Well, it’s been a month now since I reached the summit of Kilimanjaro and the frostbite on my fingers has healed enough for me to be able to type again. OK just kidding—actually we’ve had a couple of great visits from family and friends including an incredible, cat-filled safari with the Tulloss family (my sister Jenny, her husband Rees, and kids Caleb and Camille) along with my mom and my aunt Ginny. What’s more, I have been pretty wrapped up with teaching Grade 1 homeschool and Form I math at MGLSS. Perhaps I can write an entry about this soon? For now I figure I’d better write about Kilimanjaro before more time passes. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s been months since I’ve contributed to the work Abby has put into keeping the world informed of our adventures on this blog.
     By mid-January I realized that my window for climbing Kilimanjaro was going to close soon and I’d better make up my mind about whether I was going to go, and make a plan. The onset of the rainy season in March makes it more difficult and less pleasant on the mountain, and with guests coming in February options were getting limited. Our very experienced mountain climbing friend Kees was too busy to join me, but advised me on the best route (there are six) to try to take, and I wandered in and out of the many climbing company offices in Arusha and asked about dates and prices. After a bit of hand-wringing over spending the money, I concluded that this would likely be my only opportunity to take this trip, and I’d regret it later if I didn’t go. So I signed up and started tracking down the bits and pieces of gear I’d need. The company I chose, Kilimanjaro Crown Bird expeditions, provided everything except the clothes I’d need and a sleeping bag. With more help from Kees I was quickly outfitted and ready to hit the trail.
     Hitting the trail took a bit of time in and of itself—an early morning drive ride to Arusha from Abby, some waiting for a ride to Moshi, more waiting in Moshi for my guide Siragi (pronounced Shur-ah-gee), some driving around Moshi doing I’m not sure exactly what with Siragi, then a drive to the Machame entrance gate and a bunch more waiting. There was a large group of porters waiting at the gate and no small amount of confusion as Siragi organized to hire several, along with a cook, to join us. This is a requirement for all climbers—two porters each I think. While it would have been more adventurous to carry a full pack, I withheld any complaints about being forced to hand over the vast majority of my gear for someone else to carry. I snapped some photos of the warning signs concerning altitude sickness, continued to anxiously ponder whether the several weeks of walking I’d done were any practical benefit in preparing me for the trek, and by one o’clock or so we were finally headed uphill.
     I had chosen the Machame route based on advice from Kees that it was the most scenic and interesting. It is 6 days instead of 5 on the Marange route, which is the most frequently climbed. The route begins on the Western side of the mountain and then winds around to the South, traversing a good section of the mountain before turning North up to the peak. The Machame gate is down in the forest and as we began walking I eagerly searched these new surroundings for new and different birds as well as other animals. Siragi told me that this section of the mountain did not have any animals other than birds and monkeys, as it was too far from any large areas free of people. Or something to this effect—the gist of these first conversations made it clear that while I wouldn’t see a lot of animals I would likely learn a lot of Swahili. This was quite fine with me as I hadn’t counted on animals and wanted very much to practice the language. Siragi seemed quite pleased to have a client who spoke Swahili (even my broken version of the language) and was enthusiastic and very patient in teaching me more. He also spoke English reasonably well.
    

Looking up into the tree ferns on the way to Machame camp.

   We walked about 4 hours to the first camp, Machame camp (3000 m). This hike through the forest was interesting (large tree ferns were my favorite) and easy walking on a wide, well maintained trail. The camp was right at the edge of the forest and here we got our first view of the summit, which was quite exciting. There were also good views of the Shira range to the North of us. The camp itself was rather spread out—many small areas in which to pitch between 5 and 10 tents, and a central area of “huts.” These included a couple of old green, round metal yurt-like things that could be called huts, and a very new, large (1000 sq ft?) complex of roofed buildings that seemed to be used by park personnel who were running the camp. One room was for signing in, a ritual at each camp in which we stayed. I went back later and counted a total of 41 climbers, the majority from Europe, registered that evening. So with porters, guides, and cooks I imagine we were some 120-140 people altogether in the camp.
    

Our cook (in orange) supervising breakfast preparation at Machame camp.

     Unsure of exactly what the routine in camp was I decided my best option was to wait and find out. I was soon very pleasantly surprised to find that it included hot popcorn and tea delivered to my tent, and then later a large, hot meal of meat, rice, and vegetables, also brought over to my tent. “Mr. Ericki, your dinner is here?” Having made camp late in the afternoon, it was late evening by the time dinner was over, and I retired to my journal and book before sleep. The following morning rounded out the typical camp routine—a breakfast of porridge, toast, eggs, and sausage, a walk around the area to look for birds and take pictures, packing up, and then headed onto the trail by 8:30 or 9.

These trees start branching after 45 years, and this species is only found on Kilimanjaro.

     We walked between 4-6 hours each day on good trail. Most of the walking was easy but uphill, and only steep in a very few spots. As the entire retinue of climbers and porters was following basically the same schedule, there was a steady stream of porters passing us all day long. It was truly amazing to watch them come blasting past with large loads, often balanced on their heads. Even more amazing coming upon groups of them taking a quick cigarette break every so often, before taking up their loads again and heading to higher elevation and thinner air. Unfortunately the trail itself was littered with a fair amount of small pieces of garbage, and on day two I decided to bring along a plastic bag to pick up litter. This seemed to make quite an impression on many of the porters and other guides, as I often heard my guide explain my strange behavior to them—“hapendi taka taka KABISA…he REALLY doesn’t like garbage…” I never did quite decide whether Siragi thought I was being more of a nuisance by stopping every two minutes to pick up a candy wrapper or some other scrap of plastic, or if he really appreciated my efforts.

Typical view of a porter passing us on the trail. Often times they carried a full pack plus a bundle on the head.

     If the view at my feet was a bit unsettling, the views everywhere else were consistently spectacular. Most mornings were clear and afforded views of the summit area as well as the expanse of Tanzania laid out below us. Mount Meru was visible at some point nearly every day, and the ridges and valleys of the slopes of Kilimanjaro provided many amazing sites full of huge rock formations and vast boulder fields. Also of note were many interesting and crazy looking high altitude plants, some of which looked like leftovers from a strange science experiment. By mid-morning the clouds usually rolled in, and on some days we had rain (or hail at higher altitudes) but only for an hour or two, and never any big downpours. It was usually cloudy when we made camp, but each evening it would clear up and there would be a spectacular view in late afternoon of the peak, and perhaps of the rest of Tanzania to the South. The view would always be waiting again in the morning for my AM walk before hitting the trail again.

The array of tents at Shira camp on our second night.

    We made our way to Shira camp on day two at 3,800m, Barranco on day three at 4,000m, and then Barrafu on day 4 at 4,500m. While the Eskimos are said to have 11 words for different kinds of snow, Kiswahili has one word, Barrafu, that can mean “cold”, “ice”, “snow”, or anything else related to this rare occurrence. Far above the treeline, Barrafu could also mean “desolate.” No plants, only rock and dust and cold chill air. Yet of course more spectacular scenery, including a view of the ascent route as well as a stunning view of Mawenzi (see photo at top of this blog entry), the 5,500m peak that is also a part of the Kilimanjaro volcano complex. Very steep and rocky, it is considered too dangerous to climb and is now (I think) off limits to would be climbers.

     As with most summits, the final attempt to Uhuru peak on Kilimanjaro is made in the pre-dawn hours. This is to take advantage of the best weather in the AM, and to avoid warm, melting snow. The snow proved not to be an issue on this morning though, as there wasn’t any aside from that accumulated in the big glaciers we passed. After the several weeks, and now four days of fretting and wondering whether the altitude would get the best of me and keep me from the summit, we began the final ascent in the pitch black at just after midnight. The next five hours were fairly surreal, moving step by step up steep trail in the pitch black, illuminated only be weak headlamps. Above and below we could see strings of lights that were other parties of climbers slowly making their way through the black of night up to the summit. Far below we could see the lights of Moshi town in the distance.
     For the first time, it was truly icy cold—the wind picked up and for several hours it seemed possible that a storm would blow in and keep us from our goal. I struggled to keep feeling in my fingers and toes, and concentrated at every step on maintaining forward momentum. A stop to pee seemed like a fairly major ordeal, as did any other adjustment to gloves, jacket, or other gear. Throughout, the nagging concerns about whether we would make it or not crept in and out of my mind. With little experience to go on, it seemed like anyone’s guess. A slight headache and vague nausea came and went, depending on my ability to focus on keeping these feelings at bay.
     At around 5:00 we found ourselves at Stella Point, where the trail from our route hits the main ridge that leads to Uhuru peak. Siragi and I had passed many groups of climbers along the way and were now among one of the first groups to make it to this junction. There was much celebration amongst the guides, and it was made clear that the worst was past—from here to the summit was a wide, gradually sloping trail, and only 45 minutes of walking remained. By now too I could detect a faint light on the horizon and could stop worrying about whether my headlamp batteries would die before sunrise. We continued on along, plodding step by step in a thin-air daze as the horizon slowly turned bright orange and the sky above a beautiful shade of blue.

Obama and me standing on the summit.

     At the summit we encountered the sign I had seen in numerous pictures, brought to you here with yours truly standing by—I switched into my Obama cap for the occasion, though it doesn’t show so well in the photo. The views were incredible all around! We could see down into the caldera area, within which lies a deeper crater–we could only see the edge of this but it was impressive nevertheless. The glaciers gleamed in the dawn light with as many shades of blue as can be imagined. Euphoria and relief at having made it, as well as exhaustion along with no small amount of anxiety about having to make it all the way back down. I took many moments to stop and wonder at the beauty of the sunrise climbing over the horizon–a spectacular show of variously colored light spreading across the surreal landscape and the vast expanse of Africa that lay below us. Also some moments of appreciation for my Great Aunt Ginny and Great Uncle Carl who both passed away last year. Ginny who always extraordinarily kind, supportive, and generous, particularly with children, and Carl who was famous in the Barlow clan for his lifelong habit of picking up litter and trash on his walks. These two relatives, whom I knew mainly in glimpses during my childhood, seemed to have accompanied me for much of this trip.

Glacier sparkling in dawn light at the summit.

     The way down felt much more arduous and difficult than the way up, and I thanked my lucky stars for having dragged Kees’ ski poles along with me for five days. Six hours up turned into three more hours back to Barrafu, where I collapsed for a several hour nap before breaking camp and continuing down for another 4 hour downhill hike to our final camp at Mweka, at 3000m. All was relief now, exhaustion, and very sore legs. The ski poles were like crutches and I hobbled into camp and fell into rest, now anticipating the rest of the journey home. The following morning I limped the rest of the way down to the Mweka gate, where I then had a ride back to Moshi, followed by a shuttle to Arusha where Abby, Claire, and Stella waited to greet me. How wonderful to see them after being so far away for the week!
     And what did I learn from all of this? Six days of relative solitude in the midst of extraordinary views and an entirely different perspective on the physical world provided great opportunity for new and different perspectives on my tiny existence in this vast world. A renewed appreciation for the examples set by those who have come before me, combined with continued inspiration from the opportunities presented by a new leader at home. And of course, as with so many other experiences this year, more appreciation of how incredibly fortunate I am in this world, and a resolve to give something back in whatever way I can. One thing is for certain, I will never forget my sojourn up to the top of this beautiful and magnificent mountain!