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.
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