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| Frozen and "off-kilter" - the theme of Day Six |
Does it really count as Day Six, when it begins on Day Five? That was just one of the many questions I would have the opportunity to ponder over the next eight mind-numbing hours of hiking as we made our way to the summit of Kilimanjaro.
As I look back now (three months later) at my journal from the day, the details are a bit lacking. To be more accurate, my first journal entry after that ridiculously hellish day of hiking reads, "Check that off the #$*& bucket list - never to be repeated."
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| Packing by lamp light |
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| A quick snack before heading up to the summit |
It was pitch black (someone neglected to plan this for the full moon). It was freezing. The trail was at a ridiculously steep pitch. The air was thin. We trudged at a snail's pace in a single file line through the dark. There was nothing to see except the gaiters on the legs in front of you. Jeff's sported a reflective #11, which I recall staring at for hours on end. Our pace took on an odd, step, rest, breathe, cadence. Infrequently we pulled over for water (before it froze) or a frozen snack. However, stopping the trudge also meant freezing. Conversation was limited. Everyone was pretty intent on breathing and focused on making it to the summit. My pack felt ridiculously heavy for the limited amount of anything I was actually carrying. I was bored out of my mind and focused on willing away any hint of a headache or nausea. My mind wandered back to the books I had read prior to this trip - the stories of summit day - none of them pretty.
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| A first glimpse of the sun as we hit Gilman's Point |
Somehow, around 6:00 a.m., we managed to peek up over the crater on Kibo...Gilman's Point. This was really the first goal. Gilman's feels like the summit because you finally come up over the rim of the volcano, and you can see all the way around. This was our first celebration and break point. I leaned over to get my camera for a few pictures, and the nausea hit like a truck. I ran for the crater and christened Kilimanjaro with regurgitated chocolate Power Bars. Freshly cleansed, I joined the group for a hot cup of ginger tea and some photos with the Gilman's Point sign. We were all anxious to get on with the "official" summit bid which was still a ninety minute trudge around the crater to Uhuru Peak - our final destination, the highest point in Africa.
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| Post-puke ginger tea at Gilman's Point |
At this point, the hike became a ridiculous stumble in pursuit of a gargantuan green sign in the distance. The wind was ferocious. The cold was bitter. To take off a mitten for more than a few seconds would turn fingers into Popsicles. We were surrounded by the famed glaciers of Kilimanjaro, a gorgeous sun rise, and unbelievable views of the crater. I took no pictures with my Popsicle fingers and focused all of my energy on getting to that sign. We were surrounded by similarly stunned and stumbling hikers - summiting from the various trails that converge at the top.
As the sun rose, we waddled closer to the summit...
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| The glaciers |
When, at last, our group trudged up the final incline to Uhuru Peak, we waited patiently (at first) for a large group in front of us to snap their summit photos. When they seemed to be taking far too long to get out of the way (at least to our oxygen deprived frozen bodies), we converged on them and shuffled in front of the sign for our own photo opportunities. Once again, with hands too frozen to take a photo, I passed off my camera to a guide and hoped to end up with some small record of this experience. At this point I just wanted to cry. I'm still not sure if it was from sheer happiness at having finally achieved this goal or from sheer misery at the reality of the situation - frozen and feeling like crap. Either way, we took our turn in front of the magical sign and got a hodge-podge of shots of our group in various combinations.
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| Uhuru Peak. Apparently I missed the dress code memo. |
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| Thanks for the group photo Howard! This one is just for you. |
I would like to say we then ran down the mountain and reveled in the joy of our achievement. Unfortunately that wind was still blowing; the air was still thin; we were still walking on ice and snow; we were still frozen. The hour or so it took to get back around the crater to Gilman's point was really not much different than the 90 minutes it had taken to get to Uhuru Peak. The going was still pretty slow, but there was the small glimmer of joy knowing that the summit was behind us, and soon we would be truly heading down. We regrouped at Gilman's point and enjoyed a celebratory toast with frozen Red Bull (absolutely disgusting - like frozen carbonated cough syrup) and a can of Pringles before adjusting our hiking poles in preparation for the real descent that lay ahead. Just ten short hours after we had begun this nightmarish quest, we were finally headed down.
The initial descent was pretty dicey. We picked our way over ice-covered boulders, and I shuddered to see the long drops that were waiting just over the edge of the trail. Climbing all night in the dark had been a good thing. My headlamp had never strayed from the path in front of me. It had been best not to see what lay over the edge. Now, however, with the sun shining brightly on our descent, it was crystal clear that a small stumble would have lead to a very long tumble over the edge. I kept my poles firmly planted and my feet as far from the edge of the trail as possible.
Eventually the large boulders, turned to small rocks and then to rocky scree. The frozen scree, which we had hiked over for the first four hours the night before, had now been warmed by the sun and was a deep bed of loose rocks and pebbles. This is where the real fun began and the gaiters and hiking poles came in handy. The brave (and mildly crazy) members of our group took off "screeing" down the mountain - sliding, jumping and running through the deep sand, dust and stones. No one had moved that fast in at least five days. It was exhilarating, and you could hear whoops of joy as hikers slid and rolled their way back to thicker air.
At last Kibo Huts (our lunch destination) appeared in the distance, and it was just a matter of slip sliding our way down there. It had been over twelve hours since we had started our ascent. We had hiked through the night, watched the sunrise from the summit, and now were, at last, ready to take a true break. The atmosphere at Kibo Huts was like a party. Victorious groups of hikers converged on the spot for lunch breaks and celebrations. For me, sunshine, warmth and exhaustion took over. My porter, Emmanuel, pointed to my backpack (which he had graciously transported from the previous night's campsite), and I promptly laid down on it and took a quick nap. Kelly brought me a Coke - probably the best one I have ever had, and we had a quick lunch in our dining tent (still not feeling all that hungry).
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| Heading for Horombo Huts on the desert highway |
There would be no time for relaxing at lunch, however, for there was more hiking ahead. Horombo Huts (at 3700 m) were still four hours away, and that was our destination for the night. Fortunately the cruise from Kibo huts to Horombo Huts was like hiking on a dusty, desert highway. The path was wide and gradually descending. The sun shone brightly. We were tired, and the path seemed endless, but at least the summit was behind us, and every step took us closer to the end.
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| Victorious Smurfette...Kili Conquerer |
Hundreds of dirty but happy hikers spent the night at Horombo. I crashed on my dusty sleeping pad before dinner and enjoyed a long nap. The dirt blew in and out of my tent. I had never needed a shower more in my life, and I had never cared less. Kilimanjaro was behind me. Check.
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| Sun setting on Kilimanjaro from Horombo...hard to believe we went up and down that peak in one day and are now camping among wildflowers. |
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| Horombo View - still above the clouds, but oh so much lower! |
