We were fortunate to see a cheetah sunning himself about fifty feet from the road. He just lie there, occasionally changing positions. We saw multiple prides of lions throughout our time in the crater, though we never saw a male with a full mane. Our driver informed us that the dominant male often waits in the brush for the females of the pride to make a kill. We did see one pride of females slowly making their way toward a herd of zebra. They would camoflauge themselves by ling in the tall grass of the plains and then move about 30 feet each time they rose and moved. Successive females would follow in the footsteps of the leader, taking over the position she had just occupied. We were informed that the lions hunt in the opposite direction of the wind, ensuring their prey won't be able to smell them on their steathly approach. We would have loved to see them spring into action, but were told they can take anywhere from three to six hours to sneak up on and strike their victim. The lions patience would far putweigh our own.
We saw hippos in a small lake as we ate lunch. It was day time and they rarely did more than raise their heads from the center of the small pond we ate next to. We missed our chance to see them graze at night when we were at the Fisherman's Camp at Lake Naivasha. We were advised to eat our packed lunches in the car because of the Kite birds that swarmed over head. One unlucky safari participant either didn't follow or wasn't given the same advice and had their lunch time bread snatched from their hand.
After lunch we convinced our driver to head off on a tangential road towards a herd of five elephants walking across the plains. We were able to see one of them pass about twenty feet in front of the car. This extremely well endowed male must have been excited by our presence or otherwise. It was exciting to see the elephant that clsoely but I prefer them from afar, their wrinkled skin masked by silhoutte.
From there we rushed to follow a few safari vehicles we presumed were watching the pride of lions attack an unsuspecting victim. However, it turned out it was a large group who was headed up the two-way road now that we were on the opposite side of the crater.
The bird life was fantastic in the crater. There were wild ostrich, nearly endless numbers of pink flamongo on the lake inside the crater, pelican, crown topped birds and quite a few others I can't remember the names of.
Robert had been ribbing our driver just a bit because he didn't have a CB radio like many of the other drivers. They all use that to let one another know when they happen upon a big cat or something equally as cool. Tae casually implied he used his cell phone, whose ringtone would set off Bob Marley's "One Love" every time he was receiving a call, to communicate. We hardly believed him but as we rounded a bend he chuckled to himself and then said "I can see one, two, three black rhino.". We couldn't hone in on them but then scanned the horizon to see a couple of other vehicles stopped a hundred yards away. By the time we joined them we could focus on them with our binocculars.
Though we'd seen Rhino in South Africa these three and an additional one who'd joined them were on the open plains. It was easy to get a good look at them. They were striking and very large. What amazed me was after I'd watched them a few minutes I handed the binocculars to Robert and gazed out the other directions from our open-top safari mobile. There were still hundreds of wildebeasts, zebras and gazelles around us, as they had been all day. We really were amidst an impressive number of animals, not to mention the variety of rare species.
Having spent the past four plus hours in the crater we were growing a tad tired of everything. It's not that it wasn't impressive, still, but there really is a threshold to the amount of time either Robert or myself is interested in staying in the car. We passed a few wart hogs and their imcredibly cute offspring. The four or five babies were small enough to be held in the palms of our hands and their overgrown fur looked so soft and cuddly. They are only rivaled by baby zebras, monkeys and the very cute porter from our Kilimanjaro climb.
As we connected with the road that would take us to the one way ascent road we began to talk about leopards. They are called jaguar in Central America, live in trees, are predominantly nocturnal and very hard to spot. This road had a number of trees flanking it and I said to Robert "there's so many trees, you know a leopard is in at least one of them.". Just then, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of something moving in a tree off to me left. I shouted "stop, there's a leopard" to the driver and he and Robert immediately wanted to be shown where. I pointed at a group of five or six adjoined trees off to our left. The sly cat was sitting in a V formed by two branches diverting from the trunk on the second tree to the left. It sat there long enough for each of us to get a good look before jumping down to the grass below and out of sight.
Our driver was excited for the first time all day. We'd asked him the previous day at dinner if seeing animals still excited him or if it was merely a job at this point. He confessed that the excitement of his contry's remarkable big game diversity was no longer a part of his job which he looked forward to. At this point it was a means to an end and he enjoyed the company of new people more than the animals.
We were about to leave when Tae caught sight of him once again. He'd moved further to the right amongst the trees there. We continued to watch him and noticed another safari vehicle approaching from a considerable distance behind us. Tae informed us he'd like to wait and point out the leopard's presence to the driver of the vehicle. I chided that since I sighted the animal I'd like the tip and continued to watch it move from one part of the trees to the next. I felt the most invigorated watching the leopard, especially since it was quite rare to spot one.
After the driver of the other vehicle pulled up and we explained where they could spot the leopard they, too, were excited having sighted their fourth big cat of the day. In addition to the lion and cheetah we'd seen they named another cat we weren't even familiar with. Indeed, it had been a great day in the crater. We passed through a forest consisting of acacia trees with yellow branches. Tae imformed us the Maasai people called them fever trees as they are beneficial in fighting high temperatures in the body. We were granted a few more views of elephants amidst the trees, topping off a marvelous day.
The ascent road was insanely steep and horrendously bumpy. Many of the vehicles within the park were making their way to the road, as the gates were set to close in less than an hour at 6pm. The drivers of the vehicles would incurr huge fines if they weren't out on time.
We pulled into camp and informed our cook we'd love to be fed in about an hour. Anticipating our arrival he'd already set out a plate of saran-wrapped popcorn for us. We really liked him. The campsite was set on a ridge above the crater. The tree line at the top of the crater was just thick and high enough that it took a real effort to get a glimpse of the crater bottom we'd explored all afternoon. I was content with what I'd seen and enjoyed watching the sky change from afternoon to evening to dusk and on to night.
The campsite was as lively as any we've been to yet. The one covered area they had for dining was where everyone congregated to eat their separate meals and then swap stories and experiences from Africa and the world over. We gravitated towards people in our age range, most of whom were over for some sort of safari combo with Kilimanjaro or skipping that in favor of a week-long stay on Zanzibar. After having done everything that we've done we were the resident experts, offering advice on dive sights and explaining the finer points of obtaining the gorilla trekking permits in Rwanda. One thing we noticed is that very few people had diverted from the tourist track in Africa. One guy from California was eager to hear about our Christmas experience in a small village, but most others were content on spending a week on safari and heading right into another isolated adventure.
The night didn't carry on too long, as there wasn't a bar able to cater to everyone's desire for a Safari or Kilimanjaro lager, two of Kenya's most well known beers. Those who'd been at this a while knew to either pack some in or send their driver to the kiosk a few kilometers away, but by 10pm the rationed supplies had all but run out.
We awoke to another majestic sunrise the following morning. Our cook, who truly seemed to have his hand in everything happening in camp, day or night, was instructing a Japanese tourist how to capture the moment. Robert and I chuckled about him, and realized he's one of those guys who really means well but is probably helpful on forty percent of the time. Eventually he was helpful enough to serve breakfast. By 8am we were on the road again. We had a mission to get exit the park by 9am. Robert and I were convinced that we would be able to receive a refund for the second day in Ngorongoro that we'd already pre-paid. However, our keen negotiating and manipulation skills were far outweighed by the apathy and paperwork excuses held by the office manager at the gate.
It was a shame to waste $30 per person on the second day that we didn't use. However, I was content with having packed two days worth (or a day and the following morning) of animal sightings into one day. I didn't particularly want to go on another game drive. They are relatively boring for someone who would rather walk, run or bike. in the end it didn't surprise me that we'd turned our safari into another condensed, whirlwind mini-trip. That's been our entire stay in Africa. And, I've enjoyed every minute of this trip.
We stopped to negotiate a few gifts on the ride back to Arusha. There we stopped to take a photo at the "center of Africa" (North/South not East/West nor the four cardinal directions combined). It was marked by a clock tower in the middle of a traffic circle. Like almost everything else in Africa there was a Coca-cola advertisement on it.
The Kilimanjaro airport was only forty five minutes away, so we opted to head there a wee bit early for our 4pm flight to Rwanda. By and large the small airport was dead, aside from the few flights to Nairobi and Zanzibar. We negotiated a few last minute purchases at the curio shop beyond the exit immigration. It was strange to still be able to haggle out a deal. Eventually we boarded the flight. Along with two other passengers we relaxed into our seats and took off fifteen minutes early from Kilimanjaro International Airport.
The mountain which lends its name to the airport was completely covered by clouds, as was typical of the afternoon weather patterns we'd experienced in our ten days in and around it. Nevertheless we were able to see the fully exposed tip of Mt. Meru a mid-4000m peak in close proximity. The kind Air Rwanda Express flight attendant fed us multiple sandwhich boxes and refreshments as we recounted our trip to him. It was a relief to relax in the confines of the 30 seat dual propeller plane, as opposed to thinking of the buses, matatus and motor bike taxis the trip could have been.
Still, as we flew over Mwanza on the southern edge of Lake Victoria in Tanzania Robert and I both expressed our desire to see the city on the ground. If we'd just had a bit more time to figure it out, we could have saved a few dollars and experienced a few more truly African moments.
Though we have one more day in Rwanda, the trip is all but come to an end. It's been like four or five separate, mini-trips: South Africa being the first, the ex-pat and day time adventure in Kigali, Rwanda, being the second, the real deal travel nd adventures in Uganda, Kenya and Tanzania being the third and the Mount Kilimanjaro and Ngorongoro Crater safari being the fourth or fourth and fifth respectively. Each has been amazing in its own right and it's been a pleasure to be able to account for my experiences in writing.
It will be hard to return to the US. It always is. However, that's not to say that I am not looking forward to it. I've done two previous one month trips (Guatemala and Egypt) that were not related to my touring life in the music industry (which has seen plenty of multi-month trips over the past twelve years). Each time one month has hardly seemed like enough at the outset. There's always more to do and more to see. But, life at home, no matter how tumultous it can be, grounds me and makes these adventures what they are. My father, a huge supporter of my writing, and many others have thanked me for going into such detail of my accounts. He's encouraged me to pursue some form of writing as a profession, or at least as a way to supplement my current income. Robert and I have discussed our various careers and lifestyles and I am unsure if I would want to do something like this full time. I am not bitter nor jaded about travel and the writing I do while going about it. There are times when I get behind on accounting for all I've done, but there's no deadline and no pressure to ensure it gets completed. I am my own motivator out here, and that is how I like it.
Nevertheless, thanks to everyone who has read, commented and supported me during this travel. I know a lot of my writing is long and bogged down with details. All of you are probably reading books far shorter than the combined sum of what I've written while away. I look forward to sharing these stories in person or on the phone with many of you. Photos to boot will be available at some point. In the end this experience is just one more thing to shape me and my life. Hopefully for the better as most of you are concerned ;)
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Tuesday, January 9, 2007
Travels in Africa - Ngorongoro Crater Safari part 1
Prior to climbing Kilimanjaro, Robert and I had attempted to research how we could come down from the mountain, take a Safari across the Serengeti, get dropped off in Mwanza, a western Tanzanian town, and then get back to Rwanda via public transportation. We had a few stipulations: we wanted it to cost in the ballpark of what a flight from Kilimanjaro airport to Rwanda would cost, and we needed the entire trip to take only four days - our flight from Rwanda out to the US leaves Friday, January 12th.
I had arranged with Julian, our operator for Kilimanjaro, to leave on a Safari on Monday. After our celebratory lunch in Moshi on Sunday after coming down from the mountain, Robert and I had a short meeting with Julian and realized he'd quoted us a per day price as opposed to an all in price. Our grand plans of seeing the Serengeti were slipping from our grasp, and since it was Sunday there was almost no way to begin piecding it back together.
We enjoyed our afternoon in Moshi, checking emails, taking a nap and resting our legs. Just as the late afternoon turned to early evening the six of us who climbed the mountain met at Hotel Kindoroko's roof top bar for a few celebratory beers. The views of Kilimanjaro were covered by clouds and we recalled how just seven days ago we'd seen the mountain from the same perch and wondered what our trip would behold.
Our gathering turned from drinks to dinner and then more drinks. It was a lot of fun to be able to unwind and continue to get to know those we'd ascended Africa's tallest mountain with. By 10pm we were all worn out. We were still on camping schedule. We retired to our rooms, and I had little trouble falling asleep.
By 8am when we gathered for breakfast the sky was crystal clear, and we were once again presented with spectacular views of Kilimanjaro, Mawenzi and the ridge we'd descended over the past few days. No matter how many times you see it, it's still amazing. I get a similar feeling evry time I see Mount Rainer in Washington state, though I haven't ascended her peak.
I was still exhausted and used the morning to relax and write. Robert was adamant about finding an alternative to our planned safari. It was a struggle for him to find any decent information and after a few hours I all but suspected we'd be on the same flight back to Kigali that Matthew, Victoria, Travis and Reagen were taking. It wasn't deparing until four and their ride wasn't leaving the hotel until one thirty. Around 10am, after a couple of hours of dead ends, Robert asked if I wanted to explore a bit of Moshi with him.
We stopped in a cell phone shop so Robert could "top up" his SIM card, but it seemed as if everyone else in Moshi had the same agenda so we spilled back onto the streets. Just next door were the offices for Tanzania Voyages, an outfitter which takes clients on safaris.
We were greeted by an English guy named Mark who was about our age and we explained our current situation. He explained the few options we had, given our budget, and we told him they sounded great provided we could make it back to Rwanda by late Thursday evening. We took a ten minute walk across town to the one travel agent who utilizes the worldwide travel agent system/language. She informed us that the direct flight between Kilimanjaro airport and Kigali, Rwanda, now operated thrice weekly: Monday (the flight all our climbing companions were on), Wednesday and Friday (which would be too late). We now had to walk back to the safari company and confirm the price and logistics.
We confirmed that we would take a safari to Ngorongoro (In-gore-in-gore-o) Crater, camping outside the park at a private campsite the first night and then on the crater rim the second night. We would be able to do a game drive the second day as well as the morning of the third day before being dropped at the airport for our flight to Kigali on Wednesday. It was still going to be pricey, though not as pricey as the confusion we'd had with Julian. In addition we would ensure ourselves to be back in Rwanda in time to fly out to the US. In fact, we'd have an entire day to spare!
For what seemed to be the 10th time, but was actually only the fourth, we walked from one end of Moshi to the next, being hassled by touts and sales people the entire way. We hit an ATM, bought our tickets, and spent the final walk back to the safari company justifying our decision to spend more money than we'd hoped in the end. Nevertheless, we were within striking distance of a few African National Parks which contain all members of the "Big Five" animals (Lion, Elephant, Rhino, Cheetah and African Buffalo). We would be foolish to pass up this opportunity.
We went back to the hotel, showered, checked out and were then introduced to our driver and our cook. Our driver's name was Armani and our cooks name was Anuari (pronounced like January without the "J"). We had trouble remembering both of their names.
We took off from Moshi on our Toyota Land Cruiser. We made a stop in Arusha to try to find Robert a new memory card for his camera and to stock up on water for our trip. There was an early afternoon thunderstorm which rolled through Arusha which caused a bit of traffic related chaos in this city where many safari outfitters are based, but by the time we were back on the road and headed west the afternoon skies were clear and the air outside was cool.
The drive itself was rather uneventful. The passing scenery looked very similar to that of California when it's green. Rolling silhouttes of small mountains stood in the distance on either side of us. The flat floor of the valley we traversed was decorated with acacia trees and a few other indigenous African species. It was pleasant to just sit back and enjoy the view.
We reached the first camp site by 5pm and there were a few overland trucks on site. We set up our tent and I took a nap after exploring the grounds of the attached lodge. It was actually quite fancy and it had a very beautiful, well manicured garden. I awoke around seven and joined Robert and Armani, whom we'd taken to calling Tae between each other (because of his resemblance to the actor Tae Diggs) who were discussing "life" as they waited for dinner. The coals the cook was using to heat our vegetarian fare seemed to be cooking more slowly than he'd imagined. We were served our soup after 8pm.
The meal we were served was identical to that on the mountain. All of the brands of "fixings" (margarine, peanut butter, ketchup, hot/chili sauce, etc) were the same too. We were glad that Matthew and Travis weren't with us, as they'd grown incredibly tired of the expedition meals we'd been served on the mountain. We chased dinner with a beer in the lodge's bar and hit the rack, eager for what tomorrow held.
After a quick breakfast we paid our park entry fees and headed into the Ngorongoro Crater National Conservation Area. Our driver explained to us that unlike in the Serengeti, the national park whose eastern border butts up against the eastern edge of Ngorongoro, people were allowed to reside in the conservation area. This distinction was made for the Masaii people, who inhabit areas in both Tanzania and Kenya within the Rift Valley. These indigenous tribes rely on the fertile grasslands for their cattle to graze. Their presence within the vast conservation area was noticeable but not a detraction.
We ascended the bumpy road on the outside of the crater. There were the obligatory baboons welcoming us at the gate and just inside the park, but our efforts to spot any wildlife past that point stopped with avians. The small road was lined with thick forest. The trees had insane branches spiring up from their hearty trunks. The bush was dense, all in all. After a half an hour of climbing we reached the crater rim road. There we were granted our first views of the crater.
The sun was still low in the sky at 10am. The fluffy white clouds overhead cast angular shadows over the crater below. The crater was immense, a monstrosity if you will. It spans 250 square kilometers and contains a large lake at its cenetr, though it barely occupies a quarter of the entire area. We could see its entirety and I chuckled to Robert that I felt we should be able to see all of the animals from where we were. He pointed out a tiny white dot deep on the crater floor and said it was one of the many land cruisers. If our eyes could differentiate between trees, rocks and animals the only thing we'd have a remote chance of seeing from the top would be an elephant.
We snapped our obligatory "crater overlook" photos and continued on the crater rim road towards the Serengeti plains. Ten kilometers down the road we passed the Ngorongoro Crater Rim Lodge, whose $600 per night rooms (inclusive of your own butler) make it the most expensive place to sleep in Tanzania. We continued on another five kilometers to the Simba A public campsite. We dropped our cook there, who we'd taken to calling "Claw-9" between ourselves. This nickname was a throw back to one of the guys running the show on the Nairobi to Dar es Salaam bus. Our cook's small, tough frame combined with his loud, raspy Swahili made us think he could take on anyone or anything in his way, a role we presumed the original Claw-9 played alongside the friendlier "Stripey" for the bus company.
From the campsite we continued until we intersected the road towards the Serengeti plains. It first descended into a huge bowl surrounded by rolling hills on three sides. There were a few Masaii villages sporadically settled on the hillsides and there were tons of of small brown, black and white specks on the plains at the bottom. As we descended we stopped every so often for our driver to point out the vast numbers of zebra and gazelle amidst the Masaii's cattle, sheep and donkey. Without the animals the lush green grasses would have been beautiful. The animals just added to the allure.
We emerged on the open walled side of the bowl and continued descending even further. The bush on our sides were lined with acacia trees, prime feeding grounds for giraffes. Within moments we saw a herd of zebra grazing amongst the trees. Almost immediatelt upon spotting them we saw a family of giraffe. They were cool and collected just picking the leaves from the top of the trees. They paid us little mind, but were kind enough to allow us to take a few pictures.
As we followed the road further and further towards the Serengeti plains we continued to see herds of zebra and families of giraffe on both sides of the road. Though we'd seen these animals in South Africa and Kenya it was still exciting to observe them. We'd even popped the top of our land cruiser enabling us to enable full-on safari mode, heads poking out of the top for photos and binoccular sightings.
Eventually the road opened up and we could see the vast plain of the Serengeti. We were still in the Conservation Area but were about to enter the plains where one of Africa's most famous events occurs: the great migration of the wildebeast. It's so famous, in fact, that it was just dubbed the seventh of as many wonders of the modern world. Just as we'd noticed specks of various colors when we were descending into the three sided bowl, our eyes began to focus on tons and tons of dots scattered on the plains. As we ventured closer and closer we could make out thousands upon thousands of wildebeasts, interspersed with about half as many zebra and a quarter of as many small, Grant's gazelles.
Our luck would have it, and our tour operator told us such, that the great migration was currently in Ngorongoro Conservation Area. That boded well for us and our budgets because we didn't have to venture into the Serengeti, incurring another hefty entry fee. In Tanzania four wheel drive land cruisers must stay on already maintained paths. Drivers in Kenya are supposedly allowed to drive off road in pursuit of getting a better look at the animals in their parks. Fortunately there was a spur from the main road out towards the grazing wildebeasts. We followed it to its end and then our driver cut the engine.
The sound of the animals communicating was different than expected. They emitted a mix between a honk and the croak of a frog. Not only was it marvelous to hear the animals but it was great not to hear the thousands of rattles and shakes the car makes as we drove over the very uneven roads. The calm winds blowing on our faces were much quieter than the steady flow of the open windows and open top, too.
We paid specuial attention to many pf the animals within ten feet of the vehicle, but there were tons and tons of them between us and the road we'd turned off of and countless others further out towards the plains. Though the birthing part of the migration was only a month away, it was hard to tell the difference between the males and females by size alone.
The experience to see this many animals was unique, but not as exciting as when they must cross the Mara River between Tanzania's Serengeti and Kenya's Masaii Mara National Parks after the birthing season. After we'd taken in as much as we'd needed our driver asked us what we were interested in doing next. Knowing little other than the Serengeti lay further to the west and the Ngorongoro Crater back to the east, we asked for assistance from him. He was generally unhelpful, only stating that there would be more wildebeast, zebra and gazelle if we went further toward the plains and that crater contained all of the other animals we'd expressed interest in seeing: lions, cheetahs, elephants, rhinos, etc.
We weren't exactly sure what to do. We asked about the possibility of going into the crater both this afternoon as well as the next morning. Tae informed us that wasn't possible because in addition to the $30 per person, per day fee we'd already paid, we paid a one time $100 crater entry fee. We'd have to pay that a second time if we wanted to go back the next morning. Nevertheless, I thought we should spend our afternoon in the crater. I didn't want to drive aimlessly around the Serengeti plain within Ngorongoro just to see more wildebeast. We just saw the great migration, as far as the world is concerned there's no more wildebeasts to see! In addition, our decision making had worked out for us thus far, why shouldn't it do so now?
We entered the park around noon. There is a one way descent road and an accompanying ascent road on the side of the park closest to us and a two-way road on the opposite side. Our descent was very steep and it was fascinating to see the grass lands of the gigantic crater get closer and closer. As we neared the end of the road and were about to be spit out onto the crater floor we kept our eyes peeled for wildlife. just like before black specks slowly came into view. We'd hoped our first sightings would be something new, but zebras and wildebeasts were the first animals we focused in on.
We continued on the road and began to spot other large animals. We saw African Water Buffalo, Thompson's gazelles and large antelope that looked like elk. There were set roads within the crater and we followed those like all of the other vehicles. I am not going to go through the entire sequence of how we came upon each of the animals that we saw, but will explain the various animals and the habitats we saw them in.
I had arranged with Julian, our operator for Kilimanjaro, to leave on a Safari on Monday. After our celebratory lunch in Moshi on Sunday after coming down from the mountain, Robert and I had a short meeting with Julian and realized he'd quoted us a per day price as opposed to an all in price. Our grand plans of seeing the Serengeti were slipping from our grasp, and since it was Sunday there was almost no way to begin piecding it back together.
We enjoyed our afternoon in Moshi, checking emails, taking a nap and resting our legs. Just as the late afternoon turned to early evening the six of us who climbed the mountain met at Hotel Kindoroko's roof top bar for a few celebratory beers. The views of Kilimanjaro were covered by clouds and we recalled how just seven days ago we'd seen the mountain from the same perch and wondered what our trip would behold.
Our gathering turned from drinks to dinner and then more drinks. It was a lot of fun to be able to unwind and continue to get to know those we'd ascended Africa's tallest mountain with. By 10pm we were all worn out. We were still on camping schedule. We retired to our rooms, and I had little trouble falling asleep.
By 8am when we gathered for breakfast the sky was crystal clear, and we were once again presented with spectacular views of Kilimanjaro, Mawenzi and the ridge we'd descended over the past few days. No matter how many times you see it, it's still amazing. I get a similar feeling evry time I see Mount Rainer in Washington state, though I haven't ascended her peak.
I was still exhausted and used the morning to relax and write. Robert was adamant about finding an alternative to our planned safari. It was a struggle for him to find any decent information and after a few hours I all but suspected we'd be on the same flight back to Kigali that Matthew, Victoria, Travis and Reagen were taking. It wasn't deparing until four and their ride wasn't leaving the hotel until one thirty. Around 10am, after a couple of hours of dead ends, Robert asked if I wanted to explore a bit of Moshi with him.
We stopped in a cell phone shop so Robert could "top up" his SIM card, but it seemed as if everyone else in Moshi had the same agenda so we spilled back onto the streets. Just next door were the offices for Tanzania Voyages, an outfitter which takes clients on safaris.
We were greeted by an English guy named Mark who was about our age and we explained our current situation. He explained the few options we had, given our budget, and we told him they sounded great provided we could make it back to Rwanda by late Thursday evening. We took a ten minute walk across town to the one travel agent who utilizes the worldwide travel agent system/language. She informed us that the direct flight between Kilimanjaro airport and Kigali, Rwanda, now operated thrice weekly: Monday (the flight all our climbing companions were on), Wednesday and Friday (which would be too late). We now had to walk back to the safari company and confirm the price and logistics.
We confirmed that we would take a safari to Ngorongoro (In-gore-in-gore-o) Crater, camping outside the park at a private campsite the first night and then on the crater rim the second night. We would be able to do a game drive the second day as well as the morning of the third day before being dropped at the airport for our flight to Kigali on Wednesday. It was still going to be pricey, though not as pricey as the confusion we'd had with Julian. In addition we would ensure ourselves to be back in Rwanda in time to fly out to the US. In fact, we'd have an entire day to spare!
For what seemed to be the 10th time, but was actually only the fourth, we walked from one end of Moshi to the next, being hassled by touts and sales people the entire way. We hit an ATM, bought our tickets, and spent the final walk back to the safari company justifying our decision to spend more money than we'd hoped in the end. Nevertheless, we were within striking distance of a few African National Parks which contain all members of the "Big Five" animals (Lion, Elephant, Rhino, Cheetah and African Buffalo). We would be foolish to pass up this opportunity.
We went back to the hotel, showered, checked out and were then introduced to our driver and our cook. Our driver's name was Armani and our cooks name was Anuari (pronounced like January without the "J"). We had trouble remembering both of their names.
We took off from Moshi on our Toyota Land Cruiser. We made a stop in Arusha to try to find Robert a new memory card for his camera and to stock up on water for our trip. There was an early afternoon thunderstorm which rolled through Arusha which caused a bit of traffic related chaos in this city where many safari outfitters are based, but by the time we were back on the road and headed west the afternoon skies were clear and the air outside was cool.
The drive itself was rather uneventful. The passing scenery looked very similar to that of California when it's green. Rolling silhouttes of small mountains stood in the distance on either side of us. The flat floor of the valley we traversed was decorated with acacia trees and a few other indigenous African species. It was pleasant to just sit back and enjoy the view.
We reached the first camp site by 5pm and there were a few overland trucks on site. We set up our tent and I took a nap after exploring the grounds of the attached lodge. It was actually quite fancy and it had a very beautiful, well manicured garden. I awoke around seven and joined Robert and Armani, whom we'd taken to calling Tae between each other (because of his resemblance to the actor Tae Diggs) who were discussing "life" as they waited for dinner. The coals the cook was using to heat our vegetarian fare seemed to be cooking more slowly than he'd imagined. We were served our soup after 8pm.
The meal we were served was identical to that on the mountain. All of the brands of "fixings" (margarine, peanut butter, ketchup, hot/chili sauce, etc) were the same too. We were glad that Matthew and Travis weren't with us, as they'd grown incredibly tired of the expedition meals we'd been served on the mountain. We chased dinner with a beer in the lodge's bar and hit the rack, eager for what tomorrow held.
After a quick breakfast we paid our park entry fees and headed into the Ngorongoro Crater National Conservation Area. Our driver explained to us that unlike in the Serengeti, the national park whose eastern border butts up against the eastern edge of Ngorongoro, people were allowed to reside in the conservation area. This distinction was made for the Masaii people, who inhabit areas in both Tanzania and Kenya within the Rift Valley. These indigenous tribes rely on the fertile grasslands for their cattle to graze. Their presence within the vast conservation area was noticeable but not a detraction.
We ascended the bumpy road on the outside of the crater. There were the obligatory baboons welcoming us at the gate and just inside the park, but our efforts to spot any wildlife past that point stopped with avians. The small road was lined with thick forest. The trees had insane branches spiring up from their hearty trunks. The bush was dense, all in all. After a half an hour of climbing we reached the crater rim road. There we were granted our first views of the crater.
The sun was still low in the sky at 10am. The fluffy white clouds overhead cast angular shadows over the crater below. The crater was immense, a monstrosity if you will. It spans 250 square kilometers and contains a large lake at its cenetr, though it barely occupies a quarter of the entire area. We could see its entirety and I chuckled to Robert that I felt we should be able to see all of the animals from where we were. He pointed out a tiny white dot deep on the crater floor and said it was one of the many land cruisers. If our eyes could differentiate between trees, rocks and animals the only thing we'd have a remote chance of seeing from the top would be an elephant.
We snapped our obligatory "crater overlook" photos and continued on the crater rim road towards the Serengeti plains. Ten kilometers down the road we passed the Ngorongoro Crater Rim Lodge, whose $600 per night rooms (inclusive of your own butler) make it the most expensive place to sleep in Tanzania. We continued on another five kilometers to the Simba A public campsite. We dropped our cook there, who we'd taken to calling "Claw-9" between ourselves. This nickname was a throw back to one of the guys running the show on the Nairobi to Dar es Salaam bus. Our cook's small, tough frame combined with his loud, raspy Swahili made us think he could take on anyone or anything in his way, a role we presumed the original Claw-9 played alongside the friendlier "Stripey" for the bus company.
From the campsite we continued until we intersected the road towards the Serengeti plains. It first descended into a huge bowl surrounded by rolling hills on three sides. There were a few Masaii villages sporadically settled on the hillsides and there were tons of of small brown, black and white specks on the plains at the bottom. As we descended we stopped every so often for our driver to point out the vast numbers of zebra and gazelle amidst the Masaii's cattle, sheep and donkey. Without the animals the lush green grasses would have been beautiful. The animals just added to the allure.
We emerged on the open walled side of the bowl and continued descending even further. The bush on our sides were lined with acacia trees, prime feeding grounds for giraffes. Within moments we saw a herd of zebra grazing amongst the trees. Almost immediatelt upon spotting them we saw a family of giraffe. They were cool and collected just picking the leaves from the top of the trees. They paid us little mind, but were kind enough to allow us to take a few pictures.
As we followed the road further and further towards the Serengeti plains we continued to see herds of zebra and families of giraffe on both sides of the road. Though we'd seen these animals in South Africa and Kenya it was still exciting to observe them. We'd even popped the top of our land cruiser enabling us to enable full-on safari mode, heads poking out of the top for photos and binoccular sightings.
Eventually the road opened up and we could see the vast plain of the Serengeti. We were still in the Conservation Area but were about to enter the plains where one of Africa's most famous events occurs: the great migration of the wildebeast. It's so famous, in fact, that it was just dubbed the seventh of as many wonders of the modern world. Just as we'd noticed specks of various colors when we were descending into the three sided bowl, our eyes began to focus on tons and tons of dots scattered on the plains. As we ventured closer and closer we could make out thousands upon thousands of wildebeasts, interspersed with about half as many zebra and a quarter of as many small, Grant's gazelles.
Our luck would have it, and our tour operator told us such, that the great migration was currently in Ngorongoro Conservation Area. That boded well for us and our budgets because we didn't have to venture into the Serengeti, incurring another hefty entry fee. In Tanzania four wheel drive land cruisers must stay on already maintained paths. Drivers in Kenya are supposedly allowed to drive off road in pursuit of getting a better look at the animals in their parks. Fortunately there was a spur from the main road out towards the grazing wildebeasts. We followed it to its end and then our driver cut the engine.
The sound of the animals communicating was different than expected. They emitted a mix between a honk and the croak of a frog. Not only was it marvelous to hear the animals but it was great not to hear the thousands of rattles and shakes the car makes as we drove over the very uneven roads. The calm winds blowing on our faces were much quieter than the steady flow of the open windows and open top, too.
We paid specuial attention to many pf the animals within ten feet of the vehicle, but there were tons and tons of them between us and the road we'd turned off of and countless others further out towards the plains. Though the birthing part of the migration was only a month away, it was hard to tell the difference between the males and females by size alone.
The experience to see this many animals was unique, but not as exciting as when they must cross the Mara River between Tanzania's Serengeti and Kenya's Masaii Mara National Parks after the birthing season. After we'd taken in as much as we'd needed our driver asked us what we were interested in doing next. Knowing little other than the Serengeti lay further to the west and the Ngorongoro Crater back to the east, we asked for assistance from him. He was generally unhelpful, only stating that there would be more wildebeast, zebra and gazelle if we went further toward the plains and that crater contained all of the other animals we'd expressed interest in seeing: lions, cheetahs, elephants, rhinos, etc.
We weren't exactly sure what to do. We asked about the possibility of going into the crater both this afternoon as well as the next morning. Tae informed us that wasn't possible because in addition to the $30 per person, per day fee we'd already paid, we paid a one time $100 crater entry fee. We'd have to pay that a second time if we wanted to go back the next morning. Nevertheless, I thought we should spend our afternoon in the crater. I didn't want to drive aimlessly around the Serengeti plain within Ngorongoro just to see more wildebeast. We just saw the great migration, as far as the world is concerned there's no more wildebeasts to see! In addition, our decision making had worked out for us thus far, why shouldn't it do so now?
We entered the park around noon. There is a one way descent road and an accompanying ascent road on the side of the park closest to us and a two-way road on the opposite side. Our descent was very steep and it was fascinating to see the grass lands of the gigantic crater get closer and closer. As we neared the end of the road and were about to be spit out onto the crater floor we kept our eyes peeled for wildlife. just like before black specks slowly came into view. We'd hoped our first sightings would be something new, but zebras and wildebeasts were the first animals we focused in on.
We continued on the road and began to spot other large animals. We saw African Water Buffalo, Thompson's gazelles and large antelope that looked like elk. There were set roads within the crater and we followed those like all of the other vehicles. I am not going to go through the entire sequence of how we came upon each of the animals that we saw, but will explain the various animals and the habitats we saw them in.
Monday, January 8, 2007
Mount Kilimanjaro - Gilman's Peak to Uhuru Peak and off the mountain (aka Kilimanjaro part 3)
Throwing up at the top of the mountain didn't seem serious to me, and the hike to the 5985m Uhuru Peak was only an hour and a half across a ridge at the top of Kilimanjaro. The first signs of morning were beginning to show as a bright orange glow sat just above the horizon to our left. It was stunning. To our right was the crater of Mt. Kilimanjaro, it's snow lined banks pristine and untouched.
We continued to make our way and I began feeling a bit drunk. I would take a few steps and then stumble and waver just a bit. Matthew was in front of me and he was falling asleep on his feet. Stanley was behind me and if I drastically moved towards one side of the path as I staggered he would right me. By this point he was also carrying my day pack. The views along the path were becoming more beautiful with every step. An ice field and glacier were off to our left, and the sun was shining on the crater to our right. Aloyce briefly stopped to show us the point where the avalanche had killed the two Colorado hikers the previous year. He also told me that altitude sickness often made people feel like a "whiskey man," which was surely true of my drunk feelings.
The going at this point was extremely tough. We reached the halfway point between Gilman's Point and Uhuru. From there was when the additional 300m gain in altitude was to be covered. Hikers from the Machame routes were fed into the stream of climbers at this point and that posed another hazard as we all attempted to share the path. I could see Uhuru peak and that became my focus. I wasn't entirely sure what the plan was going to be once I reached it, but for the time being that was all that mattered. I still attempted to look around at the incredible views we were being afforded, but by and large I was too exhausted to truly care.
Finally we made a push up a very small hill and the sign proclaiming we'd reached the highest point in Africa stood before me. Completely drained, I threw myself at it's foot and collapsed. Everyone else snapped photos and I just lay there. The sun was shining brightly. It'd taken us seven hours of strenuous hiking to reach the top and it was well worth it. As another group of hikers stepped onto the rounded summit, I rolled out of the way of their pictures and realized that now I had to figure out how to get down.
Robert and Stanley helped me to my feet, and we began to retrace our steps across the ridge. Stanley deemed walking behind me as too dangerous. Instead he walked next to me, holding on to my waist. He was about a foot shorter than me and I rested my left arm around his shoulders. In my right arm I still carried one of my hiking poles, using it for balance on that side. We traversed the path slowly. Stanley helped me immensely. It was most difficult when the path would narrow to being just wide enough for a single hiker. We would still walk side by side, but I was granted access to the majority of the actual trail. I was out of it, but not so much that I didn't realize exactly what was going on. Therefore I would try to move as far over on the path as possible, hoping Stanley wouldn't have to tip-toe along the edge; most of the edges led down to the crater. My progress wasn't pretty and I stumbled frequently. Stanley did his best to right a man seemingly twice his size. We struggled across the ridge, but soon enough we'd reached Gilman's point once again.
I lay down at Gilman's point. I remember looking over the rocks back towards basecamp. The setting was very bright and lively. It was close to 9am. I envisioned myself throwing up over the small rocky outcropping, but my stomach wasn't quite ready for that. Again, all I really wanted to do was lay there. Robert was telling me I had to get up and move to a lower altitude. That was the only thing which would make me feel better. I didn't take well to being told what to do - I was still conscious and knew that lying on top of a mountain wasn't going to do me any good. However, I also knew that the mountain had just kicked my ass and a minute or two of rest was perfectly acceptable.
I rose to my feet and attempted to maneuver my way along the path heading down. The footsteps from the morning ascent had created a clear path to follow. Descending such a steep slope was going to prove impossible for Stanley to aide me as he'd done on the ridge. I was going it alone, with a close and watchful eye from my fellow climbers and guides.
I had a lot of trouble maintaining my balance. There was a hiker from another group in front of me and on the steeper parts he took to sitting down and sliding on his nylon pants. Realizing this took far less energy I mimicked his approach to descending. After a few bouts of sliding and then standing we'd passed the rockier portions of the slope and I was able to remain on my ass. However, the jostling of the first few minutes had rumbled my stomach enough for it to purge itself again. I am not sure where it was obtaining what it was expulsing, but five heaves later found me entirely drained once again.
As I've mentioned before, Matthew was a former ski instructor and snow patrol ranger. He spent many of the winters of his twenties in Tahoe. He immediately noticed the quickest was to evacuate me to base camp would be for him to aide my slides. He sat in front of me and I wrapped my legs around his waist. My feet came to rest on his thighs. He picked up his feet and leaned back. We were immediately on our way. He used one pole in the arrest position on his left as a brake and I did the same on my right. We quickly made progress down the hill.
There were times when the slope of the mountain mellowed and Matthew would hold my left hand and drag me on my bottom through the snow. As soon as he could resume sliding with me, he would. All of the other climbers in our group were sliding down the mountain, too. This was far easier than walking down, but my body was still drained. The clear view of basecamp seemed to take forever to come closer and closer. All I longed for was rest. Before too long I was on my feet walking out the final couple hundred meters to base camp.
One of the porters brough over a dining stool and I flopped down on that. Matthew helped me undress from my wet clothes. Just prior to hopping into my sleeping bag my body purged itself once again. I hadn't felt that miserable in a very long time!
Our tent was open at both ends allowing a cool mountain breeze to offset the trapped heat from the sun. I slept for a few hours. I awoke abot 1245pm and had to urinate quite badly. The act of raising myself, putting on a pair of pants and something on my feet was almost too much to handle. I eventually managed and walked the 30 feet to the pit toilets. Their smell was devastating in its own right. As I relieved myself I realized this was the first time I'd peed since we set off the night before.
I sloughed my feet back and forth to the tent. I passed a couple from Boulder I'd chatted with the day before. We exchanged stories of our respective ascents as they hung clothes out to dry. I bowed my head and re-entered my tent. I collapsed once again. Robert and Matthew had been discussing our afternoon plans with Aloyce and Florence. Typically, after a few hours of rest, the groups descend from the 4700m (15,000 feet) Kibo camp site we were at to the 12,000 foot site. Everyone knew that would improve my condition. I was asked if I would prefer to walk down or be carried on a stretcher. Though it was a struggle just to open my eyes I told them when it was time to move I'd be on my feet.
I slept for another hour and then awoke for lunch at 2pm. Over the course of 45 minutes I managed to stomach a piece of toast and a cup of tea. Matthew, who'd sworn of his inconspicuous insults of me a few days before excused himself and said "you look like shit.". I honestly believe I felt worse than I looked.
I returned to the tent one more time and collapsed. When I was fourteen and my family lived on a military base in Korea my skater friends and I snuck out and purchased a few boottles of Samba, a cheap local liquor. I proceeded to drink an entire bottle. I threw up, passed out and then threw up again. My friend Rich lived with his single father and we retreated to his house the following day; his dad was away at work. If I tried to put anything at all in my stomach, from water to crackers, etc, it would reject it. That experience caused me to swear off drinking for the next fourteen years of my life. After Robert graciously helped me pack and I was on my feet to go I wondered if I would swear off ascents of 5000 meters or more for until I am in my late fifties.
I felt utterly horrible, still. I'd lost all of my sustaining nutrients and hadn't been able to replenish my body's needs. I'd sworn off a stretcher for a few reasons: 1) I didn't want someone to have to hike down to where it was kept and retrieve it, 2) I didn't want anyone to have to carry me out - having carried a stretcher I know how heavy they are, even with only my 165 pounds worth if skin and bone on it, and 3) even if I didn't have to carry my own day bag down, I wanted to say I walked up AND down the mountain.
Aloyce and one of the porters walked on either side of me as we descended. We took off a bit before the rest of my group and moved quite quickly down the wide trail. It was a quiet hike and we walked through a high desert reminiscent of those in New Mexico. Half an hour in I stopped to vomit up the tea and toast I'd had at lunch. I could tell Aloyce felt a bit bad for me, recognizing that this was the fourth or fifth time I'd thrown up today.
I attempted to enjoy the scenery, but all I could really think about was making it to camp. I was told it was three hours away, but couldn't take a gander at my watch - I had both hands tucked into the pockets of my rain shell and Aloyce and the other porter each had an arm through the hole formed on either side of me. I was able to chuckle at myself as we passed a few other hikers heading down. There I was wearing my very touristy Mount Kilimanjaro hat being escorted by two guys down the mountain. I am sure I looked as poser as one possibly could.
We arrived at camp in just under two hours. We were descending via the Marangu or "Coca-cola" route. It is dubbed as such because climbers ascend and descend the same route using a hut system to camp every night. Amidst the huts is a store which sells Coca-cola, amongst other beverages. Our tents were already set up. They were far away from the lodges and at the end of a beautiful ridge. With very little energy in me I blew up my therma-rest sleeping pad, unpacked my sleeping bag and fell asleep immediately once again.
It was dark when I awoke to the sound of Florence telling me dinner was ready. I was already beginning to feel a bit better, but was still having trouble moving myself out of bed. I took a dose of aspirin for the dull headache I awoke with and struggled to put on my shoes. The guides kept telling me I needed to eat, and it became quite frustrating. I knew I needed food. I wanted food. But it was taking me much longer than normal to get up and get to the food. It would've been far more helpful of them to assist me than to keep telling me I needed to eat. Nevertheless, I dodged the multitude of tent stakes and guy lines and made it into the mess tent. I struggled to down half a meal and quickly retreated to my bed.
I awoke the next morning around 5am to use the bathroom. I'd been sleeping on and off since 10am when we descended the mountain the day before, so I was finally feeling awake. The first signs of light were showing in a remarkable star burst orange. I considered watching the sun rise, but wasn't dressed appropriately for the brisk morning at 12,000 feet. I crawled back in the tent and fell asleep unti breakfast at 7am.
By now I was feeling 75% and was able to stomach a full breakfast, pack my things and hike down unassisted. As the porter's loads got lighter Aloyce pawned his day pack off to them and insisted on carrying mine. I was able to bear the weight of my own pack, but I figured there was no reason to put up a fight.
There'd been a bit of confusion on what we wanted to do this day and evening. The hike down to the main gate was only six hours from where we were. Aloyce was pushing us to exit the park that day. However, we'd paid for a six day permit and everyone in our group was more inclined to spend another night on the mountain than an etra night in Moshi. Because I wasn't feeling well I'd cast a vote for heading all the way down. The thought of a hot shower and a comfortable bed was quite appealing. However, I also wanted the group to get evrything they desired out of the trip. So, despite a few more tries by our guide to get us to descend a day early, we opted to hike three hours down to the final campsite.
The hike itself was wonderful. We dropped out of the high desert pretty quickly and the flora changed. We crossed quite a few streams and bridges and eventually dropped into a rain forest. Thankfully, we were spared the rain. There was moss on many of the trees and it reminded me of the summer in Olympic National Forest in Washington state.
We made it to camp quite early and after lunch I spent time reading and napping. Matthew, Travis and Reagan explored a nearby crater. We would all visit the crater following dinner for the sunset. It was nice to relax and enjoy the outdoors. There were blue monkeys in the trees close to camp that were fun to watch. Again we were camped near the Marangu route huts, but we didn't interact with any of the hikers going up. I was feeling 90% recovered at this point. The altitude itself was no longer an issue as we were at 2800m (9000 feet). It was more that I'd spent the entire day before ascending a mountain and then purging myself of all the nutrients I needed to go on.
There were an almost infinite number of stars in the sky when we all turned in for the night. Finally my body was feeling rested and I had a bit of trouble falling asleep at 9pm. I stayed up typing in my journal, but my battery on my blackberry died without saving my work.
We hiked out the next day, leaving camp by 8am. With a real meal only half a day away a few people had trouble stomaching the idea of another morning of porridge/gruel. I ate just enough to continue the replenishment of my body. The three hour hike down only took us two and a half hours and we stopped for a quick dip in a pool formed by one of the mountain streams. The icy water was shockingly refreshing. We exited the main gate at Marangu at 1030am and were met by Julian, our tour operator.
We signed the exit registry, took the opportunity to send a few postcards and then proceeded to the vehicle which would wisk us back to Moshi. Before we left we thanked and tipped our guides and porters and they performed a celebratory song for the successful climbers of Kilimanjaro. We were even given certificates verifying we'd made the climb. I gave my buddly Stanley a small extra tip for his help in getting me off the mountain. We then drove the forty five minutes to Moshi.
Julian was surprised we hadn't been fed lunch, so after a quick shower we were taken out for a quick bite to eat. We spoke with Julian at lunch about the miscommunication regarding the six day safari with four days to ascend versus the six day safari with three days to ascend. He expressed that Aloyce had made the call because of the terrible weather on the way up. We explained that though the weather was quite bad, we should have still been privy to the decision making process. It was hard to make any arguments now, especially because we were afforded such beautiful weather the night we summitted. I had no way of knowing if an extra day would have benefit my body or not. In the end it didn't matter. We had a great climb but needed our outfitter to know that he and his guides should be more clear with their clients.
We continued to make our way and I began feeling a bit drunk. I would take a few steps and then stumble and waver just a bit. Matthew was in front of me and he was falling asleep on his feet. Stanley was behind me and if I drastically moved towards one side of the path as I staggered he would right me. By this point he was also carrying my day pack. The views along the path were becoming more beautiful with every step. An ice field and glacier were off to our left, and the sun was shining on the crater to our right. Aloyce briefly stopped to show us the point where the avalanche had killed the two Colorado hikers the previous year. He also told me that altitude sickness often made people feel like a "whiskey man," which was surely true of my drunk feelings.
The going at this point was extremely tough. We reached the halfway point between Gilman's Point and Uhuru. From there was when the additional 300m gain in altitude was to be covered. Hikers from the Machame routes were fed into the stream of climbers at this point and that posed another hazard as we all attempted to share the path. I could see Uhuru peak and that became my focus. I wasn't entirely sure what the plan was going to be once I reached it, but for the time being that was all that mattered. I still attempted to look around at the incredible views we were being afforded, but by and large I was too exhausted to truly care.
Finally we made a push up a very small hill and the sign proclaiming we'd reached the highest point in Africa stood before me. Completely drained, I threw myself at it's foot and collapsed. Everyone else snapped photos and I just lay there. The sun was shining brightly. It'd taken us seven hours of strenuous hiking to reach the top and it was well worth it. As another group of hikers stepped onto the rounded summit, I rolled out of the way of their pictures and realized that now I had to figure out how to get down.
Robert and Stanley helped me to my feet, and we began to retrace our steps across the ridge. Stanley deemed walking behind me as too dangerous. Instead he walked next to me, holding on to my waist. He was about a foot shorter than me and I rested my left arm around his shoulders. In my right arm I still carried one of my hiking poles, using it for balance on that side. We traversed the path slowly. Stanley helped me immensely. It was most difficult when the path would narrow to being just wide enough for a single hiker. We would still walk side by side, but I was granted access to the majority of the actual trail. I was out of it, but not so much that I didn't realize exactly what was going on. Therefore I would try to move as far over on the path as possible, hoping Stanley wouldn't have to tip-toe along the edge; most of the edges led down to the crater. My progress wasn't pretty and I stumbled frequently. Stanley did his best to right a man seemingly twice his size. We struggled across the ridge, but soon enough we'd reached Gilman's point once again.
I lay down at Gilman's point. I remember looking over the rocks back towards basecamp. The setting was very bright and lively. It was close to 9am. I envisioned myself throwing up over the small rocky outcropping, but my stomach wasn't quite ready for that. Again, all I really wanted to do was lay there. Robert was telling me I had to get up and move to a lower altitude. That was the only thing which would make me feel better. I didn't take well to being told what to do - I was still conscious and knew that lying on top of a mountain wasn't going to do me any good. However, I also knew that the mountain had just kicked my ass and a minute or two of rest was perfectly acceptable.
I rose to my feet and attempted to maneuver my way along the path heading down. The footsteps from the morning ascent had created a clear path to follow. Descending such a steep slope was going to prove impossible for Stanley to aide me as he'd done on the ridge. I was going it alone, with a close and watchful eye from my fellow climbers and guides.
I had a lot of trouble maintaining my balance. There was a hiker from another group in front of me and on the steeper parts he took to sitting down and sliding on his nylon pants. Realizing this took far less energy I mimicked his approach to descending. After a few bouts of sliding and then standing we'd passed the rockier portions of the slope and I was able to remain on my ass. However, the jostling of the first few minutes had rumbled my stomach enough for it to purge itself again. I am not sure where it was obtaining what it was expulsing, but five heaves later found me entirely drained once again.
As I've mentioned before, Matthew was a former ski instructor and snow patrol ranger. He spent many of the winters of his twenties in Tahoe. He immediately noticed the quickest was to evacuate me to base camp would be for him to aide my slides. He sat in front of me and I wrapped my legs around his waist. My feet came to rest on his thighs. He picked up his feet and leaned back. We were immediately on our way. He used one pole in the arrest position on his left as a brake and I did the same on my right. We quickly made progress down the hill.
There were times when the slope of the mountain mellowed and Matthew would hold my left hand and drag me on my bottom through the snow. As soon as he could resume sliding with me, he would. All of the other climbers in our group were sliding down the mountain, too. This was far easier than walking down, but my body was still drained. The clear view of basecamp seemed to take forever to come closer and closer. All I longed for was rest. Before too long I was on my feet walking out the final couple hundred meters to base camp.
One of the porters brough over a dining stool and I flopped down on that. Matthew helped me undress from my wet clothes. Just prior to hopping into my sleeping bag my body purged itself once again. I hadn't felt that miserable in a very long time!
Our tent was open at both ends allowing a cool mountain breeze to offset the trapped heat from the sun. I slept for a few hours. I awoke abot 1245pm and had to urinate quite badly. The act of raising myself, putting on a pair of pants and something on my feet was almost too much to handle. I eventually managed and walked the 30 feet to the pit toilets. Their smell was devastating in its own right. As I relieved myself I realized this was the first time I'd peed since we set off the night before.
I sloughed my feet back and forth to the tent. I passed a couple from Boulder I'd chatted with the day before. We exchanged stories of our respective ascents as they hung clothes out to dry. I bowed my head and re-entered my tent. I collapsed once again. Robert and Matthew had been discussing our afternoon plans with Aloyce and Florence. Typically, after a few hours of rest, the groups descend from the 4700m (15,000 feet) Kibo camp site we were at to the 12,000 foot site. Everyone knew that would improve my condition. I was asked if I would prefer to walk down or be carried on a stretcher. Though it was a struggle just to open my eyes I told them when it was time to move I'd be on my feet.
I slept for another hour and then awoke for lunch at 2pm. Over the course of 45 minutes I managed to stomach a piece of toast and a cup of tea. Matthew, who'd sworn of his inconspicuous insults of me a few days before excused himself and said "you look like shit.". I honestly believe I felt worse than I looked.
I returned to the tent one more time and collapsed. When I was fourteen and my family lived on a military base in Korea my skater friends and I snuck out and purchased a few boottles of Samba, a cheap local liquor. I proceeded to drink an entire bottle. I threw up, passed out and then threw up again. My friend Rich lived with his single father and we retreated to his house the following day; his dad was away at work. If I tried to put anything at all in my stomach, from water to crackers, etc, it would reject it. That experience caused me to swear off drinking for the next fourteen years of my life. After Robert graciously helped me pack and I was on my feet to go I wondered if I would swear off ascents of 5000 meters or more for until I am in my late fifties.
I felt utterly horrible, still. I'd lost all of my sustaining nutrients and hadn't been able to replenish my body's needs. I'd sworn off a stretcher for a few reasons: 1) I didn't want someone to have to hike down to where it was kept and retrieve it, 2) I didn't want anyone to have to carry me out - having carried a stretcher I know how heavy they are, even with only my 165 pounds worth if skin and bone on it, and 3) even if I didn't have to carry my own day bag down, I wanted to say I walked up AND down the mountain.
Aloyce and one of the porters walked on either side of me as we descended. We took off a bit before the rest of my group and moved quite quickly down the wide trail. It was a quiet hike and we walked through a high desert reminiscent of those in New Mexico. Half an hour in I stopped to vomit up the tea and toast I'd had at lunch. I could tell Aloyce felt a bit bad for me, recognizing that this was the fourth or fifth time I'd thrown up today.
I attempted to enjoy the scenery, but all I could really think about was making it to camp. I was told it was three hours away, but couldn't take a gander at my watch - I had both hands tucked into the pockets of my rain shell and Aloyce and the other porter each had an arm through the hole formed on either side of me. I was able to chuckle at myself as we passed a few other hikers heading down. There I was wearing my very touristy Mount Kilimanjaro hat being escorted by two guys down the mountain. I am sure I looked as poser as one possibly could.
We arrived at camp in just under two hours. We were descending via the Marangu or "Coca-cola" route. It is dubbed as such because climbers ascend and descend the same route using a hut system to camp every night. Amidst the huts is a store which sells Coca-cola, amongst other beverages. Our tents were already set up. They were far away from the lodges and at the end of a beautiful ridge. With very little energy in me I blew up my therma-rest sleeping pad, unpacked my sleeping bag and fell asleep immediately once again.
It was dark when I awoke to the sound of Florence telling me dinner was ready. I was already beginning to feel a bit better, but was still having trouble moving myself out of bed. I took a dose of aspirin for the dull headache I awoke with and struggled to put on my shoes. The guides kept telling me I needed to eat, and it became quite frustrating. I knew I needed food. I wanted food. But it was taking me much longer than normal to get up and get to the food. It would've been far more helpful of them to assist me than to keep telling me I needed to eat. Nevertheless, I dodged the multitude of tent stakes and guy lines and made it into the mess tent. I struggled to down half a meal and quickly retreated to my bed.
I awoke the next morning around 5am to use the bathroom. I'd been sleeping on and off since 10am when we descended the mountain the day before, so I was finally feeling awake. The first signs of light were showing in a remarkable star burst orange. I considered watching the sun rise, but wasn't dressed appropriately for the brisk morning at 12,000 feet. I crawled back in the tent and fell asleep unti breakfast at 7am.
By now I was feeling 75% and was able to stomach a full breakfast, pack my things and hike down unassisted. As the porter's loads got lighter Aloyce pawned his day pack off to them and insisted on carrying mine. I was able to bear the weight of my own pack, but I figured there was no reason to put up a fight.
There'd been a bit of confusion on what we wanted to do this day and evening. The hike down to the main gate was only six hours from where we were. Aloyce was pushing us to exit the park that day. However, we'd paid for a six day permit and everyone in our group was more inclined to spend another night on the mountain than an etra night in Moshi. Because I wasn't feeling well I'd cast a vote for heading all the way down. The thought of a hot shower and a comfortable bed was quite appealing. However, I also wanted the group to get evrything they desired out of the trip. So, despite a few more tries by our guide to get us to descend a day early, we opted to hike three hours down to the final campsite.
The hike itself was wonderful. We dropped out of the high desert pretty quickly and the flora changed. We crossed quite a few streams and bridges and eventually dropped into a rain forest. Thankfully, we were spared the rain. There was moss on many of the trees and it reminded me of the summer in Olympic National Forest in Washington state.
We made it to camp quite early and after lunch I spent time reading and napping. Matthew, Travis and Reagan explored a nearby crater. We would all visit the crater following dinner for the sunset. It was nice to relax and enjoy the outdoors. There were blue monkeys in the trees close to camp that were fun to watch. Again we were camped near the Marangu route huts, but we didn't interact with any of the hikers going up. I was feeling 90% recovered at this point. The altitude itself was no longer an issue as we were at 2800m (9000 feet). It was more that I'd spent the entire day before ascending a mountain and then purging myself of all the nutrients I needed to go on.
There were an almost infinite number of stars in the sky when we all turned in for the night. Finally my body was feeling rested and I had a bit of trouble falling asleep at 9pm. I stayed up typing in my journal, but my battery on my blackberry died without saving my work.
We hiked out the next day, leaving camp by 8am. With a real meal only half a day away a few people had trouble stomaching the idea of another morning of porridge/gruel. I ate just enough to continue the replenishment of my body. The three hour hike down only took us two and a half hours and we stopped for a quick dip in a pool formed by one of the mountain streams. The icy water was shockingly refreshing. We exited the main gate at Marangu at 1030am and were met by Julian, our tour operator.
We signed the exit registry, took the opportunity to send a few postcards and then proceeded to the vehicle which would wisk us back to Moshi. Before we left we thanked and tipped our guides and porters and they performed a celebratory song for the successful climbers of Kilimanjaro. We were even given certificates verifying we'd made the climb. I gave my buddly Stanley a small extra tip for his help in getting me off the mountain. We then drove the forty five minutes to Moshi.
Julian was surprised we hadn't been fed lunch, so after a quick shower we were taken out for a quick bite to eat. We spoke with Julian at lunch about the miscommunication regarding the six day safari with four days to ascend versus the six day safari with three days to ascend. He expressed that Aloyce had made the call because of the terrible weather on the way up. We explained that though the weather was quite bad, we should have still been privy to the decision making process. It was hard to make any arguments now, especially because we were afforded such beautiful weather the night we summitted. I had no way of knowing if an extra day would have benefit my body or not. In the end it didn't matter. We had a great climb but needed our outfitter to know that he and his guides should be more clear with their clients.
Friday, January 5, 2007
Mount Kilimanjaro - Base Camp to Gilman's Peak (aka Kilimanjaro part 2)
My body woke me around 530am in need of using the bathroom. I was gravely disappointed that the clear skies from the night before had given way to light sprinkles.
As I attempted to fall back asleep until breakfast the drops falling from the sky only seemed to increase in intensity. However, the nylon of the tents amplifies the sound of the rain, and when it was time to crawl out of my warm sleeping bag to begin the day I realized the rain wasn't falling nearly as hard as the day before.
After a warm breakfast, whereby they were kind enough to serve me a plate of beans as opposed to eggs and sausage, we began another day of "poli-poli" (slowly, slowly) hiking. Fortunately, the skies cleared at points during the walk and we were afforded views of Kenya well below us. The weather patterns were quite amazing and surely unpredictable. One thing was for certain about them however: once the sun broke through the clouds and we basked in its warmth we would momentarily be overtaken by clouds and rain shortly thereafter.
Approximately three hours into our day's hike the light rain turned into sleet and snow. Initially the flakes were thick and wet and were not sticking to the ground. As we continued to gain elevation we were being pelted by very small, spherical drops; they reminded of smaller versions of "dippin dots" ice cream you can buy at amusement parks.
As lunchtime approached Aloyce informed us that we were half an hour shy of where we were going to camp that night. Given the choice to eat our bagged lunches in the snow or push on to camp we all agreed that the latter was more desirable. We pushed on to where the Rongai route meets the Marangu route at the Kibo Hit basecamp, with no view of the peak we would ascend later that night.
It was still cold and wet when we arrived at the base camp and we entered the hut's mess area. There were two sets of two picnic tables and all set our wet gear down on them. We were freezing cold. Given the terrible weather Aloyce went to talk to inquire with the caretaker of the huts about availability for the evening. The Marangu route hikers, who utilize huts the entire route up, would have priority.
The shared, dorm rooms of the hut were cold and damp. The mess area was similar, but we all changed into warm, dry gear. More and more people began filtering into the common, mess area and we all consolidated our gear around one table. Our porters served up popcorn, peanuts and warm tea. We were given a decision to make, pay approximately $18/person to sleep in the huts or have our tents set up and stay in them.
Knowing we'd had little trouble staying warm and dry the two previous nights, we opted to camp. As we finished our snacks and exited to or tents, the sky began to clear. Within minutes the mountain's weather pattern had completely changed and we were basking in the sun with clear views of Kilimanjaro's front side (its highest peak, Uhuru, was out of sight, behind what we could currently see).
The camp site was completely full of tents. It was 1pm now and not only were the tents of groups and porters planning an ascent tonight being set up, but those of people who had ascended the night before still hadn't been taken down.
We were supposed to try to nap before dinner, but the sun made the tents little more than mountain-top saunas. We took advantage of the opportunity to dry out a lot of our clothes, though the sun began to play a keen game of hide and seek; everytime we got every semi-damp piece of clothing strung up a brisk fog would roll up convincing us we should take it all back down. During one of the bouts of cloud cover I laid down to catch a small nap. Before falling asleep I took my "resting" pulse. It was 86 beats per minute, more than double my resting rate at home.
Before dinner, as we took in more views of the peak we would be ascending later that night and Mawenzi, a jagged 5100m peak across the "saddle" from where we camped, we chatted with a group of Coloradians. Their story was incredibly moving. Today was the one year anniversary of them having two friends die during an ascent they'd all attempted the year before. Those who survived were here to attempt an ascent in their passed friends' honor.
Dinner was served early, around 5pm. We all huddled in the mess tent and piled up on the warm pasta we were served. We all wanted energy for the night's hike. Aloyce came in towards the end of our dinner and gave a short briefing about the ascent. He mainly wanted to ensure we were all set for warm weather gear and to decide on a departure time. We all agreed that an 11pm "breakfast" followed by an 1130pm departure was ideal.
It was dark and cold as we climbed into our tents. Though it was only 645pm it really felt like it was time for bed. The sky was dark and our bodies craved rest. Before stuffing a warm nalgene bottle inside my sleeping bag liner in an attempt to keep my feet warm throughout the night, I commented to Robert that we were finally settling in before the big show. All of us, and probably everyone else on the mountain who has never tested themselves at altitude and through cold, were feeling anxious and excited.
The battery on my iPod was dead, a result of exposure to the cold temperatures. I put in ear plugs instead and had no trouble falling asleep. I awoke at 845pm feeling extremely naseous. It took almost everything I had not to puke. Altitude affects different people in different ways. Some people experience headaches, others nausea, still others shortness of breath and some a combination of all three of these things.
Up until this point, at other camp sites along the way I'd experienced minimal headaches. Others in our travel party had too. We'd signed up for a six day hike, expecting an extra day for acclimitization on the front end of the hike. That is, we expected to have one more day prior to summiting. That wasn't the case, though, and most of the small affects of altitude seemed to dissipate whenever I was moving.
I held in the desire to spew my dinner throughout the tent and was able to fall back asleep rather quickly. Two hours later, at 1045pm, my alarm went off. I woke Robert and now we both sensed the immensity of the task we were about to undertake. It's quite strange to quantify an expedition of these sorts. When you're at base camp there are what seems to be tons of other people around you about to make the strenuous climb. Some of them are well trained, but many of them are like us: active individuals with enough money to afford the trip. So even though it still is something relatively rare, it can also seem like something anyone can do.
Prior to coming on the trip I made a special trip to REI for cold weather gear. My tall, lanky frame has trouble maintaining a warm core. I was paranoid of being cold. Thus far I'd kept warm while sleeping, and I hoped the new gear I'd purchased or borrowed would continue that trend as I climbed the summit. I dressed as follows: Feet - Smartwool sock liners, Smartwool socks, a pair of wool socks and my Asolo hiking boots; Legs - RONO running tights, REI thermal underwear, Columbia hiking pants and nylon rain pants; Chest/Top - REI Polypropelene longsleeve top, Adidias clima-fit shortsleeve running shirt, Patagonia longsleeve shirt, lightweight Nike pullover fleece, Marmot light rain jacket and my brother in law's miltary issue camoflauge, gore-tex jacket; Hands - Midweight, waterproof glove liner, North Face expedition shell; Head/Neck - Lightweight running winter hat on my head and a balaclava worn around my neck for warmth which could be pulled over my head and face, and a pair of sunglasses.
I entered the mess tent for our pre-climb breakfast wearing all of my gear. As we all tried to summon an appetite we discussed our various clothing strategies. Matthew, a former ski instructor, noted that often times people dress for the weather as if they'll be standing still. As they begin moving, however, they realize they're overdressed and begin peeling layers. Both my gore-tex outer shell jacket and the light rain jacket had "pit-zips", zippers in the arm pit area that can be opened to aide in the cooling of the body.
Breakfast was hard to stomach, especially since we'd eaten just five hours before. I pushed a few sweet crackers down with a cupful of tea by the time Aloyce arrived at the tent. It was shortly after 1130pm and we all agreed we were ready to go.
It's been an exceptionally wet December all over East Africa. At the higher altitudes of Mt. Kilimanjaro that's meant more snow than the mountain has seen in quite some time. The snow that we received earlier during the day on the way to the Kibo hut added more to what was already present. The snow line was as low as our camp, something that the guides aren't completely experienced with. Nevertheless, Aloyce led on, followed by Victoria, Matthew, Travis, Reagan, then Stanley, our cook on the trip who has interest in becoming a guide. I walked behind Stanley, Robert behind me, and Florence, our official assistant guide, brought up the rear.
It was a remarkably clear night, and the moon was at the full stop of its phase. We carried on out of camp without the illumination of our headlamps. We trodded along slowly, though the incline for the first kilometer was rather flat in comparison. Mawenzi peak portruded from a bit of cloud cover on its Eastern side as I glanced over my shoulder. In addition, headlamps from members of other five to ten person groups were making their way up the trail just behind us. We were the lead group aside from a Japanese trekker who was accompanied only by his guide. We kept passing one another as we pushed forward at a slow but steady pace and he pushed hard and then fell to his knees to rest.
An hour and a half into the hike the incline became sharper and we were forced to put in quite a bit more effort. The guides were not using walking poles like the rest of us, and they proceeded to slip on the icy snow every so often. Aloyce had his flashlight in his hand looking at the patterns and lines in the snow, hoping to lead us in a manner that would not cause any sort of avalanche.
The guides kept checking in with the fifty nine year old Reagan. They requested to take his day pack from him to make his effort easier, but Reagan was able to push on without their assistance for quite some time. However, after about two and a half hours we came to a brief resting spot, and the guides made the decision that Florence would accompany Reagan at a pace more suitable for him while the rest of us continued at our current pace. We only stopped briefly because our hands and feet quickly became cold when we did. We were fortunate enough to get a look at the southern cross constellation while we were stopped.
From this stopping point the route we took was even steeper. We could see routes that groups from the previous days had taken. They'd been warmed by the sun that dried our clothes earlier that afternoon and then frozen over as night had fallen. It was useless to attempt to follow them and Aloyce did his best to seek out alternate routes. He would often attempt to switchback across the steep face that we were ascending, a common theme in path making up steep hillsides and mountains. However, his switchbacks often were very steep. At one point he warned us of the inherent danger in what we were doing, noting that a small slip could prove disastrous if our nylon/gore-tex pants and tops were to start sliding down the sheet of icy snow. Matthew, who had overtaken the lead from Victoria, not only was attempting to walk us on a safer route quite near to Aloyce's, also showed us how to perform an "emergency arrest" with our walking poles (placing both of them under our right or left armpit, grasping as low on the pole towards the poking end and leaning back with all of our weight).
The walking continued to exhaust me, though I was able to move forward with everyone else. We were having to plant our poles in the snow, kick one foot into a hold in the snow, follow with the other foot, pull forward with all of our upper body strength, move our first planted foot another step forward and then repeat. I commented to Victoria that it was the hardest physical thing I believe I'd ever done; even harder than a marathon. We had been going close to five hours, more than an hour than any marathon has taken me to complete.
The other members of our group were feeling it to, but pressed on. The Japanese climber seemed to be feeling it in a substantial manner. We would continue to pass him, and each time he seemed to hover tighter into a fetal position. At one point Aloyce exchanged a few kind words with his guide and then greeted the climber. Following that he shouted out "Mt. Kilimanjaro is hard mountain, go back to Mt. Fuji". We all got a pretty good laugh out of that.
The final half an hour to Gilman's point found the snow covered trail naturally switching back over a number of rocky outcroppings. The night was still beautiful. Mawenzi was still in open view and the moon's light gave the night a unique ambiance. My calves were becoming quite tired from all of the kicking of footholds into the snow and the heartburn I had since the start of the hike continued to annoy me. It was a mix of pleasure and pain, but the pain was looking like the frontrunner in the race.
We reached Gilman's point at 5685m just around 5:30am. There's a small wooden sign with yellow lettering indicating such and a place to rest. I took a Clif bar from my pocket and forced myself to eat half of it. I followed it by a slug of water from my camel back and my body immediately purged it from my system. I leaned forward and took a knee as I continued to spew the contents of my breakfast and last night's dinner onto the snow just behind a rock. Aloyce came behind me and put his knee on my back as I heaved a third time. He aided me in forcing out anything left in my system with my fourth and fifth thrust. I came to rest with tears in my eyes and bile in my nose. Holy shit, I thought.
Aloyce told me that it was good that I'd purged everything and I should begin to feel better. The others were getting cold and we were assured our pictures would look better in front of the sign on our way back, after the sun had risen.
All of us in the group had discussed what it would take for us to not make a push for the peak on this climb. Victoria had forward an email to us from a friend of hers who'd climbed with a pair if friends, one of which developed HAPE (High Altitude Pulomonary Edema - a swelling of the lungs as a result of excess fluid being present). I had said that my will was going to be strong and I was worried that my mind may push my body farther than it should go. Marathoning will do that to you, as once you've laid a foundation of the proper training you can easily push your body farther and harder than usual just by believing with your mind.
As I attempted to fall back asleep until breakfast the drops falling from the sky only seemed to increase in intensity. However, the nylon of the tents amplifies the sound of the rain, and when it was time to crawl out of my warm sleeping bag to begin the day I realized the rain wasn't falling nearly as hard as the day before.
After a warm breakfast, whereby they were kind enough to serve me a plate of beans as opposed to eggs and sausage, we began another day of "poli-poli" (slowly, slowly) hiking. Fortunately, the skies cleared at points during the walk and we were afforded views of Kenya well below us. The weather patterns were quite amazing and surely unpredictable. One thing was for certain about them however: once the sun broke through the clouds and we basked in its warmth we would momentarily be overtaken by clouds and rain shortly thereafter.
Approximately three hours into our day's hike the light rain turned into sleet and snow. Initially the flakes were thick and wet and were not sticking to the ground. As we continued to gain elevation we were being pelted by very small, spherical drops; they reminded of smaller versions of "dippin dots" ice cream you can buy at amusement parks.
As lunchtime approached Aloyce informed us that we were half an hour shy of where we were going to camp that night. Given the choice to eat our bagged lunches in the snow or push on to camp we all agreed that the latter was more desirable. We pushed on to where the Rongai route meets the Marangu route at the Kibo Hit basecamp, with no view of the peak we would ascend later that night.
It was still cold and wet when we arrived at the base camp and we entered the hut's mess area. There were two sets of two picnic tables and all set our wet gear down on them. We were freezing cold. Given the terrible weather Aloyce went to talk to inquire with the caretaker of the huts about availability for the evening. The Marangu route hikers, who utilize huts the entire route up, would have priority.
The shared, dorm rooms of the hut were cold and damp. The mess area was similar, but we all changed into warm, dry gear. More and more people began filtering into the common, mess area and we all consolidated our gear around one table. Our porters served up popcorn, peanuts and warm tea. We were given a decision to make, pay approximately $18/person to sleep in the huts or have our tents set up and stay in them.
Knowing we'd had little trouble staying warm and dry the two previous nights, we opted to camp. As we finished our snacks and exited to or tents, the sky began to clear. Within minutes the mountain's weather pattern had completely changed and we were basking in the sun with clear views of Kilimanjaro's front side (its highest peak, Uhuru, was out of sight, behind what we could currently see).
The camp site was completely full of tents. It was 1pm now and not only were the tents of groups and porters planning an ascent tonight being set up, but those of people who had ascended the night before still hadn't been taken down.
We were supposed to try to nap before dinner, but the sun made the tents little more than mountain-top saunas. We took advantage of the opportunity to dry out a lot of our clothes, though the sun began to play a keen game of hide and seek; everytime we got every semi-damp piece of clothing strung up a brisk fog would roll up convincing us we should take it all back down. During one of the bouts of cloud cover I laid down to catch a small nap. Before falling asleep I took my "resting" pulse. It was 86 beats per minute, more than double my resting rate at home.
Before dinner, as we took in more views of the peak we would be ascending later that night and Mawenzi, a jagged 5100m peak across the "saddle" from where we camped, we chatted with a group of Coloradians. Their story was incredibly moving. Today was the one year anniversary of them having two friends die during an ascent they'd all attempted the year before. Those who survived were here to attempt an ascent in their passed friends' honor.
Dinner was served early, around 5pm. We all huddled in the mess tent and piled up on the warm pasta we were served. We all wanted energy for the night's hike. Aloyce came in towards the end of our dinner and gave a short briefing about the ascent. He mainly wanted to ensure we were all set for warm weather gear and to decide on a departure time. We all agreed that an 11pm "breakfast" followed by an 1130pm departure was ideal.
It was dark and cold as we climbed into our tents. Though it was only 645pm it really felt like it was time for bed. The sky was dark and our bodies craved rest. Before stuffing a warm nalgene bottle inside my sleeping bag liner in an attempt to keep my feet warm throughout the night, I commented to Robert that we were finally settling in before the big show. All of us, and probably everyone else on the mountain who has never tested themselves at altitude and through cold, were feeling anxious and excited.
The battery on my iPod was dead, a result of exposure to the cold temperatures. I put in ear plugs instead and had no trouble falling asleep. I awoke at 845pm feeling extremely naseous. It took almost everything I had not to puke. Altitude affects different people in different ways. Some people experience headaches, others nausea, still others shortness of breath and some a combination of all three of these things.
Up until this point, at other camp sites along the way I'd experienced minimal headaches. Others in our travel party had too. We'd signed up for a six day hike, expecting an extra day for acclimitization on the front end of the hike. That is, we expected to have one more day prior to summiting. That wasn't the case, though, and most of the small affects of altitude seemed to dissipate whenever I was moving.
I held in the desire to spew my dinner throughout the tent and was able to fall back asleep rather quickly. Two hours later, at 1045pm, my alarm went off. I woke Robert and now we both sensed the immensity of the task we were about to undertake. It's quite strange to quantify an expedition of these sorts. When you're at base camp there are what seems to be tons of other people around you about to make the strenuous climb. Some of them are well trained, but many of them are like us: active individuals with enough money to afford the trip. So even though it still is something relatively rare, it can also seem like something anyone can do.
Prior to coming on the trip I made a special trip to REI for cold weather gear. My tall, lanky frame has trouble maintaining a warm core. I was paranoid of being cold. Thus far I'd kept warm while sleeping, and I hoped the new gear I'd purchased or borrowed would continue that trend as I climbed the summit. I dressed as follows: Feet - Smartwool sock liners, Smartwool socks, a pair of wool socks and my Asolo hiking boots; Legs - RONO running tights, REI thermal underwear, Columbia hiking pants and nylon rain pants; Chest/Top - REI Polypropelene longsleeve top, Adidias clima-fit shortsleeve running shirt, Patagonia longsleeve shirt, lightweight Nike pullover fleece, Marmot light rain jacket and my brother in law's miltary issue camoflauge, gore-tex jacket; Hands - Midweight, waterproof glove liner, North Face expedition shell; Head/Neck - Lightweight running winter hat on my head and a balaclava worn around my neck for warmth which could be pulled over my head and face, and a pair of sunglasses.
I entered the mess tent for our pre-climb breakfast wearing all of my gear. As we all tried to summon an appetite we discussed our various clothing strategies. Matthew, a former ski instructor, noted that often times people dress for the weather as if they'll be standing still. As they begin moving, however, they realize they're overdressed and begin peeling layers. Both my gore-tex outer shell jacket and the light rain jacket had "pit-zips", zippers in the arm pit area that can be opened to aide in the cooling of the body.
Breakfast was hard to stomach, especially since we'd eaten just five hours before. I pushed a few sweet crackers down with a cupful of tea by the time Aloyce arrived at the tent. It was shortly after 1130pm and we all agreed we were ready to go.
It's been an exceptionally wet December all over East Africa. At the higher altitudes of Mt. Kilimanjaro that's meant more snow than the mountain has seen in quite some time. The snow that we received earlier during the day on the way to the Kibo hut added more to what was already present. The snow line was as low as our camp, something that the guides aren't completely experienced with. Nevertheless, Aloyce led on, followed by Victoria, Matthew, Travis, Reagan, then Stanley, our cook on the trip who has interest in becoming a guide. I walked behind Stanley, Robert behind me, and Florence, our official assistant guide, brought up the rear.
It was a remarkably clear night, and the moon was at the full stop of its phase. We carried on out of camp without the illumination of our headlamps. We trodded along slowly, though the incline for the first kilometer was rather flat in comparison. Mawenzi peak portruded from a bit of cloud cover on its Eastern side as I glanced over my shoulder. In addition, headlamps from members of other five to ten person groups were making their way up the trail just behind us. We were the lead group aside from a Japanese trekker who was accompanied only by his guide. We kept passing one another as we pushed forward at a slow but steady pace and he pushed hard and then fell to his knees to rest.
An hour and a half into the hike the incline became sharper and we were forced to put in quite a bit more effort. The guides were not using walking poles like the rest of us, and they proceeded to slip on the icy snow every so often. Aloyce had his flashlight in his hand looking at the patterns and lines in the snow, hoping to lead us in a manner that would not cause any sort of avalanche.
The guides kept checking in with the fifty nine year old Reagan. They requested to take his day pack from him to make his effort easier, but Reagan was able to push on without their assistance for quite some time. However, after about two and a half hours we came to a brief resting spot, and the guides made the decision that Florence would accompany Reagan at a pace more suitable for him while the rest of us continued at our current pace. We only stopped briefly because our hands and feet quickly became cold when we did. We were fortunate enough to get a look at the southern cross constellation while we were stopped.
From this stopping point the route we took was even steeper. We could see routes that groups from the previous days had taken. They'd been warmed by the sun that dried our clothes earlier that afternoon and then frozen over as night had fallen. It was useless to attempt to follow them and Aloyce did his best to seek out alternate routes. He would often attempt to switchback across the steep face that we were ascending, a common theme in path making up steep hillsides and mountains. However, his switchbacks often were very steep. At one point he warned us of the inherent danger in what we were doing, noting that a small slip could prove disastrous if our nylon/gore-tex pants and tops were to start sliding down the sheet of icy snow. Matthew, who had overtaken the lead from Victoria, not only was attempting to walk us on a safer route quite near to Aloyce's, also showed us how to perform an "emergency arrest" with our walking poles (placing both of them under our right or left armpit, grasping as low on the pole towards the poking end and leaning back with all of our weight).
The walking continued to exhaust me, though I was able to move forward with everyone else. We were having to plant our poles in the snow, kick one foot into a hold in the snow, follow with the other foot, pull forward with all of our upper body strength, move our first planted foot another step forward and then repeat. I commented to Victoria that it was the hardest physical thing I believe I'd ever done; even harder than a marathon. We had been going close to five hours, more than an hour than any marathon has taken me to complete.
The other members of our group were feeling it to, but pressed on. The Japanese climber seemed to be feeling it in a substantial manner. We would continue to pass him, and each time he seemed to hover tighter into a fetal position. At one point Aloyce exchanged a few kind words with his guide and then greeted the climber. Following that he shouted out "Mt. Kilimanjaro is hard mountain, go back to Mt. Fuji". We all got a pretty good laugh out of that.
The final half an hour to Gilman's point found the snow covered trail naturally switching back over a number of rocky outcroppings. The night was still beautiful. Mawenzi was still in open view and the moon's light gave the night a unique ambiance. My calves were becoming quite tired from all of the kicking of footholds into the snow and the heartburn I had since the start of the hike continued to annoy me. It was a mix of pleasure and pain, but the pain was looking like the frontrunner in the race.
We reached Gilman's point at 5685m just around 5:30am. There's a small wooden sign with yellow lettering indicating such and a place to rest. I took a Clif bar from my pocket and forced myself to eat half of it. I followed it by a slug of water from my camel back and my body immediately purged it from my system. I leaned forward and took a knee as I continued to spew the contents of my breakfast and last night's dinner onto the snow just behind a rock. Aloyce came behind me and put his knee on my back as I heaved a third time. He aided me in forcing out anything left in my system with my fourth and fifth thrust. I came to rest with tears in my eyes and bile in my nose. Holy shit, I thought.
Aloyce told me that it was good that I'd purged everything and I should begin to feel better. The others were getting cold and we were assured our pictures would look better in front of the sign on our way back, after the sun had risen.
All of us in the group had discussed what it would take for us to not make a push for the peak on this climb. Victoria had forward an email to us from a friend of hers who'd climbed with a pair if friends, one of which developed HAPE (High Altitude Pulomonary Edema - a swelling of the lungs as a result of excess fluid being present). I had said that my will was going to be strong and I was worried that my mind may push my body farther than it should go. Marathoning will do that to you, as once you've laid a foundation of the proper training you can easily push your body farther and harder than usual just by believing with your mind.
Wednesday, January 3, 2007
Travels in Africa - Climbing Kilimanjaro - The first two days
I am lying in my tent at approximately at 8pm. The misty air outside gives the night an eerie feeling, especially when the light from my headlamp is dully reflected in a million directions. The sound of porters and guides carry down from their tents to ours. I have a nalgene bottle full of hot water at my feet, warming up my extremeties that always seem to be cold.
We're at 12,900 feet above sea level, a level we've climbed in only two days. We started at approximately five thousand feet yesterday. We hope to rise to Uhuru peak by tomorrow night, which stands just shy of 20,000 feet (5895m).
Robert and I emerged from our bus ride up from Dar es Salaam pretty worn. We'd spent New Year's Eve on the ferry from Zanzibar and went directly to the Scandinavian bus lines terminal in Dar to get a ride to Moshi. We finally arrived in Moshi just after 4pm. The bright sun and blue skies gave the small town a different tint than when we'd cruised through on the bus just a few days before. We quickly negotiated a taxi fare and were dropped at Hotel Kindroko in Moshi's small town center.
As we grabbed our bags from the trunk of the cab, Julian, our climbing organizer emerged to shake our hands. Julian had Matthew and Victoria in tow, and we were introduced to Reagan (think Tom not Ronald on the accent) and Travis. In addition we were introduced to Aloyce (Al-louise), who would be our guide up the mountain.
Mangled from our jaunt through East Africa, Robert and I had little interest in exploring Moshi. Therefore, after getting a cup of coffee with our hiking companions we took advantage of the nicest hotel we'd been in this trip (and the first real hotel in over a week) to shower, wash a few important items of clothing in the sink, charge our iPods and blackberrys and even watch a bit of CNN World. After all, it was the first day of 2007 - what was going on outside of our little world?
We all met up for dinner and after a quick round of checking the internet everyone turned in for the night. Our climbing companions had gotten the low down on the logistics for the next day from Julian and Aloyce before we arrived. We all wanted to be rested for our 830am departure from the lobby.
I fell asleep quickly shortly before 9pm, but by 4am I was wide awake. I did a bit of Lonely Planet guide book research on how Robert and I are getting back to Kigali, Rwanda, following our descent from Kilimanjaro. I managed to squeeze in another half an hour of sleep before waking up at 6am for breakfast and to pack.
Matthew and crew had explained to us that we had 6 hours worth of errand running and driving combined before we planned to arrive at the trailhead. We hit an ATM in town to ensure we had enough Tanzanian Schillings for tips upon completion of the climb, and grabbed box lunches at a fast food place before hitting the road for Marangu.
Marangu is approximately an hour and a half from Moshi. Julian has a small office there and he and Robert went to the Marangu gate to Kilimanjaro National Park to secure our permits. Meanwhile, the rest of us refreshed on ginger soda and stocked up on water for the first days hike.
On our way back from the small restaurant we'd had our drinks in I finally got the guy hawking Kilimanjaro hats to sell me the one we'd been discussin the entire hour since we'd arrived. I got him down to 4000 Schillings, an entire 1000 Schillings cheaper than the one I'd picked up in Moshi as we were running errands. Now Robert and I both had sun blocking hats for our climb.
The drive from Marangu to the start of the Rongai (Wrong Guy) Route took about two and a half hours. The road was unpaved and quite bumpy. The sun was shining brightly and the breeze from the open windows in the van felt great against my face and arms. We weren't ascending, rather we were making our way around to the eastern side of Kilimanjaro. However, as we traversed half the circumference of the African continent's highest peak we were not provided with even a glimpse of the peak.
We passed through a ton of small villages, very similar to many others we'd seen thus far on our trip. In between the villages there were tons and tons of banana trees alongside the road, and many people were walking to the markets with giant yields from the trees. It was interesting to think of how far we'd come to climb this mountain, yet people who lived at its base had to be more concerned with selling their crops.
As we pulled up to the starting point of our hike there were about 25 guys hanging about. The majority of these guys would be hired on as porters by Julian's company to carry supplies for the trip. I don't believe that every single person was taken. Julian had explained to the group before we arrived that they try to use a fair selection process in who they hire on. Criteria include work ethic, experience and the last date of work (if you've just come down from a trip and another guy hasn't worked in a month, the latter will be given more consideration) amongst other things. As we readied our small day packs, with our water, rain gear, spare layers and cameras the porters divied up the weighed baggage and food (there was a scale on the premises) and began heading out. Each of us had been allowed to give the porters a total of 15kg (37 lbs). A total of 16 porters were hired for the six hikers and our two guides, Aloyce and a second guide, Florence, whom we'd just been introduced to. In addition to our personal gear they would split between the tents for us and themselves, a mess (food) tent, food and all of the cooking supplies and gas/kerosene.
None of us had ever done a catered hike before, and all of us felt a tad awkward about it. None of us had hiked and camped above 14,000 feet before either, so we were all willing to give up as much weight as is allowable.
It was raining at the trailhead and as we started our right everyone had trouble figuring out the right mix of rain gear. Hard rain was intermittent and the gaps were filled in by very light rain combined with sun. There were very modest farm dwellings for those tending the crops planted alongside the first mile or so of the trail. The crops all had rows and rows of equally spaced replanted pines - an attempt to reforest the areas that were slash and burned for crop land many years ago.
Soon enough we were amidst a high altitude rain forest. Unlike the jungle area rain forests I've always envisioned, this one had fauna fit for the altitude. Falling rain was surely something the two have in common. The trail was well built and well maintained. Though our park fees per person eclipsed $500 for the entire trip alone, I still envisioned a singletrack path similar to the ones we'd hiked on amidst the farmland of Rwanda. I was pleasantly surprised to find a well packed path with troughs running alongside to aide in water drainage.
The peak was still hidden and the sky was a light grey. The sun was a dull spot in the sky, and the peak was still completely hidden. We walked quite slowly to not only acclimatize ourselves but also to give the porters enough time to rush ahead of us amd begin making camp. By 430pm we had finished the day, having gradually ascended to a height of just over 8000 feet (approximately 2600m).
There are at least 5 current routes in operation, each of which can be tackled in as low as 5 days or as many as 8 (the extra days are taken to provide for longer acclimitization). According to Julian on our ride to the trailhead, 36,000 people attempt to ascend to the top each year. Therefore there are designated campsites along each route. At least one route has cabins in which the climbers stay. The Rongai is a camp only route. However, there were pit toilets, surrounded by wooden huts for privacy, to avoid the impact of thousands of people defecating in completelt different shovel-dug latrines each and every night.
We unpacked our things into our tents and went and registered with the ranger for this trail. On the way back I stopped to talk to a guy at another camp site adjacent to ours. His group was a mix of six people from the US and Canada. Two of the members grew up in Kenya and had ascended the mountain almost 40 years ago. They'd both returned with their sons to ascend once again. That was awesome to me.
By this time we were being served popcorn, biscuits and hot tea. We all sat in the mess tent talking again about how strange it was to have others pitch our tents and make food for us. However, all of us were smiling widely about being able to relax with a warm drink and not worry about clean up.
After dinner Aloyce prepared us for the next day. The hike would be approximately 6 hours including a stop for lunch. As we all said our collective early good nights the brief clearing in the sky had all but disappeared. Though Aloyce's response to the weather for the following day was "you never really know with the mountain," I don't think any one of us expected the deluge of rain that would start shortly after we fell asleep.
It didn't wake me often, but when it did the pounding of rain on the tent was deafening. When I awoke to use the bathroom for the second time just before 6am, I looked outside to see gigantic puddles settled into the ground amidst the grass clumps. If I had been dreaming I would've sworn someone picked up our tent and moved it into a pond. The amount of water that fell was amazing.
When Robert and I were in Rwanda just a few weeks ago we went to a party thrown by a guy who had just returned from a Kilimanjaro climb. In a disappointing tone he relayed that it had rained their entire trip on the mountain. Though holiday schedules were an impetus for traveling to Africa in December, weather was a consideration as well. December was supposed to mark the beginning of one of the dry seasons, and January was surely supposed to be void of rain. Now, here we were, after our first night of camping amidst a deluge that might send Noah to the lumber yard.
We packed up our belongings, ensuring to secure everything in plastic bags for extra waterproofing. Breakfast was served in the mess tent at 730am and was plentiful. We ate porridge similare to cream of wheat, toast, and while the others were served eggs and sausage on a plate with tomato and cucumber, I was given a hearty portion of beans to accompany my veggies. We slugged coffee and tea and by 830am we were off.
The rain was still pouring down when we left camp. Everyone was making adjustments to minimize the affects of water pouring down upon us. My light weather rain coat is a few years old and probably 80% effective. Though my rain pants do a better job of shielding my legs, they are a tad too short and I had to rig a system to prevent the run off streaming down my leg from emptying straight into my boot. Robert faced similar issues, though his top half fared better than his bottom half. Neither he nor I had prepared for constant rain. All of my preparation had been for the summit and keeping me warm. I consistently run cold and was paranoid of spending a night at our final camp and the overnight push to the top miserably cold.
The start of the trail was a tad steeper than the previous day. Within five minutes, we encountered an African water buffalo grazing on the trail ahead. Aloyce had told us the day before that we may see this member of the big five today, but none of us really expected to see one at all, nevermind this early. We stopped dead in our tracks. I was towards the back of the pack but could see that the buffalo was none to pleased by our interruption of his morning meal. Aloyce, in the lead, stepped forward slowly and almost instantaneously turned around and encouraged us to quickly retreat down the trail.
The Rongai route of Mt. Kilimanjaro butts up against Kenya's Tsavo East National Park and occasionally animals move from one to the other, unaware of the boundaries drawn by man. The previous day Aloyce had shown us an old elephant skull left close to the trail, another immigrant from Tsavo.
After we'd safely reached a point far enough from the agitated animal, Aloyce went back to camp to get the park ranger. The two came back quickly. The ranger, dressed in full green army-esque fatigues was carrying a rifle in one hand and an umbrella in the other. It was a sight to see, though the adrenaline streaming through my veins didn't enable me to fully appreciate it at the time. The ranger fired a warning shot, hoping to scare the animal away. We passed the spot we'd first seen him and all that remained were hoof prints. The ranger continued to hike with us for the next half hour. Hoof prints and scat were still present on the trail.
The rain continued to fall and we continued to move along at "poli-poli" pace (slowly, slowly). Visibility was probably forty feet in every direction. The grey clouds that hung around us combined with the rocky terrain gave the surroundings and almost lunar quality. That said, there was a decent amount of vegetation present. Victoria, who has spent time as a landscaper, was impressed by some of the plant life present at 10,000 feet.
The rain would diminish and then return with ferocity. The well maintained trail was, at times, little match for the run off making its way down the mountain. We trudged up the impromptu waterways, dancing from rock to rock in the attempt to keep our boots from submerging. With four days following this one to go, staying dry can make all of the difference between a good trip and a miserable one.
We caught a break in the rain at lunch, and could sense the sun pushing as hard as it could to break through the overcast skies. We inhaled the sandwhiches, orange, banana, carrot and chocolate bar provided to us. Though we weren't moving fast, our bodies were feeling exertion. As we packed up a rolling fog from below caught us, causing a marked drop in temperature from when we'd been eating.
The east side of Kilimanjaro faces the Indian Ocean. Warmer, humid air, pushing inland encounters the mountain and is moved up its slopes. As it travels upward it cools and, lo and behold, drops rain. It was magnificent to watch the air overtake us after a bout of clearer skies, though it meant a return to worrying about being soaked. The $3 Kilimanjaro hats we'd purchased were doing a wonderful job of keeping the rain from my face.
As we continued higher, the terrain changed to a thin layer of small black rocks, not unlike what you'd find on the shores of some lakes. I recalled a vague resemblance to parts of Alaska I visted a few years ago, though that summer I hiked in record high, eighty degree temperatures under clear blue skies.
We pulled into camp around 2pm, and to our surprise there were other camp sites set up. We'd left before the others at our first nights camp and hadn't been overtaken by anyone aside from our own porters (they break down our camp following our breakfast and departure and rush ahead to try to set our camp before our arrival). We then realized that these parties had probably shown up the night before and were using an extra day at this altitude to acclimatize. We'd chosen to do a six day route, giving us one extra day from the shortest, five day ascent. However, seven and eight day routes are available for those who feel they'll need extra time. The longer you have is more ideal, but the fees incurred for each day on the mountain deter many from doing anything other than six days.
I wrote this draft and didn't completely finish the details before moving on to my next part. In the interest of continuity, I am going to send this email, incomplete.
We're at 12,900 feet above sea level, a level we've climbed in only two days. We started at approximately five thousand feet yesterday. We hope to rise to Uhuru peak by tomorrow night, which stands just shy of 20,000 feet (5895m).
Robert and I emerged from our bus ride up from Dar es Salaam pretty worn. We'd spent New Year's Eve on the ferry from Zanzibar and went directly to the Scandinavian bus lines terminal in Dar to get a ride to Moshi. We finally arrived in Moshi just after 4pm. The bright sun and blue skies gave the small town a different tint than when we'd cruised through on the bus just a few days before. We quickly negotiated a taxi fare and were dropped at Hotel Kindroko in Moshi's small town center.
As we grabbed our bags from the trunk of the cab, Julian, our climbing organizer emerged to shake our hands. Julian had Matthew and Victoria in tow, and we were introduced to Reagan (think Tom not Ronald on the accent) and Travis. In addition we were introduced to Aloyce (Al-louise), who would be our guide up the mountain.
Mangled from our jaunt through East Africa, Robert and I had little interest in exploring Moshi. Therefore, after getting a cup of coffee with our hiking companions we took advantage of the nicest hotel we'd been in this trip (and the first real hotel in over a week) to shower, wash a few important items of clothing in the sink, charge our iPods and blackberrys and even watch a bit of CNN World. After all, it was the first day of 2007 - what was going on outside of our little world?
We all met up for dinner and after a quick round of checking the internet everyone turned in for the night. Our climbing companions had gotten the low down on the logistics for the next day from Julian and Aloyce before we arrived. We all wanted to be rested for our 830am departure from the lobby.
I fell asleep quickly shortly before 9pm, but by 4am I was wide awake. I did a bit of Lonely Planet guide book research on how Robert and I are getting back to Kigali, Rwanda, following our descent from Kilimanjaro. I managed to squeeze in another half an hour of sleep before waking up at 6am for breakfast and to pack.
Matthew and crew had explained to us that we had 6 hours worth of errand running and driving combined before we planned to arrive at the trailhead. We hit an ATM in town to ensure we had enough Tanzanian Schillings for tips upon completion of the climb, and grabbed box lunches at a fast food place before hitting the road for Marangu.
Marangu is approximately an hour and a half from Moshi. Julian has a small office there and he and Robert went to the Marangu gate to Kilimanjaro National Park to secure our permits. Meanwhile, the rest of us refreshed on ginger soda and stocked up on water for the first days hike.
On our way back from the small restaurant we'd had our drinks in I finally got the guy hawking Kilimanjaro hats to sell me the one we'd been discussin the entire hour since we'd arrived. I got him down to 4000 Schillings, an entire 1000 Schillings cheaper than the one I'd picked up in Moshi as we were running errands. Now Robert and I both had sun blocking hats for our climb.
The drive from Marangu to the start of the Rongai (Wrong Guy) Route took about two and a half hours. The road was unpaved and quite bumpy. The sun was shining brightly and the breeze from the open windows in the van felt great against my face and arms. We weren't ascending, rather we were making our way around to the eastern side of Kilimanjaro. However, as we traversed half the circumference of the African continent's highest peak we were not provided with even a glimpse of the peak.
We passed through a ton of small villages, very similar to many others we'd seen thus far on our trip. In between the villages there were tons and tons of banana trees alongside the road, and many people were walking to the markets with giant yields from the trees. It was interesting to think of how far we'd come to climb this mountain, yet people who lived at its base had to be more concerned with selling their crops.
As we pulled up to the starting point of our hike there were about 25 guys hanging about. The majority of these guys would be hired on as porters by Julian's company to carry supplies for the trip. I don't believe that every single person was taken. Julian had explained to the group before we arrived that they try to use a fair selection process in who they hire on. Criteria include work ethic, experience and the last date of work (if you've just come down from a trip and another guy hasn't worked in a month, the latter will be given more consideration) amongst other things. As we readied our small day packs, with our water, rain gear, spare layers and cameras the porters divied up the weighed baggage and food (there was a scale on the premises) and began heading out. Each of us had been allowed to give the porters a total of 15kg (37 lbs). A total of 16 porters were hired for the six hikers and our two guides, Aloyce and a second guide, Florence, whom we'd just been introduced to. In addition to our personal gear they would split between the tents for us and themselves, a mess (food) tent, food and all of the cooking supplies and gas/kerosene.
None of us had ever done a catered hike before, and all of us felt a tad awkward about it. None of us had hiked and camped above 14,000 feet before either, so we were all willing to give up as much weight as is allowable.
It was raining at the trailhead and as we started our right everyone had trouble figuring out the right mix of rain gear. Hard rain was intermittent and the gaps were filled in by very light rain combined with sun. There were very modest farm dwellings for those tending the crops planted alongside the first mile or so of the trail. The crops all had rows and rows of equally spaced replanted pines - an attempt to reforest the areas that were slash and burned for crop land many years ago.
Soon enough we were amidst a high altitude rain forest. Unlike the jungle area rain forests I've always envisioned, this one had fauna fit for the altitude. Falling rain was surely something the two have in common. The trail was well built and well maintained. Though our park fees per person eclipsed $500 for the entire trip alone, I still envisioned a singletrack path similar to the ones we'd hiked on amidst the farmland of Rwanda. I was pleasantly surprised to find a well packed path with troughs running alongside to aide in water drainage.
The peak was still hidden and the sky was a light grey. The sun was a dull spot in the sky, and the peak was still completely hidden. We walked quite slowly to not only acclimatize ourselves but also to give the porters enough time to rush ahead of us amd begin making camp. By 430pm we had finished the day, having gradually ascended to a height of just over 8000 feet (approximately 2600m).
There are at least 5 current routes in operation, each of which can be tackled in as low as 5 days or as many as 8 (the extra days are taken to provide for longer acclimitization). According to Julian on our ride to the trailhead, 36,000 people attempt to ascend to the top each year. Therefore there are designated campsites along each route. At least one route has cabins in which the climbers stay. The Rongai is a camp only route. However, there were pit toilets, surrounded by wooden huts for privacy, to avoid the impact of thousands of people defecating in completelt different shovel-dug latrines each and every night.
We unpacked our things into our tents and went and registered with the ranger for this trail. On the way back I stopped to talk to a guy at another camp site adjacent to ours. His group was a mix of six people from the US and Canada. Two of the members grew up in Kenya and had ascended the mountain almost 40 years ago. They'd both returned with their sons to ascend once again. That was awesome to me.
By this time we were being served popcorn, biscuits and hot tea. We all sat in the mess tent talking again about how strange it was to have others pitch our tents and make food for us. However, all of us were smiling widely about being able to relax with a warm drink and not worry about clean up.
After dinner Aloyce prepared us for the next day. The hike would be approximately 6 hours including a stop for lunch. As we all said our collective early good nights the brief clearing in the sky had all but disappeared. Though Aloyce's response to the weather for the following day was "you never really know with the mountain," I don't think any one of us expected the deluge of rain that would start shortly after we fell asleep.
It didn't wake me often, but when it did the pounding of rain on the tent was deafening. When I awoke to use the bathroom for the second time just before 6am, I looked outside to see gigantic puddles settled into the ground amidst the grass clumps. If I had been dreaming I would've sworn someone picked up our tent and moved it into a pond. The amount of water that fell was amazing.
When Robert and I were in Rwanda just a few weeks ago we went to a party thrown by a guy who had just returned from a Kilimanjaro climb. In a disappointing tone he relayed that it had rained their entire trip on the mountain. Though holiday schedules were an impetus for traveling to Africa in December, weather was a consideration as well. December was supposed to mark the beginning of one of the dry seasons, and January was surely supposed to be void of rain. Now, here we were, after our first night of camping amidst a deluge that might send Noah to the lumber yard.
We packed up our belongings, ensuring to secure everything in plastic bags for extra waterproofing. Breakfast was served in the mess tent at 730am and was plentiful. We ate porridge similare to cream of wheat, toast, and while the others were served eggs and sausage on a plate with tomato and cucumber, I was given a hearty portion of beans to accompany my veggies. We slugged coffee and tea and by 830am we were off.
The rain was still pouring down when we left camp. Everyone was making adjustments to minimize the affects of water pouring down upon us. My light weather rain coat is a few years old and probably 80% effective. Though my rain pants do a better job of shielding my legs, they are a tad too short and I had to rig a system to prevent the run off streaming down my leg from emptying straight into my boot. Robert faced similar issues, though his top half fared better than his bottom half. Neither he nor I had prepared for constant rain. All of my preparation had been for the summit and keeping me warm. I consistently run cold and was paranoid of spending a night at our final camp and the overnight push to the top miserably cold.
The start of the trail was a tad steeper than the previous day. Within five minutes, we encountered an African water buffalo grazing on the trail ahead. Aloyce had told us the day before that we may see this member of the big five today, but none of us really expected to see one at all, nevermind this early. We stopped dead in our tracks. I was towards the back of the pack but could see that the buffalo was none to pleased by our interruption of his morning meal. Aloyce, in the lead, stepped forward slowly and almost instantaneously turned around and encouraged us to quickly retreat down the trail.
The Rongai route of Mt. Kilimanjaro butts up against Kenya's Tsavo East National Park and occasionally animals move from one to the other, unaware of the boundaries drawn by man. The previous day Aloyce had shown us an old elephant skull left close to the trail, another immigrant from Tsavo.
After we'd safely reached a point far enough from the agitated animal, Aloyce went back to camp to get the park ranger. The two came back quickly. The ranger, dressed in full green army-esque fatigues was carrying a rifle in one hand and an umbrella in the other. It was a sight to see, though the adrenaline streaming through my veins didn't enable me to fully appreciate it at the time. The ranger fired a warning shot, hoping to scare the animal away. We passed the spot we'd first seen him and all that remained were hoof prints. The ranger continued to hike with us for the next half hour. Hoof prints and scat were still present on the trail.
The rain continued to fall and we continued to move along at "poli-poli" pace (slowly, slowly). Visibility was probably forty feet in every direction. The grey clouds that hung around us combined with the rocky terrain gave the surroundings and almost lunar quality. That said, there was a decent amount of vegetation present. Victoria, who has spent time as a landscaper, was impressed by some of the plant life present at 10,000 feet.
The rain would diminish and then return with ferocity. The well maintained trail was, at times, little match for the run off making its way down the mountain. We trudged up the impromptu waterways, dancing from rock to rock in the attempt to keep our boots from submerging. With four days following this one to go, staying dry can make all of the difference between a good trip and a miserable one.
We caught a break in the rain at lunch, and could sense the sun pushing as hard as it could to break through the overcast skies. We inhaled the sandwhiches, orange, banana, carrot and chocolate bar provided to us. Though we weren't moving fast, our bodies were feeling exertion. As we packed up a rolling fog from below caught us, causing a marked drop in temperature from when we'd been eating.
The east side of Kilimanjaro faces the Indian Ocean. Warmer, humid air, pushing inland encounters the mountain and is moved up its slopes. As it travels upward it cools and, lo and behold, drops rain. It was magnificent to watch the air overtake us after a bout of clearer skies, though it meant a return to worrying about being soaked. The $3 Kilimanjaro hats we'd purchased were doing a wonderful job of keeping the rain from my face.
As we continued higher, the terrain changed to a thin layer of small black rocks, not unlike what you'd find on the shores of some lakes. I recalled a vague resemblance to parts of Alaska I visted a few years ago, though that summer I hiked in record high, eighty degree temperatures under clear blue skies.
We pulled into camp around 2pm, and to our surprise there were other camp sites set up. We'd left before the others at our first nights camp and hadn't been overtaken by anyone aside from our own porters (they break down our camp following our breakfast and departure and rush ahead to try to set our camp before our arrival). We then realized that these parties had probably shown up the night before and were using an extra day at this altitude to acclimatize. We'd chosen to do a six day route, giving us one extra day from the shortest, five day ascent. However, seven and eight day routes are available for those who feel they'll need extra time. The longer you have is more ideal, but the fees incurred for each day on the mountain deter many from doing anything other than six days.
I wrote this draft and didn't completely finish the details before moving on to my next part. In the interest of continuity, I am going to send this email, incomplete.
Monday, January 1, 2007
Travels in Africa #5 - Tanzania Part 2
As soon as the dive master was in and we began to descend, everything came back to me. My breathing was calm and steady, allowing for good buoyancy. I was a tad concerned with my instrumentation and did have one bit of trouble with equalization in my right ear. However, I went up a few feet and was able to clear it. The reef here was similar to what I remembered the Red Sea in Egypt being like. Life underwater is like a cartoon drawing to me. There are no rough edges and everything is very colorful. As we were outside of the reef there was a decent current carrying us as we drifted. I didn't really even notice it, per se, but once we exited the water and everyone was talking about it I recognized the various feelings they were discussing. Overall it was a good dive, with good visibility. I was excited to do another dive, however, as this one had been more of a refresher for me than anything else.
We had to sit on the boat, snacking on glucose biscuits and pineapple, until the recoomended time had surpassed before we go back under. Everyone on the boat was fairly talkative and I chided Robert that he'd met a match in the German guy; the guy talked constantly and had a sarcastic answer to almost every rhetorical question. I laid on the front deck of the small boat while the conversation drifted from the various NGO work the German couple was involved in and all of the exciting places they'd lived to the current state of racial and financial affairs in South Africa. There's always a tad bit of a chuckle when it comes to either Robert or my professions, because we both like to downplay their seriousness. Nevertheless, people usually find the challenge course construction he does and the artist management I do (though I've been saying that I'm a concert promoter because people seem to able to grasp that much more easily).
Soon enough we left the South Africans on the boat to battle the seas and we were back under, this time inside the reef. Though I still felt a tad naseous this dive was much more comfortable. I was able to hold my position a bit better and maneuver myself to view things I was interested in seeing. We saw a couple of beautiful white and black sea snakes on the ocean floor, as well as an octopus hiding in its hole. The visibility was a bit worse inside the reef, but was still 15 to 20 feet. There were a ton of beautiful fish, small and large, and the corral was goregous, too.
After the day of diving we hightailed it out of Jambioni. We hoped to catch public transportation back to Stone Town so we could walk around before the sun went down. Full well expecting a repeat of our cramped ride in the back of the truck we'd had from Stone Town traveling east we were in shcock when a mid sized, air conditioned bus approached us within two minutes of waiting. We weren't sure if they were even a bus being used for public transport or not, but they gave us a handful of others a ride to Stone Town.
The ride back was only an hour and quite pleasant. It's amazing the progress that can be made when you don't stop every ten minutes to let someone off or add another to an overfilled vehicle. There's a small forest reserve that contains red colobus monkeys about halfway between Stone Town and Paje. I'd hoped we'd have time to visit, but a small consolation was that we got to see two of them sitting in a tree right by the highway.
We entered town and were dropped at the ferry port. We'd already talked ourselves out of flying to Arusha the next day, and had become quite comfortable with our fate: a 10pm ferry from Zanzibar arriving in Dar around 6am followed by a nine hour bus ride from Dar to Moshi. It would mean New Year's Eve on the slower, cheaper, all night ferry, but we reasoned that this entire trip, and our lives to an extent, are a celebration.
We were able to leave our large packs in the "Flying Horse" ferry ticket office and went back into the maze of Stone Town to take photos of the thin walkways. The evening light was grand and after a while we found ourselves negotiating for a few paintings and crafts we liked.
Negotiating for purchases is fun for me. I don't particularly worry about what the lowest price is I can get for something, setting my goal on what something is worth to me. Of course, when you're looking for something touristy you should never buy without getting a few different "quotes" from the various shops all selling the same things. I actually negotiated pretty hard on a couple of paintings I really liked in the first shop I went into, but balked at a killer deal because I thought I could get him even lower (though the price was what I deemed worth it foer the two pieces - so I wasn't really following my own advice). As I went around to a couple of other places I realized the first guy was playing pretty fairly. His initial asking prices were much lower than the stores I enetered later, but I settled on similar paintings for the same price the guy in the first shop had wanted. I paid what I was comfortable with, and probably almost as low as one could get them.
Robert was anxious to find a particular painting we'd seen at the resort with the pier in Zanzibar. We went in about ten shops and none of them seemed to carry that style. Then, just as we were about to give up and go for dinner, he spotted it. He asked the guy to find a few others like it and I took off to find the restaurant we wanted to eat. When I returned ten minutes later Robert was about to walk away from a deal. I was sure he wanted this art, as we'd searched so many places before finding it, but he'd finally caught on exactly how to negotiate what he wanted. So, we walked towards the restaurant when we heard a guy coming down the alley after us. Turns out these guys had used the old phone trick we'd seen from our tout in Bwejuu at Shells bungalows and agreed to Robert's offer when they realized $50 was walking away from them.
Anxious for our first real meal of the day I'd found a small place with only a handful of tables. There were only Africans in the place, something I thought I'd never find after our lunch in town the previous day showed Stone Town was crawling with Europeans who'd been chartered in. We had a fantastic dinner of vegetables cooked in Swahili spices over rice and a couple of Safari beers. This was our New Years celebration, just a few hours shy of midnight.
We walked through the main part of Stone Town, where celebrators were gathering for the night's festivities, on our way to the ferry terminal. They informed us the ferry would leave at 10pm instead of 9pm, so we stayed and chatted a bit with the old ferry manager. He was rail thin, presumably in his sixties, and looked to be of Indian origin. After further discussion he was born and raised in Zanzibar, but was Roman Catholic instead of Muslim. It was hard to tell exactly where he wanted the conversation to go and after we left Robert joked that he felt the guy wanted sex from us. He had asked some pretty funny questions in context and we added him to the mental list of unique individuals we've met along the way.
After a vein search for an internet cafe we grabbed some somosas for the trip and boarded the ferry. Our mandatory $20 fee entitled us to the VIP area of the bus. It was nothing more than a number of different couches, but we were happy to have a comfortable place to lie down. Many of the people in the non-VIP section had taken to lying on multiple chairs, the floor, windowsills of the ferry and jus about any other surface that was remotely flat.
Tanzania's answer to MTV was on every TV on the ferry and it was blasting videos of regional music. I lay on one of the shorter couches and all but passed out. Again, we'd packed a ton of stuff into one day. And each day piles onto the one before that. We glanced through our passports and recalled the last 11 days since we'd left Rwanda. We'd traveled to Kampala, rafted in Jinja, hung out in Nairobi, had Christmas in an African village, biked through one of Kenya's national parks, been stranded on a train, regrouped and taken a night bus to Tanzania, taken a ferry to an island, gone swimming and diving and now we were making our way back in order to climb Mount Kilimanjaro. This is how each of us likes to travel, and we're happy to cover ground and do exciting things instead of just making it someplace and relaxing.
I moved to a more comfortable spot for my tall frame and it seemed that once the ferry had begun moving a few of the more savvy locals knew the trick of sneaking up to first class. The lights were dim and so long as everyone wanted to sleep we were okay with it. I slept closest to the door to the stairwell leading down to the main cabin of the boat. There was a bright light in the stairwell and all of the TVs blaring music were still on down there. At one point I awoke to the sound of an excited group of people making noise. I quickly realized it was a countdown and woke up Robert to tell him it was about to be 2007. We both turned over and imnmediatly went back to sleep.
The ferry arrived back in Dar es Salaam about 6am. We were going to walk to the Scandinavian bus terminal but flagged down a cab halfway there. The first morning of the new year was hot and muggy. We arrived just in time to purchase tickets for a more expensive bus that was leaving immediately. We pooled our last resources and agreed we'd rather get a 2 hour head start on the trip to Moshi, even it meant $5 each. Little did we know it would hardly pay off.
We entered the bus and took our seats. It was hot and humid on there; the windows offered little reprieve from the damp air. Unfortunately, the bus wasn't moving. There were two buses headed to Nairobi and still there were passengers with tickets that weren't able to board. I am not entirely sure what arrangements they'd made, but it seemed as if they were in a large group and not everyone had a place on the same bus. Chaos ensued and the people were angry and dead set on holding up both buses. It was very frustrating. No one could make a decision and no one could seem to agree on anything.
Eventually something must have happened and we began moving. However, within ten minutes, when we pulled into the main bus terminal, another agrument errupted. Lo and behold another half an hour of no one being able to make a decision or rectify a problem meant we were waiting and waiting. We'd paid extra for the earlier bus and now we weren't leaving Dar until after 830 anyways. Nevertheless, we settled in and didn't let it bother us too much.
The ride to Moshi has been long, yet pleasant. I'm writing this now as I peer out to the sunny skies and beautiful green mountains. We stopped for lunch an hour ago at the same place we'd stopped in Stripey and Claw 9's bus just a few days ago. We new it would be a rushed affair, as they grant you slightly less than fifteen minutes to get what you want. I darted for the self-service counter as they'd named it and odered up a couple of plates of beans, rice and spinach with chapatis. I brought them over to Robert and flagged down a guy to get us a couple of cups of coffee. As we shoveled the first meal of the day down our throats I smiled and robert and said something to the extent about how great it feels when you actually know something on a trip like this. We'd done it once and were able to repeat ot. Leaving just enough time to hit the bathroom before being rounded onto the bus for the remainder of the trip.
Tonight we'll reconnect with Matthew and Victoria and a couple of their friends who are joining us on the mountian. It's really hard to believe that we're about to climb almost 20,000 feet to the top, if we acclimatize properly. It hasn't really sunk in yet, as almost all mental power has been focused on the here and now of the trip. I am excited and anxious to report on how the ascent of the Big K goes!
We had to sit on the boat, snacking on glucose biscuits and pineapple, until the recoomended time had surpassed before we go back under. Everyone on the boat was fairly talkative and I chided Robert that he'd met a match in the German guy; the guy talked constantly and had a sarcastic answer to almost every rhetorical question. I laid on the front deck of the small boat while the conversation drifted from the various NGO work the German couple was involved in and all of the exciting places they'd lived to the current state of racial and financial affairs in South Africa. There's always a tad bit of a chuckle when it comes to either Robert or my professions, because we both like to downplay their seriousness. Nevertheless, people usually find the challenge course construction he does and the artist management I do (though I've been saying that I'm a concert promoter because people seem to able to grasp that much more easily).
Soon enough we left the South Africans on the boat to battle the seas and we were back under, this time inside the reef. Though I still felt a tad naseous this dive was much more comfortable. I was able to hold my position a bit better and maneuver myself to view things I was interested in seeing. We saw a couple of beautiful white and black sea snakes on the ocean floor, as well as an octopus hiding in its hole. The visibility was a bit worse inside the reef, but was still 15 to 20 feet. There were a ton of beautiful fish, small and large, and the corral was goregous, too.
After the day of diving we hightailed it out of Jambioni. We hoped to catch public transportation back to Stone Town so we could walk around before the sun went down. Full well expecting a repeat of our cramped ride in the back of the truck we'd had from Stone Town traveling east we were in shcock when a mid sized, air conditioned bus approached us within two minutes of waiting. We weren't sure if they were even a bus being used for public transport or not, but they gave us a handful of others a ride to Stone Town.
The ride back was only an hour and quite pleasant. It's amazing the progress that can be made when you don't stop every ten minutes to let someone off or add another to an overfilled vehicle. There's a small forest reserve that contains red colobus monkeys about halfway between Stone Town and Paje. I'd hoped we'd have time to visit, but a small consolation was that we got to see two of them sitting in a tree right by the highway.
We entered town and were dropped at the ferry port. We'd already talked ourselves out of flying to Arusha the next day, and had become quite comfortable with our fate: a 10pm ferry from Zanzibar arriving in Dar around 6am followed by a nine hour bus ride from Dar to Moshi. It would mean New Year's Eve on the slower, cheaper, all night ferry, but we reasoned that this entire trip, and our lives to an extent, are a celebration.
We were able to leave our large packs in the "Flying Horse" ferry ticket office and went back into the maze of Stone Town to take photos of the thin walkways. The evening light was grand and after a while we found ourselves negotiating for a few paintings and crafts we liked.
Negotiating for purchases is fun for me. I don't particularly worry about what the lowest price is I can get for something, setting my goal on what something is worth to me. Of course, when you're looking for something touristy you should never buy without getting a few different "quotes" from the various shops all selling the same things. I actually negotiated pretty hard on a couple of paintings I really liked in the first shop I went into, but balked at a killer deal because I thought I could get him even lower (though the price was what I deemed worth it foer the two pieces - so I wasn't really following my own advice). As I went around to a couple of other places I realized the first guy was playing pretty fairly. His initial asking prices were much lower than the stores I enetered later, but I settled on similar paintings for the same price the guy in the first shop had wanted. I paid what I was comfortable with, and probably almost as low as one could get them.
Robert was anxious to find a particular painting we'd seen at the resort with the pier in Zanzibar. We went in about ten shops and none of them seemed to carry that style. Then, just as we were about to give up and go for dinner, he spotted it. He asked the guy to find a few others like it and I took off to find the restaurant we wanted to eat. When I returned ten minutes later Robert was about to walk away from a deal. I was sure he wanted this art, as we'd searched so many places before finding it, but he'd finally caught on exactly how to negotiate what he wanted. So, we walked towards the restaurant when we heard a guy coming down the alley after us. Turns out these guys had used the old phone trick we'd seen from our tout in Bwejuu at Shells bungalows and agreed to Robert's offer when they realized $50 was walking away from them.
Anxious for our first real meal of the day I'd found a small place with only a handful of tables. There were only Africans in the place, something I thought I'd never find after our lunch in town the previous day showed Stone Town was crawling with Europeans who'd been chartered in. We had a fantastic dinner of vegetables cooked in Swahili spices over rice and a couple of Safari beers. This was our New Years celebration, just a few hours shy of midnight.
We walked through the main part of Stone Town, where celebrators were gathering for the night's festivities, on our way to the ferry terminal. They informed us the ferry would leave at 10pm instead of 9pm, so we stayed and chatted a bit with the old ferry manager. He was rail thin, presumably in his sixties, and looked to be of Indian origin. After further discussion he was born and raised in Zanzibar, but was Roman Catholic instead of Muslim. It was hard to tell exactly where he wanted the conversation to go and after we left Robert joked that he felt the guy wanted sex from us. He had asked some pretty funny questions in context and we added him to the mental list of unique individuals we've met along the way.
After a vein search for an internet cafe we grabbed some somosas for the trip and boarded the ferry. Our mandatory $20 fee entitled us to the VIP area of the bus. It was nothing more than a number of different couches, but we were happy to have a comfortable place to lie down. Many of the people in the non-VIP section had taken to lying on multiple chairs, the floor, windowsills of the ferry and jus about any other surface that was remotely flat.
Tanzania's answer to MTV was on every TV on the ferry and it was blasting videos of regional music. I lay on one of the shorter couches and all but passed out. Again, we'd packed a ton of stuff into one day. And each day piles onto the one before that. We glanced through our passports and recalled the last 11 days since we'd left Rwanda. We'd traveled to Kampala, rafted in Jinja, hung out in Nairobi, had Christmas in an African village, biked through one of Kenya's national parks, been stranded on a train, regrouped and taken a night bus to Tanzania, taken a ferry to an island, gone swimming and diving and now we were making our way back in order to climb Mount Kilimanjaro. This is how each of us likes to travel, and we're happy to cover ground and do exciting things instead of just making it someplace and relaxing.
I moved to a more comfortable spot for my tall frame and it seemed that once the ferry had begun moving a few of the more savvy locals knew the trick of sneaking up to first class. The lights were dim and so long as everyone wanted to sleep we were okay with it. I slept closest to the door to the stairwell leading down to the main cabin of the boat. There was a bright light in the stairwell and all of the TVs blaring music were still on down there. At one point I awoke to the sound of an excited group of people making noise. I quickly realized it was a countdown and woke up Robert to tell him it was about to be 2007. We both turned over and imnmediatly went back to sleep.
The ferry arrived back in Dar es Salaam about 6am. We were going to walk to the Scandinavian bus terminal but flagged down a cab halfway there. The first morning of the new year was hot and muggy. We arrived just in time to purchase tickets for a more expensive bus that was leaving immediately. We pooled our last resources and agreed we'd rather get a 2 hour head start on the trip to Moshi, even it meant $5 each. Little did we know it would hardly pay off.
We entered the bus and took our seats. It was hot and humid on there; the windows offered little reprieve from the damp air. Unfortunately, the bus wasn't moving. There were two buses headed to Nairobi and still there were passengers with tickets that weren't able to board. I am not entirely sure what arrangements they'd made, but it seemed as if they were in a large group and not everyone had a place on the same bus. Chaos ensued and the people were angry and dead set on holding up both buses. It was very frustrating. No one could make a decision and no one could seem to agree on anything.
Eventually something must have happened and we began moving. However, within ten minutes, when we pulled into the main bus terminal, another agrument errupted. Lo and behold another half an hour of no one being able to make a decision or rectify a problem meant we were waiting and waiting. We'd paid extra for the earlier bus and now we weren't leaving Dar until after 830 anyways. Nevertheless, we settled in and didn't let it bother us too much.
The ride to Moshi has been long, yet pleasant. I'm writing this now as I peer out to the sunny skies and beautiful green mountains. We stopped for lunch an hour ago at the same place we'd stopped in Stripey and Claw 9's bus just a few days ago. We new it would be a rushed affair, as they grant you slightly less than fifteen minutes to get what you want. I darted for the self-service counter as they'd named it and odered up a couple of plates of beans, rice and spinach with chapatis. I brought them over to Robert and flagged down a guy to get us a couple of cups of coffee. As we shoveled the first meal of the day down our throats I smiled and robert and said something to the extent about how great it feels when you actually know something on a trip like this. We'd done it once and were able to repeat ot. Leaving just enough time to hit the bathroom before being rounded onto the bus for the remainder of the trip.
Tonight we'll reconnect with Matthew and Victoria and a couple of their friends who are joining us on the mountian. It's really hard to believe that we're about to climb almost 20,000 feet to the top, if we acclimatize properly. It hasn't really sunk in yet, as almost all mental power has been focused on the here and now of the trip. I am excited and anxious to report on how the ascent of the Big K goes!
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