Today’s early morning dog walk happened in the woods around our house, falling leaves on the ground, big trees, easy trails and fall in the air. The dogs and I took deep breaths, jumped over fallen logs, talked a little, barked a little, said hi to neighbors, listened to the forest sounds. I am lucky to live where I live, walk the trails I walk every day. A few days ago, the morning walk was the last miles after the summit of Kilimanjaro. The other side of the world, a magic mountain, different trails, same two feet. Alpine desert, jungle, ice, rocks, slabs, grass, scree, mud, dust… Lucky me!
Adventure and travel are that extra spice to life, the little kick you get when trying something new, experiencing something different from your everyday story. Different for everyone and no adventure will be the same. I have been fortunate to have experienced a lot of interesting adventures, trips, and races, met a lot of nice humans and this one was nothing like anything I have done before. I want to believe that I am a citizen of the world, and I must say that I got a big welcome from the tallest mountain in Africa, Kilimanjaro 5895 meters/19,340ft tall and proud, Africa’s rooftop.
The Kilimanjaro climb was different than other adventures, it was not a race; I didn’t have to perform, just participate, and finish. Not fast, not slow, just steady. Pole Pole – slow slow.
I flew to Kilimanjaro International Airport, Tanzania, via Amsterdam, a fun 24h trip. The bag stayed halfway for a little vacation time on its own but decided to show up the morning of the first climbing day. Not a moment too soon.
The views were exceptional, the sky reached high above, and the stars lit up the night with thousands and thousands of sparkly lights. The cities did not look like cities and the people lived a very different life. What an honor to get to visit something so different from my everyday life and environment, nothing I have seen before. It feels like going back in time and slowing down to 5mph. A mix of traditional clothing, old cars, kids running around, food vendors, smells, dirt, mud, phones, cows… a mix of old and new.
After a three-hour ride from Arusha to Moshi and Machame Gate where the 7-day Machame route starts, we got registered, had lunch, packed the last things, filled up water, met the porters and took off. We were 9 people in the group, some I knew before, some new faces. We had a big group of guides, porters, cook etc with us. That’s the way it’s done, you carry your day pack, and the porters carry your duffel. I am used to taking care of my own stuff, carrying my own things so it feels a bit odd, a bit wrong in the beginning.
We left the gate in the afternoon and walked through the rainforest on a muddy trail up a ridge until we reached Machame Camp. It was a long walk; I think we moved for more than 7 hours. We walked the last hour in darkness listening to the sounds of birds, monkeys, and a half sleeping forest. When we get to camp our tents are up and dinner is ready.
Every night we get served dinner in the mess tent. All supplies are carried up the mountain by the porters and are prepared over one burner. Sitting on a mountain, it does feel a bit primitive. The meal starts with a vegetable soup that quickly becomes an everyday favorite. We drink enormous amounts of tea, some drink a questionable chocolate drink, we eat and chat. Our tents are set up and we roll in, unpack our sleeping bags, and stretch out.
It’s difficult to sleep the first night, it’s humid and uncomfortable. I keep on falling off the pad and rolling around. There are new sounds, and I must run to the bathroom an alarming amount of time because of the Diamox, altitude medicine. I am not the only one, I meet someone with a headlamp every time I’m out and about. At high altitude you need to drink a lot, more than you think, liter after liter, that and small meals are the cure for altitude sickness.
Every morning we get a wake-up knock on the tent, we get coffee to sip on, some heated water to wash our faces and other body parts. Each morning, a “good morning, Mama.” After breakfast it’s time to move again. We leave the rain forest and continue an ascending path to a steep, rocky ridge. We climb and climb, hour after hour until we finally get to Shira campsite at 3750m/12,303ft. We get into a routine quickly. Climb, eat, sleep, and drink a lot of water. The day after we continued east and climbed up a ridge to Lava Tower. I am starting to feel a bit woozy. It’s difficult to eat and drink, and nothing tastes good. After lunch it is time to slowly descent and we end at the Barranco campsite. I feel tired for the first time. During the descent I slip and lose my footing and end up on my back, hitting a couple of rocks. Stuff that happens when you get tired. We are at 4630m/15190ft during lunch but descend to 3900m/12795ft to rest overnight and get used to the elevation. Climb high/sleep low.
The next day we conquer the famous Barranco Wall and continue up to the high alpine desert. The first thing we see when we get to the trail is a porter falling and breaking his leg and getting carried out by his friends. Not ideal, for anyone, really, to experience or see at this point. It’s a scramble up a rock face. Not too technical but a bit scary from time to time. The guide is nice and takes my pack, my shoulder got a bit bruised after the fall. It takes hours and hours to get up on top of the wall. There are a lot of groups waiting and some are faster than others. Time seems to loose meaning. We ended our day at camp Karanga. The next day we arrive at Barafu Hut, 4673m/15331ft. It is the last rest before summit, and we get an early dinner and a few hours of rest before it is time for the last push.
A couple of cups of coffee and a very light snack, it was time to start. Summit night will always be summit night, Rainier, Kilimanjaro, Glacier Peak… it is the same feeling. It is a weird nervous sensation, empty mind, awake but sleepy. If I remember it right, we started walking at 11.30pm and got to Stella Point at sunrise, before 6.30am. It was a long slog, a steep climb over loose volcanic scree and rocks. I don’t know where the hours went, it felt like an hour or 10 hours. The air got difficult to breathe (who knew?), it was chilly, and the wind picked up. One step at a time and slowly counting in your head. Just count to 100, look up and start over. I never got to 100, I messed up around 25 every time, mixing languages, starting to think about other things. So cold, so tired. Did I even get enough oxygen to my head? I am just so ridiculously tired.
We pass groups of people. Empty faces, friendly guides trying to help, people throwing up, crying, feeling sick. We just move past and breathe. Two steps forward, one step back. Stop every hour or so for water and snacks. I promised myself to drink and eat every time. I sipped a little and finished one Kexchoklad in 6 hours. Not good, not enough. I got a huge puffy coat placed over my shoulders when I stopped and sat for a minute. Good friends are golden. Especially high up. I tend to get cold when I am tired. Especially high up.
And then we are up at Stella Point. I put my pole on the ground and wiped tears from my eyes. It’s emotional, I choke up a little, no matter the summit. I get a few hugs and high fives. We made it up in time for the sunrise and it is gorgeous. Someone gave me a cup of warm ginger tea. We have 3 minutes to rest and then we are off again. We walk along the crater rim and reach Uhuru Peak 5895m/19,340ft, around 45 minutes later. We took a few pictures, waiting for our time to sit by the sign. We all look exhausted. We eat and drink a little, look around us and see clouds. We are on top of the world. The sun is up, and it is a new day.
The celebration is short lived, we need to head down again. I’m freezing. It’s a long way down and we need to break camp and continue down the mountain to Mweka Camp.
On the way down we meet the rest of the people from our group. Some who eventually summit, others who do not. They had a rough time on the way up but are strongminded, they are getting up. Altitude is not an easy thing; you never know what is going to happen.
We speed up and roll down, dust is flying in the air, it’s getting hot, finally, and our legs and feet are getting tired. After hours and hours, then we reached camp. We get to rest in our tents, drink water, pack up our stuff. When we meet in the mess tent for food the whole group is back and some look extremely tired. We still have a long way to go to the next camp, our last one. Then, in what feels like no time, we are on the trail again, heading to our last camp in the jungle. It’s a slow walk, we drag our feet a little. It’s really a simple 8 mile walk that takes forever and we reach camp before it gets dark. For the last time we gather for dinner in the mess tent. We munch on popcorn and tea, share our summit stories and are happy that we are on our way home. One more sleep, one more night in the tent and the next day brings us a jungle full of muddy trails and a long way down. One final good night, mama, and good morning, mama. Later that night I flew out from Kilimanjaro to Dar el Salam, Amsterdam to Seattle. Home again and the shower never felt better…




















A few photos borrowed from Azfar M














