Photos: Lyle Such
Writing: Thu Buu
Camera: Canon 60d
Day 5 - Part 1
Barafu Camp 15,239ft. to Summit 19,341ft.
We began the climb at around midnight, single filed, bundled in layers upon layers to guard against the cold. Each of us had but the small circle of light created by our headlamps to break the darkness of the night. The spirits of Kilimanjaro were friendly that night, gifting us with clear black skies scattered with a shimmering river of twinkling stars overhead. A river of light we tried to emulate. Glancing down the mountain, we saw a train of headlights meandering through the darkness. It felt like we were participating in some sort of somber ceremony. It was such a beautiful sight, but by then, I had taken off my outer jacket with my camera in its pocket, and it was too much effort to stop and find it.
An hour our so later, as we rose in elevation, the cold started setting in. Even with all our layers back on, the cold stayed, like an unwanted visitor. My toes were numbed, and the buff I was using to wipe my nose had started to turn hard and ridged. Halfway up, we had finished the warm water in my thermos. The water in the hose of our camel pack had frozen over. We were supposed to blow air into the pipe and push the water back inside our packs after every sip, but that required too much energy.
Sometime during the night, many of us began to get sleepy. Our footsteps felt heavier and heavier. Phong and I tried to stay awake by playing the animal alphabet game, but that only lasted so long. I gave up after H is for Hydrax; speaking was an effort. By about 18,000 ft up, we were literally inching our way up the mountain. Each step forward was but a small gain in distance, not even a foot. My head felt like a floating ball of lead, a paradoxical experience created by a combination of altitude sickness, sleepiness, dehydration, hunger and fatigue, no doubt.
My stomach was empty. I hadn’t eaten much for dinner. “Oh darn, I had stashed all my trail mix in the backpack! Should have left it on the outside pocket!” It was too cold to stop for even a minute. And too many steps, unlatching the backpack, undoing the knots, digging for the food, putting everything back in and back on again...that required too much oxygen. Thank goodness I had a handful of Jolly Ranchers in my pockets that I continually sucked on all night long to stave off the hunger. (…And don’t even like them. I never want to taste another Jolly Rancher as long as I live.)
The rest of the climb was almost sleepwalking. My eyelids were barely cracked open, just enough so I could see and follow Cu Chi in front of me. I employed every strategy I knew to overcome sleep and my tiredness. I counted my steps, up to a hundred then all over again. Once that ceased to work, I focused on my breath, breathe in, step, breathe out, step.
After seven hours of walking in the dark, the red glow of dawn appeared on the horizon and Stella Point was within sight!
Many of the guides had been literally pushing, pulling and carrying other members of our group up the mountain for hours by this point. I had given Hajii my pack to wear a couple hours ago also.
We reached Stella Point as the first golden rays of dawn glowed orange along the horizon, and I was so thankful for a moment’s respite. My rest was but a moment. Instantly Lyle was tugging me to get off the boulder just as I dropped my pack onto the ground; he wanted to take pictures of the sunrise before the moment passed. I swiped his hands away, told him he could just be in the photo alone, and that all I wanted was to sit and breathe. It was to no avail. Lyle pulled my limping body off the rock and positioned me away from everyone. I was so out of it that I didn’t even realize that Lyle was on his knees, with a ring cinched between his fingers, proposing as the sun brought color back into the world. Simply, I asked him if he had found my mood ring. (I had lost one a couple year’s back.) He had to explain that it was a marriage ring…Oh…and then came the tears. And thus, I was physically, psychologically, and emotionally spent! I felt as though I didn’t have an ounce of energy left in me, and we still had an hour’s climb to the peak. All the emotions I felt were wrapped in a cry, “I don’t want to go up.”
Cu Chi was in charge of recording the proposal. Halfway through, he realized the record button wasn’t on. Ooops.
Meekly I told Lyle to put my ring in my pocket because the guides were ushering us to continue on to Uhuru Peak , only a gradual 660 ft climb. But at this point, the oxygen concentration in the air is only 50% of what it is at lower elevation turning these last 660 ft. into the ultimate challenge for me. Nuru, our guide, wanted to physically help me walk, but hunching over my pole, green in the face as I was, I refused his assistance. If I was going to do this, I was going to reach the summit by myself, even if it took me all morning.
Standing at 19,341 ft., Uhuru Peak is the highest point on Kilimanjaro, Africa’s tallest volcano and the world’s highest free-standing mountain.
Within a few hundred feet of Stella point, Cu Chi got so excited, he took off by himself. He reached Stella Point about half an hour before the rest of us. Here he is demonstrating his rock climbing skills, hanging off the sign with one hand.
Lyle and I staged the second part of our engagement. Lyle putting the ring on my finger with prehistoric glaciers as our backdrop.
Day 5 - Part 2
Summit 19,341ft. to Mweka Camp 12,204ft.
The ascent was difficult; however, the descent was even more painful. We had to slide down the mountaintop on scree. Trying to control our downward momentum, bracing for each misstep and fall put a lot of pressure on our knees. We had to stop often to give our knees a break. An hour or so down the mountain, the pipe to our camel pack thawed and much-needed water was once again available.
Today was a long day of downhill walking. We slid from Uruhu Peak to Barafu Camp, rested for less than two hours and continued our descent to the last campsite, a decline of about 5000 ft. in elevation.
By the time we reached camp, my knees were in so much pain I didn’t think I would be able to continue the downhill trek the next day. Fighting sleep, I performed acupressure around my knees, which alleviated much of the tension and made it possible for me to continue the last leg of our journey. Lyle’s big toes were both in pain from the constant impact with the front of his boots. Anh Vu couldn’t stand putting himself back into close-toed shoes; he went the rest of the way downhill in sandals. Cu Chi, the youngest of us all, was also feeling it in his knees.
Needless to say, that night we all had the best sleep we’ve had in a long time.
Without porters, there is absolutely no way amateurs like us could successfully summit Kilimanjaro. For our group of 12 participants, there were close to 50 crewmembers including guides, cooks and porters. By the time we arrive at camp each day, our sleeping tents would have already been up with our duffle bags waiting inside and the mess tent would have been set with some type of tea or lunch prepared.
We also noticed that many porters employed the skeleton walk technique as they trekked up the mountain. This technique requires you to straighten and lock the knee of one leg before taking a step with the other leg. This way, the skeleton is carrying all the weight of your body instead of the muscles in your legs. Thankfully Anh Vu taught us this technique, which made the climb so much easier.
Day 6
Mweka Camp 12,204ft. to Mweka Gate 5,432ft.
Due to a change in our departure time in Tanzania, we missed our connecting flight in Turkey. After four frustrating hours of waiting at the airport for Turkish Air to arrange our accommodations for the night, we took a taxi to the famous Blue Mosque in Istanbul.
