Kilimanjaro via the Lemosho Route

Today we start our ascent of Kilimanjaro. We were ready to go by 7:30am for the three hour bus ride from Arusha to the Londorossi Gate. We overnighted at the Summit Lodge and in the morning met our guides and porters. There were only two of us going in a private group expedition but had a staff of 13 to support us from the company, ClimbKili. Our team was led by the lead guide, Manny, the assistant guide, Singha, and also included a chef, waiter, tent manager, six porters, and the toilet porter. We opted for two extra porters. Both my friend Mike and I had an additional personal portal to help with additional gear beyond the 15kg (33 pound) weight limit. I was bringing my camera gear and Mike likes to be prepared. Ok, he overpacked, but addmittedly some of his extras came in very handy!

After a 3 hour bus ride, we arrived at the Londorossi Gate. We had to check in, weigh the packs, and then had a lunch there before we got started. It was only 3 miles but with 2360 ft in elevation gain and starting at 6890 feet, but felt a bit challenging for someone used to living at sea level. You can see whole route on Strava, here.

I was glad to get to camp. Its just going to get harder from here. I'm still very worried about the elevation, but I'm handling tonight at 9150ft just fine. I am taking Diamox. Maybe that is already helping. I'm listening to our guides and working hard to stay hydrated.

We're spending the night Mti Mkubwa (big tree) camp. Saw both the Black and White colobuse and Blue monkeys. The whole night was filled with their chatter throughout the trees. I'll confess. I had no idea what was making the noise at the time. It was the stereotypical monkey sounds, but guttural groans, croaks, and strange barks. I also heard what I thought was a dog barking but our guides informed me that it was likely a jackel.

The company we went with, ClimbKili, also included a private toilet and the toilet porter to manage it. I was beyond grateful for the private toilet. There are public toilets at each camp. Ok, they're really just a hole in floor of a wooden shack. If anyone is thinking of going with a company that doesn't include a provide a private toilet or saving the expense if its extra, I'd suggest you watch this short clip from the the movie, Trainspotting, entitled, "The Worst Toilet in Scotland". This will give you some idea what the public toilet experience on the mountain is like. In short, you've been warned!

After an 8.2km hike, made it to Shira Camp which sits at 11,300 ft. It was a tough but good day. You can see the route on Strava, here. I definitely feel the altitude now. We climbed almost 3000ft today. Tomorrow is longer but only 2000 ft of elevation gain. We left the rain forest and are now out on the Shira plateau in Moorland Zone.

Beyond being welcomed to camp with song, I took about an hour to hour and half nap which was just lovely. Only cramped up once. The guides are pushing us to stay hydrated. They're suggesting 3-5 liters of water a day and keep offering soups and tea which I think is their sneaky way to get more fluids in us. That said, they know their stuff and we're trying to follow their directions.

I don't think I'm prepared enough but its the elevation that is going to stop me and that I fear. I'm already breathing heavy and just getting in and out of the tent is a chore. Not sure how I could have prepared for the elevation seeing as I live and spend most of life at a whopping 600 feet of elevation in Milwaukee, WI.

This is an adventure, Type 2 fun at its core. I'm glad I'm doing it, but already excited to celebrate the end. I've been told that climbing Kilimanjaro is primarily a mental challenge not a physical challenge. Given all the huffing an puffing I'm already doing, it sounds wrong but i'm starting to believe it. I feel the fear and uncertainty starting to grow. Every day is a new experience and higher in elevation than i've ever been.

I was hoping to see more wildlife, but the rainforest was very dense. Saw the monkeys and heard a ton of birds, but rarely saw any. Then once we got out on the Moorlands, the wildlife noises largely went away. Given my passion for birding, I was able to find a few birds around camp before and after my nap. I probably got 4-6 new birds here with photos on the plateau.

The days are falling into a routine already and a rather structured routine at that. Our camp waiter, Juve, knocks on our tent every morning at 5:30am. He is always punctual and goes to Mike’s tent first. I later learned it was because Mike set his alarm a little earlier, so he was always up and had a flashlight on. Juve asks us each how we slept and then, oh yes, then, he asks us if we want coffee or tea brought to our tents.

One of life’s simple pleasures but punctuated with a bit of elegance, is coffee and we get our first cup of coffee served to us while we’re still waking up and at least partial warm in our sleeping bags. We have an hour to get ready, pack up our belongings, go to the bathroom, and brush our teeth before breakfast is served at 6:30am. By 6:30, we’re in the dining tent and Juve is dishing us up breakfast. I’m impressed with all our staff’s ability to speak English along with a few other languages. Juve has this endearing habit of saying “your welcome” before we can thank him. I try to beat him too it, but he usually gets it out first.

Our guide’s stated goal is to be hiking by 7am. I don’t think we ever hit that goal, but we were almost always starting by 7:10am. We apologize and then get the ubiquitous response, “hakuna matata” or “no worries”. While we’re eating breakfast, the porters take down our tents and some have already started carrying the camp gear to the next campsite. They, however, wait to tear down both the dining tent and the toilet tent until we’re starting our hike. That is, of course, very much appreciated.

Our hike today is 10km mostly in moorland with about 2200 feet in elevation gain. Moir Camp is at almost 13,500 feet. I’m pretty sure its higher than I’ve ever been and definitely higher than I’ve ever slept. The link to today's hike on Strava is here.

Our evening ritual is also rather structured. Teatime at 4pm and dinner at 6pm. The staff is flexible but both Mike and I seem to like a later dinner and have settled on 6pm for our dinner time. Culturally, Tanzanians aren’t big on dessert, but we are always offered some dessert, even fruit at the end of the meal. I’ll enjoy another cup of tea or even a cup of hot water as a nod to one of my modern environmental heroes, Doug Tompkins, how later in life having given up alcohol and caffeine enjoyed a cup of hot water sometimes with lemon and at times without.

By 7:30pm we and the staff are in our sleeping bags. The staff usually talks for a quite a bit before settling in for the night, but Mike and I both attempt to read, but usually drift off to sleep rather fast. While sleep comes fast, it usually doesn’t last though the night. The Diamox that is helping us adapt to the altitude it is a strong diuretic. Its inevitable that a few trips to the bathroom are necessary. A pee bottle is something to strongly consider.

I've been so focused on surviving and the daily footfalls of the path that I haven't truly appreciated where I am. I'm in Africa! Nearing the rooftop of the continent, the land of the early explorers, of Hemingway, of Livingston, and more recently Rick Ridgeway. I am following the footsteps of tens of thousands through an ever changing landscape.

The sights, sounds, and smells of Africa are totally different than other places I've been. The first night in Mti Mkubwa Camp listening to the growls of the monkeys and their strange clucks kept me aware in awe. Later, thought I heard a dog bark, but was told in the morning it was a jackal. Now, going ever higher, the sounds fade replaced only by the wind and when that is silent just your heart beating and the sounds of your breathing.

Today as we approached Barranca Camp we went though a Dendrosenecio kilimanjari forest. They're prehistoric, palm like trees dotting the landscapes on the valleys and gullies where streams flow and the fog rolls in and out. I don't know if its the streams that give them water directly or the fog that seems to drift down the valleys constantly, yet intermittently that provides them the water they need. Their dead leaves stay on and have a cotton like substance underneath that apparently helps insulate them from the cold.

We reached 15,000 feet earlier in the day as we hiked past Lava Tower, but then decended to be be greeted by the Dendrosenecio sentinels. Today we camp at Barranco Camp in the shadow of tomorrow's challenge, the massive Barranco Wall.

I wish I have had more time to enjoy the natural surroundings. I'm too focused on my breathing and often on each and every foot fall and foot placements between the rocks along the trail. The environment here is amazing with its unique flora and fauna. The fog is now continually drifting in and out or are we just in the clouds? When the clouds are gone, the sun is so intense given our altitude, that it creates really sharp shadows that accentuate everything. The lichens swaying on the rocks and hanging from the trees are very different than any I've seen anywhere else. They're brown, almost rust in color, and hang off almost all the vertical surfaces.

We started the day by tackling the Barranco Wall. It looks intimidating from a distance but its more of a switchback scramble. There are few somewhat dicey parts that you need to be real careful or risk a 10-15 fall, but its something that almost anyone can take slowly and you'll be fine. Our guides did an amazing job of keeping an eye on us, suggesting feet and hand holds and being right there just in case we needed a hand.

Here's a short video to give you a sense what the Barranco Wall is like. Its not really a wall, but series of switchbacks and scrambles. You don't have to worry about falling off the wall, but you do have to be very careful. There's quite a few spots were you could slip and fall 5-10 feet down.

Today, it actually seems like I can do this. The Barranco Wall was tough, my breathing labored, but it felt right. My muscles and my breathing felt as they should for that challenge and at this elevation. Hanging out now at 13,500 feet. I have to say, I feel quite good. I don't know what sleeping at 16,000 feet will be like or waking up at midnight and climbing up to 19,000, but honestly, I'm now more worried about going down than getting to the top right now.

Today has been the best day so far. The scenery was just incredible, we conquered the Barranco Wall, but probably what makes the most enjoyable is the self-doubt I've been filled with noticeably dissipated today. I think I can make this! When I told this to Mike, he sarcastically responded with let's see, "what new fresh hell waits for us tomorrow". Like me he used humor and sarcasm to diffuse tension. I know he felt the same way about today as I did. It was an excellent day. You can view the route on Strava, here.

I'm a collector, a passionate collector, of perfect moments. Those moments in your life when you are entirely present in the that moment in time. Time seems to slow, but you wish you could stay right there very long time. Thoughts of the past, the future, your to do list, work and life responsibilities, or demands on you can't penetrate that moment. You just are present in the now.

Perfect moments don't come is often as I would like, but that what makes them special. I don't recognize them as a perfect moment until they're over. They're too fleeting in time, but are burned in my memory forever. Getting to the top of the Barranco Wall, seeing the clouds now below, celebrating the accomplishment and just being, truly being there was indeed a perfect moment. If i look back on the climb up the wall, it is one part of the trip that I took very few pictures. Perhaps its because that perfect moment extended back into the climb itself longer than I realized?

"Not to assume it's impossible because you find it hard. But to recognize that if it's humanly possible you can do it too."
- Marcus Aurelius, Meditations Book 6 -

Scree is like walking a broken glass at least that's what it sounds like. The crunch of walking on scree was present for much of the day. Eighty percent of the time you can't even take quick, furtive glances around. It's better just to look at the person's feet in front of you and where they're putting them. You miss much of the amazing scenery but you reduce the risk of stumbling.

Getting to camp today was an achievement I immediately celebrated only to have it replaced by fear as the clouds cleared away to expose the path toward the summit. We're now at the Kosovo Camp at 16,000 ft, far higher than I ever imagined I would be but the mountain still looms very larger above us. Tomorrow we'll attempt to reach the summit. Actually we start the hike tonight at 12:30am. Today is a rest day, but how to rest when your mind keeps generating fear and uncertainty and there isn't enough oxygen in the air to slow your breathing? The link to today's hike on Strava is here.

While i had trepidations, the staff from Climb Kili was very happy to celebrate our arrival!

I feel better after talking to our lead guide, Manny. I was worried about my heart, but having a headache, experiencing shortness of breath, and an elevated pulse, is rather typical at this elevation. Our guides graciously offered to carry our packs on the summit push tonight and we accepted. I don't know how they do it!

Realistically, "I" don't have a chance of making the summit, but "we" do. Good guides are your partner in the effort. They want to help you get to the summit as much as you want to get to the summit. It seems like it, but its not an individual effort. I will achieve this only with the assistance of our guides Manny and Singha. My success will be theirs too. I look forward to celebrating "our" achievement tomorrow with them.

While I do feel better, I never paid this much money to suffer this much. I guess that's not actually true. I paid even more for the doctors to cure me of thyroid cancer a little while back. In this case, I paid Climb Kili, their guides and the porters to show me what I'm truly capable of. It was Teddy Roosevelt who said, "nothing worth having comes easy".

I'm reminded of one of my favorite self-improvement books, "Younger Next Year". This is somewhere between an epic adventure and trying ordeal. In addition to the views, the environment, and the people you meet along the way, this adventure is a stark reminder of what we're all capable of and what we can achieve if we commit to it. In "Younger Next Year", the authors introduce the nautical term, "kedging".

Hundreds of years ago, when the wind died and the sails would no longer propel the ship, the crew's only option to move the boat was to row an anchor out in front of the boat, drop the anchor and pull the boat forward a few feet at time. That needed to be repeated hundreds of time to move to an area where the wind could be found. What an ordeal! Going through the ordeal of kedging or whatever your equivalent may be, the authors described it as this, "...climbing out of the ordinary, setting a desperate goal and working like crazy to get there. To save yourself." The authors suggest that tackling something new and difficult "opens your head up in an age when you're attempted to shut it down". Journeys like this change you and maybe that's the point of it.

The routine we've gotten into for the evenings was broken pre-summit day. Our normal, dinner at 6:00pm, in the tent and reading by 7:30pm and likely asleep or at least lights out at 8pm was pushed back even earlier on summit eve. I was in my sleeping bag by 6:30pm attempting to read a few pages of Marcus Aurelius' book, Meditations, but really just staring at the words and thinking about whether or not I really can do this climb.

We were to be woken up at 11:30, but Mike's alarm inadvertently went off at 11am. He was in the tent next to me, but he had noise canceling headphones on and I did not. With likely only 2 hours of sleep, we were getting ready for the summit push. No coffee in bed today, but a quick snack in the dining tent after we geared up and we were off. We were told to expect near zero temps (Fahrenheit) and stiff winds so layer up we did. As you may have read elsewhere, the summit push is a slow, methodical effort so you do struggle to stay warm. You're breathing heavy but you're not sweating or generating a lot of extra heat.

Both likely due to fear and lack of sleep, the hike started off very surreal. Your vision was limited to the person's feet in front of you and a small circumference around them illuminated by your headlamp. The night reduces your vision and and use just focus on the path unveiled in the shadows in front of you. We would take breaks every 20 - 30 minutes. I was trying to remember to keep drinking fluids. Glancing up during the breaks, the mountain continued to loom rather large above us and I didn't seem to gauge any progress for the first few hours.

We did pass a few other parties. Earlier as we were getting ready to go, we saw quite a few parties go past our tents. They got up even earlier than us and were coming from Barafu camp about an hour below our tents at Kosovo Camp. That gave us a distinct advantage. The other advantage I didn't realize until Summit day is being a small group of two, we moved at our pace and Mike and I seemed to go at a shared pace we were both comfortable with. You could see the larger groups getting rather strung out by the fitness levels and acclimatization of each member and they often needed to wait for the slower people in their party. Until today, I always appreciated any rest stop: catch your breath, take a drink, soak in the surroundings, but summit night was different. Within 5 minutes of each stop I was getting chilled, it was hard to stay out of the wind, and I was itching to keep going.

By 3:30am we had passed all the groups that started before us but that created a new problem. We were ascending faster than our guides thought we would. They had timed our start to get up to the top at dawn but were now tracking to get to the top noticeably before dawn. This "problem" was greeted with the realization in my head that we were going to make it. At that point, I knew for the first time that we were indeed going to get to the summit.

We attempted to slow our hike up, but the cold kept creeping in. We got to summit still in the dark with only one other group already there. Our guides suggested we wait till sunrise, but I was a hard no vote. I was cold and struggling to breath. While a picture in the sun sound great, heading down sounded even better. We opted to watch the sunrise as we were getting back to Stella Point.

Heading down brought me joy. I made it. No, together we made it. And I really felt one heck of an accomplishments. That lasted for a good half hour, but slowly the reality of heading down and the work involved in doing so started to creep in. We had spent 5.5 hours going 3 miles up to the summit, but now we had a 12km decent and a decent where we would give up 9000ft of elevation. It was steep going downhill with the last few kilometers going through a dry boulder strewn creek bed. As our guide, Manny confessed, "no one ever trains for the downhills.

When we finally got to Mweka Camp well over 12 hours after we started, I was never so happy to see my tent. The sun was out and the tents were stifling hot but I didn't' care. We made it and now we could get a rest! Both Mike and I fell asleep somewhere around 6:30pm that night and slept till 5:30am. It was the best sleep of the trip. Sleeping at 10,000 ft never felt so good!

The last day was an emotional high, but all downhill literally. It was easy relatively speaking. The dry creek bed of yesterday with its boulders and drops was behind us and what started out as a nice wide trail became a nice wide road after a few kilometers. Now, I say it was easy, but we did encounter a few people that clearly came down the mountain damaged. They were struggling to walk and once the trail became a road there was a handful of ambulances that were waiting and picking up hikers who just couldn't finish off the last few miles. The Strava map of the hike today is here.

One practical lesson learned was you do need to try and train for the downhills. At the very least test your boots down the steepest hills you can find. Getting to the summit isn't the goal. You need to get down too. You need to have a little, maybe even a lot, left in the tank for the trip down.

As the Climb Kili brochure suggested, this last day was one to reflect on the experience. Doing something this far out of your comfort zone does indeed impact you. The mountain changes you. I left 15 pounds and 3 toe nails (again, down is hard!) on the mountain, but I'm taking away so much more. The mountain showed me how much more i'm truly capable of and the power that is within us all if we really try. It taught me how to suffer but also reminded me of the simple joys in life. I know part of its for show, but the Tanzanians taught me to smile more and has me questioning why we don't sing in life. I've been relishing a bit more solitude and have continued the reflection that started on the mountain of where my life is and where I still want to take it.

When I called my wife and told her that I had made it, I told her that my mountaineering career began the week before and ended that week. She wisely said, "we'll see about that". Since getting back I have found myself doing a bit of research on what it would take for me to climb Mount Rainier and/or do an Everest Base Camp Trek.

As the old saying attributed to Ralph Waldo Emerson goes, its not the destination, its the journey. This was and continues to be, one heck of a journey.