Okay, if you’ve been following my blog then we need to back up before the PCT. Consider this a flashback amid the other flashbacks. While I was on the Appalachian Trail in 2005 I realized how important family was. And in the January 2006 I had the opportunity to spend some quality time with family – on Mount Kilimanjaro.
There she is...
I wasn’t necessarily a prime candidate for climbing Kilimanjaro. I had never been mountaineering, I didn’t like being cold, and I was poor. But two very important family factors made it possible for me to go to Africa. First of all my cousin Wende married someone famous, at least I think he is famous. He is a mountain climber and photographer and an overall phenomenal person. His name is Jake Norton and he and my wonderful cousin live in Colorado (that is a state shout-out for all you local mountain shoppers). Jake has been up on Everest a couple times and he was even part of the expedition that found Mallory’s body.
So yes, Jake was 50% of the equation. I tried to make a mental note not to go mountaineering when I saw several of his groomsman missing digits due to frostbite, but the image faded, because when Jake and Wende signed-up to co-guide a trip up Kilimanjaro, I wanted in.
The problem was funding. Getting to Africa, let alone the roof, cost way more than I had in my checking account. But, I did have a special savings account. Special because it had been created with funds that my grandma gave me when she passed away. Since I had not earned the money, I wasn’t as attached to it as I should have been, like my older brothers and cousins who used the money for down payments or surviving Grad School.
Rationalizing that my grandmother loved to travel and longed for her grandkids to be together, I decided there is nothing else she would rather look down upon than me standing on top of Kilimanjaro with Wende and Jake.
I feel like a Dr Seuss Character
After a long flight to Tanzania, I was excited and a little nervous to meet up with Wende, Jake, and the 13 other members of our group. Most of our group was older, in their late fifties or early sixties. Everyone was extremely kind and excited to climb the mountain.
We spent one night together in a nearby town and then traveled to Kilimanjaro. When we arrived at Machame Gate to start the climb, we found ourselves surrounded by a crowd of Tanzanian men. I soon learned that the men swarming the scene were porters trying to get a job. Every tourist going up the mountain was required to have at least three porters to help carry their gear and food. Our group of 15 had 52 African porters including our Tanzanian lead guide, assistant guide, cook and assistant cook.
We started the climb at 6,000 ft and even though I didn’t feel the elevation the first day, Jake kept making us take breaks every 45 minutes to “catch our breath” and eat a snack. By day two all those frequent stops came in handy. At around 9,000 feet I noticed the air starting to thin and I began to use the “rest step” that Jake taught us.
The “rest step” made walking rhythmic and taught us to breathe with every step. I thought I would handle the altitude pretty well, but I was surprised by the dull headaches and shortness of breath that stayed with me for the rest of the climb. Even though we were only hiking 7-10 miles a day, I was exhausted every evening. I loved reaching camp in the afternoon, bundling up, and then going to our meal tent for popcorn and tea, which was followed with a delicious dinner. All the food tasted so good that I gained weight going up the mountain!
On the moon?
As our elevation increased, the vegetation and landscape drastically changed. At first it looked like we were hiking through a rain forest and Jake let us stop to swing on some really long and sturdy vines. But by day three, the mountain opened up into rocky slopes dotted with vegetation that looked like it had come from a Dr Seuss book. On the fifth day, the day before we summited, the landscape looked lunar and there wasn’t any green to be found.
I didn’t get much sleep the night before our summit: I was short of breath, nervous, and we had to wake up at midnight to start our summit bid. When my alarm went off, we started our trek under the watch of a brilliant sky. The stars were brighter and more numerous than I had ever before seen. Back on earth, the temperature was wickedly cold and the blustery wind chilled my core through 7 layers of clothing. Our group stopped every few minutes to catch our breath and there were a few times where I didn’t think I could keep going – if I wanted to keep breathing. But when the sun finally rose, we were there, we were at the top of the mountain, I could see glaciers and the summit sign was nearby. It was like I had awoken from a dream into a magical realm of snow, rock, and smiles. I completed a woozy walk over to the sign and took multiple pictures with our group and then with my cousins.
We did it!/I look like a Marshmallow!
Afterwards, I hiked back down the 19,331 foot mountain ahead of the group – I was eager to find some air and warmer temps! Yet, as I descended the scree slopes, I started to think of all the memories and images I had collected over the past few days. I had seen things that I didn’t know existed and I had done something that I didn’t know that I could do.
I was a different person coming down Kilimanjaro than I had been hiking up it and I would never once regret spending my inheritance on a mountain.
