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.