round the world in sixty days

When we envisioned climbing Kilimanjaro, we pictured manageable hikes gaining modest elevation on non-technical slopes surrounded by beautiful views, like from the Shira Plateau, Barranco, and Barafu (don’t forget to read these parts). That all was reasonably accurate until the moment we were awoken at midnight to start our summit attempt, in the dark, up scree, in the freezing cold and gusting wind, for the next 5 to 7 hours.

A midnight breakfast, and our last photo for the next 6 hours.
The tone of the guides palpably changed. Everyone seemed much more serious, and we could sense their nervousness. Mathayo mentioned in passing that however much it hurt or you froze, just keep going. The advice gave us pause, but we ultimately dimissed it as hyperbole… at the time.

To conteract the cold, we were advised to wear as many layers as possible, so we each wore 3 layers on the bottom and 4-6 layers on top. I had on every pair of pants in my possession.

Hour 1 – Adrenaline High
As we set off, a 3/4 moon lit our way over crystal clear skies. The first hour or so of the climb was so naturally bright that we turned off our headlamps, enjoying the surreal peacefulness and watching the line of headlamps snake up before us (we were one of the last groups to leave base camp). Morale was high.

Hour 2 – The Body Resists
As we entered the second hour, the moon was obscured by part of the mountain and the wind picked up. There started to be a mind-body disconnect, with the body complaining about the cold, lack of oxygen, and physical exertion, and the brain ignoring the body and pushing resolutely on. Bodies began to falter – We passed guides furiously trying to warm their clients’ hands, other climbers nursing bumps and bruises. However, there was one sight that we will never unsee:

Somewhere between hour two and three, Jen and I stumbled upon a young American woman, early to mid twenties, clearly fit, well put together, and decked out in the best gear. She was in the middle of the trail, squatting, pants at her ankles, blowing mud. As we approached she dropped her head and whimpered. Kibo clearly had the upper hand.

Hour 3 – The Rise of the Medulla Oblongata
The third hour is when the mind weakens and willpower falters. The non-essential parts of the central nervous system power down. Our humanity was reduced to being mildly sentient leg-pumping “flesh pistons”. The sole focus was on the headlamp-illuminated patch of dirt 6 inches in front of us, where the next step would hopefully land.

Hour 4 – Pure Exhaustion
The fatigue came in hour 4. Legs were jello, a state exacerbated by backwards sliding with each step, losing roughly half the distance gained in the quicksand-like loose scree. The act of blinking was accompanied by the real possibility of falling asleep mid-step. Somehow, we passed some more groups, though nobody was able to acknowledge each other.

Hour 5 – Let There be Light at the End of the Tunnel
After 5 tortuous hours we reached Stella Point, and saw the crater rim and ashpit as the sun just started to lighten the clouds lower down, and it all became worth it.
We began our self-congratulation at this point, but were painfully reminded there was another 40 minutes of uphill to reach the top, Uhuru peak (Swahili for frostbite or freedom – one of the two). There was no choice but to go on. There were some beautiful but apparently fast-disappearing glaciers, and again we could see Mt Meru in the distance, in the shadow of Kilimanjaro.
Finally, we reached the top, 19,341 ft, Africa’s highest point! Since it was so cold (some cameras froze), most groups stayed only a few minutes before leaving, so we had the area to enjoy by ourselves for a short while.All told we passed 18 groups on the ascent, so despite our struggles, we weren’t the worst for wear. Though, at one point, Jesse swears he saw a giant python on the trail and Jen still doesn’t have feeling in her left big toe.

Hour 6 – 12: Sweet Sweet Gravity
Eventually the Uhuru’s bone chilling wind got us too, and we made our way down
which involved a lot of scree skiing.We got closer to Barafu camp – our tent is the little orange one all the way to the left. The steep and tiring climb we did the previous day can be seen to the right.
As we got closer to our camp, our porters, who stayed with the equipment, spotted us, lept up from their seats, and started cheering, and then spontaneously broke into the Jambo song, dancing and singing towards us, then giving us fist pumps and high fives.

It was so great to see how happy a successful climb made our guides and the rest of the team.The descent was uneventful, though slightly painful on legs that had been walking for 13 out of 15 hours.Overall, we had an amazing time – we realize how lucky we were with the weather, our team, and our avoidance of illness and injuries. It was definitely one of the most difficult things either of us has ever done, and also one of the most memorable.