Climbing Kili: Summitting
BARAFU CAMP (4450) TO UHURU PEAK (5895) TO MWEKA CAMP (3100)
Day 5 actually began at 11pm on Day 4. Samuel woke us up with a pot of hot tea. We put on our many layers of clothing, packed extra water in our day packs, and put on our head lamps. Samuel gave us a small bowl of hot soup that gave me instant diarrhea, and after I downed some Imodium, we set out. It was pitch black and approximately 5 degrees.
The climb was difficult from the very beginning. We had to climb over huge boulders just to get out of camp, and after that,it was straight uphill, mostly on scree or ice, for 6 1/2 hours. It was clear about 1 hour in to the hike that Sarah was having a much more difficult time than I was, especially with altitude sickness. Eventually, I got so far ahead of her that she didn't catch up when Peter and I took a break. A group behind us said she had turned around. I must admit that I was sad for her, as she was more determined to get to the top than I was, but I wasn't surprised. It seemed all the forces were against her: the batteries AND backup batteries in her headlamp went out, she was very sick, and she has bad knees. At the time, I thought it was probably for the best that she had turned back. So it was just me and Peter from there on out...
I don't remember many details about summitting. It was the hardest thing I've ever done, and yet it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. I was very lucky because I didn't have any symptoms of altitude sickness until the last 2 hours of the hike. I took short, quick breaths, but I felt like I could get enough oxygen. I walked at a slow, steady pace, looking at the ground so I could place my foot exactly where Peter had. I couldn't see anything anyways. However, I do have one very vivid visual memory of the night.
We had left earlier than most people, and some of the more experienced hikers began to pass me. At one point during the very wee hours of the night - probably around 3am - I heard frozen drops of water on my hood and coat. I looked up and saw little lights winding up the mountain. It looked like something from a movie. Of course, it was all the guides and hikers walking the zig-zag trail in single file line with their headlamps on. But standing on the side of the mountain in the freezing cold black night, it looked like candles lighting the way to the top. It was gorgeous...until I realized that I couldn't see where the lights ended. I quickly went from awed to deflated.
But we kept going. Our routine went like this (or seemed to from what I can remember). We'd walk for about 45 minutes at our very slow and steady pace. Then we'd stop for around 5 minutes and I would drink water and have a bite or two of a nut bar. I was surprisingly hungry, but I knew not to eat too much because sooner or later, the altitude sickness would begin. About halfway to the top, the water in my CamelBack hose froze, so I switched to my Nalgene bottle. We took breaks more frequently after that because I had to stop and get out my Nalgene bottle every time I needed a sip. But in general, we moved smoothly and steadily uphill, and I was pleased when soon I began passing those who had passed me earlier in the night. Desmond was right: "Be the tortoise, not the hare. You'll have a much better experience." About 1 hour before summit, the altitude finally got to me. I had a pretty decent headache (much like a sinus headache), and my shoulders and back began to ache. The frozen rain still fell, and it grew colder and windier. With the deep silence, enveloping clouds, and eerie breeze, the atmosphere was strange and I felt a sense of foreboding.
We hit Stella Point at 6:30am, which had been my goal; I wanted to be there for sunrise. As I stepped over the peak, the winds changed, the temperature dropped, and I was stuck in a cloud. Instead of seeing a sunrise, I watched the "sky" go from dark to dim. It was all rather anti-climactic. My altitude sickness had increased, so in addition to the aches, I was nauseous. A guide walked up to me and congratulated me for being one of the "awesome ones," which he defined as a hiker who makes it to Stella Point by 6:30am. I did not feel awesome, but I tried to smile.
Peter indicated that we could stop and take a picture and rest. I knew I still had a 1 hour trek to Uhuru peak ahead of me. I didn't want to bother with Stella Point, so I simply drank some water, and we moved on.
The hike from Stella to Uhuru was one of the worst hours of my life. I was miserable. To my right was a deep crater that I can only describe as Mordor. It was a vast and lifeless pit of ice and snow. To my left was a large glacier. I walked steadily uphill over ice and through snow. Periodically along the path was a pile of vomit or drops of blood. By this time, my headache was immense, my day pack felt like a cast iron weight on my back, and I was always on the verge of throwing up. I couldn't take more than 2 or 3 steps without stopping to catch my breath. Peter sensed my pain and exhaustion and kindly carried my pack for me. The feeling of relief was astounding. I picked up my pace and set my sights on Uhuru.
I made it to Uhuru at 7:30am. Unfortunately, I did not have the feeling of elation I had anticipated. In fact, the only way I can describe how I felt at the top is existential. All I could think was, "Why the hell did I just do this? Did I seriously just go through that so I could take my picture by this cheap aluminum sign? Why is everyone else so happy? What is the point of all this?" But my mother trained me well, so I smiled for the camera.
Unfortunately, my attitude stayed the same during the hike down to Barafu. While I was certainly glad I'd done it, I did not see why I had done it. I don't know what I thought it would be like. I guess I thought the clouds would part and angels, or Zeus, or a unicorn would swoop down and hand me some piece of great wisdom. But nothing happened. Nothing.
It took us 20 minutes to get back to Stella Point (where the weather was still miserable), and then we began the steep descent, skating on our heels through deep scree. About 15 minutes after Stella, I saw a familiar blue jacket ahead. Low and behold, there was Sarah! She and Goudens stopped and waited for us, and when we joined up with them, I found out she had made it to Stella Point - she had officially summitted Mt. Kilimanjaro! After a long break where we sat on a rock and had soup and hot tea (and I had the worst pee-behind-a-rock-experience ever (my legs were so tired they couldn't hold me up)), we set off down the mountain and stayed together during our entire 3.5 hour descent to Barafu.
I grew anxious as we neared Barafu. I knew we were going to have time to change, eat, and pack up before we had to head out again. We had to make it to Mweke camp by sundown. But how long we would have at Barafu, I did not know, and I was extremely exhausted. We arrived at Barafu at around 11:30am. Goudens told us we had 1 hour. I almost cried. I didn't know how I was going to do it without a nap. But I rested for 45 minutes, then packed up and ate lunch. I almost threw up after lunch, but I didn't care. I just started walking again. It took me 4 hours to get to Mweke. I had time to rest, wash up, and change before Sarah arrived an hour later. We ate a huge dinner, went to bed at 7pm and slept 11 hours straight. I woke up in the same position I fell asleep in.
Day 6 was a 4 hour downhill walk. No pictures, no stories. We walked wearily and silently. Our legs and knees hurt, but Sarah and I grew fond of saying, "at least we're not summitting," and so nothing seemed so bad after that.
Greatest lesson I learned from Days 5 and 6? It's amazing what the human body can endure. In fact, the body can handle almost anything. It's not your body that stops you from achieving great feats, it's your mind. To prove my point, here's a picture of the Spencer West, who did the same hike as me. We were on the plane from Kilimanjaro to Nairobi together. Nearly anything is possible.
Day 5 actually began at 11pm on Day 4. Samuel woke us up with a pot of hot tea. We put on our many layers of clothing, packed extra water in our day packs, and put on our head lamps. Samuel gave us a small bowl of hot soup that gave me instant diarrhea, and after I downed some Imodium, we set out. It was pitch black and approximately 5 degrees.
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| At base camp, 11:30pm Day 4/5 |
I don't remember many details about summitting. It was the hardest thing I've ever done, and yet it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. I was very lucky because I didn't have any symptoms of altitude sickness until the last 2 hours of the hike. I took short, quick breaths, but I felt like I could get enough oxygen. I walked at a slow, steady pace, looking at the ground so I could place my foot exactly where Peter had. I couldn't see anything anyways. However, I do have one very vivid visual memory of the night.
We had left earlier than most people, and some of the more experienced hikers began to pass me. At one point during the very wee hours of the night - probably around 3am - I heard frozen drops of water on my hood and coat. I looked up and saw little lights winding up the mountain. It looked like something from a movie. Of course, it was all the guides and hikers walking the zig-zag trail in single file line with their headlamps on. But standing on the side of the mountain in the freezing cold black night, it looked like candles lighting the way to the top. It was gorgeous...until I realized that I couldn't see where the lights ended. I quickly went from awed to deflated.
But we kept going. Our routine went like this (or seemed to from what I can remember). We'd walk for about 45 minutes at our very slow and steady pace. Then we'd stop for around 5 minutes and I would drink water and have a bite or two of a nut bar. I was surprisingly hungry, but I knew not to eat too much because sooner or later, the altitude sickness would begin. About halfway to the top, the water in my CamelBack hose froze, so I switched to my Nalgene bottle. We took breaks more frequently after that because I had to stop and get out my Nalgene bottle every time I needed a sip. But in general, we moved smoothly and steadily uphill, and I was pleased when soon I began passing those who had passed me earlier in the night. Desmond was right: "Be the tortoise, not the hare. You'll have a much better experience." About 1 hour before summit, the altitude finally got to me. I had a pretty decent headache (much like a sinus headache), and my shoulders and back began to ache. The frozen rain still fell, and it grew colder and windier. With the deep silence, enveloping clouds, and eerie breeze, the atmosphere was strange and I felt a sense of foreboding.
We hit Stella Point at 6:30am, which had been my goal; I wanted to be there for sunrise. As I stepped over the peak, the winds changed, the temperature dropped, and I was stuck in a cloud. Instead of seeing a sunrise, I watched the "sky" go from dark to dim. It was all rather anti-climactic. My altitude sickness had increased, so in addition to the aches, I was nauseous. A guide walked up to me and congratulated me for being one of the "awesome ones," which he defined as a hiker who makes it to Stella Point by 6:30am. I did not feel awesome, but I tried to smile.
Peter indicated that we could stop and take a picture and rest. I knew I still had a 1 hour trek to Uhuru peak ahead of me. I didn't want to bother with Stella Point, so I simply drank some water, and we moved on.
The hike from Stella to Uhuru was one of the worst hours of my life. I was miserable. To my right was a deep crater that I can only describe as Mordor. It was a vast and lifeless pit of ice and snow. To my left was a large glacier. I walked steadily uphill over ice and through snow. Periodically along the path was a pile of vomit or drops of blood. By this time, my headache was immense, my day pack felt like a cast iron weight on my back, and I was always on the verge of throwing up. I couldn't take more than 2 or 3 steps without stopping to catch my breath. Peter sensed my pain and exhaustion and kindly carried my pack for me. The feeling of relief was astounding. I picked up my pace and set my sights on Uhuru.
I made it to Uhuru at 7:30am. Unfortunately, I did not have the feeling of elation I had anticipated. In fact, the only way I can describe how I felt at the top is existential. All I could think was, "Why the hell did I just do this? Did I seriously just go through that so I could take my picture by this cheap aluminum sign? Why is everyone else so happy? What is the point of all this?" But my mother trained me well, so I smiled for the camera.
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| Me and Peter at the top! |
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| Looking happy with Summit Bringer |
It took us 20 minutes to get back to Stella Point (where the weather was still miserable), and then we began the steep descent, skating on our heels through deep scree. About 15 minutes after Stella, I saw a familiar blue jacket ahead. Low and behold, there was Sarah! She and Goudens stopped and waited for us, and when we joined up with them, I found out she had made it to Stella Point - she had officially summitted Mt. Kilimanjaro! After a long break where we sat on a rock and had soup and hot tea (and I had the worst pee-behind-a-rock-experience ever (my legs were so tired they couldn't hold me up)), we set off down the mountain and stayed together during our entire 3.5 hour descent to Barafu.
I grew anxious as we neared Barafu. I knew we were going to have time to change, eat, and pack up before we had to head out again. We had to make it to Mweke camp by sundown. But how long we would have at Barafu, I did not know, and I was extremely exhausted. We arrived at Barafu at around 11:30am. Goudens told us we had 1 hour. I almost cried. I didn't know how I was going to do it without a nap. But I rested for 45 minutes, then packed up and ate lunch. I almost threw up after lunch, but I didn't care. I just started walking again. It took me 4 hours to get to Mweke. I had time to rest, wash up, and change before Sarah arrived an hour later. We ate a huge dinner, went to bed at 7pm and slept 11 hours straight. I woke up in the same position I fell asleep in.
Day 6 was a 4 hour downhill walk. No pictures, no stories. We walked wearily and silently. Our legs and knees hurt, but Sarah and I grew fond of saying, "at least we're not summitting," and so nothing seemed so bad after that.
Greatest lesson I learned from Days 5 and 6? It's amazing what the human body can endure. In fact, the body can handle almost anything. It's not your body that stops you from achieving great feats, it's your mind. To prove my point, here's a picture of the Spencer West, who did the same hike as me. We were on the plane from Kilimanjaro to Nairobi together. Nearly anything is possible.
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| West trained for 1 year. He raised $500,000 on his venture, and donated it all to Free the Children |
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| West with his 2 best friends. |
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