Kilimanjaro - Part 2

August 2012, Mount Kilimanjaro - The mighty Barranco Wall loomed 900 vertical feet above us as we took our first tentative steps out of camp. Our destination for the day was Karanga, a camp that could only be accessed by climbing the wall and following a meandering traverse to the Southeast.

High above we could make out dozens of colorful trekkers and porters making their way up, carrying their precarious loads on a precarious cliff like a colony of leafcutter ants. As we got closer to the wall a clear path emerged and we began our ascent upward. Bit by bit we moved higher, climbing hand over foot in some places. The terrain was really fun to climb and surprisingly manageable given how intimidating the wall had looked from down below. There were a few semi-exposed moves but an abundance of large handholds and footholds meant there was no need for ropes or other forms of protection.

It took our group the better part of an hour to climb the wall, and all the while a number of porters balancing bags of rice or plastic tables or whatever passed by at great speed and quickly ascended out of view above us. The Barranco Wall was probably my favorite part of the trek until this point and was somewhat disappointed when we topped out and resumed “normal” hiking. That said, the view from the top of the wall was tremendous as we were afforded an unobstructed panoramic view of the icy upper slopes of the mountain.

"This was an incredibly meditative moment for each of us as we prepared for the mental and physical challenge that lay above on the highest slopes of Africa"

After a quick snack break we continued toward Karanga Camp. The terrain was distinctly more arid and volcanic looking as compared to what we’d traveled through up to this point. All of the trees and most of the vegetation disappeared as we made our way across a series of ridges and valleys. Situated on an open slope at 13,000 feet, the views from Karanga Camp were incredible. The afternoon sun blanketed Kilimanjaro in warm light and we could see Mount Meru, Africa’s fourth highest peak, off in the distance. Even the toilet had a view to rival that of any Four Seasons on the planet, though the standards for cleanliness were not quite the same.

The next day we’d ascend to the Barafu High Camp at 15,000 feet and conclude our approach. We were fully acclimatized after five days on the mountain and I was really excited to get ourselves in position to attempt the summit. Temperatures had been pretty warm on the trip and so I kept wearing the same pair of shorts that I had been climbing in, making the foolish mistake of putting my climbing pants and other warm layers in my duffle bag that would go up with the porters.

"Only the inky black shadow of the mountain itself, a hulking darkness, could block out the starlight"

Our climb to Barafu took a few hours and the weather was holding up nicely. But as we approached the camp the wind kicked up and it started to snow. I was freezing in my thin running shorts and cursed myself for being so stupid. Even though we were near the equator, 15,000 feet is still cold and I knew better than to leave myself in such an exposed and compromising position. I could tell our guide Max wasn’t too impressed with my decision making either which made it all the worse.

Shivering, I stumbled into camp and collapsed into the closest tent I could find and quickly buried myself in my sleeping bag. After an hour I warmed up but the storm was still raging outside as the team collected in the dining tent to eat and get a quick summit briefing from Max. Based on the weather I was skeptical that we’d be able to go up but he was confident that the weather would subside and we’d have a shot at the summit.

Back in my sleeping bag, I put in earplugs to drown out my father’s snoring and the flapping of our nylon tent in the wind. I was filled with anticipation but the silence provided by the earplugs helped calm my nerves and I quickly drifted off to sleep.

At 11 PM I woke to my alarm and fully expected the storm to still be blowing outside. To my surprise, when I took out my earplugs, I heard nothing but glorious silence. No wind, no snow. I poked my head out of the tent and could see 10 million stars glinting overhead, the conditions were perfect and a wave of both relief and excitement washed over me.

"It was unlike any terrain I’d ever seen. A martian landscape of volcanic rock and dust capped by a jumbled patchwork of glaciers 40 to 50 feet high in some places"

After a few clunky minutes of getting dressed inside my sleeping bag to stay warm, my dad and I made our way over to the kitchen tent for a cup of coffee and a hot breakfast. A few members of the team were already there but nobody was talking. I thin layer of ice encrusted the inside of the tent and I watched as steam from the coffee wafted up and evaporated in the thin air. This was an incredibly meditative moment for each of us as we prepared for the mental and physical challenge that lay above on the highest slopes of Africa.

By midnight we were dressed, fed, packed our small summit bags, and were headed out of camp. Tanzania is a largely rural country and there was no light pollution to drown out the stars that shone through the pitch-black and moonless night. Only the inky black shadow of the mountain itself, a hulking darkness, could block out the starlight.

Summit day on Kilimanjaro requires a demanding 3,500-foot climb from Barafu Camp to a location called Stella Point at 18,850 feet above sea level on the crater rim. The route to the crater rim follows a series of short switchbacks on a distinct ridgeline that gradually angles to climber’s left. From Stella Point it’s another 500 vertical feet to Uhuru Peak and the true summit of Kilimanjaro.

"The famous summit sign was visible in the distance and we could make out more than a dozen climbers celebrating on that hallowed ground I so desperately wanted to touch for myself"

After more than two hours of climbing, about halfway to Stella Point, one of the other clients on our team was starting to fall behind. Max had been watching his movements and noticed that he was stumbling slightly and non-responsive at times. I couldn’t really tell what was going on in the darkness but it was clear that he was being turned around and would not be continuing toward the summit. One of our three African guides took him back down to Barafu and then to Mweka Camp at 10,200 feet where we would spend our final night on the mountain. I was grateful that the darkness hid my expression of concern, sympathy, and relief that it wasn’t me being sent back down.

The sun finally rose as we approached Stella Point and the light breathed new life into me. With each step upward I was setting a new personal altitude record and was definitely feeling the thin air. Despite the difficulty, we were making steady progress towards the crater rim. Ascending higher I could feel the angle of the slope begin to back off and little by little the immense plateau of Kilimanjaro’s crater came into view. It was unlike any terrain I’d ever seen. A martian landscape of volcanic rock and dust capped by a jumbled patchwork of glaciers 40 to 50 feet high in some places. These snows of Kilimanjaro, which dumbfounded early western explorers and that were immortalized by Earnest Hemmingway, are as fascinating as they are a sad reminder of our warming climate. Since measurements were first taken in 1912, it is estimated that more than 85% of the ice cap has receded away and that it might disappear entirely in the next few decades.

After a well-deserved break at Stella Point we slowly started up the final stretch towards Uhuru Peak. The famous summit sign was visible in the distance and we could make out more than a dozen climbers celebrating on that hallowed ground I so desperately wanted to touch for myself. “Pole pole,” we said to each other as we inched our way higher, taking short breaks to snap pictures of the glaciers off to our left and admiring the vast plains of Tanzania and Kenya more than three vertical miles below.

And with a few final steps, we’d made it. I gave my dad a big hug as together we actualized an audacious and ambitious dream that had been years in the making. It felt absolutely incredible to stand atop Kilimanjaro, knowing that we, a blessed few were strong enough and privileged enough to experience such an incredible and powerful place. We took dozens of obligatory pictures in front of the summit sign and basked in our success and the warmth of the morning sun. I was on top of Kilimanjaro!

I didn’t know it at the time, but this summit would be my first of many continental high points and the feeling I had at that moment would instill in me a zeal for high and exotic mountains around the world. I am indebted to Kilimanjaro for both the challenge and gentleness she afforded me. The mountain helped me to forge an identity. It made me want to be a better climber, to travel farther and ascend higher, to be bold and do hard things. Kilimanjaro made me want to be a better son and a better friend.