KILIMANJARO – An Idiots Guide-10-12-10


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African Continent

The path to its peak is one of the few places on earth that encompasses every ecological life zone ranging from rainforest to glacier. On a clear day its mystical figure can be seen from hundreds of miles away. Kibo, the highest peak stands at a remarkable 5895 meters above sea level, the flying altitude of many international commercial jets.

Twenty two thousand climbers set out each year to reach the summit of Kilimanjaro. It is a non-technical climb and requires no mountaineering skills or previous climbing experience. However, the enormity of the task and the elements you are exposed to can often be underestimated and in some instances prove fatal.

This article will guide you through an amateur's right of passage to the summit. It seeks to inspire, motivate and educate you about this incredible adventure and encourage inexperienced climbers and those that have not attempted something like this before.

Our journey to Africa commenced on the 31st August 2010, departing London Heathrow, destination Tanzania - Kilimanjaro. There were four of us travelling; Steve, Kate, Sam and I, all 23 years old. We arrived late evening at Kilimanjaro airport and could not see much of the area, but it was quite clear we were far from home.

When we got into Moshi town the area was clearly very basic. However, our hotel was modern and big. It had a concrete wall surrounding it, the rooms were clean and homely, there was a large swimming pool, good bar, a shop, internet café, everything you needed. This was ideal for relaxing before the big climb, and the staff were incredibly helpful and friendly.

The first day involved meeting our guides for a brief overview of the itinerary, question and answers and general mingling with other trekkers. We assumed we would be part of a larger group but the four of us were allocated 2 guides. There were a lot of experienced hikers, and some had been preparing over a number of years. One had completed the Inca Trail in South America years before and another had trekked the Himalayas in Nepal.

We reluctantly disclosed this was our first mountain, and it was clear from their expression they didn't fancy our chances! This was slightly unnerving but heck, Hakuna Matata! The four of us were relatively fit from sports we did at home but were by no means fit for purpose. We retired early that night ready to meet the following morning.

Day 1:

We kicked off by land rover to Kilimanjaro

National Park's Machame Gate. We began walking later than most, at around midday, to allow the herd of hikers itching to set off time to disperse into the elements. It was quite a steep introduction, but the backdrop of lush green rain forest and birds singing was refreshing.

After a few hours we were aching, but a stretch at every break kept me nimble. After about three hours we stopped for a pack lunch which consisted of a roll with meat filling, a boiled egg, slice of cake, fruit and juice. The first day totalled around 6 hours walking.

We arrived at camp at around 5pm to find our tents had been pitched ahead of our arrival and hot water was ready for tea or coffee accompanied by popcorn and biscuits. Dinner was soon to follow: crispy chicken with potatoes and vegetables along with gravy, a lovely meal that far exceeded my expectations of mountain food. We turned in not long after dinner hoping the days walking had tired us enough to sleep. It didn't, and this was one of many sleepless nights

Day 2:

We woke at 6.30am and after breakfast commenced walking. The terrain was extremely dry and laden with grey dust that coated our exposed skin and gear. The walk was continuously steep and marked a swift ascent above the clouds. The rainforest gradually slipped away, and we found ourselves in more baron, desert-like terrain.

As we scaled higher over the trees the views were impressive, and we regularly stopped to take in the view. If you don't take the time to do this you're up the wrong mountain. This is no race. It was a short day, and we arrived at camp around 2pm. After dinner we went to bed early and again barely slept, managing just a few hours sleep before dawn.

Day 3:

Despite the lack of sleep I seemed to find my flow on day 3. I took a slow pace at the back of the pack with the assistant guide Sylvester. He was an easy going, incredibly patient and helpful man. He was clearly built solid from all the years he'd been a porter running up the mountain with dozens of kilograms on his head and the same on his back. We called him Rambo. You could tell he'd more than earned his promotion to assistant guide. We watched the current porters rush past to set up our tents. Many of them wore sandals or trainers in dark contrast to our heavy duty, high wicking, waterproof, breathable Goretex hiking boots. Humbling to say the least.

The porters set up our lunch tent at around 1pm, a welcomed pit stop in every sense of the word. Mother Nature called, and I obliged behind a rock! It was actually a welcomed change to the huts equipped with a potty hole for a toilet. I carefully chose the generous privacy of a large rock and enjoyed the view at 4000 meters above sea level.

We set off for our camp after lunch and had another few hours ahead of us. The landscape turned intio fields of large volcanic rocks. We meandered past the 'lava tower' a volcano that erupted hundreds of years ago and then were surrounded by thick mist that came in waves, creating an intriguingly eerie atmosphere. The enlarged cacti trees that towered above us augmented this alien milieu and led us to our camp for the night.

Another sleepless night.

Day 4:

6am: We woke from the little sleep we had got, ate breakfast and dosed up on black coffee to give a bit of spring to our steps.

We started the downward journey into the valley of the Borongo Borongo wall, a vast rock face that we were soon to ascend. We crossed the thin stream that flowed through the center and began the steep traverse on the other side. This part of the trek was not dissimilar to actual rock climbing. The drop was steep, but it was a nice change from steady walking. Not a huge physical feat, but definitely requires more brute strength than any other point of the trek.

We arrived at camp and ate. I wasn't overly hungry and was absolutely exhausted. The lack of sleep had really taken its toll. Steve and I were told by the guide that if we didn't sleep that night we had little chance of making the summit tomorrow. He said it would be too much strain to walk for eight hours to base camp, have a few hours sleep and then walk another eight hours to the summit. He had a point. We hadn't quite worked out the logistics of day five until that point. There was a lot of pressure to sleep that night and it didn't help us relax!

Thank God we did get some sleep! If I were to do this trip again I would bring sleeping tablets or ear plugs or both. This would have been particularly beneficial before going for the summit as you turn in at around 5 or 6pm. The porters are wide awake as they don't join you. There's no need for any tents up there, the guides have the afternoon and night off, and they are buzzing! Rightly so after carrying our lives on their back for 5 days. For you, the rest could be critical for your chances of reaching the summit later that night.

Day 5.

The day began as normal, and we set off for base camp.

It was a hard day--about 7 hours in duration--but it was steady, and we were all quite psyched about setting off for the summit later that night. The terrain was steep and once again desert like but became more gradual as the day progressed. My memory of day 5 is quite hazy. I was so focussed on reaching base camp that observing the scenery took a back seat. Once we reached camp the view of our destination was towering above us, both literally and psychologically, and the finale of the trek was upon us. We ate a small dinner before putting our heads down. I was nervous and excited and praying for some sleep. I might have managed to get just a few hours.

Days 5/6

We woke around 11pm and prepared with a swift hot drink, a few bites of popcorn and a couple of chocolate biscuits. I may have eaten more than my fair share as I felt a bowel movement brewing. I tried to ignore it. We set off about 11.45pm, feeling confident and refreshed. Steve was feeling dehydrated and had a headache, not the best start.

The first few hours were fairly steep but steady enough not to be too cumbersome. It was unclear what the landscape consisted of because it was pitch black and our head torches were firmly focussed on the path ahead. After an hour I found the cold was settling in on my hip where I had a prior injury. Sam was feeling the strain, and the altitude was affecting all of our breathing. We were inhaling a lot faster than normal, and although we had felt this before, it was far more severe at this altitude. The group was quiet and focussed, conserving breath and energy, only sacrificing it for the odd motivational statement. We kept moving at a steady pace.

After a few more hours Sam admitted to feeling dizzy, nauseous and out of breathe for the past hour. Steve described similar symptoms, and he suggested they slowed down for a while to help adjust. Sam was adamant that she couldn't go any further. We said our goodbyes, and Sylvester took her back to base camp. In the knowledge of what was to come she definitely made the right decision.

We carried on but after another hour I rapidly discovered the negative affects of high altitude; my breathing became heavy and laboured, twenty yards of walking felt like a mile sprint, my head was stuffy and aching, I was dizzy and feeling sick. To top it off that bowel movement was about ready to happen! Great. We stopped for a break and I set out to find a good spot, the dizziness was definitely worsening. I was stumbling around and swaying unsteadily after each step. I felt drunk! I settled for a little cove of rocks not far from the group. My legs were shaking from the squat and the intense cold gripping my limbs. What a sight I must have been! I turned to see a line of head torches coming up the mountain. I turned off my torch and immediately almost passed out, just remaining upright. It could have gotten messy!

I made it back to my group before collapsing for rest. My guide had a hot cup of tea ready which warmed me immensely. Even so I was still freezing and could barely sit up straight. I tried to do my shoelaces up but my coordination was terrible. The guide saw my struggle and did them for me, zipped my jacket and helped me with my gloves. I was a mess. It felt like a Friday night after ten pints of brew.

We got going, but Steve and I were stopping every few minutes. Kate wasn't feeling any affects from the altitude, other than a mild headache. This highlighted the stark contrast in people's reaction to altitude. It had no bearing on age, physical ability, gender, just luck! Whatever the reason, we were mostly slowing Kate down. Steve recognized this and announced he was going to hang back and allow Kate to keep going. I pushed on with Kate and did my best to keep up. I got my walking pole out for the first time during the trek. It felt like a new limb had been attached! The dizziness became less prominent and the sickness wasn't overly concerning me. We must have carried on another three hours with the occasional break.

We reached the last leg of the journey around 7am. The sun was starting to come up, and we were on a steep slope to Stella point. The extra physical exertion this required made the symptoms resurface. The nausea swelled and the horizon snaked as my eyes and throat filled with fluid; more was coming and I vomited over the busy path to Stella point. I wished people luck as they past me, trying to remain jovial. Another reminder of a Friday night. Almost immediately the nausea subsided, and I had a surge of energy. I was convinced that Stella point was the top, not far to go. However, the energy didn't last long, 20 yards maybe. It was a hard climb to the ridge, but we finally made it, and a hint of ecstasy pulsed through me. I motioned around to take in the surroundings, but something was wrong, I looked up to see a higher peak.

"Oh you're kidding me!"

The actual summit was about half an hour away. It was within view and impelling enough to get us up and moving. People descending offered heartening words to motivate and congratulate us. With beaming smiles and radiant glows, they were clearly galvanized by the epic finale of their journey. It was close!

I knew it was true this time because I could see the sign declaring we were at the top of Kilimanjaro and other climbers gathered around. A wave of hysteria came over me, the vastness of the journey, the awe-inspiring glaciers forming an auditorium around me, all culminated in a medley of feelings. The aches and pains evaporated, the cloud of nausea and dizziness cleared, tears pressed through and at the same time I was laughing gleefully. We reached the summit and took in the panoramic view. Such an enormous sense of achievement came over me, fashioned by the climax of the foremost journey on foot I had ever made in my life.

PHOTO CREDITS: James Shepherd