Kilibound For Real

Arusha, Tanzania

Let the adventure begin! We hauled ourselves out of bed (or off the floor) in Nairobi this morning and find ourselves in Arusha, Tanzania tonight with a long walk up a large hill looming. 
We endured a dusty day of driving while folded into the "luxury liner" shuttle from Nairobi to Arusha. I managed to score the wheel well for the first three hours, which I happily traded for a flip-down jump seat with leg room at the Tanzanian border. It was a hot and dusty haul through desert-like conditions. The landscape was dotted with goats, cows and their colorful Masai herders.

We pulled in to the Outpost Lodge in Arusha just after 3:30 and were absolutely starving from our day on the road with no food stops. We quickly placed an order at the restaurant and then waited an African jiffy (70 minutes) for the food to arrive. We followed dinner with a brisk walk into town to stretch our legs before returning to the Outpost for our pre-climb briefing which was to start "promptly" at 6:00 p.m. At the appointed hour we were back at the lodge, dangling our feet in the pool, waiting to meet our guide. In another jiffy, he arrived promptly 45 minutes late (I'm sensing a pattern here),

"John" will be our head guide for this little climbing adventure. He talked us through the basics of the itinerary for our seven day adventure and went over multiple precautions for altitude sickness. Basically it came down to, "Drink lots, walk slowly, eat and rest." Sounds simple enough. He neglected to mention all of the vomiting and headaches that lie ahead, but I appreciate his positive outlook.

After John departed with a promise to pick us up "promptly" at 7:30 tomorrow morning, we set about packing and repacking our bags again with the added items of sleeping bags and climbing poles. I think all that remains to be done is to climb.

Testing the equipment

Africa, thus far, has failed me on the iPhone cracking front. Barring a small miracle tomorrow morning, it looks like we will be out of contact for seven days. There will be many adventures to write about from the beaches of Zanzibar when we return. Until then, think warm and positive thoughts for all of us. We'll be thinking of you!

If you would like to follow our climb (a small red dot that follows our group up the mountain), check out the link below. If the dot stops early, Kelly ate a peanut. If it stops later on, it means things are not pretty. If it keeps on moving (pole pole - go slow) all is well!

If the families/friends of those climbing want to follow the progress of the group on the TK Google Map, please see the link:

http://www.teamkilimanjaro.com/track-a-kilimanjaro-climber.html

If they scroll down the page and find the map, and then look for the respective climb reference on the left hand side of the screen under ‘Track a Kilimanjaro climb’, they will find the climbing group listed as CHWI. If they click on the name CHWI, they will be taken to the latest recorded location on the mountain for the group. If those checking the map use the slider bar on the left edge of the actual map, they can zoom in to the exact location of the last reported position.

Where the guide provides any comment on the progress of the group, I will detail this in the commentary box and also on the blogspot : http://www.teamkilimanjaro.com/live-climber-reports.html.

Warthogs and Ox Balls

 

Well, the Istanbul Airport treated us well, but more than 11 hours of waiting for our flight to Nairobi was plenty.  We tasted Turkish Delight at the Duty Free Shop a few different times and sampled the free Baileys in a variety of flavors. The hundreds of deep blue Turkish evil-eye charms on display at the souvenir shop were undoubtedly giving us the hairy eyeball. We were treated to the sight of hundreds of men clad only in loosely wrapped terry-cloth robes and rubber sandals strolling about the airport (headed en masse to Jeddah, Saudi Arabia).  I managed to eat some kind of minced meat and three large chunks of pistachio baklava to fulfill the Turkish food requirement this time through. 

The Smurfs make it to Nairobi

After a two hour delay, our Nairobi flight went off without a hitch, and TaxiJim Cab met us at the airport at 3:30 a.m. with a cheery "Jambo" and an empty car.  A hassle-free start to Kenya.  Despite the fact that we had left the Holy Land Miracle Tour behind in Istanbul, we still felt that we were in good hands with TaxiJim.  Each time his cell phone rang, his Biblical verse ringtone echoed throughout the car.  Jim (whose name was actually something like Chaz) delivered us safely to my friend Lisa's house in Nairobi, where we promptly began snoring on her floor.

After an easy day of strolling through a Nairobi "forest" on Saturday (with only one small encounter with safari ants), we were ready for some hard-core Africa today.  Fred picked us up in the pampered Land Rover safari vehicle at 6:30 a.m. sharp for our game drive through the Nairobi National Park.  It really was quite amazing to drive through the game park with the Nairobi skyline as a backdrop - to watch a lioness suck the meat from a bloody warthog with skyscrapers in the distance.  We were appropriately mesmerized and entertained by the wildlife and sunburned by the equatorial sun.  It feels fantastic to be back in Africa.

Wild game on the loose in Nairobi

The tour of East African beer begins with
Kenyan Tusker.

      

     

 

The Hippo Walk: Our guide packs the big gun (at front).
No hippos were spotted, but we were well protected from
the love bird nervously perched in a tree along the way.

We followed up the safari with Ox Balls.  Yes indeed. In celebration of Chris' 40th birthday, we enjoyed a meal at the Carnivore - a Nairobi restaurant famous for its meat, including Ox balls, crocodile, ostrich, and the usuals as well as its featured drink, "Dawa," a concoction of vodka, lime, honey and sugar.  Stuffed to the gills, we are ready for our bus ride to Tanzania tomorrow with the start of our trek up Kilimanjaro looming on Tuesday.

What better way to celebrate #40 than with
fresh Ox Balls?

The medicine man mixes up our magical "dawa."

Chris looks a little wary about this option.

Still not ready to surrender

We're Off!

BTV and Smurf looks like he's already suffering from altitude.

We have arrived in Istanbul, Turkey after an uneventful flight from JFK. Turkish Airlines proved to be a treat with plenty of entertainment options, tasty food and hundreds of "friends" partaking in the "Miracle Tour to the Holy Land," according to their ID badges. The guy seated next to me read his golden Bible for the entire nine hour flight. I never doubted that we would arrive safely at our destination surrounded by this bubble of brotherly love.

Taste of Turkey?

We immediately immersed ourselves in Turkish culture at Starbucks and settled down for snoozes in an empty gate area. Now that I am reinvigorated and ready for red-eye number two, I have just a few thoughts to share on the Kili plan...
Apparently I was supposed to bring water treatment pills. Oops. I did bring Cipro to treat the ill effects of untreated water, so I'll go with that.

I wore 17 layers of clothes in anticipation of Kili being a frozen tundra. I have not stopped sweating since we left Burlington (thanks largely to the broken escalator at JFK which forced me to walk up an incredibly steep collection of stairs with a backpack on my back). I know that sounds lame given what lies ahead. Chris assures me the "personal porter" is still an option (after accidentally leading us on a tour of the Federal Circle Sky Train Station which was just halfway into NYC, rather than heading directly to Terminal #1). I think that means you can hire a porter to carry even your day pack for you. I'm wondering if they'll just carry me instead.

Smurfette demonstrates her ability to sleep anywhere.

There is more snow in Istanbul than there is in Vermont. Seems wrong...just wrong.

Born to Climb Glaciers



I'm sexy and I know it...girl, look at that body...I work out (circa. 1985)!

Eight hours to take off, and we can only pray that the Smurf will spare us his abs this time around (as well as the tube socks and red shorty shorts). I will do my best to tame the tresses, but I am quite sure the frozen facial grimace will look much the same if (I mean when) we hit that magical summit next week. Stay tuned...



Toilet Talk



Do you prefer hot and steamy...

or cold as a flag pole in January?

Anticipation of the toilet situation on the mountain has provided fodder for a few memorable email exchanges in the past few days.

From the Smurf after a recent "training "hike...

It went well.  Practiced walking really slowly.  It turns out I’m a professional.   Good and toasty while hiking.   Kept my CamelBak under my jacket and it didn’t freeze for the first time.  Got to the top, faced the wind and thought I was going to die.  Thought about taking pictures but was too terrified to take off my mittens.  Figured I might need my fingers at some point in the future.  I’m guessing that it was far colder than anything we’ll have to deal with on Kilimanjaro.  Hopefully. 

I did do some mountain toilet planning while I walked (that's just weird if you ask me)and came up with the theory that the benefit of being the first to use the box &bucket may not outweigh benefit of the heat transfer from 4 other people. I can only imagine the seat will immediately bond to the first ass at 5:00am.  Sort of like licking a metal pole in February. (Thank you for that image).

My reply...

Got to the top?  Where did you hike?  Are you nuts?  As far as the toilet goes, you would need to have a pretty sweaty hind end if you were to worry about bonding to the toilet seat.  I assure you that will not be the case for me.  If you do have this issue, I will be sure to take a photo and post to the blog.

The Smurf continues to amaze with his scientific analysis of the situation (way too much time on his hands in my opinion)...

Oh sorry.  Mt. Hunger.  Yes we were nuts.
As for sticking to the pot, I’m sure your hind will be far warmer than the pot and thus create condensation which will immediately freeze.

Thankfully Bianca at Team Kilimanjaro came through with this reassuring bit of information before genuine pottie panic set in...

Since January 2011 we have included portable toilets in our climb at no additional cost. So you do not need to rent a portable toilet, we will provide 1 for the group.
Please note, however, we do not use portablef lush toilets. We actually have a couple of these but they both broke almost immediately.

The problem is that there is a plastic slide between the two chambers. Freezing condensation cements the slide closed and when one forces it, because low temperatures make the plastic brittle, the plastic handle to the fore of the slide plate, snaps off.
So sadly, these portable flush models are not suitable for use at altitude. We therefore use the simplest possible design as there's least risk of malfunction (and justified complaints) on the mountain.

We are constantly on the lookout for new gear, but are yet to find a satisfactorily reliable more sophisticated alternative to the wooden box with bucket inside! We know it sounds rather primitive, but to date we would still deem it to be most fit for purpose on Kilimanjaro.

Please do not hesitate to contact me with any other questions you may have.


Best wishes,

Bianca

Thank you Bianca.  I'm not sure it was necessary to explain the mechanics of flush toilet malfunction at altitude.  You had us at "...we have included the portable toilets." Enough said.

Should we be concerned that while other climbing groups are fretting over gear and fitness our crew's biggest concern seems to be the commode?  Perhaps.  And, after all this fretting, who will actually use the private potty?  I leave you with this parting thought from idiotonamountain (an equally ill-prepared Kiliclimber with a blog).

A last little upright looking tent was put up slightly away from the camp and it served as a toilet tent. I looked inside it once and saw a little box with a lid on it. I couldn’t bear to shit in it and expect someone to clean it each morning so i instead decided to use the long-drops.

There is something to be said for an anonymous poo.

Eat, Pray, Hate the Cold

It has come to my attention that this blog is "lame."  Based on this constructive feedback from the Smurf, I will attempt to rectify the situation for my one dedicated follower (I will point out, however, that I have shared this link with no one for expressly this reason).  Rest assured I have been accumulating a wealth of interesting and amusing information to post for your reading pleasure.

However, first you must endure this brief rant about the cold and nervous breakdowns.  I took off for the weekend - headed north of the border to Montreal in an effort to have a little time and space for introspection a la "Eat, Pray, Love" - a little respite from my mid-life crisis. Well, I need to work out exactly what this "Eat, Pray, Love" chic has going for her that I don't.  She got a book contract, an all-you-can-eat pasta orgy, sexy Italian tutors, spiritual enlightenment, and love on the beaches of Bali. 

I got thirty-six hours in the great frozen tundra. I spent the first 24 hours reassuring everyone that I had not gone off in the deep-end and the next 12 hours wondering if I had.  Who goes north in January?  It was at least 50 degrees below zero in Montreal, and with the wind chill it felt like -200 degrees.  Seriously.  I believe the tip of my nose dropped off somewhere on St. Catherine Street, but I was too freakin' cold to go back and look for it.  Seriously.  Insane.

So, instead of indulging in delectable Italian treats like my "Eat, Pray, Love" counterpart, I ate a heaping pile of poutine which necessitated walking two hours in the frigid air to eliminate the negative effects of cheese curds and gravy on my extremely strict Kilimanjaro training program (see following posts for my blubber vs. fitness training conundrum). It was during that frigid stroll that my nose fell off.

All that remains of B&J in the land of the iceberg. 

Thankfully I had a warm hotel room in an obscure building that was rendered excessively creepy by the fact that every hallway was under construction and had been stripped down to the concrete flooring (thank you Expedia for that excellent find).  Alas I am sounding a tad bitter, and I digress.  This blog is supposed to be about the Kilimanjaro Experience.  There is a connection here...really.

So, I walked a lot.  I ate exactly one meal of poutine (because it was too freakin' freezing to leave the hotel for a second meal), and I read a hilarious book by Mindy Kaling that reminded me that "the best revenge is living well..." She took it much further, but I promised my dear friend that I would not (despite the incredible temptation) post her full rant on my Facebook page. It spoke to my soul, and it was in unbelievably poor taste.  However, dear readers, if you should be so inclined as to read her book, "Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me?" see page four and picture me laughing my frozen ass off in the great white north.  For now, however, I will get back to the more admirable goal of living well.

By now you are asking probably yourself, "WTF does this have to do with Kilimanjaro?"  There really is a point...I promise.  As you will learn in following posts (a conglomeration of emails from the past few weeks), the Smurf has been sending a regular stream of motivational articles and videos about every person who has ever reached the summit of Kilimanjaro.  Apparently everyone and his/her mother has climbed this mountain.  It's actually pretty annoying.

I was waiting anxiously for the next installment, perhaps a video of Ronald McDonald summiting with his support team of Grimace and the singing french fries, but the Smurf had gone awfully quiet.  I inquired about the dearth of motivational material, and his response was, "I have decided we are going to die."  Fantastic.  Now the one delusional member of our climbing team had also come to terms with reality.  Instead of motivational videos, he now sends photos of the disgusting toilets to be found on the trail.

It only seemed fitting then that my parents arrived in Montreal to meet me for breakfast armed with a newspaper clipping from a friend featuring en extremely old guy from Florida who had recently made it to the top of Kili (naturally).  Another motivating success story to start my day with one small caveat, "the guide lost three toes to frostbite." Seriously?  I like my toes.  I already lost my nose.  What are we doing?

The Plastic Bag Conversation: A Good Place to Begin

If you build it, they will come.

There she stands...so tall...so majestic...so freakin' cold!  And so the Kilimanjaro adventure begins.  A challenge that has been collecting dust on my bucket list is becoming reality.  Two months from now, I will set off for Africa with Smurf and Smurfette in tow to climb to the highest peak in Africa, the summit of Mount Kilimanjaro.  That's the goal anyway.  Today when I cracked the guidebook (a good thing to do at two months out I think), I discovered that our chosen route has a 50% success rate.  WTF?  Smurf?  This was your call!  Why are we hiking the Rongai Route again?  Does it have anything to do with my apathy about research and reading in advance? I am not traveling half way around the world to get only half of my body to the summit. 

Remember these two?
Jet-lagged, wet, and cold in Hanoi.

I would ideally like to get 100% of myself to the top of this mountain and back down again.  Brianna, in her sweet, loving, teenage way is less concerned with my success than she is with a well-documented multimedia record of my failure.  "Mom, if they bring you down convulsing in one of those plastic bags, make sure Uncle Chris videos it for me."  Nice.  No doubt I will go viral on YouTube the day after my funeral, and she will post the clip on her Facebook page in hopes of getting a million "likes."



Documenting the lead-up to the climb seems like more fun than actually climbing (and gives me just one more reason to avoid the "training" that everyone but me seems so fixated upon). Smurfette's trainer keep giving her little motivational speeches and talking to her about lactic acid production.  I don't even know this guy, but I find him annoying.