Climbing Mount Kilimanjaro

At Lemosho Gate, Day One of our 9-Day climb of Mt. Kilimanjaro

Not everything can be explained. 

I shouldn't have been able to climb Mount Kilimanjaro. Twice a week yoga and three times a week on a treadmill or elliptical machine for five weeks does not prepare one to climb the tallest mountain in Africa. 

Kilimanjaro is the world's tallest free-standing rock. It's one of the Seven Summits, a dormant volcano, a mountain with five distinct ecological zones ranging from bush land and rain forest to frigid Arctic zone. It's located 200 miles from the equator. But it has glaciers. 

Most climbers choose from 5 to 10-day ascents. We originally choose 8 days, but extended to 9 days on Day Three, when we decided that while we wanted to summit Kilimanjaro, we didn't want to kill ourselves doing it. 

The rule for climbing any mountain is Climb High and Sleep Low. This is to aid in acclimatization and to ward off altitude sickness in the forms of HAPE (High Altitude Pulmonary Edema), or HACE (High Altitude Cerebral Edema.) Either of these could be deadly. Anyway, in order to achieve "climb high, sleep low", we climbed a cliff of insanity (spoiler alert: this post will contain movie or TV references), then descend several levels of Dante's hell at least once per day. The descents were usually made up of rocks and boulders. Come to think of it, the ascents were boulder-strewn too. The boulders were wet and slippery, because it rained every day during our trek (except summit day, which was brilliantly sunny.) We literally descended waterfalls, mudslides, and hip-straining, knee-twisting steep trails after climbing to 12,000' or 14, 000' or 15,000' or whatever altitude we got to that day so that we could acclimatize properly. And God Almighty, did we hate to give up the vertical feet we gained. The good news was that neither me nor Scott had even the slightest headache (one of the signs of altitude sickness) over the nine days on the mountain. That was lucky, because if either of us became sick with altitude, we would have to descent immediately.

The guides tested our blood oxygen saturation levels each evening to make sure it would be safe to continue climbing. Mine was 98 the first day and stayed between 90-93 for the duration. I brought my own oximeter (because I am me) and the numbers always matched. Scott and I were always happily surprised at my readings. Some people have weak ankles. I have weak lungs. It was a mystery why I breathed easier on Mt Kilmanjaro than I do at home in the San Francisco Bay Area. Must have been because I wanted it so badly. From the tips of my blistered toes, to the top of my beanied head, I wanted to stand on the roof of Africa. Scott's oxygen saturation levels were always a bit lower than mine, but well within healthy range. Still, it was inconceivable that we could climb Kilimanjaro. We knew this at the end of Day Two, but I wouldn't let Scott talk about it.

Good guides are everything and ours were the best around. Brothers Demi and Cony Kessy with Diamond Glacier Adventures https://diamondglacieradventures.com/, along with 10 porters and one cook, led us, fed us, helped us, encouraged us, taught us, and cared for us the way they would family. Their tag line is "Guiding you Through the Wilderness of East Africa." I suggested to Demi it should be "Diamond Glacier Adventures, The Patient Guides of Mount Kilimanjaro." They called us Mama Teresa and Papa Scott because we were old enough to be their parents. I loved how they took care of us. They have led a few people older than us, and hundreds of people younger than us up the mountain. 

DAY ONE, LEMOSHO GATE TO MKUBWA CAMP. 

Day One was the shortest hiking day. It's a three-hour drive from Arusha to Kilimanjaro National Park and we had to pick up Demi and some porters along the way. Then, lunch at the park entrance while the porters divided up the gear we needed for the mountain; food, tents, a cook tent, fuel, tables, chairs... so much stuff. Each porter should carry no more than 15kg or 33lbs. Everything looks a lot heavier when carried on heads or shoulders. I marveled at how much the porters could carry, without hiking poles. They passed us with ease.

We hiked 3 hours through the rain forest. Appropriately named, because twenty-minutes into the hike we were a humid and soggy mess under all our rain gear even though we had topped off with ponchos. (Ponchos are a must-have on Mt. Kilimanjaro.) Demi went first, then me, then Scott, then Cony. This was our order on most days. Demi's pace was perfect. 

It was a stunning hike. Every day was a stunning hike. Stunningly beautiful and stunningly hard. Anyway, in the rain forest we saw Colobus monkeys. Colobus are like the Red Colobus monkey in The Lion King, the one who holds Simba over his head on the cliff while presenting him to all of four-legged Africa. But the Colobus Monkeys in the Kilimanjaro rain forest are black and white with magnificently long white tails. They watched us slowly slogging through the mud and rain from high up in the canopy. I imagined them saying, "Look at those two. What are the odds they'll make it?" 

Well monkeys, HA! We made it to the first camp, Mkubwa at 8695 feet.

We had our own private port-a-potty and a roomy tent with mattresses, pillows, and a table and chairs.

We were the last into camp. Peter brought us two shallow plastic bowls filled with water and clean wash cloths so we could bath. This happened each day and it was a luxury. Nine days without bathing is not for everyone. And Dry shampoo? It does not work one bit against Kilimanjaro sweat so don't bother bringing it. 

I asked Demi, "What is Peter's job?" 

"Waiter," he said. Peter not only brought us hot water for bathing, he served us every meal and filled our water bottles and camel backs (drinking 3 liters a day is Rule Two on Mt Kilimanjaro. Rule Three is Pole Pole (po-lei po-lei) which means slowly slowly. People half our age were being carried down the mountain -more on this later-, but it was probably because they went too fast, or thought they could dismiss the first two rules: acclimatize, and drink 3 liters of water a day, at least.

God Listen ("God Listen Biggie" because there were two men named God Listen) and Saleem carried our waterproof personal bags. These had our toiletries and all our warm clothes, including summit day clothes such as ski pants, waterproof down jackets, balaclava, beanies, long undies, gloves, etc. Nicholas was our cook. God Listen, Emmanuel, Johnson, Mishak, and Du Du were the porters. Assam was our port-a-potty porter. (Tip: Tip your port-a-potty porter well.) Onessmo was the camp manager. He arrived first to camp each day, selected a good site, and dug channels in the earth to divert the rain away from our tent. Demi and Cony were our guides. Everyone was a superhero to me. As a team, they referred to themselves as "Kili Fighters."

 

DAY TWO, MKUBWAS CAMP TO SHIRA 1 CAMP

Another beautiful forest hike. We left early, but were eventually passed by everyone. It was a very hard day filled with boulders, rain, sticky, clay-like mud. And steep. More than once I commented to Scott, "Sure wish we had done this is 2005." We had traveled to Moshi, Tanzania to climb Kilimanjaro as part of a year-long trip to Africa in 2005, but malaria stopped us in our tracks. We were in the hospital for two days, then continued recovery for a month at the Zebra Hotel in town. We could barely climb to the second floor of our hotel, much less scale the mountain we could see from our hotel room window. "Yeah, that would have been great," agreed Scott.

The most deflating thing that happened on Day Two was that when we got to our lunch stop at noon, there was no one there. After hiking nearly five hours, there was no lunch. Emmanuel had hiked back to find us and tell us that all the porters had rushed ahead to camp to try and beat the worst of the rain. I sat down on a rock, hungry and tired. Scott pulled out the two pads he carries with him on every backpacking trip. "Here Tris, sit on one of these." Then, Demi, Cony, Scott and I pooled our resources. Demi had Eat-Sum-Mor shortbread biscuits. Scott had Snickers Bars, and cashews. It was enough. We noshed and continued on our hike, also anxious to miss any downpour that could be coming. It was as hard after lunch as before. After two hours, along came Du Du and Peter from camp carrying a thermos of cucumber soup and a dish of fried chicken along with toasted cheese and tomato sandwiches. Incredible. It was delicious.

We still had more than an hour to camp. We arrived at a beautiful and expansive plateau, and finally, Shira Camp I.

I was so tired! I said to Demi, "All I want is to bathe, put on dry clothes, and rest." 

"Please, soup first," said Demi. When I arrived at our tent, I bathed, put on dry clothes and climbed into my sleeping bag. Not to sleep, but to decompress. I did not drink enough water that day, though I drained my water bottle (1 liter) and my camel back (2.5 liters). Just so tired. Scott climbed in next to me, just as wiped-out as I was. "Sure wish we had done this in 2005, when our knees were more spry," I said. 

"Yeah. And when our hips were more spry."

"And our backs...." For a few minutes we named all the body parts that were not feeling one bit spry.

 

At 6:30 Peter brought dinner. Butternut soup, meat curry and sweet mango for dessert. There is a word for sweet mango in Swahili, DoDo. Someone even wrote a song about it, which the guides sang to me. I loved it because my brother Joe's nickname was DoDo and because I miss him so much. 

Later, Demi came to our tent to take our blood oxygen saturation levels. We were still in the 90's.

DAY THREE, SHIRA 1 CAMP TO MOIR CAMP

 

Woke at 5:00am ready for anything. Except breakfast. Peter brought millet. It was purple and tasted like poi. Fortunately, he also brought papaya, and a fried egg sandwich. Delicious. But I still had to be careful what I ate. I started out on Day One with Giardia, which developed after a bad meal at the hotel before the climb began. A few times over the last two days, I had to make urgent stops along the trail. "Uh, Demi, I need to visit Mrs Murphy," I said using my euphemism for having to visit the loo. "Okay," said Demi, "In a little bit," he said indicating what he thought might be a better spot ahead on the trail. "Uh, I need to visit Mrs Murphy right now." And off the trail I would go to find a tree or boulder for privacy. Scott was so kind to follow me with an umbrella for extra privacy. So, not only was my body not spry, my guts were far from spry too. 

"I can't believe you can still hike when you are so sick," said Scott.  

"There's no explaining it. At home, I wouldn't even walk around the block with a runny tummy."  

Earlier, I had asked Demi if Kibo, the summit of Mt Kilimanjaro, was male or female. "Kibo is male," said Demi without hesitation. She sure felt female to me. Patient. Encouraging, Understanding. "Kibo has her spell over me," I added as a reason why I could continue hiking. Every day, when we arrived at camp Scott would say, "I can't believe it. We finish a hard day of climbing and we're exhausted. But then we get to camp and you're all chipper again."

"I have no explanation," I said. "I feel weirdly euphoric." Then added, "Maybe the altitude is getting to me." Though we still had no headache, or dizziness, or drunk-walking (some of the signs of altitude sickness.)

I drank my breakfast drink outside the next morning because we had our first clear view of Kilimanjaro. It looked so close!

The hike started out across the plateau so I picked up my speed. "Tris, you are walking too fast," Scott reminded me. I slowed to pole pole speed. My back ached, a lot. Without me saying anything, Demi noticed. He took my day pack which carried 3.5 liters of water. I was amazed how much relieving my load of 6 pounds helped. 

You may have heard (or read the book by Ernest Hemingway, or seen the movie The Snows of Kilimanjaro) that the skeleton of a leopard was found high up the slopes of Mt Kilimanjaro. Some ponder, what was it doing up there. Eating, is my guess because on the way to Moir Hut Camp, we passed Cape Buffalo poo and Wild Dog poo too. We also passed the exquisite beauty of Protea plants. It was a beautiful hike. But I had to stop so often. I was weak from the stomach bug and my back was spasm-ing with every step. My clan, the O'Kane Clan, is lucky in love, livelihood, and friendships. Not so much in the lumbar, spine, and disc department. When we are born, our birth certificate comes with a back brace. We use our brace when gardening, moving furniture, or when our backs hurt. I had brought along knee braces and regretted not bringing a brace for my back. Or at least muscle relaxers. My back felt better when I was climbing rock walls so I was happy, not happy, when we crossed the plateau and began the first of our two Cherry Valley granite climbs (if you know, you know). So hard. We stopped often. Scott passed out Snickers Bars. Demi said, "Lunch stop soon, at the top." 

 

After four hours of hiking and climbing, we arrived at the top of an escarpment to find our tent, port-a-potty tent, and kitchen tent all set up. Demi arranged this because of yesterday's lack of lunch. So thoughtful and much appreciated. It had been raining lightlyfor several hours but it began raining hard as soon as we arrived. 

We were dry in our tent. Peter brought us cucumber soup (so delicious!) and coconut veg curry. Around 35 minutes later, it stopped raining. We had a few more hours of hiking, so we set off. Pretty soon we had our second Cherry Valley climb of the day. Demi, Cony, and I sang a lot. Mostly the Jambo Bwana song. I found that if we sang, climbing was so much easier. It helped with breathing too. I felt so good when we sang. 

(Cherry Valley is a spectacular piece of the Stanislaus National Forest in California. It is a beloved destination by Scott and his fraternity brothers. It involves a steep descent over granite, but it leads to the most beautiful series of crystal clear pools of water and lakes. They have been going there for 50 years. I love it too. But now that we are all older, the trips have stopped happening as much. I haven't been in over ten years. At home, before Kilimanjaro, I couldn't imagine doing Cherry. Too steep, too hard for me. Little did I know....)

Finally, after 7 hours, Moir Camp was in view.  The porters greeted us with shouts and arms in the air.
I love these men so much. 

Our table and chairs were out and so was a glimpse of the sun. So we sat and drank hot cocoa and ate Nice Biscuits while taking in the view of our goal, the summit of Kilimanjaro.  

DAY FOUR, MOIR CAMP TO BARRANCO CAMP

A rainy day. We are getting used to it. 

We left our beautiful camp and began climbing. Several hikers in another group turned back this morning because of altitude sickness, or maybe because of the weather. The rain was almost constant.  

We hiked three Cherry Valleys today. The stand out for Day Three was that it was very, very hard. We climbed steeply up, then descended, also steeply, two or three times. We hated like hell to give up the altitude we gained. We knew we'd just have to do it all over again. Then, at the end of the day, we came over a ridge and could see Barranco Camp. Only the camp was located on an escarpment across a deep valley. We descended a Cliff of Insanity, then climbed another. And it wasn't just climbing. Using all four limbs, we had to clamber over large boulders, my least favorite way to hike.

From our tent, we could see the infamous Barranco Wall, the escarpment we must scale first thing in the morning. 

DAY FIVE, BARRANCO CAMP TO KARANGA CAMP

Scott is a pilot who does not like heights. I learned this early on in our relationship when we were still dating. It was my first visit to the Grand Canyon. Scott had seen it as a kid and was eager for me to see it too. We parked at a view point and I strode to the edge to take in the view. "What are you doing?" said Scott loudly and nervously. "Get back from there!" He didn't like heights then and he doesn't like them now. He especially did not like the 843 foot climb up the Barranco Wall. It was crazy steep and sheer. You need all your limbs. At one point you have no choice but to kiss the wall. I embraced Madam Kilimanjaro like she embodied all of Africa. Scott, not so much.

Demi went first, then Scott, then me, then Cony.

 

There is no explanation as to why I enjoyed the wall so much. Some things just can't be explained. 

We continued our climb across the plateau then up, up, up to Lava Tower, a spot where most all hikers eat lunch and spend as much time as is bearable, because it is an important acclimatization day. Lava Tower sits at 15,000 feet. Both Scott and I felt great-ish at Lava Tower. We ate sandwiches and drank parsley soup and chatted with other hikers and acclimatized without knowing it. After lunch was another story. Scott has a fear of heights as much as I have a fear of falling. I can hardly describe the descent we did. For me, it was terrifying. Essentially, we descended a steep, rocky waterfall, in the rain for two and a half hours. I only looked up when we stopped. Then Demi would point out some crazy tree or plant, which normally I would appreciate. But it took all my concentration not to slip and fall. We finally got to the bottom-- to begin our third Cherry Valley ascent of the day. We ascended to Barafu Camp and signed in as we did every day. Demi went ahead to find the camp, as Barafu is a big and crowded camp. When Scott and I arrived, all the Kili Fighters welcomed us with song. Then Saleem began dancing. Soon all the porters were singing and dancing. Instantly revived, I videoed them for a bit then handed the camera to Scott so I could join in the singing and dancing. In this video you can see that I am actually singing at 13,500 feet. Dancing like Elaine of Seinfeld fame too.

I made videos under the camp signs every day when we arrived, but, as on Day One, I was always crying and that's worse than watching my Elaine dance, so photos will have to do.

It was a good, hard day. 

We were resting in the tent before dinner when Demi called "Rainbow!" We went outside to see the good omen and enjoyed an epic sunset above the clouds to boot.

DAY SIX, KARANGA TO BARAFU BASE CAMP

We had a gentle climb for 4 hours to 14,000', then commenced boulder clambering for 2 hours, finishing with a Cherry Valley climb to Barafu Camp. Again, we were last to arrive. 

From camp we could clearly see Kibo, the summit of Kilimanjaro. We could see hikers descending Kibo. We also saw hikers being assisted down the mountain. 

Neither Scott or I had any signs of altitude sickness, though I couldn't help but notice that whenever I reached 15,000 feet, my heart began to race. Controlling my breathing and slowing my steps to step-breath-step, was the ticket. The Swahii word for heart is moyo. After it happened the first time, if I slowed my pace, Demi would ask, "Moyo?" I felt so taken care of.

 We arrived at camp in the sun. SUN! The first we had seen of the sun since we began our climb. We laid clothes out on rocks to dry, had home-made pizza and potato chips for lunch and fell into a deep sleep.

Tomorrow is summit day. We will be woken at 2:30am, drink tea and eat biscuits and, wearing our headlamps, we'll begin our summit attempt in the dark. Six kilometers up, six back to base camp. Easy at sea level. Not so much when going from 15,000 feet at Barafu base camp to the Kibo summit at 19,340' then back down.

Two porters, Saleem and DuDu will join Scott, me, Demi and Cony to assist when needed or, in worse case, to help us down the mountain. Demi always brings oxygen for emergencies. The good news was that except for my back, my body felt great and my spirits were soaring. I had the right gear, the right guides, and the right mate, so my odds were for victory. 

DAY 7, BARAFU BASE CAMP TO KIBO SUMMIT TO BARAFU BASE CAMP, SUMMIT DAY

After a cold, fitful sleep, Peter woke us at 2:30am. We had our summit clothing in our sleeping bags with us so dressing in all our layers was easy. I ate biscuits and drank tea. Scott had no appetite (most people don't at altitudes such as Kilimanjaro), but I find I must eat every two hours or I bonk. We made sure we had snacks of cashews and Snickers, in addition to plenty of water. 

We set off at 3:30am. We could see the headlamps of other hikers far up the mountain. For two hours, we climbed steeply. Boulders were involved. Dashing off the trail to visit Mrs Murphy featured too. It was not only cold, it was extremely windy. Thirty to Forty mph winds. So add a frozen rear end to the mix after my visit to Mrs Murphy. 

We arrived to a deserted High Camp. Camping there would have been a huge advantage for us, taking us that much closer to the summit, but it was not available due to high winds. Windy nights at 16,076' tears tents to pieces.  Just as we arrived, dawn broke. I was instantly invigorated. Africa was waking up and it was so beautiful.

Demi, Cony, DuDu and Saleem continued to sing us up the mountain. We were four hours in to our hike. For a time, we had steep switchbacks, then boulders. I was going extremely slowly. The wind was head-on, going right down our throats, so it was hard to take a breath. Step. Breath. Step. Again, I felt good, euphoric-- considering the wind barreling down my throat, the freezing cold, and the tummy rumbles. I felt so positive and happy. But my back was killing me. Worst spasms I've ever experienced. I kept having to stretch my back over boulders. At a cashew munch stop, Scott applied prescription ointment that I use for my back. Didn't help. I was in tears. The pain was excruciating.  Silently, I began to adjust my goal to Stella Point, 600' below the summit. I wanted to get to Stella Point in honor of Estelle, who had passed away suddenly almost a year ago. I called her Stella or Stelle. I'd known her since kindergarten and she was one of my best friends. 

We all looked at the ground. "Demi, it would be at least 4 hours to Stella point for me, right?" He paused then said, "Yes." I looked at Scott and said, "Babe." Scott looked pained. By this point I was sobbing. I could barely talk. I wanted so badly to stand on the roof of Africa but I felt that because of the pain I was in and constantly having to stop to stretch my back, I was beginning to jeopardize a successful summit for the team. "Babe, I can't...."

Scott looked so sad. Worried. "Just try a little more," he pleaded. So I did. I could see the glaciers. It looked so close. But soon I had to stop again. 

Demi was determined to get me to the summit. I saw him reach into his backpack and pull out what looked like those straps the guides on Everest used to pull that socialite up the mountain in 1996 as depicted in the book about the summit disaster, Into Thin Air. 

I suddenly found my voice. "Nope. Nope nope-ity nope nope nope," I said. "If I can't get to the summit under my own power, I'm not going." The frustrating thing was, I knew that but for the back pain, I could make it. It would probably take me 17 hours, but I had zero symptoms of altitude sickness. No nausea, no headache, no stumbling. My spirit was so damn hopeful. 

Saleem massaged my back. DuDu looked so sad. I was sobbing. 

Demi took my hand and said, "Mama, are you trying to say something?"  I tried to talk but I couldn't. I wanted to say that I was content. I wanted to say that getting to 17,500' was enough. That seeing the sunrise was enough for me. That I was having the time of my life and that it was okay. But I couldn't get a word out. I just pointed to the African sky. Demi spoke for me. "Mama, it's okay. You did a good job." I tried to say, "I know" but it came out as a blubber.

Cony said, "I will go back to Base Camp with you, Mama." Scott and I hugged hard.

 

I watched Scott move slowly off with Demi, DuDu, and Saleem.  

Scott looked sad, worried, and disappointed. Summiting Kilimanjaro together was something we wanted to do since 2005. "Be careful going down," he said. 

"The same for you, going up."

 

A week earlier, we had discussed the possibility that one or the other of us (or both) would not be able to summit. Scott had suffered altitude sickness at 18,000' on the Anapurna Circuit in Nepal in 1996 (whereas I felt great) and again on a high Sierra hike, and both of us were worried that my weak lungs would force me to turn back. Plus, it sure would have been great if we could have done it in 2005, when we were more spry! We agreed that if one of us had to turn back the other should go on as long as they could to the summit. After all, it was a bucket list item for both of us. I wanted Scott to reach Kibo, if he could. 

 

All morning on summit day we were passed by altitude-sick hikers being assisted down the mountain by their guides or porters. They stumbled down the mountain like drunks. I guess I was grateful to have back pain stop me rather than pulmonary or cerebral edema. Egads.

 

It took Cony and me around 3 hours to reach base camp. Pole pole. Steep. Boulders. Scree.... Haraka haraka haina baraka, Hurry hurry has no blessings.

 

When we arrived at camp, God Listen brought us tea and Nicholas brought us juice and sandwiches. I had been gone 7 hours. I took a strong pain killer, climbed into my sleeping bag and fell into a deep sleep, thoroughly spent. I thought Scott would be back soon.

At 4:30pm, I was awake and famished. Peter brought me curry stew. Soon, Cony came to the tent and said, "God Listen and Assam had gone up the mountain to find the team and to bring sandwiches and soup. They are at Stella Point but there's no sign of the team." (The guides and porters are truly amazing.) "I trust my brother," said Cony. "He will get Scott down safely.... But I am worried." 

"Me too," I said. 

 

Then it was 5:00pm. I was freezing. I could only imagine how uncomfortable it was for Scott on the mountain. Cony and I had seen the helicopter take off with another sick hiker. Cony said the chopper is there every day taking someone down to a hospital.

 

Around 6:30, Cony said, "Mama, come out." Coming into camp was a completely exhausted Scott followed by Demi, DuDu, Saleem, God Listen, and Assam. (DuDu had to continue descending all the way to the gate due to a concerning altitude headache.) Scott and I fell into one of those embraces you never forget. "Oh Babe," was all he said. Then, "This was the physically hardest thing I've ever done." He'd been gone 15 hours. 

"Me too, Scott. I'm proud of us."

"It was so hard. I couldn't believe you went as far as you did. A half hour after you left, I actually felt envious of you," he said. 

 

Scott was totaled. He seemed swollen all over. We went to the tent where he undressed, bathed, and changed into the dry clothes I had tucked into his sleeping bag so that they would be warm when he put them on. Peter brought more curry and soup, which I handed into the tent to Scott, who was already in his sleeping bag. But he had no appetite and barely ate. He laid back on the pillow and slept for 10 hours. 

DAY 8, BARAFU TO MWEKA CAMP

Woke to freezing temps and wind. We had six solid hours of descent, most of it over knee-killing rocky steps. And it rained hard all day, which turned the trail into a muddy, slippery waterfall. Water overflowed into our boots. Plus, I still had tummy troubles. Visiting Mrs Murphy in the pouring rain is not appreciated. I took another dose of Giardia medicine and hoped for the best. We came across a woman we had met on the first day of the climb. She was being helped down the mountain by four porters. "I've been really sick," she said. "It's the altitude." I wondered why she did not take a helicopter down. That would have been much safer. She looked so sick.

We passed stretchers on the path and a wheeled contraption that is used to transport sick hikers down the mountain. Demi showed us a video of a porter he helped rescue. "Four more hours and he would have been dead." Climbing Kilimanjaro is no walk in the park. It's serious business. Some number of hikers die on the mountain each year. The government does not keep records.

A father and son passed us.
"Congratulations," I said.
"To you too," said the dad. 

"My husband made it to the summit but I had to turn back. Not because of altitude."

He congratulated Scott then said to me, "Don't feel bad. I have a friend who is an avid hiker and mountain climber. But he could not summit Kilimanjaro. Had to be carried out on a stretcher. You never know who will make it or not." 

"Thanks for that. But I don't feel bad. I can't believe I did as much as I did. I love Africa and I feel pretty grateful to be here. It's the hardest thing we've ever done, but that makes it even more rewarding."

 

We arrived at Mweka Camp. I went with Cony to sign in. The woman with severe altitude sickness signed in just before us. Her signature was barely legible. If I'd been in her shape, I would have paid the $3000 for a chopper outta there. 

DAY 9, MWEKA TO MWEKA GATE

Another knee-killing steep, rainy descent for 7 hours. I'll spare you the details. But it's 10 days later as I type this and our knees are still not enjoying stairs. 

 

We arrived at the Mweka gate around 1:00pm. All the porters had on fresh clothes. I felt so grubby. Demi bought me a Tanzania soccer team jersey and made me an honorary Tanzanian. We piled into a comfortable mini bus and drove to a restaurant to have lunch and celebrate. Many songs were sung. Speeches were made. Kilimanjaro beer was consumed. I love these guys. 

Scott's face was burned to a crisp and my lips were badly sunburned too.

It wasn't 2005, when it would have been easier, but I am so glad we climbed Kilimanjaro. I honestly had the time of my life and I'm so grateful that Kibo put her spell on us. 

If it is on your bucket list to climb Kili, do it now. You won't regret it!

We have been happily recuperating the last ten days with our Land Rover Ndoto in Kruger Park in South Africa. In two days, we fly to Cape Town and board the Queen Mary2 for a 26-day cruise to Sydney, Australia. I'll be using the elevators on the ship.

 

Here's more photos from the climb, if you are wanting to see more.

Stretcher vehicle, used to roll sick folk off the mountain.

The National Park is running Internet cable all the way to the summit! Glad we did not have connectivity on our climb.

There are female porters too.

The soles of Scott's boots came loose and Saleem sewed them back on. Scott said, "Saleem, these boots will be yours when we finish."

Stretcher vehicle being carried back up the mountain.

Stretchers for sick climbers.

So proud of Scott!