you take?; How was it? How was the weather?; Any advice? Most of the people seemed none the worse for wear. One older guy, seemed fairly thrashed. I think I identified with that guy, and it made me even more worried. We heard all sorts of weather reports ranging from clear, sunny, and extremely cold, to rain, snow, and everything in between. Who knows what we would get.
The night before our climb, we met our guides. They were Eli and Stanley. They seemed cool, laid back, and experienced. I felt like we were in good hands. They told us briefly what to expect, what to bring, and when to meet the next day.
On the 10th we packed up our backpacks and the duffle bags that the porters would carry, stored the rest of our belongings in a secure area, our valuables in a safe deposit box and climbed into the bus with our some other hikers.
We were taken to the Machame gate, where we had to sign in and generally gather all of our porters, guides, and belongings together. This process took about ½ hour or so. Then we started out. It was really exciting! The area was so beautiful; all jungle and moss. Monkeys and weird birds were everywhere. Lots of little colorful flowers. We were lucky to have a dry start. It was warm, but not really hot. I think we all had shorts on. There was a lot of sensory overload. You were trying to see everything, watch where you were walking, and chat with all of the other people on the trail. We were walking with a group from Scandanavia. I think they were from Denmark, but I have forgotten. One couple was celebrating their 40th birthdays. They were with a couple of younger single guys. I think there were a couple of girls from Norway. We also ran into a group from Cananda. They were young, maybe early 30s, and two of them were doctors. I guess they were big triathaletes as well. Everyone seemed eager and happy to be attempting this endeavor. I felt great that day, even though I had the remnants of a cold. Stan had also been sick, but he seemed on the mend that day.
That first day was supposed to take us 5-7 hours. I did not record how long it actually took us, but you can assume it took us longer than 7 hours. It turned out that Mary Ann, who had her hip replaced a year ago, was having some difficulties. We started out at an altitude of about 3000 feet and increased to about 5000 feet that day. Mary Ann had to get one of the guides to take her back pack. It was too much weight for her to carry. That continued for the remainder of the climb. Once we got into Machame camp, the porters already had a dining tent up, and hot tea and popcorn were waiting for us. That was pretty cool. The weather was also very cool! I was hoping our sleeping bags would be adequate. The cooks prepared a dinner of soup, fish (icky), and vegetables. We ate whatever we could and then hit the sack by 9:00 pm.
The second day was supposed to be 4-6 hours, but it took us about 7-8 hours!! We were headed to Shira Camp at 12,600 feet. This day Augie began having some trouble with is heart rate. A few years ago, he had surgery to repair a valve. He was taking medication to keep his heart rate below 140 beats per minute. During some of the more strenuous hiking, his heart rate attempted to exceed this number. It made him feel short of breath, and he had to stop for his heart to get back to normal. The distance we traveled was supposedly only 3.1 miles, but it took forever! This was supposed to be a short day, but not for us. This turned out to be a recurring theme for our group. The scenery and views this day were amazing. We moved into the heather or moorland zone. There were lots of moss and lichen on the rocks. At the end of the day we were at the Shira Caves campsite. Ryan went to explore the caves, the rest of us were too tired. We had a discussion about Augie’s condition. We ran into those doctors again, and we asked their advice. It seemed like everyone recommended that Augie abort this mission. If he was going to abort, this was the place because he could hike a short distance to a road, and then get picked up by an ambulance and taken to Moshi. We all thought he should do this. He wasn’t really on board with it, but finally decided it would probably be best. I thought that maybe Mary Ann should give up too, but she didn’t. She was determined to go forward with the rest of us.
Day 3 was another matter altogether. This route took us from Shira camp at 12,600 feet to Barranco Camp at 12,960 feet. The distance was supposed to be 15K and take 7 hours. I think it was close to 500 miles and took us forever (ok, 9 hours)!! It was endless. The weather started out very cold and we had numerous layers on, then the weather warmed up and we shed layer after layer. Then it started to hail, and continued for several hours. The trail went up, then down, then up, then down. The scenery was barren. This is the semi-desert with ugly dark colored boulders/rocks that had orange hairy lichen growing off of it. If I sound bitter about this day, it is because it was the worst day ever. When we got to the lunch spot, the lava tower, it was so cold, windy, and the hail was coming down so hard, that we didn’t really get a chance to eat. I was already exhausted at this point, and had no appetite. I was also really cranky. I am not sure if I was the only one or not, but I don’t think I ever even took out my camera that day. I didn’t want to record this misery. Once at the Barranco camp, I found our tent and went inside to begin getting the sleeping bags ready, but I had no energy and just plopped down on top of my duffle bag with my feet hanging out of the tent and was ready to pass out. Stan came and helped me to revive. We got our bags out and set up and then went to the dining tent. I can’t remember what they had to eat, but I couldn’t eat any of it. Even the tea was a struggle. I had begun to have suspicions about the tea. I was sure it was dehydrating me and keeping me awake at night. I think Ryan felt the same way. We mostly drank hot water from this point on. At dinner, I had a headache, and all of my muscles ached. I told the group that I could not go any further. I don’t know what else I said, I could hardly keep my head up. The guide, Eli, came in and we discussed the logistics for quitting. It turned out we had to hike up to the base camp anyway in order to escape this ordeal. That is not what I wanted to hear. I stumbled off to my tent and passed out.
Ironically, this 4th day dawned brighter. I don’t know who that person was the night before, but I was fine and raring to go! The initial part of this day was the best of all of them. We had to climb up the great Barranco wall. It was a welcome change from the continuous up and down over rocks and boulders of the previous days. While this was hard work, it was so interesting. The trail was just a flat area in the rocky cliff. The porters zipped by us with tons of weight on their heads and shoulders, and we struggled to scramble up the rocks. It was amazing. Of course, this day was not without its difficulties. I think this day was about 13k. It was supposed to take 8 hours. Stan, Maureen, and I split from Mary Ann and Ryan after the lunch break. Mary Ann was talking about giving up, but she still had to get the base camp at Barafu to do it. She suggested that the three of us go ahead because we need to get some rest before the summit attempt at midnight. We went ahead and got in fairly late. We ate a quick dinner and had a discussion with Eli about how it would all work. We would all get a guide. We would get up around 11:00 pm and get ready. They would have tea and cookies for us to snack on before we left. Eli thought it might rain. We went to bed around 9:00 pm. We didn’t get up until around midnight. For some reason, Stan was really annoyed that they didn’t wake us earlier. I couldn’t figure out what difference it could possibly make, but it really upset him. I went outside to use the bathroom, and found that it had snowed overnight. It was still snowing lightly, and everything was covered in snow. It was kind of eerie. We fumbled around and got all the layers on. I had on silk long underwear, smart wool long underwear, and synthetic long underwear, hiking pants, rain pants, two pairs of socks, a wool sweater, a down sweater, a polar fleece, and a heavy Gortex jacket. I had mittens, but my glove liners were wet from the previous day, so I didn’t wear those. I stuck 2 hand warmers in each mitten. Eli was my guide. He carried my pack this day also. I think he also carried it the day before after lunch. The day before that, some porters had come looking for us, and one of them grabbed my pack to help us move more quickly.
Anyway, we set out around 1:00 am. We all had our head lamps on. You couldn’t see much except the line of lights going up and up. It was crazy! Stan and I were together. We just plodded along with our guides, trying to step where they stepped. It was slow going. The snow just piled higher and higher. It became harder for the guides to see the path with the snow covering it. But up and up we went. We had to go a little and then stop. We repeated this over and over. Every time we stopped I would look up and see the line of lights going higher and higher, wondering if they would ever stop. Stan kept telling me not to look up, so I wouldn’t give up. I think we passed Maureen somewhere. Ryan had started off first. After several hours, the terrain changed to mostly steep rock faces. It was slippery and hard to find a good footing. At this point, I think we were around 17,000 feet, Stan decided that he couldn’t go any further. He had a relapse of his cold, and I think it had turned to bronchitis. He was feeling light headed and felt like he couldn’t safely continue. We discussed it and I offered to go down with him. I told him I still felt ok. He said to continue and he would go down by himself (with his guide). As Eli and I continued, there was a group of about 20 people who were coming down. They had decided to give up. At this point, I asked Eli “Am I crazy?” “Should I turn around?” He said that I had come here to climb the mountain, and that I should climb it! So, on I went. The lights were still going up. There seemed to be no end in sight. The trail, or the thing we were pretending to be a trail, grew fainter and fainter, and steeper and steeper. By now we were on an area of scree that was covered in about 2 feet of snow. You would take a step forward and slide back every time. It was slow painful going. At some point, Ryan passed me while he was descending. I tried to confirm the distance to the top, but he was as non-committal as Eli. Nearly there, was all I got. I think dawn had come by this point, but it was still snowing. I was nearly to the top of that steep scree mess, but suddenly I had no more energy. I walked at times with my eyes closed, thinking that a quick nap would be good. Finally, I told Eli that I couldn’t go any further. He knew we were so close. There was another guide coming down with his charge. Eli asked him to help. Eli grabbed by left side, the other guide, my right, and they dragged me up the last 10 feet or so, to the end of the scree incline. That gave me some solid footing. I felt like I could go a little further! We plodded on to Stella point. I kind of had decided that I would end it there. I knew that the Uhuru peak was only a little further, but I didn’t know if I had a little further left in me. About that time, a woman who might have been my age, or even a little older, came up with her guide. She was giddy. She congratulated me and urged me to go on the Uhuru. She said it was only three more little hills and we would be there. Eli reminded me that we were talking about another hour and a half. I decided to go for it. What a struggle. I am sure that Eli wanted to boot me over the side time and time again. I whined and moaned. How much longer? Do you see the sign? I can’t see it. Where is it? Finally I saw it. The woman who convinced me to continue was there taking photos. She was still giddy when we passed again. She congratulated me again. This time I had the presence of mind to return the compliment. I made it to the signpost. Eli took my photo. He also took a few others. The snow had stopped and it was actually beginning to clear. At first, we couldn’t see anything. Every vista was white, but once the sun came out, I could make out the glacier. Eli mentioned the names, but the only one I remember is the Heim glacier. They were magnificent. I stood on the edge and just took it all in. Amazing. Then in short order, it was time to descend. We went on the fast track! That evil incline now turned into a regular ski slope! We pretty much skied down on boots. It was kind of enjoyable. The sun was out in full force now. I had to keep peeling off layers. I did not bring any sunscreen and the lip balm I brought didn’t have any in it either. I knew I was getting fried, but there was nothing I could do about it. Eli wanted us to make good time, so he took one of my arms and all but marched me down that mountain. I felt like a rag doll sometimes. I have to say I was happy to get to camp though. None of our group was still there. My tent and sleeping bag was there, but everyone else had already started the descent to the Maweka camp. I was greeted by some of the porters and the cook. They were so nice and congratulated me for finishing. They gave me some juice that was wonderful. The cook made me some fabulous potatoes and vegetables. I was starving, but I took one bite of the potatoes, and could not eat another bite. Weird. Then Eli told me I could sleep an hour before we needed to leave. So, I passed out for a while. I woke up and packed up my sleeping bag and mat. Then Eli and I set out.
The downhill on this path was brutal. The trail turned into a creek bed with a million boulders to navigate. It would have been slow going, but Eli had my arm again and was marching me down the trail. We made it down in about 3-4 hours I think. I didn’t like the looks of the camp. It was black dirt. It seemed like a public campground, unlike all of our previous camps that were only for the summit bound. Our camp was set up among some trees. The ropes for the tents were everywhere. It was difficult to maneuver around. The rest of the group was in the dining tent. They had just had dinner. The cooks whipped up some for me after I washed up. I was finally able to eat a little. I couldn’t tell you what I had. I think there was rice in the mix though. I brought my camera in and showed my proof of being at the summit. We went back to our tents to get ready for bed. At this point we heard Mary Ann and Ryan saying that their backpacks had been stolen! We were shocked! When could this have happened? It must have been when we were in the dining tent. Such a horrible thing. Now Ryan did not have his summit photo. All of his cameras were in his pack. He lost them all. Ugghhh. That put a very negative spin on the whole experience. We tried to move past it, but it was hard. It rained all night. We woke up to a muddy mess.
The next day we had several more hours to the end of our Kilimanjaro adventure. More creek bed and downhill. My legs were shot. I was very happy to get to the end. We went and signed out. We had our boots washed and then hit the road. When we got to the hotel, they had “upgraded “our rooms to bigger and slightly nicer rooms. That shower was so incredible!! I felt like a new person! We all got cleaned up and then met with Eli and Stanley. We had a little certificate ceremony, took photos, and then distributed the tips. What a long strange trip it had been.
Friday, March 4, 2011
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Sunday, February 20, 2011
The climb and bad weather at the summit
The Climb
I had read many blogs and heard several personal accounts which I thought had prepared me for this experience. I was so wrong. I believe everyone's experience is their own. You just have to do it and see for yourself.
My moods and emotions changed as often as the landscape. One minute I was exhilarated and enjoying the scenery, the next minute I was wondering why I ever came up with this crazy idea. Why didn't I choose a spa vacation? When it was apparent that Augie's heart wouldn't allow him to go on, I was ready to go back down with him on day three. But I continued on at his insistence. Day three turned out to be the worst of all. For some reason, it seemed to be endless agony. None of us can quite figure out why. Maybe it was the climbing up to 15,000 feet, then back down to 13,000. Maybe it was the extra long time it took to get to our lunch break. Maybe it was the fact that, what should have been a 6 hour climb, took us 9.
Whatever the reason, Tanya, Stan and I were all ready to call it quits. We even asked Eli, our guide, how to get down. He told us the easiest way was to continue on tomorrow to the half way point, then there would be a road we could walk to and get a car to take us down. We agreed to wait until tomorrow to see how we felt. I lay in my tent thinking how can I survive three more days of this?
Day four we all woke up bright and chipper and ready for a new day and a new challenge. It turned out to be my favorite. Rock climbing up a straight wall, the Barranco Wall! I think the scenery was some of the most breath-taking of all. Many people were complaining, but I loved it.
We are a diverse group of six -- Mary Ann, an out of shape 63 year old with a new hip; Augie, 61 and reasonably fit, but with a heart condition; me, a reasonably fit 61; Tanya and Stan, mid 50s and in very good shape; and Ryan, a 27 year old extreme sports enthusiast. We were accompanied by two guides, three assistant guides, 17 porters, one cook, and one toilet porter (bless his heart!).
It took an army to get us all to the Barafu Huts Base Camp, where we prepared ourselves for the summit. I was amazed that Mary Ann made it this far, and very proud of Ryan for standing by his mom and helping her make it up this far. But she decided that she would not attempt the climb.
We awoke for our climb at midnight to find ourselves in the middle of a snow storm. There was already six inches of snow on the ground and it was steadily falling. Shivering, I put on my three layers of clothing, only to find I could no longer find my feet. I went into the mess tent for breakfast and the guides helped to put on my gaters. It was so dark, I didn't ever realize that the guide they had assigned to me was Stanley, who had been assisting me all the way up the mountain. I was one of the first to begin, because they knew I would be the slowest. As I moved my way slowly up the hill, everyone passed me by. First Ryan (who, finally free from his mother, raced up the hill - one of the first up and first back), then Tanya and Stan.
The snow and ice made it twice as difficult as it would normally have been. Every step took double effort to keep yourself from sliding backwards, or slipping off the rocks. After four and a half hours, and I was still a little less than half way up, I noticed that people started to turn around and start back down. I told myself that if Tanya and Stan were among these people, I would join them. I was beginning to have a hard time keeping my eyes opened, and I kept asking Stanley if I could just lay down and take a nap for a few minutes until the sun came up.
All I could see in front of me was a line of lights going strait up - I don't mean at a slant, I mean straight up! This sucker was steep! Finally, I heard Stan's voice. His upper resperatory problem was preventing him from continuing, so I decided to join him.
I thought the hard part was over. Was I wrong! Going down took me another four hours. Luckily, I had Stanley and Joseph to help me make it back to camp. I had a breakfast of french fries and vegetables with Ryan and then dragged myself to my tent to try to sleep. I fell into my tent with all my layers of clothes. I couldn't even untie my boots. I lay with my feet hanging out of my tent. One of the portors came and unhooked my gaters and took off my boots. I slept for about an hour and it seemed like ten.
We could have chosen the easier Marangu route, called the "Coka Cola" route, but I chose the Machame, called the "Whiskey" route. I would recommend it to anyone. It may be more difficult, but it is also more scenic. Every day is different. The vistas are incredible. We did the climb in six days, but I would recommend the seven day version. You get to spend the night at the Karanga Camp, then continue on the next day the three to four hour hike to the Barafu Huts Base Camp. You have the whole day to rest up and prepare for your summit.
I may have made this sound like a horrible experience, but that's not the case. I am left with an overwhelming sense of accomplishment. I set out to do something challenging and, even though I didn't make it to the summit, I feel very satisfied and proud of myself for sticking it out as long as I did. I would not trade this experience for the world. But I am definitely crossing K-2 off my Bucket List!
Our heros - Tanya and Ryan
Out of the six uf us, only Tanya and Ryan made it to the top. Tanya out of sheer determination and Ryan out of youthful stamina. Ryan was like a young race horse finally being let off the reins after having to hike so slowly for five days, helping his mother make it as far as she did. He passed everyone up on the path and made it to the top in six hours, then back down in three.
We never saw Tanya again until dinner at the Mweka Camp because she took nine hours to get to the top and three hours to get down. When she finally limped into our mess tent for dinner, her face was sunburned and she was beat, but she had a triumphant glow about her. She shared with us her pictures from the summit, which she was too tired to take. Eli had taken her camera while she sat on the box under the sign and ate a power bar.
Unfortunately, we have no pictures of Ryan's accomplishment. That night at Mweka Camp, someone broke into Mary Ann and Ryan's tent and stole their day packs with all their camera equipment in them. Ryan was devastated, to say the least. Things can be replaced, but his pictures cannot. But we all know he did it, and they can't take his memories or his pride away.
We're all proud of you, Ryan and Tanya!
I had read many blogs and heard several personal accounts which I thought had prepared me for this experience. I was so wrong. I believe everyone's experience is their own. You just have to do it and see for yourself.
My moods and emotions changed as often as the landscape. One minute I was exhilarated and enjoying the scenery, the next minute I was wondering why I ever came up with this crazy idea. Why didn't I choose a spa vacation? When it was apparent that Augie's heart wouldn't allow him to go on, I was ready to go back down with him on day three. But I continued on at his insistence. Day three turned out to be the worst of all. For some reason, it seemed to be endless agony. None of us can quite figure out why. Maybe it was the climbing up to 15,000 feet, then back down to 13,000. Maybe it was the extra long time it took to get to our lunch break. Maybe it was the fact that, what should have been a 6 hour climb, took us 9.
Whatever the reason, Tanya, Stan and I were all ready to call it quits. We even asked Eli, our guide, how to get down. He told us the easiest way was to continue on tomorrow to the half way point, then there would be a road we could walk to and get a car to take us down. We agreed to wait until tomorrow to see how we felt. I lay in my tent thinking how can I survive three more days of this?
Day four we all woke up bright and chipper and ready for a new day and a new challenge. It turned out to be my favorite. Rock climbing up a straight wall, the Barranco Wall! I think the scenery was some of the most breath-taking of all. Many people were complaining, but I loved it.
We are a diverse group of six -- Mary Ann, an out of shape 63 year old with a new hip; Augie, 61 and reasonably fit, but with a heart condition; me, a reasonably fit 61; Tanya and Stan, mid 50s and in very good shape; and Ryan, a 27 year old extreme sports enthusiast. We were accompanied by two guides, three assistant guides, 17 porters, one cook, and one toilet porter (bless his heart!).
It took an army to get us all to the Barafu Huts Base Camp, where we prepared ourselves for the summit. I was amazed that Mary Ann made it this far, and very proud of Ryan for standing by his mom and helping her make it up this far. But she decided that she would not attempt the climb.
We awoke for our climb at midnight to find ourselves in the middle of a snow storm. There was already six inches of snow on the ground and it was steadily falling. Shivering, I put on my three layers of clothing, only to find I could no longer find my feet. I went into the mess tent for breakfast and the guides helped to put on my gaters. It was so dark, I didn't ever realize that the guide they had assigned to me was Stanley, who had been assisting me all the way up the mountain. I was one of the first to begin, because they knew I would be the slowest. As I moved my way slowly up the hill, everyone passed me by. First Ryan (who, finally free from his mother, raced up the hill - one of the first up and first back), then Tanya and Stan.
The snow and ice made it twice as difficult as it would normally have been. Every step took double effort to keep yourself from sliding backwards, or slipping off the rocks. After four and a half hours, and I was still a little less than half way up, I noticed that people started to turn around and start back down. I told myself that if Tanya and Stan were among these people, I would join them. I was beginning to have a hard time keeping my eyes opened, and I kept asking Stanley if I could just lay down and take a nap for a few minutes until the sun came up.
All I could see in front of me was a line of lights going strait up - I don't mean at a slant, I mean straight up! This sucker was steep! Finally, I heard Stan's voice. His upper resperatory problem was preventing him from continuing, so I decided to join him.
I thought the hard part was over. Was I wrong! Going down took me another four hours. Luckily, I had Stanley and Joseph to help me make it back to camp. I had a breakfast of french fries and vegetables with Ryan and then dragged myself to my tent to try to sleep. I fell into my tent with all my layers of clothes. I couldn't even untie my boots. I lay with my feet hanging out of my tent. One of the portors came and unhooked my gaters and took off my boots. I slept for about an hour and it seemed like ten.
We could have chosen the easier Marangu route, called the "Coka Cola" route, but I chose the Machame, called the "Whiskey" route. I would recommend it to anyone. It may be more difficult, but it is also more scenic. Every day is different. The vistas are incredible. We did the climb in six days, but I would recommend the seven day version. You get to spend the night at the Karanga Camp, then continue on the next day the three to four hour hike to the Barafu Huts Base Camp. You have the whole day to rest up and prepare for your summit.
I may have made this sound like a horrible experience, but that's not the case. I am left with an overwhelming sense of accomplishment. I set out to do something challenging and, even though I didn't make it to the summit, I feel very satisfied and proud of myself for sticking it out as long as I did. I would not trade this experience for the world. But I am definitely crossing K-2 off my Bucket List!
Our heros - Tanya and Ryan
Out of the six uf us, only Tanya and Ryan made it to the top. Tanya out of sheer determination and Ryan out of youthful stamina. Ryan was like a young race horse finally being let off the reins after having to hike so slowly for five days, helping his mother make it as far as she did. He passed everyone up on the path and made it to the top in six hours, then back down in three.
We never saw Tanya again until dinner at the Mweka Camp because she took nine hours to get to the top and three hours to get down. When she finally limped into our mess tent for dinner, her face was sunburned and she was beat, but she had a triumphant glow about her. She shared with us her pictures from the summit, which she was too tired to take. Eli had taken her camera while she sat on the box under the sign and ate a power bar.
Unfortunately, we have no pictures of Ryan's accomplishment. That night at Mweka Camp, someone broke into Mary Ann and Ryan's tent and stole their day packs with all their camera equipment in them. Ryan was devastated, to say the least. Things can be replaced, but his pictures cannot. But we all know he did it, and they can't take his memories or his pride away.
We're all proud of you, Ryan and Tanya!
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Moshi Town Feb 15.
It's always hard to describe third world cities because it's too easy to fall into the comparison game. Comparison degenerates into pointless because it becomes just a list of have and have nots. To be fair, one must look at what a city has given its location, not what it could be somewhere else.
World's highest free standing mountain. Dusty, dry, did I say dusty, plains. On the edge between the two sits Moshi, a town that might typify the African urban experience.
When you first enter, thankfully it's on a paved road. But paved doesn't mean less dusty, as the broad two lane avenue is paved in the middle, and has wide shoulders of plain dirt. As you proceed inward, the small stalls and roadside vendors increase in density, until the dirt disappears under the throng.
Activity increases, mostly the walking kind, because cars are out of reach for just about all except industry use or the wealthy. Motorcycles are becoming more common, and tend to be smaller, older models, that aren't seen much elsewhere.
There's no let up in the buying and selling, and Moshi has a mini industry made up of cobblers and foot treadle sewing machines. If not prosperous, they all look busy, making and repairing shoes and clothing.
You can be measured in the street, pick a fabric and design, and your shoes or suit will be made up on the spot. Workmanship, surprisingly or not, is quite good.
Every direction you look, you see street vendors, portable stalls, and fixed stores. There is a market of some kind going on constantly. But as you continue on a certain sameness strikes you. Everyone is selling the same thing differentiated only by the apparent means of the merchant. A fixed stall will sell new clothes or shoes, a street vendor laying his or her wares out each morning will have a mix ranging from new to well used. Shoes and belts again range from the new to well used. Slipped in now and then, for tourist benefit, are small curio and handicrafts stalls.
There are food stores, a meat market, and "supermarkets" with a limited stock consisting of the essentials, simple foods, some candy and cookies, and cleainging supplies.
As we move along we cross the occasional paved road, but other than the few main streets, the side roads are dirt. It hasn't rained for a few days, and everything is coated with dust.
The buildings are a mixture of late colonial and recent concrete block. The only reasonably maintained ones are the banks and hotels.
Everything else has what can best described as a "deferred maintenance" look. Peeling paint, chipped concrete and plaster, broken windows patched with wood and cloth. While these would be considered the signs dereliction in the 1st world, here is it a sort of norm.
Make do with what's available. When a can of paint costs a week's salary, other things take priority. While money for repairs can be a problem, what's puzzling is that despite the general delapidated quality of the city, it is reasonably clean and otherwise maintained in a way that is difficut to describe, and really must be experienced.
There's a certain dilligence to cleanliness to be observed despite the dust, and there only a small amount of trash lying about.
Part II to come.
It's always hard to describe third world cities because it's too easy to fall into the comparison game. Comparison degenerates into pointless because it becomes just a list of have and have nots. To be fair, one must look at what a city has given its location, not what it could be somewhere else.
World's highest free standing mountain. Dusty, dry, did I say dusty, plains. On the edge between the two sits Moshi, a town that might typify the African urban experience.
When you first enter, thankfully it's on a paved road. But paved doesn't mean less dusty, as the broad two lane avenue is paved in the middle, and has wide shoulders of plain dirt. As you proceed inward, the small stalls and roadside vendors increase in density, until the dirt disappears under the throng.
Activity increases, mostly the walking kind, because cars are out of reach for just about all except industry use or the wealthy. Motorcycles are becoming more common, and tend to be smaller, older models, that aren't seen much elsewhere.
There's no let up in the buying and selling, and Moshi has a mini industry made up of cobblers and foot treadle sewing machines. If not prosperous, they all look busy, making and repairing shoes and clothing.
You can be measured in the street, pick a fabric and design, and your shoes or suit will be made up on the spot. Workmanship, surprisingly or not, is quite good.
Every direction you look, you see street vendors, portable stalls, and fixed stores. There is a market of some kind going on constantly. But as you continue on a certain sameness strikes you. Everyone is selling the same thing differentiated only by the apparent means of the merchant. A fixed stall will sell new clothes or shoes, a street vendor laying his or her wares out each morning will have a mix ranging from new to well used. Shoes and belts again range from the new to well used. Slipped in now and then, for tourist benefit, are small curio and handicrafts stalls.
There are food stores, a meat market, and "supermarkets" with a limited stock consisting of the essentials, simple foods, some candy and cookies, and cleainging supplies.
As we move along we cross the occasional paved road, but other than the few main streets, the side roads are dirt. It hasn't rained for a few days, and everything is coated with dust.
The buildings are a mixture of late colonial and recent concrete block. The only reasonably maintained ones are the banks and hotels.
Everything else has what can best described as a "deferred maintenance" look. Peeling paint, chipped concrete and plaster, broken windows patched with wood and cloth. While these would be considered the signs dereliction in the 1st world, here is it a sort of norm.
Make do with what's available. When a can of paint costs a week's salary, other things take priority. While money for repairs can be a problem, what's puzzling is that despite the general delapidated quality of the city, it is reasonably clean and otherwise maintained in a way that is difficut to describe, and really must be experienced.
There's a certain dilligence to cleanliness to be observed despite the dust, and there only a small amount of trash lying about.
Part II to come.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Medevac from Shira Cauldera
Morning of Day 3 -- 12 Feb 11 Medevac from Shira Cauldera
One of our group began having medical problems yesterday afternoon which was making the climb difficult. A heart condition, hereto unknown, combined with what turned out to be an upper respiratory infection with lots of coughing, has convinced everyone that a return to the flatlands is the better part of valor.
While it might still be possible to continue, the guides, while not flat out saying no, were not very encouraging. Can I make it? Maybe. Should I do it? Mmmm... You have to respect their experience, so the decision was made for a return to the hotel.
The remaining 5, all bundled up in the cold (35F) morning, began their uphill track, and the sick one headed down hill with two porters.
When preparing for the climb, most everyone reads about what should be done in preparation, but it all distills pretty much into layer up for tropical to arctic conditions, pack light, and keep putting one foot in front of another. One doesn't really give much thought to injury or sickness, and in reading, you don't come across much about the issue.
The down hill trip, "medevac" is really too strong a word, brought up some interesting insights.
Fortunately our injured was merely sick and in "walking wounded" condition, and was able to walk to the evac zone. Though the walk was mostly downhill, there was some climbing, and the walk took a fair amount of effort to complete.
About 1/2 hour into the hike, and roughly half way to the evac point, one of the porters remembered a slight administrative detail -- we had not logged out. Off he runs (literally) back to the Shira camp, and returns in 20 minutes (???) with the sick log book. Fill in and sign the log, and off runs the porter back to Shira, returning in another 20 minutes.
Looking at the log, there was at least one evac from the Shira location every 2 out of 3 days. The age breakdown was most were in their 20's and out of about 50 logs, only 2 were 60 or older. In that log group, the only "injury" was altitude sickness (present company excepted), there were no physical injuries noted.
The climb is difficult only in its duration and elevation changes. For the most part the trails are well used, easy to walk and have only a few spots that require climbing. That climbing is more like enhanced, oversized steps rather than wall climbing.
With care, a broken bone should be rare, but possible, a twisted, sprained ankle is more likely, but again, with care, probably rare given the type of person who would attempt the climb in the first place. Given the frequency of rain, snow and ice, care must definitely be taken.
The Shira area is for now the only evac point -- other than 1st day problems, all other locations are effectively a 2 day walk out.
What happens if the injury is debilitating and the injured is unable to walk? There is the unicycle ambulance, a bone jarring vehicle which is really the only way out. There is a helipad at Shira, and another at the end of the evac road, but both are at the reasonable altitude limit for all but the most specialized of helicopters, and once you reach the helipads, the ambulance (a toyota land cruiser with red crosses painted on it) can take you down.
Availability of air transport is really the big question. In the Kilimanjaro area, where it’s hard to find a vehicle with shocks that work -- where can one expect find what is one of the most sophisticated pieces of hardware in the world and costs more to operate for an hour than much of the local population earn in a year?
After waiting for an hour for the amublance, it took over 3 hours to return to Moshi with a stop at the Londorosi gate to do another medvac log in. The ride itself is interesting, a long, long dusty ride in the dryest of outback Africa. Got to see a lot of the local lifestyle, but strangely no animals other than a few cows and goats.
One of our group began having medical problems yesterday afternoon which was making the climb difficult. A heart condition, hereto unknown, combined with what turned out to be an upper respiratory infection with lots of coughing, has convinced everyone that a return to the flatlands is the better part of valor.
While it might still be possible to continue, the guides, while not flat out saying no, were not very encouraging. Can I make it? Maybe. Should I do it? Mmmm... You have to respect their experience, so the decision was made for a return to the hotel.
The remaining 5, all bundled up in the cold (35F) morning, began their uphill track, and the sick one headed down hill with two porters.
When preparing for the climb, most everyone reads about what should be done in preparation, but it all distills pretty much into layer up for tropical to arctic conditions, pack light, and keep putting one foot in front of another. One doesn't really give much thought to injury or sickness, and in reading, you don't come across much about the issue.
The down hill trip, "medevac" is really too strong a word, brought up some interesting insights.
Fortunately our injured was merely sick and in "walking wounded" condition, and was able to walk to the evac zone. Though the walk was mostly downhill, there was some climbing, and the walk took a fair amount of effort to complete.
About 1/2 hour into the hike, and roughly half way to the evac point, one of the porters remembered a slight administrative detail -- we had not logged out. Off he runs (literally) back to the Shira camp, and returns in 20 minutes (???) with the sick log book. Fill in and sign the log, and off runs the porter back to Shira, returning in another 20 minutes.
Looking at the log, there was at least one evac from the Shira location every 2 out of 3 days. The age breakdown was most were in their 20's and out of about 50 logs, only 2 were 60 or older. In that log group, the only "injury" was altitude sickness (present company excepted), there were no physical injuries noted.
The climb is difficult only in its duration and elevation changes. For the most part the trails are well used, easy to walk and have only a few spots that require climbing. That climbing is more like enhanced, oversized steps rather than wall climbing.
With care, a broken bone should be rare, but possible, a twisted, sprained ankle is more likely, but again, with care, probably rare given the type of person who would attempt the climb in the first place. Given the frequency of rain, snow and ice, care must definitely be taken.
The Shira area is for now the only evac point -- other than 1st day problems, all other locations are effectively a 2 day walk out.
What happens if the injury is debilitating and the injured is unable to walk? There is the unicycle ambulance, a bone jarring vehicle which is really the only way out. There is a helipad at Shira, and another at the end of the evac road, but both are at the reasonable altitude limit for all but the most specialized of helicopters, and once you reach the helipads, the ambulance (a toyota land cruiser with red crosses painted on it) can take you down.
Availability of air transport is really the big question. In the Kilimanjaro area, where it’s hard to find a vehicle with shocks that work -- where can one expect find what is one of the most sophisticated pieces of hardware in the world and costs more to operate for an hour than much of the local population earn in a year?
After waiting for an hour for the amublance, it took over 3 hours to return to Moshi with a stop at the Londorosi gate to do another medvac log in. The ride itself is interesting, a long, long dusty ride in the dryest of outback Africa. Got to see a lot of the local lifestyle, but strangely no animals other than a few cows and goats.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Arrival in Tanzania
After a long, grueling plane ride which seemed to last for days, we stepped off the plane in Ethiopia. Our lungs were immediately assaulted by the dry, dusty air, but it was morning, and cooler than expected. No fancy jetway for us, buses brought us to the airport building to wait for our connection to Tanzania. There were plenty of duty free and other shops to occupy our time, and plenty of smokers on hand to further assault our lungs and sinuses.
On the road again, and after a quick stopover in Mombasa, we flew to Kilimanjaro, a new airport in the middle of nowhere. It's between Moshi and Arusha, which are both nowhere so it really is in the middle.
Just before landing, we caught a peek at the top of the mountain, poking up above the clouds in perfectly clear air, with the snow gleaming brightly. The snows of Kilimanjaro of Hemingway fame.
We finally arrived at the climate controlled airport - its temperature controlled by the climate, a blistering 90 degrees and the only wind a dusty one. But we're standing at the foot of our goal, the majestic Kilimanjaro, now hidden by dust and clouds. We're assured that it hasn't been moved. An hour's drive over bumpy, dusty roads (even the pavement is dusty) and we finally arrived at the Springlands Hotel, our home for the next two nights.
The rooms are tiny, but adequate, and without air conditioning. It's about 90 degrees here also, so we're really missing the air con.
There are a lot of people coming and going from here. Some have already climbed the mountain, some are getting ready to go, and some are going on safari from here.
The good news is, you can't tell by just looking at people which ones have already climbed. We're not seeing any stunned, blank looks, or exhausted faces. Everyone is smiling, either from anticipation or from pride of their accomplishment.
After a buffet dinner, we all turned in early to try to stabilize in the new +9(FL) and +11(CA)time zone.
Day 1 - Springlands Hotel, Moshi
Mary Ann and Ryan were the first to make it to breakfast this morning, Tanya (today's birthday girl) and Stan were last. After breakfast, we sat in the courtyard and watched the various groups getting themselves together to begin their climb or safari. It was all pretty chaotic, but efficient.
When all was clear, we arranged for a driver to take us into Moshi. Upon our arrival in town, we were introduced to our guide (none of us can remember his name), who took us on a walk through the markets. Lots of fruits and vegetables, clothing and shoes. And a very interesting meat market. Every time I go into one of these meat markets in third world countries, I swear I'm going to become a vegetarian. There's nothing to compare to the multi-sensory experience of a meat market!
We made it back to our hotel in time for lunch, and a brief siesta. We spoke with some climbers who had just returned from the Machame route, the one we will be doing. The man we spoke to said it was not difficult, except for the night of the summit. But they all made it, "even the 57 year old" (gulp! most of us are at least that old, some of us a good deal more). Tanya and Stan talked to the 57 year old. He was pretty beat. They said he looked a lot older than 57. He probably looked 57 yesterday.
At 5 pm we met with our guide, Eli and his assistant Stanley. They told us what we needed to do tonight to prepare, what should go into our day packs and what should go into our duffle that the porters will carry for us. After dinner tonight, we hope to get a good night's sleep -- despite the heat -- to prepare for tomorrow. Then it's pole pole (slowly slowly) to the top!
On the road again, and after a quick stopover in Mombasa, we flew to Kilimanjaro, a new airport in the middle of nowhere. It's between Moshi and Arusha, which are both nowhere so it really is in the middle.
Just before landing, we caught a peek at the top of the mountain, poking up above the clouds in perfectly clear air, with the snow gleaming brightly. The snows of Kilimanjaro of Hemingway fame.
We finally arrived at the climate controlled airport - its temperature controlled by the climate, a blistering 90 degrees and the only wind a dusty one. But we're standing at the foot of our goal, the majestic Kilimanjaro, now hidden by dust and clouds. We're assured that it hasn't been moved. An hour's drive over bumpy, dusty roads (even the pavement is dusty) and we finally arrived at the Springlands Hotel, our home for the next two nights.
The rooms are tiny, but adequate, and without air conditioning. It's about 90 degrees here also, so we're really missing the air con.
There are a lot of people coming and going from here. Some have already climbed the mountain, some are getting ready to go, and some are going on safari from here.
The good news is, you can't tell by just looking at people which ones have already climbed. We're not seeing any stunned, blank looks, or exhausted faces. Everyone is smiling, either from anticipation or from pride of their accomplishment.
After a buffet dinner, we all turned in early to try to stabilize in the new +9(FL) and +11(CA)time zone.
Day 1 - Springlands Hotel, Moshi
Mary Ann and Ryan were the first to make it to breakfast this morning, Tanya (today's birthday girl) and Stan were last. After breakfast, we sat in the courtyard and watched the various groups getting themselves together to begin their climb or safari. It was all pretty chaotic, but efficient.
When all was clear, we arranged for a driver to take us into Moshi. Upon our arrival in town, we were introduced to our guide (none of us can remember his name), who took us on a walk through the markets. Lots of fruits and vegetables, clothing and shoes. And a very interesting meat market. Every time I go into one of these meat markets in third world countries, I swear I'm going to become a vegetarian. There's nothing to compare to the multi-sensory experience of a meat market!
We made it back to our hotel in time for lunch, and a brief siesta. We spoke with some climbers who had just returned from the Machame route, the one we will be doing. The man we spoke to said it was not difficult, except for the night of the summit. But they all made it, "even the 57 year old" (gulp! most of us are at least that old, some of us a good deal more). Tanya and Stan talked to the 57 year old. He was pretty beat. They said he looked a lot older than 57. He probably looked 57 yesterday.
At 5 pm we met with our guide, Eli and his assistant Stanley. They told us what we needed to do tonight to prepare, what should go into our day packs and what should go into our duffle that the porters will carry for us. After dinner tonight, we hope to get a good night's sleep -- despite the heat -- to prepare for tomorrow. Then it's pole pole (slowly slowly) to the top!
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Our First Goal
This is where we are heading for the first part of the trip. A five day hike to the top of Africa, with daily hiking, nightly camping, boiling drinking water, tents, blisters and fun!
We will be out of email and blogging contact during the climb, but will be taking pictures and notes so that we can post upon our return to civilization.
The schedule, roughly,
2/8 Arrive at the base of the mountain
2/10 Begin the climb
2/14 Reach the summit
2/15 Arrive back at civilization and internet
2/16 Begin safaris in Ngorongoro and Sarengeti
2/21 Zanzibar
2/26 USA
Augie will be attempting to log what appears to be the world's highest physical geocache, Uhuru Peak, GC10CTQ
http://www.geocaching.com/seek/cache_details.aspx?wp=GC10CTQ
Starting the Adventure
I would hazard a guess that we have found fossilized human remains of at least a thousand different specimens in South and East Africa, more or less complete at that. I think this is where the prelude to human history was primarily played out.
Richard Leakey
“If you only visit two continents in your life, visit Africa twice." R. Eliot
Twice is not enough for us. And so I am returning for my fifth visit to Africa, my second to Tanzania. I was last there in 1971. I wonder if it has changed at all. In many ways, I hope not. The people were so pure and innocent back then.
This time, we will be climbing Mt Kilimanjaro. Why? Because it's there....because, true to the Baby Boomer spirit, we need to prove we're still young...because we want to see the Snows of Kilimanjaro before they are no more...because we want to cross one more thing off our "bucket list"...because we're crazy? Probably a little of each.
We timed our trip for February because of the good weather on the mountain, and because this is the time of year the Great Migration is in Tanzania. We'll have five days of safari after our climb. Probably just enough time to make everyone want to come back for more. Our cameras should get a real workout.
The final four days of our trip will be spent scuba diving, relaxing, and sunning on the island of Zanzibar.
Become a follower on our blog and send us a comment now and then. We love hearing from people back home.
We begin our adventure on February 7th, but you may not see anything on the blog until we finish our climb on February 15th.
See you on the web!
Mo and Augie
Richard Leakey
“If you only visit two continents in your life, visit Africa twice." R. Eliot
Twice is not enough for us. And so I am returning for my fifth visit to Africa, my second to Tanzania. I was last there in 1971. I wonder if it has changed at all. In many ways, I hope not. The people were so pure and innocent back then.
This time, we will be climbing Mt Kilimanjaro. Why? Because it's there....because, true to the Baby Boomer spirit, we need to prove we're still young...because we want to see the Snows of Kilimanjaro before they are no more...because we want to cross one more thing off our "bucket list"...because we're crazy? Probably a little of each.
We timed our trip for February because of the good weather on the mountain, and because this is the time of year the Great Migration is in Tanzania. We'll have five days of safari after our climb. Probably just enough time to make everyone want to come back for more. Our cameras should get a real workout.
The final four days of our trip will be spent scuba diving, relaxing, and sunning on the island of Zanzibar.
Become a follower on our blog and send us a comment now and then. We love hearing from people back home.
We begin our adventure on February 7th, but you may not see anything on the blog until we finish our climb on February 15th.
See you on the web!
Mo and Augie
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