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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