The wake up call is early - 6 a.m. - as we want to arrive at the Mweka Gate by lunch and have plenty of time for a shower before we board the airplane at Mt. Kilimanjaro Airport.
Tips are distributed to the porters, and after handshakes and a goodbye song, we head down the trail at 8 a.m. I am happy this morning that we are at a further camp - Mweka Camp instead of Millennium Camp as previously planned - as our hike out is shorter, our lead guide estimates two-three hours to the finish. But based on my performance yesterday, he says it will take me five hours!
The weather continues to be clear. The trail is slippery mud and steep, deep steps, but could be slicker if it were raining. I imagine I am a machine, mechanically working my way down the mountain, my trekking poles an extension of my body. Although I am in the slowest group, even my husband comments on how quickly I am moving. I am determined to reach the gate before lunch, as none in our group can leave before we all sign out at the gate.
Our guide slips and falls on the mud as do two others in our group. By 10:45 a.m., my legs are rubbery again, but we have reached a deeply rutted fire road. Children appear out of the rain forest and ask for chocolate or money. Our guide says the gate is just around the bend.
It's a very long bend, but I finally turn the corner. I can see vans and Land Rovers ahead. Vendors swarm us selling cotton handkerchiefs the colors of the Tanzanian flag, small animals carved from wood, t-shirts and necklaces. One offers to wash our boots.
I find my name in the log book, and sign out. I'm proud the final descent only took me three hours. After a brief ceremony where we each receive official certificates of our accomplishment, we eat lunch, then climb into Land Rovers.
The warm water of the shower feels as good as I imagined. The dirt of a week swirls down the drain. My hair emerges from under the bandana and hat. I lock my Kilimanjaro clothes into a duffle to open later at home.
After a cold beer and dinner, it's off to the airport. It's dark on the tarmac. The surrounding fields smell like hay, and I brace myself to climb the stairs to the airplane, one step at a time - pole pole.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Day 6 of Climb (Part 2)
Half an hour at the summit, and it is time to go. My trekking poles adjusted to shoulder height, I head straight down. Most of the descent is like skiing in deep sand. The trail we climbed is to my right. It looks like a piece of bric brac, each zig about forty paces before a zag is taken. Some porters and hikers are coming up the trail. They plan to camp in the crater at about 18,000 feet.
The descent takes about three hours, and I'm welcomed back to Barafu Camp with a song and a tray of cups filled with juice. My tent already smells like the Chinese herbal rub I brought - a mix of orange, ginger and cinnamon - and I take some time massaging more into my sore quads. After a brief rest, it's lunch then time to pack up and head further downhill (six more miles) to Mweka Hut.
The trail is rough, stony and lots of steps; my legs are rubbery. My attitude is bad. I'm exhausted, and when I trip and fall, the tears flow freely. There's no time for a long break, however, and I can only trust that I trained enough - that my muscles are strong - and continue on hoping to arrive at camp before dark. I am so tired of hiking downhill, I'm actually glad when we arrive at a small uphill, especially when the guide tells me camp is just at the top. The sight of our orange tents under the trees cheers me more than a pile of Christmas presents. It won't be dark for another hour.
I eat dinner quickly, and crawl into my sleeping bag around 7 p.m. - not stirring until the next morning's 6 a.m. wake up call.
The descent takes about three hours, and I'm welcomed back to Barafu Camp with a song and a tray of cups filled with juice. My tent already smells like the Chinese herbal rub I brought - a mix of orange, ginger and cinnamon - and I take some time massaging more into my sore quads. After a brief rest, it's lunch then time to pack up and head further downhill (six more miles) to Mweka Hut.
The trail is rough, stony and lots of steps; my legs are rubbery. My attitude is bad. I'm exhausted, and when I trip and fall, the tears flow freely. There's no time for a long break, however, and I can only trust that I trained enough - that my muscles are strong - and continue on hoping to arrive at camp before dark. I am so tired of hiking downhill, I'm actually glad when we arrive at a small uphill, especially when the guide tells me camp is just at the top. The sight of our orange tents under the trees cheers me more than a pile of Christmas presents. It won't be dark for another hour.
I eat dinner quickly, and crawl into my sleeping bag around 7 p.m. - not stirring until the next morning's 6 a.m. wake up call.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Day 6 of Climb (Part 1)
The 11 p.m. call comes both sooner and later than I anticipate. I actually fell asleep, but worried I wouldn't get woken up as my husband decided not to make the summit attempt. No one stops at my tent to wake me, but the other tents are so close, I hear others stirring.
We are to meet at the dining tent, and I hurry to put on my clothes. I am the first there, the table is still being set, and I'm told to return in five minutes.
We have a light snack of hot porridge and tea. Our head guide tells us to "empty our minds" to walk "pole pole (po-lay)" slowly slowly and before we know it we will be at the summit.
At 12:30 a.m., we take our assigned places in line - I am fourth behind the lead guide - and head up the mountain. The night is still and pitch black, but if I tilt my head, I can see a line of lights bobbing up the trail - other hikers ahead of us.
We fall into a rhythm of briefly stopping every hour to drink water, snack or go to the bathroom. I'm reminded of a mule train or those horseback rides you take on vacation - each horse plodding nearly on the hooves of the one in front, head down, one slow footstep after another. My world has shrunk to the circle of light cast by my headlamp.
The only sound is our boots crunching on the frozen gravel. I'm feeling good considering the altitude, and I concentrate on taking deep breaths through my nose every so often, filling my lungs and blowing out through my lips.
The temperature drops as we climb, the two smallest fingers on my right hand are beyond numb - probably because I have to take off my outer glove every time we stop in order to eat my snack. I tell myself I can make it one more hour to another brief stop. At 5:30 a.m., I tell myself I can make it another hour to sunrise. It's 14 degrees F when a fellow hiker's temperature gauge quits registering. Stops become painfully cold, and we just want to keep pressing on.
I gave my pack to a porter long ago. It's amazing how much easier it is without that additional seven pounds or so.
My nose drips constantly, and I just let it. It's too hard to find a tissue in my pocket. Continuing on is purely an effort of will.
Suddenly, our guides start singing in Swahili. The switchbacks are tight, many are near us and other guides and porters from other groups join in the harmony. I recognize the tune: they are singing "On Christ the Solid Rock I Stand." I lift my head. I can see the lights ahead steadily moving up the dark mountainside, the beautiful song gaining momentum as well with the addition of more and more voices, and it's a moment I can hardly describe.
The sky lightens, and a thin red line separates the eastern horizon. Mt. Mawenzi is a jagged silhouette, and Kenya is just beyond. I can see someone in a bright red coat at the crater rim. We continue our slow ascent, and finally we are there - Stella Point and the Crater Rim! (7:15 a.m.) The guide book said we would revel at this point, and I am definitely reveling! It feels warm in the shelter of a chunk of lava, and we sit.
But we are not yet at the summit. Our guide tells us the rest of the trail is "gentle steep." It's a tough pull at that altitude, some packed snow. I can see hikers taking pictures at the summit sign, and it appears tantalizingly close.
Hikers descending congratulate us. Others stumble past, being led by their guides.
The summit sign is in front of me, and I can't help myself. I begin to cry. I can only describe my feelings as similar to those after I gave birth - all those many hours of labor and now the baby is here and the hard work is forgotten. It's a mixture of joy, elation, relief and thinking "I can't believe I just did that."
I'm here, at the roof of Africa - Uhuru Peak - 19,340 ft./5800 m. It's about 8:30 a.m.
After pictures at the sign, our guides and porters sing "How Great Thou Art" in Swahili. I can't think of a more fitting conclusion to the morning's accomplishment.
Another hiker and I join in on the chorus. I can't remember the other words, but hey...I'm at 19,000 plus feet. =)
We are to meet at the dining tent, and I hurry to put on my clothes. I am the first there, the table is still being set, and I'm told to return in five minutes.
We have a light snack of hot porridge and tea. Our head guide tells us to "empty our minds" to walk "pole pole (po-lay)" slowly slowly and before we know it we will be at the summit.
At 12:30 a.m., we take our assigned places in line - I am fourth behind the lead guide - and head up the mountain. The night is still and pitch black, but if I tilt my head, I can see a line of lights bobbing up the trail - other hikers ahead of us.
We fall into a rhythm of briefly stopping every hour to drink water, snack or go to the bathroom. I'm reminded of a mule train or those horseback rides you take on vacation - each horse plodding nearly on the hooves of the one in front, head down, one slow footstep after another. My world has shrunk to the circle of light cast by my headlamp.
The only sound is our boots crunching on the frozen gravel. I'm feeling good considering the altitude, and I concentrate on taking deep breaths through my nose every so often, filling my lungs and blowing out through my lips.
The temperature drops as we climb, the two smallest fingers on my right hand are beyond numb - probably because I have to take off my outer glove every time we stop in order to eat my snack. I tell myself I can make it one more hour to another brief stop. At 5:30 a.m., I tell myself I can make it another hour to sunrise. It's 14 degrees F when a fellow hiker's temperature gauge quits registering. Stops become painfully cold, and we just want to keep pressing on.
I gave my pack to a porter long ago. It's amazing how much easier it is without that additional seven pounds or so.
My nose drips constantly, and I just let it. It's too hard to find a tissue in my pocket. Continuing on is purely an effort of will.
Suddenly, our guides start singing in Swahili. The switchbacks are tight, many are near us and other guides and porters from other groups join in the harmony. I recognize the tune: they are singing "On Christ the Solid Rock I Stand." I lift my head. I can see the lights ahead steadily moving up the dark mountainside, the beautiful song gaining momentum as well with the addition of more and more voices, and it's a moment I can hardly describe.
The sky lightens, and a thin red line separates the eastern horizon. Mt. Mawenzi is a jagged silhouette, and Kenya is just beyond. I can see someone in a bright red coat at the crater rim. We continue our slow ascent, and finally we are there - Stella Point and the Crater Rim! (7:15 a.m.) The guide book said we would revel at this point, and I am definitely reveling! It feels warm in the shelter of a chunk of lava, and we sit.
But we are not yet at the summit. Our guide tells us the rest of the trail is "gentle steep." It's a tough pull at that altitude, some packed snow. I can see hikers taking pictures at the summit sign, and it appears tantalizingly close.
Hikers descending congratulate us. Others stumble past, being led by their guides.
The summit sign is in front of me, and I can't help myself. I begin to cry. I can only describe my feelings as similar to those after I gave birth - all those many hours of labor and now the baby is here and the hard work is forgotten. It's a mixture of joy, elation, relief and thinking "I can't believe I just did that."
I'm here, at the roof of Africa - Uhuru Peak - 19,340 ft./5800 m. It's about 8:30 a.m.
After pictures at the sign, our guides and porters sing "How Great Thou Art" in Swahili. I can't think of a more fitting conclusion to the morning's accomplishment.
Another hiker and I join in on the chorus. I can't remember the other words, but hey...I'm at 19,000 plus feet. =)
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Day 5 of Climb
Early morning wake up today - 6:15 a.m. - so we can get to Barafu Camp (15,200 ft) in time for a hot lunch. I feel a little bit nauseated this morning, but still eat the breakfast of porridge, eggs, toast and watermelons.
The weather is clear, but cool, and this morning I am wearing a synthetic tank, light long underwear (top and pants), hiking pants, wool cap, a fleece, a wind/waterproof jacket and knit gloves. The trail is easy, but rises sharply from the valley. I shed coats and change hats. I feel better on this ascent to 15,000 plus feet than I did when we hiked to Lava Tower.
The porters welcome us with a song when we arrive at Barafu Camp after the three hour trek. They have set up camp in a spot sheltered by lava rocks. White-naped ravens sit on the rocks - they have huge beaks.
The afternoon is chilly, but it's warm inside the tent. I'm still feeling a little sick at lunch - I think I drank too much water, four liters by 1 p.m. The food looks unappetizing, but I eat anyway - two crepe/pancakes, two bowls of soup, three pineapple slices, chicken and two cups of hot water.
We will hike to the summit from here, and although our tents are set up, we will not spend the night. We are resting this afternoon, will have an early dinner tonight and get in our sleeping bags at 7 p.m. But we will only sleep until 11 p.m., when we will put on all of our warm clothes and set off for the summit.
I have set aside my clothes for the summit attempt- two sets of long underwear, hiking pants, waterproof/wind pants, fleece jacket, down jacket, wind/waterproof jacket, a knit hat that also covers my neck and chin, a wool hat, a wool scarf, hand warmers, toe warmers, two pairs of gloves and a headlamp.
I feel hungry at dinner. I haven't had any additional water since lunch.
The weather is clear, but cool, and this morning I am wearing a synthetic tank, light long underwear (top and pants), hiking pants, wool cap, a fleece, a wind/waterproof jacket and knit gloves. The trail is easy, but rises sharply from the valley. I shed coats and change hats. I feel better on this ascent to 15,000 plus feet than I did when we hiked to Lava Tower.
The porters welcome us with a song when we arrive at Barafu Camp after the three hour trek. They have set up camp in a spot sheltered by lava rocks. White-naped ravens sit on the rocks - they have huge beaks.
The afternoon is chilly, but it's warm inside the tent. I'm still feeling a little sick at lunch - I think I drank too much water, four liters by 1 p.m. The food looks unappetizing, but I eat anyway - two crepe/pancakes, two bowls of soup, three pineapple slices, chicken and two cups of hot water.
We will hike to the summit from here, and although our tents are set up, we will not spend the night. We are resting this afternoon, will have an early dinner tonight and get in our sleeping bags at 7 p.m. But we will only sleep until 11 p.m., when we will put on all of our warm clothes and set off for the summit.
I have set aside my clothes for the summit attempt- two sets of long underwear, hiking pants, waterproof/wind pants, fleece jacket, down jacket, wind/waterproof jacket, a knit hat that also covers my neck and chin, a wool hat, a wool scarf, hand warmers, toe warmers, two pairs of gloves and a headlamp.
I feel hungry at dinner. I haven't had any additional water since lunch.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Day 4 of Climb
Every morning, the porters send us off with what they call a "warm up" song. We don our day packs, and they break down the camp, catching up with us and passing with all of our stuff piled on them. Tents, chairs, food, duffles, etc.
Today is no exception, we are just starting up the Barranca Wall, and our porters and others are streaming past. It's amazing to watch. Climbing the wall is like bouldering - or at least what I imagine bouldering is as I've never done it. There are hand and footholds, not difficult but it's definitely a scramble.
At one point, our guide tells me I am at the kissing wall, named because hikers must press tightly against it in a giant hug so close lips could easily brush the rock. At an especially sharp slant of rock, I hesitate and am told to "trust your boots."
A brief rest at the top of the wall, then a steady descent. I am getting better at them with all of this practice. The greatest challenge is our last downhill of the day. If there were water, I believe we would have been picking our way down a water fall it's that steep, some parts slippery with algae.
Everlastings, small daisy like flowers dot the slopes in white clumps. We have also seen Lobelia (giant herbs) and Senecios which look like stunted palm trees. Each branch takes 25 years to grow. Our guide estimates one Senecio is 150 years old.
Camp used to be in the valley, but the toilets fouled the stream so it has been moved uphill, and we continue pole pole to Karranga Valley camp (13,100 feet). The camp is on a slope, the toilet open on one side for a sweeping view of the valley below. The weather continues to be spectacular - clear skies.
Hot lunch is soup, french fries and pineapple. Dinner - beef stew, rice and soup.
My quads are sore.
I am imagining my next vacation at a spa hotel with daily massages, hot water that sprays from multiple nozzles in the shower and a huge poufy bed I can lie in and be warm all day.
Today is no exception, we are just starting up the Barranca Wall, and our porters and others are streaming past. It's amazing to watch. Climbing the wall is like bouldering - or at least what I imagine bouldering is as I've never done it. There are hand and footholds, not difficult but it's definitely a scramble.
At one point, our guide tells me I am at the kissing wall, named because hikers must press tightly against it in a giant hug so close lips could easily brush the rock. At an especially sharp slant of rock, I hesitate and am told to "trust your boots."
A brief rest at the top of the wall, then a steady descent. I am getting better at them with all of this practice. The greatest challenge is our last downhill of the day. If there were water, I believe we would have been picking our way down a water fall it's that steep, some parts slippery with algae.
Everlastings, small daisy like flowers dot the slopes in white clumps. We have also seen Lobelia (giant herbs) and Senecios which look like stunted palm trees. Each branch takes 25 years to grow. Our guide estimates one Senecio is 150 years old.
Camp used to be in the valley, but the toilets fouled the stream so it has been moved uphill, and we continue pole pole to Karranga Valley camp (13,100 feet). The camp is on a slope, the toilet open on one side for a sweeping view of the valley below. The weather continues to be spectacular - clear skies.
Hot lunch is soup, french fries and pineapple. Dinner - beef stew, rice and soup.
My quads are sore.
I am imagining my next vacation at a spa hotel with daily massages, hot water that sprays from multiple nozzles in the shower and a huge poufy bed I can lie in and be warm all day.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Day 3 of Climb
Feeling better this morning after drinking at least four liters of water and re-hydrating! Saw the Southern Cross last night - so bright. Glad our tents are reflective orange and stand out from the others, or I would have been lost when I returned from the "western" toilet.
Today's plan: climb to 15,020 feet and have lunch at the Lava Tower before descending to Barranco Camp (13,100 feet). The up and down is to help us acclimatize. I'm wearing a light pair of long underwear beneath my hiking pants, two long sleeved shirts, a windbreaker and light knit gloves. It's a long, slow climb to the tower up a gravel trail. The clouds are cotton poufs to my right. Mt. Meru's pointed cone peaks above the cloud layer.
My nose constantly runs from the wind, my tissue is a wet, twisted mess, and my daughter finally shows me how to blow my nose onto the trail. Gross, but by this time I've just about lost all sense of modesty. I alternately feel good, then bad due to the altitude. Previously, I've only been to the top of Mt. Whitney which is about 14,690 feet.
Lunch at Lava Tower is soup, chicken, potato salad and mangoes. My new favorite beverage is a cup of hot water.
After lunch - the descent starts with steep, rock strewn switchbacks, straightens out for awhile then back to rocky steps. My husband and I are the last to arrive at camp at 5:30 - we left this morning at 8:30 a.m. - and I'm exhausted from the nine mile walk. My porter runs up the trail to greet me and take my pack. Tears prick my eyes. I know he's working for a big tip, and at this point, I'm ready to give him one.
Dinner - spaghetti, soup, pineapple and another cup of hot water. Bed - 8:30 p.m. It's going to be a cold night, frost sparkles on the tent.
Today's plan: climb to 15,020 feet and have lunch at the Lava Tower before descending to Barranco Camp (13,100 feet). The up and down is to help us acclimatize. I'm wearing a light pair of long underwear beneath my hiking pants, two long sleeved shirts, a windbreaker and light knit gloves. It's a long, slow climb to the tower up a gravel trail. The clouds are cotton poufs to my right. Mt. Meru's pointed cone peaks above the cloud layer.
My nose constantly runs from the wind, my tissue is a wet, twisted mess, and my daughter finally shows me how to blow my nose onto the trail. Gross, but by this time I've just about lost all sense of modesty. I alternately feel good, then bad due to the altitude. Previously, I've only been to the top of Mt. Whitney which is about 14,690 feet.
Lunch at Lava Tower is soup, chicken, potato salad and mangoes. My new favorite beverage is a cup of hot water.
After lunch - the descent starts with steep, rock strewn switchbacks, straightens out for awhile then back to rocky steps. My husband and I are the last to arrive at camp at 5:30 - we left this morning at 8:30 a.m. - and I'm exhausted from the nine mile walk. My porter runs up the trail to greet me and take my pack. Tears prick my eyes. I know he's working for a big tip, and at this point, I'm ready to give him one.
Dinner - spaghetti, soup, pineapple and another cup of hot water. Bed - 8:30 p.m. It's going to be a cold night, frost sparkles on the tent.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Day 2 of Climb
The day starts with a wake up call at 7:15 a.m., and a cup of sweetened steaming coffee in the tent. Breakfast is hot porridge, fried eggs, mangoes and white bread. The weather is cooler, and I'm wearing two long sleeved shirts. At 8:30 a.m., we start a very steep climb of 3.8 miles up to 12,740 feet before dropping into Shira Camp at 12,500 feet. (a altitude gain of 2,750 feet)
Porters constantly pass on the ascent, other hikers are from Canada, the U.S., the U.K. and India. In our group are three women in their sixties, two men and three women in their forties and fifties, and two women and one man aged 18-22.
I am fighting a cold, so took a decongestant last night, which I am now discovering was a big mistake as I am dehydrated. Also didn't want to use the toilets during the night, so didn't drink enough water.
Fingers of mist linger along the trail. Portions of the boulder lined path require rock scrambling, and I make sure not to look to my left where the mountain sheers off at an alarming angle.
I reach Shira camp about 1:30 p.m, and collapse in my tent. I downed 3.5 liters of water on the hike. After drinking more water and eating some glucose biscuits, I muster up the energy for tea and lunch.
Lunch is soup, garlic macaroni and cheese, vegetable salad and sambosas (pastry triangles filled with vegetables). Dinner is soup, chicken, rice, white bread, salad and crepe-like pancakes (yum).
I'm feeling significantly better. The buzz of the camp is the western style toilet - an outhouse with a seat.
Our guide estimates four hundred people are in camp tonight.
Porters constantly pass on the ascent, other hikers are from Canada, the U.S., the U.K. and India. In our group are three women in their sixties, two men and three women in their forties and fifties, and two women and one man aged 18-22.
I am fighting a cold, so took a decongestant last night, which I am now discovering was a big mistake as I am dehydrated. Also didn't want to use the toilets during the night, so didn't drink enough water.
Fingers of mist linger along the trail. Portions of the boulder lined path require rock scrambling, and I make sure not to look to my left where the mountain sheers off at an alarming angle.
I reach Shira camp about 1:30 p.m, and collapse in my tent. I downed 3.5 liters of water on the hike. After drinking more water and eating some glucose biscuits, I muster up the energy for tea and lunch.
Lunch is soup, garlic macaroni and cheese, vegetable salad and sambosas (pastry triangles filled with vegetables). Dinner is soup, chicken, rice, white bread, salad and crepe-like pancakes (yum).
I'm feeling significantly better. The buzz of the camp is the western style toilet - an outhouse with a seat.
Our guide estimates four hundred people are in camp tonight.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Day 1 of Climb
The flight to Mt. Kilimanjaro airport in Tanzania from Amsterdam is full. It's obvious who is planning to climb the mountain, as they already have waterproof gators dangling around their ankles and trekking poles lashed to their day packs.
It's about a nine hour flight, and it's dark when we arrive and descend a flight of stairs to the tarmac. The land surrounding the airport smells like hay. After a week of safari and village visits, it's finally the first day of our own journey up the mountain.
We arrive at the Machame Gate, elevation 5,525 feet, at 10:30 a.m. The parking lot is packed with jeeps, small buses and vans and men hoping to be hired as porters. We must wait our turn to sign in with the ranger. The weather is overcast, just the right temperature. We eat some snacks, use the flush toilet (a rarity in Africa) and finally sign the log book. The Machame trail, also known as the Whiskey Route, and other trails are dedicated solely to the ascent of Mt. Kilimanjaro. We will take another route on our descent.
We start hiking at 12:30 p.m. - I have butterflies in my stomach like I always do on the first day of a SCUBA dive trip...just before I take a giant stride off the boat into the unknown depths of the ocean. I'm carrying two liters of water in my backpack, snacks, toilet paper and hand sanitizer. I drank one liter of water while we waited to start.
We have brought our rain gear, but the weather holds and I only need a short sleeve shirt as we head through the rain forest. Once we get off the fire road and onto the trail, the forest is thick with trees, bushes and vines and moss draped like giant swooping curtains. Steps have been built and shored up with sticks.
The trail is slick with mud, and I'm glad for my trekking poles. It's a steady six-mile climb to our first camp at Machame Hut, and we move pole pole (po-lay po-lay) - Swahili words for slowly slowly. The box lunch is huge and more food than I normally eat, but I save some bars for later - I know I will need it.
The porters have gone ahead, and when we arrive they greet us with a welcome song and warm water for washing. Our first camp is at 9,890 feet. We can see the mountain.
"Tea" is served in a green dining tent - popcorn, ginger cookies and hot drinks. The table is covered with a red and black plaid cloth and we have chairs and candles.
I'm feeling well (taking Diamox for the altitude) except for a runny nose. Dinner is vegetables in a curry sauce, white bread, tilapia and mangoes. My sleeping bag is too warm, a fact which makes me happy as I know the temperatures will drop as the altitude increases.
It's about a nine hour flight, and it's dark when we arrive and descend a flight of stairs to the tarmac. The land surrounding the airport smells like hay. After a week of safari and village visits, it's finally the first day of our own journey up the mountain.
We arrive at the Machame Gate, elevation 5,525 feet, at 10:30 a.m. The parking lot is packed with jeeps, small buses and vans and men hoping to be hired as porters. We must wait our turn to sign in with the ranger. The weather is overcast, just the right temperature. We eat some snacks, use the flush toilet (a rarity in Africa) and finally sign the log book. The Machame trail, also known as the Whiskey Route, and other trails are dedicated solely to the ascent of Mt. Kilimanjaro. We will take another route on our descent.
We start hiking at 12:30 p.m. - I have butterflies in my stomach like I always do on the first day of a SCUBA dive trip...just before I take a giant stride off the boat into the unknown depths of the ocean. I'm carrying two liters of water in my backpack, snacks, toilet paper and hand sanitizer. I drank one liter of water while we waited to start.
We have brought our rain gear, but the weather holds and I only need a short sleeve shirt as we head through the rain forest. Once we get off the fire road and onto the trail, the forest is thick with trees, bushes and vines and moss draped like giant swooping curtains. Steps have been built and shored up with sticks.
The trail is slick with mud, and I'm glad for my trekking poles. It's a steady six-mile climb to our first camp at Machame Hut, and we move pole pole (po-lay po-lay) - Swahili words for slowly slowly. The box lunch is huge and more food than I normally eat, but I save some bars for later - I know I will need it.
The porters have gone ahead, and when we arrive they greet us with a welcome song and warm water for washing. Our first camp is at 9,890 feet. We can see the mountain.
"Tea" is served in a green dining tent - popcorn, ginger cookies and hot drinks. The table is covered with a red and black plaid cloth and we have chairs and candles.
I'm feeling well (taking Diamox for the altitude) except for a runny nose. Dinner is vegetables in a curry sauce, white bread, tilapia and mangoes. My sleeping bag is too warm, a fact which makes me happy as I know the temperatures will drop as the altitude increases.
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A final view of Mt. Kilimanjaro
It's Official
At the Roof of Africa
Crater
Glaciers
Barafu Camp
Looking back at Karanga Valley Camp
Morning Send Off
Barranca Wall
Top of Barranca Wall
The Dining Tent
Trail to Lava Tower
Shira Camp
Machame Trail
Machame Gate
Half Dome cables
Towering Tree
this is a former house plant that I tired of, I didn't want to throw it out, so I dug a hole for it in the dog yard. It's thriving despite me.
