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View from the summit of Mt. Kilimanjaro, September 25th, 2007
Photo by Scott David Perry
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Jambo! Greetings from Arusha, Tanzania. Yesterday, Tuesday September 25th, 2007, at approximately 6am local time, I experienced one of the most exhilarating moments of my life -- I successfully summitted Uhuru peak of Mt. Kilimanjaro, the tallest mountain in all of Africa, and the tallest free-standing mountain in the world. Rising 5895 meters (19,341 feet) above the East African plains, the feeling of euphoria (coupled with near exhaustion) as I watched the sun rise over the glaciers was truly hypnotic. The most profound things are inexpressible, but I will try. In 1857, Richard Burton reported the following in his "Progress of Expedition to East Africa": "But now, apparently, the mountain was inhabited by fiery beings who baffled man's adventurous foot: the mountain receded as the traveler advanced, the summit rose as he ascended; blood burst from the nostrils, fingers bent backwards...even the most adventurous were forced back." Thankfully, I didn't see any fiery beings, but I think he was spot-on with the rest of his assertions. My friends and I chose the Machame Route, which is a more scenic approach up the mountain than the more common Marangu Route. The entire trip, 48 miles, took us seven days. Five days to ascend, two to get back down. Every day brought a new adventure, and the scenery changed drastically, from tropical rainforest, to moorland, to alpine desert, and finally, the glacial zone near the summit. Every single day inspired a lifetime’s supply of awe, but it is was “summit night” that best illustrates the true enormity of our incredible journey. On Monday afternoon we arrived at Barafu camp, knowing that a long night awaited us. After an early dinner, I was able to get about four hours of restless sleep, tossing and turning as I subconsciously anticipated the steep midnight climb. When the rubber was about to hit the road, could I do it? How in the hell would my body react to this kind of altitude? The endless hypothetical scenarios were finally about to be played out in reality. At 11pm we were awakened to prepare for a midnight start. Here is what I wore...thermal underwear, fleece pants, hiking pants, Gore-Tex pants, fleece jacket, down jacket, Gore-Tex jacket, three pairs of socks, gaiters, a balaclava, an outer hat, gloves, and a head-torch to guide our way. My day pack was pretty light...I had a Camelbak loaded with 2 liters of water, and a Nalgene bottle with another liter of water. And of course, close to my heart, underneath all these layers, was my feature-rich digital SLR camera ready to document the wonder of it all. With a high likelihood that the camera could have frozen, I had a disposable version as a backup. And off we went. It was frigid cold, about 15 degrees Fahrenheit. The hike to the summit begins at midnight for several reasons...first, to see the sunrise as you reach the peak, but more importantly, the scree surface is frozen, which makes it much easier to walk upon. Otherwise, it would be like trudging up a sand dune. We had to cover nearly 4,000 feet in altitude, from 15,358 to 19,341, which seemed like a daunting challenge as we began. It was critical to get into a rhythm, breath regularly, and just remain focused. To make it all the more tortuous, it was ALL uphill, literally, the entire way to Stella Point, which is about 40 minutes from the peak. No flat area at all. The first 30 minutes involved scrambling up rocks, and then the path set into a zigzag pattern until Stella Point. We were fortunate to have nearly a full moon. But all you could really see were strings of head-torches from the other hikers who were making the attempt. My fingers became frozen, and our amazing guide, Florent, took my hiking poles, and told me to keep my hands in my pockets. Very early on, I took off a glove to reach into my pocket for a tissue (my nose ran continuously...charming), and that action threw off my rhythm completely. I was huffing a puffing for the next ten minutes until I got back into my groove. One hour down, two hours down...four hours to go. My water in the tube of my Camelbak froze, so that was useless. I knew I was becoming dehydrated, but it was really difficult to even drink out of my bottle. My throat felt constricted, and the coldness of the water made it feel like I was swallowing maple syrup. Luckily, I did not experience any nausea or headaches for the entire hike. Thank God for Diamox! Florent announced at 4:41am that we had about 45 minutes until reaching Stella Point. That was really great news, because if you can make it that far, you are home free. The remainder of the hike after that is along the crater rim, and just a gentle incline to Uhuru Peak. But the last 15 minutes up to Stella Point were miserable...the scree wasn't frozen, and each step forward was met with a half step backwards. I had completely run out of energy. But we made it, and the last 30 minutes to Uhuru were surreal. I was depleted of energy, but ecstatic at the same time. The sun was rising, and this was the first time we could see the glaciers, as well as the bowl of the crater. One of the guides was holding my arm, and several hundred yards away was the famed signpost, welcoming us to the Roof of Africa. It was a highly-charged emotional moment. We took our pictures (with my digital camera, which never froze!), stayed for about 25 minutes, and then bolted to start the decent. After six hours of hiking up, we had to return down to where we started. That took us two hours. It was crazy to see, in daylight, the surface that we had ascended. The scree was no longer frozen, and it was literally like skiing down a mountain, using our hiking poles as if they were ski poles, gliding down the volcano. The landscape was so rugged and severe, you might have thought that you were somewhere in Afghanistan. We flew down the mountain, and my thighs and hip flexors were not happy. We returned to Barafu camp at 9am, greeted by the applause of our porters, who welcomed us back with cold tumblers of mango juice. I was in pure pain and pure heaven simultaneously. After a few hours of well-deserved sleep, we set out for another four hours of decent, all on rock steps. Yet again, we learned just how far we could physically push ourselves. This hike would not have been possible without the incredible team that supported us. We had a guide, an assistant guide, a cook, and 13 porters. They were the sweetest souls you'll ever meet. We sang songs in Swahili, and soaked in as much of the language as possible. The most important phrase is "pole pole" (pronounced 'pole-lay, pole-lay'), which means "slowly, slowly." This was critical. You would all laugh if I showed you exactly how slow this meant, but it got us to the top. And now, it's done. It was absolutely the hardest physical activity I've ever been through, including the marathon that I ran eight years ago. But despite what might seem like a really unappealing description of the final night, in retrospect I would highly recommend it to anybody who has the desire to experience something so incredible, so spiritual, so wondrous. Just don't ask me to join you...this was a “once and done” type of activity! On top of the world, Scott Scott David Perry is a New York City-based travel enthusiast, photographer and writer, with a passion for bold adventures. He recently returned from a trek up Mt. Kilimanjaro, and this account was his report home after accomplishing this dream trip. Scott can be reached at sdperry@yahoo.com |
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