Porters

It is impossible to write about Kilimanjaro without writing about the porters (and guides and other members of the support staff) as they are such a defining part of the experience.

It's a legal requirement in Tanzania that you cannot go up Kili without a certain number of guides and porters per person. I'm not actually sure what that number is, but suffice it to say that it is non-zero. This has a couple purposes: 1) it employs locals, thus stimulating the economy and 2) makes sure that idiot tourists don't go up the mountain without adequate preparation and then use up valuable local resources requiring a rescue, or die and generate bad press. For our hike we were told that for every one of us, there were 3.5 people supporting us.

To understand the porters, it is probably helpful to go through a typical day of our hike:

We'd wake up early to the sound of one of the kitchen guys at our tent (Jeremy or Elias), asking us if we wanted tea or not. While their English was much better than our Swahili, attempts to order tea with some amount of sugar and/or milk for two different people often led to fairly entertaining exchanges which only sometimes resulted in both parties actually getting tea in the style they preferred. As the temperatures got colder the higher we got, this hot cup was a much appreciated incentive to get out of our warm sleeping bags.

Next came a different fellow to offer a hot bowl of water for washing up "Water for wash!" We were on that mountain for 8 days without a shower, and no matter how many baby wipes we used, hours and hours of hiking left us filthy by the end of each day. Hot water for wash was a neat luxury.

We packed up our kit, separating out a day bag which we would take with us during the day with the layers of clothing we thought we'd need, water, and snacks, and packed everything else into a bag which the porters would take. While we had breakfast in the mess tent, the porters started to break down the rest of the camp. We set out after breakfast and would be passed by a continuous stream of porters zooming by us in order to have camp set up by the time we got there. In the narrower parts of the trail this led to a constant call of "Porter!" from the people hiking in the back of the pack as we hiked along - an exhortation to move aside and let pass the fellow with the much, much heavier load whose passage ahead of us would only make our lives better at the end of the hike. They balanced the loads on their backs or on their heads or both, and despite the difficulty of their job tended to have a friendly "Jambo!" when they passed.

The same porter would carry our main pack through the entire hike. Mine was called Mishek and he not only carried my pack, he would also meet me when I got to the camp in the evening, take my day pack off me and guide me to whatever mysterious location my tent had been pitched at. When there I would find that he had also taken my air mattress out of my main pack and blown it up. Given that I really didn't want to expend the air when already short of breath at high altitude, it was an appreciated service. Not everyone's porter did these things, and while one may say that he just wanted a bigger tip, I was very happy for the trade.

It was all told very humbling - lest we think we were doing anything particularly impressive in climbing Kilimanjaro - seeing firsthand the work that these guys did. They practically ran up the mountain in gear far worse than ours and under loads much heavier. In fact, some of the guys on our hike claimed to have made return trips of 8 hours (8 hours! It took us 8 days!) on the mountain. And these are not sherpas. I don't think they are literally evolutionarily adapted to the work, and generally they live at relatively low altitude themselves. Arusha, the main city nearby is only 4,100 feet or so, or 12oo meters. Sometimes they get altitude sickness like everyone else, but don't tend to have any medicine for it or for the symptoms. From what I gather, accurate or not, including tip they might make $100 for a week long trip up the mountain.

At the end of the trek we had a formal tipping ceremony where we handed over the cash, and they actually all sang for us, and Mishek, who was a super-cool sort of dude, did a little faux break-dancing. Since I don't have the video I took on account of the whole stolen camera thing, I'll just link to the song. It doesn't quite sound the same as when 60+ burly men sing it on the side of a mountain.

Kilimanjaro redux: part 1

I have arrived home in Seattle, and as I'm still sick and jet-lagged I have a fair bit of time to go into detail of what really happened on Kilimanjaro while laying around recuperating. As I'm doing this from memory and no notes and no pictures to refer to, I may not line everything up exactly correctly, so please forgive any seeming inconsistencies.

From day 1 I was sick. Before you start climbing you go to one of the gates and register. At these gates they weigh the packs to make sure the porters aren't overloaded, and they also have various rules and words of advice posted. There was one that said literally "If you have a sore throat, do not proceed past 3000 meters." I read this sign while sucking on a throat drop, in the early stages of what turned out to be a hellishly nasty cold, or probably the flu which I presumably brought with me from Egypt. I turned to the doctor and she said, more or less, that I should ignore the sign and hope for a recovery. After all, having made it to the point, I wasn't exactly going to turn around due to a tickle in my throat.

Day 1:

Day 1 was supposed to be an easy 3-4 hour hike to camp. A gentle introduction to hiking Kilimanjaro. It didn't quite turn out that way. The first rains of the season came and washed out the dirt roads to the starting point. As we couldn't drive up, we ended up adding 1-2 hours of hiking time just to get to the starting point, and past that point everything was a muddy morass, slowing us down for the rest of the way. We ended up pulling into camp after night had already fallen. Fortunately about a third of us, including myself, were paranoid enough to have our headlights with us in our daypacks, and we were able to provide enough light for the entire group to keep going. All told I think it was more like 6 or so hours of exhausting slog through the mud.

Day 2:

Day 2 was meant to be the first hard day. Having barely slept the night before and already being under the weather, I found the statement to be well-deserved. The last hour or two I was fighting back nausea and once I got to my tent I almost immediately dove back out again to puke out lunch. Spoke to the doc - not altitude sickness, but rather a combination of exhaustion and illness. Camp at the end of day 2 was the first time since arriving in Tanzania that we actually saw the summit, and the reaction was a near universal "You've got to be shitting me!" as it looked so immense and so distant that the concept of being on top of it within a few days seemed laughable.

Day 3:

Day 3 was supposed to be an easy day. Again, this day took much longer than expected, and I felt so terrible by the end of it that the concept of it being the easy day had me beyond dispirited. Mid-way through we had an optional acclimitization hike to a higher altitude, which I attempted and immediately gave up on, opting instead to hang out with the people suffering from altitude sickness and other forms of distress. During the last stretch of the hike back to camp, I took the opportunity of someone else's need to stop for medical reasons to once again puke out my lunch. I had taken an anti-nausea pill donated to me, but that went out with everything else. Once again spoke to the doctor, once again concluded it was exhaustion/illness and not altitude sickness. Despite the fact that to all appearances all my ills had nothing to do with the altitude, I decided to start on the altitude pills (the brits called it Diamox, but it was the same drug my travel doc had prescribed me) more or less against the doctor's advice that it wouldn't help with any of my actual issues.

Day 4:

Day 4 was meant to be another hard day. We hiked up to 4600 meters before going back down to more like 3800 to camp. And perhaps it was the Diamox, or perhaps it was the fact that I'd got a good night's sleep for the first time since we began, or perhaps it was something else entirely, but I felt great aside from the crazy face-tingling caused by the Diamox. We sent someone from the group who had MS and dislocated knees, who 2 months prior hadn't been able to walk but ambitiously took Kili on anyway, back. The doctor asked me if I'd like to go back with her as I'd been feeling such shit, but as I for once was feeling ok I opted to press on. At this point in the hike, the physical and mental strain was increasingly apparent in an increasing number of people and there were literally people in tears at points. Interestingly I could see that my conditioning seemed to have been as sufficient as I could hope for - my legs were totally fine and not particularly tired or achy by the end of our hikes. I was constantly out of breath, but that was partly altitude and partly the inability to do any high-impact training for a month or so prior to setting off due to my knee issues.

The rest of the days to follow, as well as more about things not immediately involving my physical well-being during that time

There and back again

I am alive and (more or less) well. Made it through the long slog to summit night, and made it part way up the summit, but due to illness I did not, alas, actually make it to Uhuru peak. I'll elaborate more on this in a few days when I'm home and have stable internet access, but for now suffice it to say that for better or worse, I'm done with Kilimanjaro.
Safari for a few days now, and then home at last!

At the foot

At a lodge at the foot of Kilimanjaro. The mountain's been clouded over, so shockingly I''ve not seen it yet. Tomorrow we start the climb. It's real now.

Goodbye Rongai, Hello Lemosho

"Hi everyone,

I just wanted to provide you a brief update on a few things that have been happening behind the scenes over the past week or two, and also let you know of some actions that you will be required to take over the course of the next few days.

As you will be aware from previous comms, to make the trek worthwhile and affordable there is a minimum level of participation required, which we haven’t managed to yet meet. At the moment there are a number of places still open, meaning that costs would be prohibitive if we went ahead.

The result is that we have been asked to consider moving those already signed up to this trek onto another open trek a couple of weeks earlier. This would bring both treks up to the numbers required to allow everyone signed up to take part.

What Changes?

Aside from the dates of the trek nothing else changes. You will still travel the same amazing group of people on the same fantastic route. You will still get to visit one of VSO’s projects. You will still get very, very tired and grumpy as you get closer to the summit.

Some Details

The trek we propose to merge with runs from the 26^th August to the 5^th September. There is no change in costs."

So begins an email I got just over a week ago. That's the email that tells me that the trek I was going to go on isn't going to happen. That if I want to go on a similar trek, I would have to miss my sister's wedding (the one she moved the date of so I could attend the original one). That email was the beginning to what turned out to be a hellish week for related and unrelated reasons, and, as you might imagine, a lot of stress. I wanted to take on Kilimanjaro as an all-consuming personal challenge - the fundraising, the mental and physical preparation. I wanted to take it on as the major focus of this year - of something I could be proud of having the guts to take on. And here was me being told actually, it might not happen. I felt like I'd been punched in the gut. I did not want to post here until I knew what was going to happen. A weeks worth of frantic emails back and forth later, I finally stand on somewhat solid ground again.

The good news is I AM STILL TREKKING UP KILIMANJARO.

The good news is also ALL THE MONEY I RAISED IS STILL GOING TO VSO.

The may be good may be bad news is that I am now taking a different route up. The open dates I could find are for a trek following the Lemosho route, not the Rongai route. Since I haven't been up either I can't really say if this is good or bad. Lemosho is supposed to be very beautiful, and it takes a day longer so allows greater time for acclimitization. I think it's overall longer, more arduous, and possibly more crowded. But as I won't know the difference I'll call it a draw.

The bad news is that I will no longer be doing a VSO site visit. While the money is still going to VSO, I cannot make the VSO specific trek dates. So while previously I would have been hiking with my colleagues from around the world, all in support of the same cause and having the chance to see where the money is going, now I will be hiking with whoever else from where-ever else happened to sign up for this date. And since this trek is not for any particular charity, there's no site visit associated with it.

The bad news is also that it's also more expensive. It's longer and thus has greater costs, and the deposit is a whopping 340 gbp more, more or less. That's over $500 USD more to go on the trek I didn't really choose. That's not from money I'm raising, that is all out of pocket. I think I'll get some of it back since I'm not actually using the flight from the UK that's part of that cost.

I also believe the fundraising targets are very slightly different. When I have confirmation of all the numbers, I'll update my targets and re-assess where I am in fundraising.

But again, the important thing is that this is just one more challenge on the way. One that can be overcome. I'm still doing the trek, damnit.

I've never climbed Mt Kilimanjaro. That's kind of the point of this whole challenge. But I should recognize that pretty much no one reading this, with a very few possible exceptions, has climbed Kilimanjaro either. And so, when I say things like "the tallest free-standing mountain in the world" I'm not sure that sinks in. Especially coupled with descriptions like "non-technical" and "you don't need mountaineering experience" because, while both of those are true, I think they leave one with the impression of just a kind of long hike. And my own blog name is an allusion to that - it's just a long walk up a big hill, right? Well, figures vary wildly on the overall sucess rate but it seems pretty safe to say that about 40% of people who go up don't make the summit. Why? In addition to simply underestimating the mountain, altitude, altitude, altitude. To paraphrase Brian, it's a mile more than Mt Ranier, the most dominating thing in the Seattle skyline. Straight up. I noticed that everyone takes care to say you only spend enough time to take pictures at the top, and the below entry explains why. Between the temperature and incredibely thin air, It's actually dangerous to stay there for long. Congratulations! You made it! Now get the hell out of here.But, again, I've never done it. I can't speak to it. I can just read and talk to people. Below is a pretty descriptive account of the day on the trek when you summit. The longest day of the expedition. We'll be doing the Rongai route, which joins the Marangu route for summiting.

Source
Kilimanjaro Climb on the Marangu Route - Day 4(= Day 5 of the Rongai route)

I hope you arrived at Kibo Huts early enough to get plenty of rest. (Rongai route climbers will have, Marangu route climbers may not...).
Your day pack should be ready with everything you will need tonight: rain gear if you aren't wearing it anyway, enough water, hand warmers, balaclava... You should have fresh batteries in your head torch and camera and you should already be wearing the right clothes. Make sure everything you are wearing is bone dry!
This day will likely go down in your memory as the most physically challenging day in your whole life. Likely it will also be one of the earliest starts you ever made...
Your guides will wake you up some time between 11.00 and 11.30 pm. There will be some hot drinks and maybe some food, but mostly it's a matter of crawling out of your sleeping bag, putting on a few more layers of clothes, your boots and your head torch. Grab your day pack and off you go... Around midnight or not long after.
As you emerge from between the Kibo Huts you will see strings of little lights. They are the head torches of the climbers ahead of you, and as you continue through the night they will also appear behind you.
All those groups of little lights are moving in slow motion, following the path snaking back and forth, back and forth, up the steep scree slope that is the side of Kibo Peak. It's actually rather pretty. Whether you'll be able to appreciate it is a different question...
As steep as the slope is, due to the many switchbacks the path itself isn't all that bad. However, nothing's easy without oxygen and the air is incredibly thin, getting thinner all the time.
You may feel horrible and the fact that this is supposedly the easier path to the Kilimanjaro crater rim will offer little consolation...
Take all the time you need and for goodness sake don't let anyone pressure you into moving faster than you feel comfortable to. Steady, steady, one tiny little step after the other.
Other groups overtaking you? Let them go!
It doesn't matter if you reach Uhuru Peak or even the rim in time for sunrise. It only matters that you reach it and that you will be able to get back down safely! You can not move too slowly on Kilimanjaro.
The people who do not feel the effects of the altitude are few and far between. Hopefully the worst you have to deal with is a headache and the occasional wave of nausea. Throwing up is not as uncommon as you might hope and is no reason for concern. (It's just awful...)
There are several landmarks that you will likely use as resting points and that break up the slog:
Williams Point (you'll notice a big rock, or maybe you won't notice...) marks the 5000 m line (16400 ft). The Hans Meyer Cave lies at 5150 m (16900 ft), about two and a half hours from Kibo Huts.
It's impossible to have long breaks in these temperatures. The cold starts creeping into your hands and feet first, then into your whole body. The next section of switchbacks is the most exposed, and if it happens to be a windy night you'll feel it badly.
Another one and a half hours after leaving the cave you start noticing rocks on the path, breaking your steady rhythm and requiring bigger steps. Some are also a bit slippery and you have to watch your step. The area is called the Jamaican Rocks. (There are several stories as to why...)
This is the most difficult part of the climb, but take heart, Gilman's Point is not far now! It will take about another hour.
If you are among the slower climbers, don't worry. The break of dawn invariably provides a much needed boost of energy for those last metres, and before you know a sign will be welcoming you to Gilman's Point, at 5681 m/18640 ft. At least that's what the sign says. It is actually a bit higher than that. Anyway...
Climbing the Marangu route you reach the Kilimanjaro crater rim at Gilman's Point
Congratulations to you, for you have done well!!
The park authorities will reward you with a certificate, even if you decide not to continue along the crater rim past the glaciers to Uhuru Peak.
If you want to continue, it's another hour and a half or so along the crater rim to reach Uhuru Peak. And even though most consider the climb up to Gilman's the hardest part, the walk around the rim can prove challenging, too.
The more time you spend at this extreme altitude, the more you will feel it. Uhuru Peak is another 200 m higher, and believe me, 200 m make a difference at this height.
The first part of the rim walk is the easier part, but once you pass Stella Point the path leads uphill again. (Stella Point is at 5752 m/18171 ft and is the point where the other climb routes reach the rim.) The path may not look steep, but by now every step uphill can be a battle...
To get to Uhuru Peak and back allow another three hours that may turn out tougher than you expected.
(Mind you, for other people it's a breeze, but it's certainly better to be prepared for the worst and find it easier than expected, than the other way around.)
Congratulations again. What you just accomplished is truly impressive and no matter what you expected, the reality of it will be totally different. Some people get very emotional, some are on a big high, some are so dazed, they barely take any notice at all... There is no way to describe or imagine the experience of climbing to nearly 6000 m altitude.
It's time for hugs and photos. There won't be time for much else, because it will be too cold and also too dangerous to remain at this altitude for more than a few minutes.
You probably don't have the tiniest little bit of energy left now. Well, guess what? The day has only begun and it's another long day...
You now have to drag yourself back to Gilman's Point. From there it's nearly 1000 m down, down, down... Until you get back to Kibo Huts. The descent is cruel on the knees and you will appreciate the walking poles!
If you scree run then this isn't too bad. It's actually quite fun. And fast! But pity those who have to stagger back down the same way they came up, switchback for painful switchback...
Lunch should be waiting for you at Kibo Huts. You just want to collapse and sleep; you can not imagine getting up from that chair again. But after what you have done to your body today it is not safe to remain at this altitude. You have no choice but to pack up your gear and keep going, the sooner the better. Three more hours to Horombo Huts...
What will happen now is something of a miracle. Because as you descend further there will be air again. Oxygen! Lots of it!
Oxygen is life and that is exactly what will be injected back into you. You may not believe this now, but there is a good chance that after another three hour descent you may feel better and have more energy than you did at lunch time.
Dinner is often a much livelier affair, with everybody's eyes shining as they recount the experiences of the day. And I have no doubt that you will sleep well tonight!

The climb

I've spent most of my energy thus far focusing on raising money and getting into shape, but ultimately the reality I have to prepare myself for is the actual mountain - Kilimanjaro.

Got this link from Phil. While there are many accounts of the mountain, and I hope (but have no reason to think I will) have fewer issues with, eg, altitude sickness than the person highlighted, the NY Times provides an interesting interactive visual of the trek itself that I think some might shed some light on the task at hand. It is a sobering account and reminder of just how serious and challenging the task ahead is.

http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2007/10/26/magazine/20071028_KILIMANJARO_GRAPHIC.html

Because easy isn't interesting

At 19,341 ft (that's 5,895 meters for those of you who live in...well, everywhere else in the world) Mount Kilimanjaro is what they call the "highest free-standing mountain in the world." I suspect that has more to do with the fact that it dramatically rises out of the plains than whether or not it has external supports.

I'm no mountaineer. And I'm not even a thrill-seeker. When I first heard of George Mallory's famous reply to the question of why he wanted to climb Mt Everest - 'Because it's there' I thought he must be crazy. I didn't really understand wanting to undertake something so enormous just because it might be possible.

And yet here I am. I received an email from the Accenture LGBT network saying the group was seeking volunteers interested in a charity trek up Kili - and not just to climb the mountain, but to raise thousands of dollars for charity at the same time and I found myself in a more Mallory-like mood than I'd ever anticipated. The lure of not just one life-changing challenge, but also a challenge that would change many more lives than my own was irresistible. So here I am. In seven months exactly I'll be flying to Kenya.

There is quite a lot to do between now and then.