Purpose:

"Peace requires the simple but powerful recognition that what we have in common as human beings is more important and crucial than what divides us."
-Sargent Shriver


Tuesday, October 1, 2013

The Tallest Person in Africa


On Monday, August 19th, at approximately 8:35 a.m., I was the tallest woman, nay person, in Africa.

It all started far down below.  After months of planning and preparation, saving every last shilling, and getting acquainted with our Gladys Adventures guide team (HIGHLY recommend), Glenn (61), Kathryn (26) and I started our 6-day trek up Mount Kilimanjaro. 

Day 1: 1,800-2,829m: Machame Gate to Machame Camp:  It all started off harder than we thought.  We quickly came to find that not only had we signed up for the most difficult trek on the mountain, Machame Route, we were doing it faster than every other group but one.  At least we were doing it for far cheaper, thank you residence rate.  We started through rainforests, on wonderfully set trails, surrounded by big, green ferns, passing a small waterfall, and hearing the constant echo of birds chatting and monkeys swinging.  The walk was a flip flop with other groups climbing.  We would pass them, they would pass us, and the porters would blow past all of us with amazing speed.  Seriously, being a porter is one of the hardest jobs in the world!  We made extra sure to cheer on, loudly, the sole woman porter on our trail.  We stopped briefly for our box lunch that got chilly after a morning of sweet and cold rainforest air.  Just at the end of our 5-hour hike the trees broke open and we suddenly switched environments to alpine rainforest.  It was there that we found our camp, all set up and waiting for us.  A snack of chai and popcorn followed by a dinner of pumpkin soup, potatoes, avocados, fish, cabbage, tea, and bread with egg in sauce.  Lots of food and lots of liquids (we found) were the key to a successful climb.  Seriously, Gladys Adventures is a BARGAIN.  We were lucky enough to have a beautiful sunset view with the peak behind us.  But once the sun was down we were already getting cold, so on came the fleece jackets, hats, and hot cocoa by our tent heater while Caspar (our main guide) debriefed us and checked out med stats.

*Our med stats (something we found most companies weren’t doing), was a twice a day check on our bowel movements, headache, hydration, nausea, reaction to altitude medication, pulse and oxygen levels, and general ‘how are you feeling?’  We had competitions on who was using the restroom most frequently and how often our altitude meds ‘took us to tingle town.’  (We were lucky in that our only side effect of the medicine was having tingly feet and fingers.)

*Guides: Caspar has had over 150 climbs and made it to the top over 98% of the time.  Prosper (our assistant guide) has had over 100 climbs with an equal success rate.  We also traveled with 13 porters and a cook.

By the end of the day, we were getting to know the climbing community, who loved my Mchagaa name of Mankaa Mushi, were making jokes like ‘mimi peeeeeeeee-a’ (a Swahili pun), and finding out more about our guides.  

Day 2: 2829-3837m: Machame Camp to Shira Camp:  After learning the record climb for Kilimanjaro was 8 hours up and down (total), we were feeling silly taking our slow pace.  But as we soon came to find out, whoever did that run was NUTS!  Right from the beginning we climbed at about a 75-degree incline.  It was a four-hour, rocky route with lots of switchbacks, but offering jaw-dropping 360 views.  Prosper led us for most of the day and we once again ran into more groups and watched in awe as the porters passed us with ease, again.  Caspar was very knowledgeable of all the trees and plants (which Environment Volunteer Glenn LOVED), and once we explained what we did in Tanzania he was all about creating a call and response cheer of ‘PEACE!’  ‘CORPS!’  ‘PEACE!’  ‘CORPS!’  The mazingira was mostly dry and a constant up/down/up/down.  Towards the end we had a few areas we had to take extremely slow because one misstep could send you falling.  The quick altitude climb made us force a lot of water to avoid any headaches, and by the time we got to our next campsite we were SO COLD.  Coming back to America in December is going to be miserable.  At check in all of our levels were good and bowels moving as we broke out the gloves and jackets while the porters played with Glenn’s soccer ball.  We had a quick lunch at site of soup and sandwiches, then took a nap before doing a brief, 1 hour acclimatization climb.  By dinner we reminisced about the other groups we passed including a German couple, the safi Washingtonians celebrating their 15th wedding anniversary, and were freaking out that we could see our breath.  The best quote of the day, however, went to a young American we chatted with on the trail.  His group was doing an 8-day climb and when we said we were doing 6 he responded, ‘isn’t doing the Peace Corps hard enough?  Now you want to climb Kili in 6 days?’  We appreciated this ego boost, greatly.





Day 3: 3837-4637-3976m: Shira Camp to Lava Tower Hut, down to Barranco Camp:  There was frost on the ground!  Frost on the ground!  Despite our freak out about this, the guides went about their business, singing and acting silly throughout the morning.  It really is a fun hiking community on the mountain.  Getting used to the cold was making us slower, however, and we hit the trail 30 minutes past schedule.  Thanks to minimal cloud coverage and singing ‘Sisonge Simunye,’ ‘Tupo pamoja, yebo,’ and ‘Peace Corps,’ we warmed up quickly.’  Our hike quickly turned to alpine desert with scattered black rocks and lots of sand.  The cold start made long underwear officially on for the rest of the trip, but we briefly got warm, before getting really cold, and thoroughly appreciated our hot chai at lunch.  Birds were swooping in all over searching for scraps of food while our demeanor and clothes made us get mistaken for Belgians.  We reached a Lava Tower before descending downhill through moonscapes, icy streams, and back to yesterday’s vegetation of waterfalls and slippery slopes.  Going down so steep so quickly proved hard on my knees (thank you basketball), but with long strides I felt good.  Our guides also weren’t pleased with our slow pace down, so ahead of the group I went with Prosper getting to camp about 30 minutes before my friends.  Our camp was at the bottom of a steep, large hill, and fairly green with streams of water passing through.  Directly to the east was a massive wall called Barranco, and just above Barranco, the summit.  We warmed ourselves up with a luke warm foot bath, change of clothes, hot chai and much needed R&R after a 7 hour hike.  Our red, wind burned cheeks went well with our tired bodies, but our spirits more motivated than ever with the summit so near.

Bowel count:  Day 1=1-0-0, Day 2= 0-2-1, Day 3= 4-1-0, to a grand total of Ellen=5, Glenn=3, and Kathryn=1.  In other words, Caspar was very confident we would make it to the top.  Apparently, and seriously enough, the above tends to affect climbers greatly, especially on summit day.

Day 4: 3976-4673m:  Barranco Camp to Barafu Camp:  My Obama cap was ITCHY, but I quickly ignored that fact after realizing that our next step was to climb Barranco wall.  And when I say climb, I mean we climbed like rock climbers.  There was minimal ‘hiking’ the first two hours of this day, including a part where we had to hug the kissing stone and swing our body around with no rope support.  We also found using the restroom is becoming less and less discreet.  The wall was a little more intense than we thought, but by far the most ‘fun’ part of the entire climb.  At the top of Barranco the vegetation had completely vanished, this time for good, and Kili looked like a gingerbread peak with icing dripping down.  After a ten-minute break at the top of the wall we followed a trail that winded up and down and in and out of cloud level.  At one point we descended a steep hill with loose, thick dirt, jumped a river bed, and made a steep climb to Kibo camp where our tent was set up for lunch.  Kibo was not only cold but looked like something out of a Harry Potter movie: no, not the light a fluffy first few, but the whole ‘grey Hogwarts warzone’ in the DH Part 2.  We were in a mist of clouds, shale rock and mist in great anticipation of a midnight ramble to the summit.  After lunch of French fries and salad (when we desperately wanted hot soup) we made the slow, steady climb to our base camp.   Our guides were intentionally slowing our pace and we could really feel the altitude.  Piles of shale rock and quiet stillness joined us for the last walk of the day until we reached Barafu camp.  I was nervous when we arrived as the brief, steep end made it difficult to breath, but the summit looked SO CLOSE that the worry quickly evaporated.  At 5 pm we were force fed the biggest plate of spaghetti I have ever seen in my life, including my short stint working at Buca di Beppo.  Our chef literally watched us eat every last bite to make sure we were getting enough energy for our trip.  Our guides also came in and looked upon us with ‘you eat this or your grounded’ mother eyes as we begrudgingly filled our mouth with more and more pasta.  With our full bellies and strong vitals we went to bed straight away mentally preparing for our midnight climb.

*Fun note:  Tanzanians have a hard time saying the word ‘Spaghetti,’ so when we asked what was for dinner they kept saying ‘St. Lucia.’  Highly confused, he finally brought in the noodles where we saw St. Lucia was the name of the company.  Cross-cultural communication at it’s best.


Day 5 ‘THE BIG DAY’: 4673-5895m: Barafu Camp to Uhuru Peak:  READY.TO.GO.  Wake up call in the dark, at 11 pm.  One final restroom break at camp, a little chai, biscuits, and snickers bars ready we started the climb along with the other headlamp wearing trekkers.  The porters stayed behind at the camp (a very small percentage have ever made the final summit day hike), and we bid Barafu a ‘see you later’ while heading up in the near full moonlight.  We quickly found just why it is so hard to climb Kilimanjaro and on the Machame route.  After days of up/down/up/down, technical routes, quick acclimatization, and cold we hadn’t faced in years (for Kathryn and Glenn, ever), our bodies were exhausted.  The climb was a steep start with some points using our hands to climb over boulders.  We noticed the trail of headlamps getting smaller and smaller the higher we went, passing several climbers with severe altitude sickness.  As the moon went down and we reached two hours of no light we definitely had our moments of doubt.  It proved to be a mind game in thin air.  Climbing up volcanic ash at a 60-degree incline for 7 hours; stopping only makes you want to stop more. It was like running a marathon with the sadistic twist of altitude; hitting the wall as your nose drains with snot like a faucet, your snickers bar snack becomes solid frozen, and you are left focusing on the SLOW shuffle of feet from the person in front of you.  At one point Caspar fed me my energy blocks.  Glenn focused on the songs he’s written here in country, while I thought of loved ones and the grand metaphor of climbing while simultaneously finishing my service, and Kathryn was quietly determined to take each step.   Eventually, I just had a complete mentality change where I knew I was getting to the top.  Just as the sun was peaking and the wind chill becoming unbearable, Kathryn was having a really hard time, so words of encouragement, singing of the guides, and a final push got us to Stella Point (5700m) just in time to see one of the most beautiful and satisfying sunrises of my life (at 7:15 am).  We stopped for some chai before continuing the final 1,000 meters to Uhuru Summit Peak (5895m).  

The final walk was counting steps and heavy breathing because we were all so tired and out of it.  With the new light we were able to see the large glaciers (Southern Icefield, Kersten Glacier, Heim Glacier, Decken Glacier and Rebmann Glacier), and had a tantalizingly close view of the peak sign.  When we finally got there I was screaming with delight, Kathryn was crying, and Glenn was serious and reflective.  I came to find later I was the only one to remember reaching the summit, taking the pictures, giving out the hugs and filming all around us.  A few Irishmen who reached the top just before us ‘enjoyed’ a frozen Guiness.  Reaching the top was this incredible euphoria of congratulations and recognitions of a massive feat.  However, after about five minutes you are ready to get down.  Suddenly you remember you can’t breath well, it is really cold, and you feel every inch of exhaustion throughout your body. 

I once again sped ahead and left the peak first with Prosper where we waited a bit at Stella point to make sure Kathryn and Glenn were safe with Caspar.  Then it was down, down, down.  To put into perspective how steep it was, we were using our walking poles to ski through the dusty ash for about 3 hours.  If you had to use the bathroom it was out in the bright sun for all to see.  Once we reached a certain altitude I suddenly felt all the fluids I had been drinking and was left to having to ‘chimba dawa’ at the feet of Prosper.  7 hours up and 3 hours down my legs were complete jello.  I had a short burst of energy as it got warmer and we were met by one of our great porters with some juice 30 minutes from camp.  When I arrived to site, an hour before Kathryn and Glenn, I was so elated at the feat we had just completed.  I also realized more than ever just how steep and amazing our morning hike had been.  But this reflection was brief as I quickly and without reservation opened my tent door and passed out on the warm, sun-soaked sleeping pad, in my five layers of completely sweat full clothes.  

At 1 we were fed food but none of us had any appetite-this being both a side effect of altitude and being fed portions as big as America for the last 4 days.  Other travelers who had arrived to base camp in the early afternoon were anxious to hear our stories of the top.  Kathryn made fun of my positive recollection to all climbers while she had nothing to say but ‘IT’S FREAKING HARD, don’t listen to her!’  Kathryn and Glenn didn’t want to hike anymore while I just wanted to get to a camp where it was comfortable to breath, so we opted out of making the 4-hour hike down to Meza, and went 2 hours down to another camp, Millenial.  I walked ahead with Caspar, feeling better with my long strides and a nice stretch of the legs, while learning more about his life as a guide.  By the time we got to camp the general consensus was ‘we’re done.’  Our clothes smelled, we smelled, we were covered in dust, we were cold, we were tired, and we didn’t want to eat.  We all slept more soundly that night than any other night on the mountain.


Day 6:  Down, down, down to tingle town and up and out by 7:30.  We had our final goodbyes with the team, took a group picture and said a ‘thank you’ before the porters packed up.  Sharobabu (Glenn) led the pace, which was nice and steady, but hard on the knees going down so far and so fast.  We stopped to check out the vegetation as it came back to us.  The green was nice to see again after 2 days of grey.  No plants, to heath, to shrubs, to small trees, to full blown rain forest.  (And all of this in 4 hours.)  We passed through Meza camp and even passed other groups before finally making it to a 4X4 road and back to the main gate.  We got a chance to sign in, write our comments, and bask in the glory of summiting.  It would have been miserable and defeating getting to the gate and not having made it to the top.  Our feet were blistered and the porters were all bathing in the open as we jealously watched from afar.  Finally, the Gladys car arrived taking us back to Moshi town, which coincidentally was the same road I ran the marathon.  With money and tips settled back at the office, a hot, glorious shower at our hostel, and tasty, sunset Kilimanjaro beers at a bar rooftop we enjoyed our great end to an adventurous 6-day climb.

Would I do it again? 

Absolutely.









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