Up to day 4, all trekkers follow the same route regardless of their 6 or 7-day trips. This was great because it allowed us to keep in touch with Erik and exchange our thoughts and sentiments about the hike thus-far.
On day 4 however, we continue to ascend gradually, splitting up the most grueling portion of the non-summit day hikes into two shorter, more tolerable days rather than a torturous 24-hours experienced by the 6-day trekkers (Erik included).
We wished Erik good luck and hoped that the next time we see each other we could all talk about how incredible the summit was. Our fourth day hike was quite short, lasting a mere 4 hours, breaks and lunch included. The camp was called Karanga and the view was simply breathtaking: it was overlooking Mount Meru in the distance and there was a pristine carpet of clouds extending from the edge of Kili, past Mount Meru to what seemed like forever.
We rested and enjoyed the sunshine (we were above the clouds remember) and reveled in our proximity to the summit: our final destination, our goal. Sitting on the rocks at dusk, watching the sky change shades of orange, pink and red; while Mount Meru pierced its snow-capped peak through the endless bed of fluffy white clouds is enough to make a grown man cry.
And it did, I'm not even ashamed to admit it.
Day 5 was the shortest of all the hikes, lasting under 3 hours. We arrived at Barafu camp before noon. The elevation is 4600m (15,090ft) and this camp also serves as the base-camp for the summit.
We retired to to our tents at 2 in the afternoon in order to rest for the most challenging portion of the trek: day 6, summit day!
For day 6, you wake up at 11:30pm, eat breakfast and get ready to commence your final ascent just after midnight. We left Barafu guided by head-lamps and moonlight, the cold wind whipping our faces and loose gravel slipping under our feet. The poor lighting combined with decreased oxygen made me lose my balance or stumble every time I glanced up or away from my feet.
Looking up at the mountain, it was hard to tell where the specks of light from the head-lamps of other hikers ended and where the stars began. It seemed like we would be climbing forever. Some people speculate that the summit is climbed at night to a) arrive at the summit at sunrise and b) to decrease the discouragement people would feel if they could actually see how much distance they have to travel in order to reach the summit.
By this point, the effects of altitude were definitely affecting me: my heart was racing, I was very short of breath and my balance was really suffering. Robert pushed us to keep going.
We were on on the final stretch to Stella Point, the ridge leading to the summit, Uhuru peak. Our legs were barely moving. It seemed like we were walking on a cruel treadmill, climbing but never really getting anywhere. The exhaustion and desperation were unbelievable. The only way I could will myself to continue was by swearing and yelling at myself to continue.
Eventually we reached Stella Point. The sun started to show above the horizon, painting the sky and glaciers an ethereal pink. Between my laboured breaths and wobbly steps, I realized how close I was to reaching the summit. The realization that this moment, this accomplishment would be one of the defining moments of my life became too much to stifle. The tears started streaming and I couldn't stop them.
I didn't need to stop them, nor want to stop them.
In light of what I went through in October 2009 with my health and unsure future. It was at that moment that I really felt like I came out on top.
I had won.
I hugged Robert and I hugged Chris and we continued the final distance to reach the peak. Chris and I were really oxygen deprived and were acting like we were wasted: laughing hysterically and bumping into each other.
We finally arrived at Uhuru peak (5896m, 19,334ft), Africa's highest point at 6:15am. It took us 6 days to reach it and we could only stay at the summit a mere 15 minutes, but it was worth every second!
The pole pole pace we followed on the ascent was thrown out the window on the descent: we were practically pulled down the mountain by Robert and the assistant guide. We arrived back at Barafu at 10:30am, we allowed to rest for 2 hours and then we actually had to do another 4-hour hike to reach our final camp of the trek.
The last hike, although rather easy; seemed to last forever. The accumulation of fatigue was immense, but we had to keep on moving. Miraculously, we made it to the final camp and I had the most glorious sleep of my entire life.
Our final day was a leisurely hike back through the rain-forest. We were allowed to go as fast as we liked and Bryson was waiting for us at the Mweka gait with a Tanzanian feast and ice-cold coca-cola.
My non-existent hiking gear and meager attempts to train prior to departure had somehow paid off. I had done it.
It was over.
We met up with Erik at our hotel terrace, enjoyed some ice-cold Kilimanjaro beers, nicknamed Erik the "birdman" (due to his extensive knowledge of birds and over-zealous affinity towards them) and partied as if we hadn't just climbed a mountain for a week, nor been exposed to reduced oxygen levels for an extended period of time. Man did we regret that decision the next day.
Who am I kidding, no we didn't. It was worth all 19,334 feet!
Wow! The photos are breathtaking! Congrats!
ReplyDeleteVery Inspiring! I will do that in Sept!
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