No, not in a million years! Sure, I have always admired anyone who trekked to Uhuru Peak (Uhuru means freedom in Swahili, the official language of East Africa). At 19,340 ft. (5,895 m) above sea level, it is the highest point on Mt. Kilimanjaro and in all of Africa. Secretly I always thought: “Why would anyone do this just to stand on the roof of Africa?” If there were gorillas, or some other exotic wildlife at the top, I would have found a reason to do it a long time ago, but for the sheer sake of hiking?

I was working with a small group interested in climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro, and one of the participants asked if I would go with them. Without hesitation I said: “No, not in a million years,” which is totally uncharacteristic of me when presented with an invitation going to Africa.

As I was making the arrangements, that once-believed-to-be-extinct volcano in Northern Tanzania put a spell on me. Despite knowing I was completely out of shape, Kilimanjaro kept calling me, and I started to debate if I should and/or could. With only two months until departure, I declared I was going. I have always looked for opportunities to explore a different corner of Africa, finding a new adventure or staying at a place I had not yet been before. This WAS such an opportunity.

The other climbers in the group are all a few years older than I, which was one of the key factors in my decision. Surely, they are not doing this as some young people might do, trying to ascend in record time. Knowing that the ability to adjust to high altitude had nothing to do with age or level of fitness, but rather with ascending “pole pole” (slowly), gave me enough confidence to commit. Soon after that, I was elated when I found out one of my sons was willing and able to join me.

Another key point was adding one additional day to the minimum required in climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro, which, depending on the route, is 5 or 6 days. With an extra day on the mountain, there is enough time to do acclimatization hikes the first few days, meaning trekking to a higher point than where you sleep, also known as “climb high, sleep low”. It is amazing how well this works; increasing one’s chance of summiting by 90%!

With less than two months to go, it was imperative to start hiking every Saturday and Sunday, and in the final stretch, even one day mid-week. It is important not only to hike many hours, but also going as straight up and down as you possibly can. In addition, cardio training is recommended. And as close to departure as feasible, hike 3 – 5 consecutive days if at all possible to mimic the trekking you’re about to do.

Mt. Kilimanjaro is not a technical climb (no pullies, no ropes). You have a hiking trail all the way to the top, and besides scrambling over some rock on most of the routes, the only real challenge is altitude, as well as perhaps the weather and attitude. Yes, attitude… put your mind to it!

Ok, I told you the big draw for me going to Africa is the wildlife. But I did not have the time to join my group on the safari they were going to do after the climb. It was a real dilemma. Then I found the perfect solution… gorilla tracking in Rwanda!

The highly endangered mountain gorillas live in the Virunga range at altitudes of 8,500 – 11,000 feet in Northern Rwanda, and visiting them requires trekking. Is this perfect, or what?! Clearly, this is not the least expensive acclimatization, as permits alone run $500 per person, per day, but is arguably the most effective, AND the most rewarding as far as wildlife encounters. Can you imagine being only feet away from a 400 pound silverback looking you straight in the eyes, or watch playful youngsters tumble and wrestle right in front of you? This tour requires a minimum of 2 nights in Rwanda in order to do one day of tracking, but ideally you would track gorillas two days in a row, or visit the golden monkeys the first day, and gorillas the second, making it a 3 night excursion.
I timed it just right, and had a non-stop flight from Kigali, the capital of Rwanda, to Kilimanjaro airport, about a 45 min. drive from Arusha, the major gateway town for any Northern Tanzania safari, where I joined up with my group. The non-stop flight currently operates four times a week. (Alternatively one can fly Kigali – Kilimanjaro via Nairobi, operating daily).

It is crucial to hire only the best crew for the climb. In order to become a guide, young adults usually start out as porters and work their way up, getting intimately familiar with all the routes on the mountain. They have to pass a rigorous exam before they become assistant guides; and after many, many climbs, they may become the head guide. A good crew also employs a cook who has learned his craft adapted specifically for high altitude cooking, and balancing the menu for optimal physical output. Everyone in our group was surprised how well we ate. Those are just the basics – every operator claims to provide that. But what about safety and the crew’s own equipment? I insist they have proper clothing, including hiking boots and foul weather gear, as well as proper tents and sleeping bags. Let’s not stop there… I demand that at least the head guide has medical training, and is able to detect and treat high altitude sickness. He carries oxygen, a hyperbaric bag and a portable defibrillator. I want my crew to be paid better than the recommended base salary, and I want them to have a chance to go to school during the rainy season to further their education.

I wouldn’t dream of climbing Kilimanjaro without having a mess (dining) tent, as well as a portable toilet for each climbing party’s own use. The camp grounds do have a toilet shack; the kind with a hole in the floor board. I just can’t imagine squatting after a long day of trekking. There is also much to be left desired as far as cleanliness of those campground toilets!

It is standard that porters carry your duffel bag and gear from camp to camp, but you are still required to carry a daypack with all your water (3 – 5 litres/quarts), your rain gear, a small first-aid kit, etc. For about $20 per day (including tip), you can hire a personal porter. Unlike the regular porters, the personal porter hikes with you at all times, carrying your daypack, assisting you over challenging terrain, and most importantly goes with you all the way to the summit. A personal porter is worth his weight in gold. Not having to carry 20 – 30 lbs. on your back when you’re already laboring to breath, further insures you are making it to the top.

It is important to note that most operators pick their porters at the gate. We pre-arrange our entire crew, including the porters, guaranteeing team work, accountability and efficiency. Our crew not only had our well-being and enjoyment at heart at all times, but there was a sense of camaraderie among them. Each morning, and most days when arriving in camp, the crew would sing and dance for us. When we appeared to tire on the trail, the guides started singing, and we perked up and kept going. It was magic.

Early in the morning, as well as when we arrived in camp by evening, we were brought a bowl of hot water to the tent for washing. While we enjoyed hot breakfast in the mess tent, the crew would break down and pack up our tents, sleeping pads and duffel bags. Then we started trekking, and the crew did the dishes, finished packing, and soon they pass us along the way, carrying huge loads… on their heads! By the time we reached the next camp, everything was long ready for us. Just wash up, take a nap or sit down for popcorn and tea before a hearty dinner was served.

We drove through the agricultural areas at the base of Mt. Kilimanjaro to our starting point at Lemosho Glades, from where we trekked through the rainforest. The flora was beautiful, including a few flowers that only grow on Kilimanjaro. Forest elephants and buffalo live at that altitude, but we only saw a few black and white colobus monkeys. On the second day we soon left the rainforest, entering the moorland/heather zone, reaching the edge of the Shira Plateau, from where we had sweeping views and enjoyed a fantastic sunset over Mt. Meru. Traversing the Barranco Wall was challenging for me. I have an immobilizing fear of looking down when the mountain falls off sharply right next to the trail. If it wasn’t for my son and the guide, I would still be clinging to the lava rock face we had to scale. Needless to say, I had no recollection of the immense scenery that day – which I now enjoy through my son’s pictures.

Without doubt, we had now reached the alpine desert zone, void of any plants, but extravagant rock (lava) formations. On our 6th day, we left Barafu Camp (15,100 ft.) at midnight, soon getting into the “summit zone”. We set off at a slow pace, and soon I took “pole pole” to a whole new level. I kept telling myself that going slowly and steadily will get me to the summit. I concentrated on my breathing, like our guides had shown us: Taking a breath as you lift your foot and exhaling as you took a step. It was remarkable how easy it seemed when I was in sync with my breathing, and how hard I labored the second I tried to talk to my personal porter and because of it, getting out of that deliberate breathing pattern. Once in a while I looked up, and it seemed like the black sky was filled with twinkling stars, but I was looking at the mountain face full of climbers with their headlamps showing the way. I was sad because I had hoped to summit with my son, but understood it was important for everyone to continue at their pace. It would have been too easy for the others to get cold if they waited. Most climbers make it to Uhuru Peak by sunrise, about 6:30 – 7 am. I was still well below Stella Point, but marveling at the spectacular sunrise over Mawenzi, one of the three vents on Kilimanjaro. With daylight, the temperature rose dramatically, and since there was no wind, I had to shed my waterproof jacket. I also took to heart that dehydration is a major factor in contributing to the effects of high altitude, so I drank water often. A few hundred vertical feet below Stella Point we got into scree (loose rock), and soon my porter took me by the arm dragging me up the mountain, as he noticed I was going two steps up and one step back without help. Did I mention the personal porters are worth their weight in gold?

I was overcome with encouragement when I looked up and saw what seemed to be our assistant guide’s orange jacket. I almost didn’t believe it. That surely meant my son wasn’t that far ahead of me. However, there was no way I could have picked up the pace, and I was puzzled that the other couple who started out with us was nowhere to be seen.

As I reached Stella Point, my son was laying next to a rock, curled up in a ball. He had a headache, the first sign of altitude sickness. I asked the assistant guide if I could give him a Tylenol. I surely did not want my son to give up now with only 560 vertical feet left to go, unless it was too dangerous. We had some tea, took pictures and lounged around until our head guide and the last person in our group brought up the rear. Amazingly, in spite of being physically tired, I felt incredibly well and motivated. It didn’t take much pep talk, and my son was back on his feet. I am so grateful there was no wind or snow, or we might not have been able to take that break. I knew my son was ready to get moving when he said: “Mom, I guess you’re going to get your wish.” “What wish?” I asked, and he replied: “Being at the summit together.” Sweet music to my ears! Surprisingly, the last hour between Stella Point and Uhuru Peak seemed much easier than the slope just below Stella Point. We crossed the couple from our group, who was now on their way down after having summited already. We exchanged only a few words, and kept going – pole pole. Finally, we are standing on the roof of Africa. Kilimanjaro is the world’s tallest free-standing mountain. At 19,340 feet, it is certainly thin air! I got dizzy bending over digging a snack out of my backpack, and I almost toppled over standing back up. We sat down to catch our breath, and I realized how extremely fortunate we were. Of all the accounts I had read, and all the people who’ve gone before us… everyone talked of how grueling the climb to the summit was, that they felt like zombies, one second thinking they were going to give up, the next pushing on, and how the wind was howling so bad that they barely stayed long enough to take a picture – and here I was, not the slightest affected by high altitude other than a bit light-headed, in only a polar fleece top and a baseball cap, soaking up the intense sun. Magical!

Not that long after, Bibi (grandmother) as the crew affectionately called her, made her last laboring steps of her ascent, and our guide and porter joined with her guide and porter in song, making us all forget how exhausted we really were. I was astounded. This lady has quite a few years on me, and here we are taking pictures of her standing on the peak, looking happy as a clam. What an accomplishment! She is an inspiration. I want to be as young at heart as she is when I get to be her age!

By now, the fog bank hanging around just below the peak and limiting our visibility, kept creeping up, and though there was still no wind, we decided we had enough rest, and we better start our descent. After all, we didn’t just need to get back to Barafu (from where we started at midnight), we needed to go another 4 hours beyond that, down to Mweka Camp.

It was the same way back to Stella Point, but from there we took a slightly different route, down a scree slope. My son and the assistant guide had all but disappeared by then, and Bibi, her porter and our head guide were well on their way down. Now –I- was the last one. For most climbers sliding down the scree field is fun, as they dig in their heels and use their trekking poles to balance as they are “skiing” down. For me… I aged a whole generation that afternoon!

Certainly my porter recognized the fear written all over my face. He had seen it at Barranco Wall a few days ago. Once again he grabbed me under one arm, and using one of my poles in the other hand for balance, off we went at what seemed like run-away train speed. When ever I could gasp enough air, I would yell: “Stop!” Between fatigue and fear, I was almost in tears. Soon we could see Barafu Camp far below…, way down. I felt like I didn’t make any progress. The darn camp seemed to be the same distance, no matter how many steps I took. It’s a complete blur of where there were crew members of other climbing groups passing us on their way up, but each and every one of them congratulated me and shook my hand. It was incredibly uplifting.

Two of our staff came up towards us and met us just about where we had scrambled over rocks on our way up after the midnight hour. Now it is mid-afternoon. I thought to myself: “Good thing we did this in the dark. I’m not sure I would have kept going had I seen this and the steep mountain in daylight when we started. It was quite intimidating.” There was no time to dwell on the thought. The two strong men grabbed me, relieving my porter, and now almost carried me the rest of the way to Barafu Camp.

My son, Bibi and a delicious lunch were waiting for me. Adrenaline rushed over me, and I texted to those impatiently waiting at home for news whether or not I had made it. I have been to Africa almost two dozen times, but no other trip had created as much interest and fascination among my friends and family. I later found out that some people made bets about my success or failure.

I enjoyed the food, and it gave me the boost I needed for the next four hours hiking to Mweka Camp. This should have been a walk in the park, but my toes hurt and the last two hours, where the trail consisted of many steps, my knees started popping. Ouch! We arrived at Mweka Camp just as it began to drizzle and getting dark. We united with the rest of the group, and everyone was genuinely content. I slept like a log that night.

I dreaded our final day, as our head guide told us it would consist of 2 more hours of knee-popping steps before the trail leveled out for the final stretch to Mweka Gate. I was puzzled that in none of the reports that I had read, the descent was mentioned as grueling. Have they all forgotten, or was it just me who had such a hard time? We reached the gate by noon, and were thoroughly celebrated by singing and dancing. After a last lunch prepared by our crew, we were picked up and driven back to our lodge in Arusha. All we had on our mind was… a SHOWER!

When I got home, I was celebrated over and over, again. Everyone seemed excited that they knew someone personally, who had climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro. I was flying as high as a kite, and remembered something someone told me before I left. He said: “It’s not about making it to the top…” – I disagree: “It is ALL about making it to the top!” I can now totally understand how one can get hooked on hiking challenging terrain. I actually caught myself thinking: “What if I did a different route next time?” Then I landed firmly back on earth… “What? - Are you nuts?” However, I will never forget the adventure of climbing, what I now call, Mt. “Thrillimanjaro”!

P.S.
You can watch a low resolution video (48 min.) about our climb on my website:
http://www.yoursafariexpert.com/AfricanSafariVideo.html
Do grab a cup of coffee, though, it will take a LONG time to load. Enjoy!