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July 18th: Machame Gate
In the morning we had breakfast at the Jacaranda Hotel with cereal, funny-tasting
eggs, bananas, and mango juice. Then we met our porters, our guide Dismas of the Chagga tribe- we had a laugh because
I had told them my nickname was "Taco," which in Swahili translates to "in the region of the buttocks." So I went
ahead and used my given name the rest of the trip.
We piled in a bus, bouncing from the town of Arusha, through Moshi, and into Macheme
Gate. The countryside was not unlike that of Montana, with structures of varying materials lining the dirt road, always
with emaciated dogs and children and people walking, carrying heavy loads on their heads.
After registration at Macheme Gate inside the entrance to Mt. Kilimanjaro Park,
we started up the dirt path in the light rain after a quick stop to weight the packs. Mine weighed 10 kg (about
25 lb). The porters were limited to 25kg (about 62 lb) each. They carried this weight in burlap sacks on their
head, often balancing without using their hands. We hiked through rain forest for 4 hours with a brief break for
lunch of chicken, hotdogs, chips, fruit, and boxed juice. Then suddenly we found ourselves above the cloud layer (or
out of the rain - not sure which is which) trodding across a new landscape. At our first camp, we sat down to enjoy
the view of the peak and threw around a small football than Mike had brought with him from Belgium. The porters cooked
us a Tanzanian feast of soup, bread, pasta, curried beef, orange slices, bananas, tea and cocoa. Then as night (and
the cold) fell, we bundled up and retreated to the tents, anticipating a rough night's sleep and a cold, early wake-up.
I could hardly wait for the morning light.
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| Day 1: Kili Looms in the Distance |
July 19th: The Wind and Moon
A cold wake-up to a misty fog. Mike and I hike down to where the water is collected for the entire
camp of about 100 people. It is no more than a mud hole the size of a bathtub. Dismas greets us, asking how we
slept. The mixed looks give him his answer, but regardless of slumber, everyone is in high spirits and is ready to hike.
The cook brings out our breakfast of tea, eggs, toast, sausage, cucumbers, tomatoes, and avocado. Everything is delicious.
We pack up and hit a much steeper trail than before, though today starts sunny and eventually turns dry and dusty instead
of wet and jungly. The final camp for today is very different as well. It rests on a sort of exposed ledge,
where the wind whips along from the west at around 30 to 40 knots. Combined with the 8 deg C air temp, it makes for
a hasty and chilly dinner of fried fish, potatoes, curried vegetables with coconut milk and warm cole slaw. Dessert
consists of fresh mango with hot chocolate. We crash as soon as the sun setsover the western peaks of Mt. Meru, but
I awake at about 2300 to use the latrine. The moonlight is intense, almost blinding making a headlamp unnecessary.
With that great spotlight, and a calmer wind, I feel as though she might just allow us to stay on her mountain a little while
longer.
July 20th: We Have a Piper Down
It's so much colder than before...we made it to 15K' today, but almost lost Mike
in the process. Because of our frequent stops, we were late for lunch, so we ate at 0800, 1430, and 1730. Our
next meal is 0900 the next morning, which means we have a long night ahead of us.
It was not particularly steep today- the terrain was covered with boulders, resembling
pictures of the Moon or even Mars. The mountain was in front of us all day, we watched it grow and expand before us,
revealing more detailand areddish huemixed with what little glacial white that remained. I am the last in
our party to not take Diamox for the altitude, but I begin to have the feeling that I may break down tomorrow, using Mike
as an indicator of what is to come. Today I was propelled by the sounds of Tanzanian radio coming through my mp3 player.
First reggae, then hip-hop, and finally a latin/jazz sounding rhythm, in a mix of Swahili and English. More music may
help tomorrow, we won't go very steep, but the windsucks out a lot of our energy. The noise and flapping of the tent
at night also adds a psychological factor inasmuch as it has charred our faces and worn us down. I will remain dressed
in my sleeping bag for some time tonight, because I know I will have to get up for a head call at about midnight,
and I don't at all look forward to the extreme frigid conditions that await.
July 21st: Respite, Until Night
An easy day- sunny and a little windy. A short hike from Lava Tower
to Arrow Glacier, then 2 short day-hikes to a rocky outcropping overlooking the camp. I felt great all day, taking the
time to soak up some rays while perched on a large ridge with the world spread out before me, a small humanoid on the vast
asteroidal plane. Then at bedtime, the noxious smell of gas from unseen human crevices mixed with the swirling beef
stew swimming through my GI tract almost made me hurl. Each night has been full of weird dreams- getting robbed, swimming,
meeting up with old friends. Odd memories resurrected by the piercing stone on which we slept.
July 22nd: The Going Gets Tough
By far the hardest day. A 0410 wake-up to have breakfast (runny porridge
and toast) in the tent. Then a 0530 start up the steepest terrain we have faced: the Western Breach. Over the
6 straight hours, my main concerns are 1) not puking and 2) not falling off the mountain, especially since a decent part of
the trail was hand over hand. The payoff came (finally!) when we rose over a ledge to see a beautiful glacier spread
out before us. The closest comparison I could think of was Superman's "Fortress of Solitude." I had taken a half
a Diamoz (125 mg) in the morning, but wasn't really sure it did me any good. I can barely sip down the soup we are handed
for lunch, then I somehow get convinced to continue hiking up to the famous "ash pit" that represents the dormant volcanic
hole which still reeks of sulfur. Quite a sight. I almost heave about 5 times on the hour shuffle. Coming
down is no problem and we take a closer look at the glacier.
Dinner consists of about 15 strands of spaghetti, and half liter of weak
Gatorade (and an 800 mg Motrin). We will rise early to do the final short, steep ascent to the summit (and salvation).
I will take more Diamox in the morning and me the happiest little boy in the whole world when (and if) we make it. Then
we will head downhill for hours, reclaiming much needed oxygen and our sanity. A shower will never have felt so
good!!!
July 23rd: WE MADE IT!
We've just returned from the summit. After a 0345 wake-up for tea, we hike
vertically over 1000' up steep ash/roch, stopping every 50 feet of so to catch our collective breath and shake some blood
into our fingers. As we hike the moonshadows give way to a glow from teh East, slowly melding from yellow, then orange
with pink streaks. We reach the top of the steep cliff in silence and trudge through the ash towards the sunrise and
the sign that marks Uhuru Peak. It is an emotional trek, a green mile in reverse, and I choke back tears that would
surely freeze on contact with the air should they escape, thinking "I made it" and "Wow, I can't believe human beings actually
do this" and "ok, so this is a new limit." It is the most beautiful sunrise I have ever seen, or likely will ever see
in my life. We take pictures, hug, and the adrenaline rush coarses through our veins- there is no shortness of
breath despite arriving at 19,340'...there is only exultant joy.
Upon the descent, sliding down the mountain in big ash-dust covered gallops,
we sat in the sun, drank beer and coke, and ate a little curried beef. Then I read until sunset, rereading Hemmingway's
"Snows of Kilimanjaro" story that I had read on the plane ride over. Oddly enough, the mountain is just a footnote in
that story, but somewhow, I did understand and enjoy the story more after having conquered the mountain. It revolves
around Hemmingway's favorite subjects: hunting, drinking and death.
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| Body Coming Down, Spirits Rising |
July 24th: The Finale
We awoke, it wasn't cold. We could hardly eat porridge or look at tea or
hot chocolate. After a quick breakfast, we rapidly marched down the last of the mountain through desert scrub, then
forest, then rainforest. About 30 minutes into the day, my left knee started to flare up on the outside. I slipped
a few times, my poles saving me from cracking my tailbone or busting my skull open on the jagged rocks. The pain caused
me to lag behind Alex and Billie, but still just ahead of Mike. At the last possible moment on the trail, we caught
a group of colobus monkeys climbing and feeding in the trees overhead, with black and blue monkeys jumping like squirrels
from branch to branch.
We arrive at the Mweka Gate, received our certificates, and were glad to be sitting.
Eventually we walked to our bus and took a 2 hour van ride back to the Jacaranda Hotel. We only made a short stop in
Moshi to offload porters and pick up a hot lunch. Mine consisted of fried beef dumpling, "bush baby" sausage (which
looked like a hairy dog turd, but actually tasted quite good), a donut, a pancake, and a potato dumpling with beef and onions
inside. The countryside showed mostly farmland (bananas, coffee and corn) with the occasional herd of cattle or goats
and thousands of poor, primitive looking people. We arrive at the hotel for showers, beer, a decent dinner and lots
of laughing about silly stories from our respective military services and the trip. We smoke some Dominican
cigars, and stay up listening to the rain pitter-patter on the leaves of the ever-present trees, the ghostly Masai warrior
keeping watch in laps around the hotel. Fat, dumb, and happy we retire to the much needed comfort of real beds, and
undisturbed dreamtime.
July 25th: Max's Arusha
A normal wake-up, in a normal bed, with a normal toilet, tables chairs, eggs, toast,
fresh jam, coffee and real cream. Then a painful walk through the town of Arusha, where our assistant guide, Max
seemed to know everyone that passed by, to the Meru Market, where tourists routinely arrive to be heckled and ripped-off.
I spent the requisite sum of money on treasures that I perceived could "only" be found in such a remote location, and
then we limped back to the hotel. For a few hours, we sat around, content to do so aimlessly, eating french
fries, drinking scotch with ginger ale and beer, and discussing our trip, work, lives and futures. The short drive to
the airport was followed by a miserable flight to Nairobi, squeezed in backwards next to a fat businessman on a twin-prop,
but at least I got a free Tusker beer out of the deal. Then, from Nairobi to Amsterdam I managed to find the absolute
worst seat neighbors in all my years of travel. A Somali (?) woman and her rambunctioous son bothered me like it was
their part-time job, for 7 straight hours. The woman kept feeding her son coke, so he could capably annoy me in full
hyper mode as I tried in vain to watch "The Last Samurai" and "Big Fish." A few minutes in Amsterdam afforded me enough
time to grab some illegal stogies for friends back home. After the last hurdle of a personal interview going through
customs, I found myself alone in an aisle on the last leg of my journey. I was headed back to the greatest country in
the world with a book in my lap, whiskey on my lips, and I had survived a trek up the largest mountain in Africa.
Life could be worse...
Four short video clips:
Above the Clouds
Camp Tour
Respect for Porters
Summit 360
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