Category: Hiking

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Kilimanjaro Through the Eyes of Our Guest Blogger

Traveling expands our world in uncounted ways. One of those is meeting people who are equally insane and become life-long friends. This post was written by our friend Graciela, who we met when the entire group of travelers convened at Kilimanjaro International Airport in Tanzania. It’s a wonderful description of our shared experience ascending Mt. Kilimanjaro.

In case you haven’t heard, read in the NY Times, seen us on Headline News or on the Today show, Klemens and I successfully conquered Mount Kilimanjaro – that’s 19,343 feet! Yahoo!  Here’s a little about our trip.

There were eight in our group –
Bev: Police Officer Extraordinaire and 1/2 Ironwomaner.
Greg: Banker, 100 Mile Bicyclist and Bev’s Beau

Peas in a Pod
Bev and Greg

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am ADVENTURE MAN!
Tom: Ironman and Cross Country Cyclist (FYI Tom – they now have planes, trains and automobiles for that!)

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Robin: Glamour Girl and Professional Hiker – her mascara lasted the entire trip – go L’Oreal!

 

 

 

 

 

Bionic Mickey scanning the terrain for predators
Mickey: Federal Agent, Special Forces, Border Patrol and possibly animal rights violator (LOL)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Jane: Our Colorado librarian and mountain goat

 

 

 

 

 

“Sure - I have some pizzas in here. How many do you want?
Klemens: Here to celebrate his 50th birthday – No Experience
Me: Along for the ride – No Experience

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In addition, we had our American guide, Zach, very knowledgable, and our two Kili guides, Killian “the mountain goat” and Robert, the strong, silent type.  To carry our eight 15 kilo bags, tents, chairs, food, tables, cooking pots, etc… we had 25 porters.  These guys are truly amazing! Earning less than $5.00/day, ill equipped and carrying 70 pounds of equipment on their heads, they would bound past us each day arriving to camp way before we did. These guys are responsible for their own gear which at their salaries is nearly impossible. Hence, one of the reasons you are receiving this e-mail.  More on this later.

The excitement began when we landed into Kilimanjaro International airport. Klemens and I thought surely one of the planes’ engines exploded. When we looked out the window for the huge fireball all we saw was blackness. Apparently, KIA has no running lights, or in fact, any other source of electricity to help the pilots know when the earth is approaching.  Welcome to Africa!

Thankfully, we all arrived safely to our hotel, the Springlands Hotel. What seemed to us the first night as possibly a one star hotel would prove to be a  5 star luxury resort on our return.  Moshi is very dusty; as hard as the staff at the hotel tried, cleaning our rooms each morning, by the afternoon everything was covered in a  film of dust, people included.  This though, would prove good practice for the days to follow.

The evening before we were to venture out, Zach did equipment checks, med checks, oxygen and pulse checks.  15 kilos was suddenly not that much weight when you consider 5 pounds of home made trail mix, peppermint patties, cough drops, protein bars, 20 hand and toe warmers (just in case), and my snow leopard hot water bottle – this was such a luxury that it really should be included on the mandatory equipment list. Zach and I did not see eye to eye on this.

Day 1
After our 8am breakfast, we all piled into the van, drove 10 minutes, stopped for gas, drop another ten minutes stopped at  a souvenir shop, drove again – well, you get the idea.  We finally arrive at Machame gate and wait some more.  Efficiency is not a term that is known here in Africa.  Permits, sign-ins, pee, weigh station, have lunch.  Are we ever going to start this adventure?! Pole Pole (pronounced pol-ay) as they say here – slow, slow. This is how we will be hiking up the mountain – pole, pole.
1pm – (I think) Finally, we all anxiously begin our trek.
From here the days blur together.  At the start of the hike it is 85′ humid, a rain forest. As we ascend, it gets cooler, the rain forest disappears and we find ourselves in a  rocky, desolate landscape. Did I mention it starts to become cold – like freezing cold.

Days 2-4
6 am – wake up. pee, wash up, dress for the day’s hike, pack your day pack, roll up your sleeping bag and air mat, pack your duffel.

7am  – breakfast – (best be packed and ready to go). Sterilize gallons of water that you will drink that day, eat, eat and pee.

8am – line up for daily pic taking and start the hike.  Switchbacks, ups, downs, arounds. Mostly ups. Robert would lead the way and the pace – pole pole.  These are the key words to ensure you arrive at the summit.

Lunch – if it’s a long day we’ll have  a box lunch/ short day arrive at camp and have lunch.  Our gourmet box lunch would consist of a piece of malnourished, emaciated chicken, a boiled egg – even the yolk was white, cookies, juice and more carbs. Really delish – you are so hungry!

Porters carrying our camp each day
Porters carrying our camp each day

Arrive at camp – pee.  The awesome porters would have arrived ahead, set up our tents (including a bathroom tent) and set our bags out.  Unpack, roll out mats, roll out sleeping bags, get head lamps out, try and set up for tomorrow.

Tea and a snack. pee and maybe a  nap.

Dinner and more peeing.  It was a lot of water you have just consumed!  Try and stay warm. The nights were very cold making it even that more difficult to get up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom tent.  Often at night, well, most times, it was just too far to walk the 10 feet and the ground next to your tent looked very appealing indeed.

Wake up and do it again.  Day four was notable as we hiked over a sheer cliff known as the kissing wall, did rock scrambles and some rock climbing (no ropes).  Again, the porters are doing this with our equipment on their heads! Then it was hike up, hike down and then hike back up – why don’t they just install a zip line  – much more efficient. Oh well, by this time we’re practically pros.

Day 5 – Summit night

We’ve hiked over 17,000 feet and back down to Barafu camp 15,200 feet.  Hike high, sleep low. Tonight we are having dinner at 5pm, going to bed and getting up at 11pm. Sounds fine except the air is thin, the wind is howling and it’s really really cold.  Sleep? Don’t think so.  At one point during our evening sleep, the food tent collapses causing quite a commotion.  Is our tent next? OK – really no sleeping now.

Klemens and Graciela at Barafu Camp.
Klemens and Graciela at Barafu Camp, before the wind blows everything off the mountainside.

11:00 pm – wake up. pee. The wind is howling  – 60 miles an hour.  Maybe they’ll cancel and have us hike in the morning – sounds much more reasonable.

11:30 pm – breakfast. pee.

12:00 midnight (12:15 am – Klem and I are late).  Off we go.  It’s even colder than before. Our water has frozen, no snack to take as food tent collapsed. It’s dark except for the full moon shining on us.  We look up and see headlamps way way off in the distance. very bad sign –  means we have to hike up there. Don’t look up!  Switchbacks and more switchbacks. Ankle deep in scree! Good thing it’s too dark to see. Cursing Klemens at every step.  I suddenly can’t keep my eyes open – they’re closing all by themselves.  Zach asks me how much 4 plus 3 is – I think really hard – Man! this is a hard question! Finally, I tell him it’s 7 – very proud of myself! Robert brings a  porter,Edward, over to carry my day pack. Makes sure that my mittens are on.  Pee – oh no! Please no peeing! On one break I open a gu that Robin the pro hiker gave me.  Awesome! So excited. I can’t open it. When I finally open it it falls on the ground.  Curse! Don’t know what to do.  Cursing Klem some more!

6am (ish) Stella Point – 18,500 feet (5739 meters)
OMG!! We’ve made it – well, almost! Watch the sunrise way above the clouds – stunningly beautiful! Freezing cold and those damn winds are still blowing! I’m happy to call it a day – 18,000 feet is pretty good – I’m done.  I can’t breathe.  1 1/2 hours more to go – so don’t want to do this! Where’s the spa?!!

Uhuru Peak – 19, 343 feet
We did it!! Hallelujah!! I can’t believe it!! 10 minutes and  5 pics later we are running back down to Stella Point.  Arrive Stella Point 30 minutes later – weren’t we just here? Now I really can’t breathe – getting scared. Where’s the oxygen tank??!!  Finally, Killian and I start back down – skiing down the sandy scree filled slope – Haraka! Haraka! Fast! Fast! Still can’t breathe.

3 1/2 Hours Later
Our team finally arrives back at Barafu camp where we left the night before.  It feels like a dream   Did we just do that? We have lunch and a much needed nap before hiking down another four hours to Millenium camp.  One more night on the mountain.  We all dream of hot showers and beds. Springlands Hotel sounds magical! Congrats everyone!

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The Rich Porter

Here’s another post about our trek up Kilimanjaro. A few months have passed and now we look back on the experience and can’t believe we did it.  We certainly couldn’t have without people like this.

We climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro with a very rich man. He doesn’t show up on any of those Wealthiest People in the Universe lists and you won’t see him ringing the bell on a stock exchange. He didn’t graduate from an expensive business school with dreams of investment banking or start-up riches. His parents divorced when he was age 15, his Christian mother unable to pay for his education and his Muslim father unwilling. Today, this natural, self-made leader helps people from all over the world achieve their dreams, encouraging them to ignore their inner voices of doubt and find an untapped strength that they never knew existed. He urges people to push harder than they ever thought possible and to “just go”. He commands the respect of his staff, running an efficient operation with safety and customer experience as top priorities. He’s savvy with social media, has global connections, and his logo is recognized in the field. And the only place you’ll meet him is on the tallest free-standing mountain in the world.

Kilian Christian is a 27-year old Tanzanian guide on Mt. Kilimanjaro. After two years of living on the streets of Moshi following his parents’ divorce, he decided that he needed to take control of his life and joined the ranks of Tanzanian men who are fortunate to be hired as a porter on the mountain. In the hierarchy of support staff on a Kilimanjaro trek, there are regular porters, toilet porters, assistant cooks, cooks, and guides. The guide is also the camp boss, supervising all of the staff and ensuring that everything runs smoothly. The porters, earning an average salary of $6USD per day, carry all of the camp gear and most of the personal gear belonging to the trekkers. Each porter hauls up to 30 pounds, carrying it on his head while scurrying up the mountain. The toilet porter is responsible for maintaining and carrying the camp toilet and understandably receives a slightly higher wage. The support team breaks down camp each morning after the trekkers leave and sets it up again at the next site before they arrive. Our group of eight was supported by 25 Tanzanians. Several of them were spotted at the end of the trek proudly wearing Team Kilian shirts.

Kilian’s career as mountain guide began as a regular porter. He only spoke Swahili but quickly figured out that the path to success required learning English. He began by gathering up functional phrases from trekkers, asking them to write down words that he heard tossed about. Good morning. Thank you. Is everything okay? At the end of each trek, he practiced those words and learned new ones with each arriving group. With little formal training, Kilian mastered English well enough to pass the exams required to become a guide. In ten years on the mountain, he has become nearly fluent in English and functional in multiple languages, encouraging weary trekkers to “just go” in many tongues?

By his own count, Kilian has accompanied groups up Mt. Kilimanjaro over 230 times. Even using a conservative estimate, this means that nearly 2,000 people have been led, emotionally lifted, or physically supported by this gentle and remarkably strong man in their attempt to reach the highest point in Africa. He’s carried packs, hauled supplies, administered emergency aid, and choreographed a complex production to ensure the success of every trekker and team member. So many people are indebted to Kilian for achieving a life goal and checking another box on the bucket list.

After ten years and nearly 3.5 million feet of elevation gain, Kilian has reached the pinnacle of his career on Kilimanjaro. He dreams of immigrating to the United States, where he could develop his talents to new levels. Even with a U.S. based guide company willing to sponsor him, the immigration path is long and uncertain. In our world, natural leaders who can communicate with customers in multiple languages become high-paid consultants. In Kilian’s world, those skills get you to the top of your field in your mid-20s. In our world, people whine about paying $4 for a gallon of gas to fuel their car. In Kilian’s world, people beg for a job carrying tourists’ belongings up a 19,340′ mountain for $6 a day.

On the mountain, where Kilian seems the happiest, none of this matters to him. His huge smile and infectious laugh is the same in the thick air of the cloud forest as it is in the rarified air of the glacier summit. Always calm under pressure, his confident and positive demeanor didn’t change when the dining tent blew away in the dark during a severe windstorm at 15,000′ elevation or when several members of our group suffered increasingly severe symptoms of altitude sickness. Happily singing on the trail and doing acrobatic handstands on panoramic overlooks, Kilian is the embodiment of embracing life and refusing to accept a hand dealt as fate. And all of that makes him a very rich man.

 

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A Few Words

Sheryl and Laura Summit Mt. Whitney (14,497’)

You know that adage “a picture is worth a thousand words”? It sure applies to this one, saved from the archives of our good friend and fellow trekker, Steve. If you’ve read the earlier posts chronicling the trek up Whitney and my sister’s journey, you know that a few of those “thousand words” would be pain, nausea, and let’s get the hell out of here without falling to our deaths. But given sufficient time, the body heals itself and the mind slowly shifts all memory of the reasons you wanted to “get the hell out”, leaving a more prominent and permanent place for words like proud, self-confident, inspirational, adventuresome, hard-earned, and super cool. Good words for all of us.

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Josiah Whitney’s Mountain and Why We Cursed His Name For Hours

The other day, Bev commented on the lack of posts about the Mt. Whitney hike and speculated that, even in the rear view mirror, the whole experience still felt too big to wrap our arms around it. As is so often the case, she summed it up perfectly. I’m also beginning to think that won’t change. So here goes. And be sure to check out the photo gallery (see links in the right sidebar).

This is a story about six middle-aged adults, nearly all of them AARP eligible, who decided to hike the Mt. Whitney Trail in one day. This is not an ordinary hike. Permits are required and only available by lottery, held annually in March. The odds of “winning” a permit are slim. Permits are issued for dates from May through September. This year, the trail had snow on it in late-August and was not accessible to the summit until late-July. Except for the first two miles of hard packed dirt, the terrain is rock. All rock. Nothing but rock. The trail is 11 miles long. Each way. When you get to the top, you turn around and walk back down for 11 miles. Because you start hiking at 2:00AM, much of the trail on the way back down will appear “new” since the first four-plus hours on the way up were in complete darkness, save for the piercing beam of your headlamp to keep you from stumbling to your death. The trail begins at an elevation of 8,200’, which is higher than any summit east of the Rocky Mountains. It ends at 14,494’. The term “thin air” takes on a new meaning.

There are also some basic rules to follow. You must carry your poop off of the mountain. That’s right – nothing gets left on the mountain, including poop. The US Forest Service supplied each of us with one “WAG (Waste Alleviation and Gelling) Bag”. Poop in the bag, carry it out, and dump it in the “Human Waste” bins at the trailhead. The Visitor Center, where you pick up your trail permit, has a display explaining how to poop in the bag.

Carry your permit with you at all times because a Ranger will materialize out of thin air and ask for it. Don’t eat protein above 12,000’ or your body will rebel. Never run out of water. The last water source is at 12,600’, which sounds pretty close to the summit but is really many horrible suck-filled miles from it.

It’s 2am and the normal people are sleeping. Our group is gathering at the trailhead in pitch black darkness. It’s completely quiet except for the occasional “holy crap, you’re blinding me with your headlamp”. Everyone is upbeat and feeling good.

The trail has several distinctly named sections. The portion we hiked during the first four hours probably has an official name. We called  it “Dark”.  We were thankful that we’d hiked the first 2.8 miles the day before, giving us a bit of confidence knowing the early terrain and some key landmarks before reaching the boundary of the Mt. Whitney Zone. This is where you could be fined one bazillion dollars if caught without your lottery-winning permit. I was a bit disappointed with the Whitney Zone entrance. I expected something like the desert toll booth in Blazing Saddles, operated by a US Forest Ranger. Or even one of those manually operated gate arms you see at remote border crossings.

Instead, there was a simple sign. It was still pretty cool. And I wanted to kiss that sign on the way back.

This was also a convenient location to go pee, due to the abundance of huge boulders that afforded the ladies some semblance of privacy. A few hours later, there was no such luxury and all modesty was abandoned. Once above the tree line there was no place to hide. It should also be mentioned that the altitude caused everyone to pee like racehorses. High altitude triggers an increase in heartbeat, breathing and urination. The low humidity and low air pressure at high altitudes also causes moisture from your skin and lungs to evaporate at a faster pace — and your body’s increased exertion requires even more water to keep it hydrated. So we all went often and, as Tom pointed out, he “had the stream of a twenty-year old”. Speaking for the men with aging prostates, it was like God said “I give this small reward to you older people who refuse to act your age”. Whatever. I’ll take what I can get.

Nowhere to hide in the daylight…

The early hours in total darkness were surprisingly peaceful. There was no moon, so the summer night sky was full of stars. It was just the first of many humbling reminders of how small we were on this enormous stage. Once we entered the Whitney Zone, the trail was in pretty rough shape due to a particularly harsh winter and it seemed to disappear for short stretches. This was a little disconcerting in the pitch black on a trail with steep drop-offs. The packed dirt trail of the first 2.8 miles was behind us and now it was rock. Endless rocks. Big rocks. Unstable rocks. I wondered about the force of nature required to create this landscape. There were a smattering of other middle-of-the-night hikers, but we didn’t see the steady stream that we were told would be on the trail. It turns out that most of those people were sleeping in the campgrounds. Then, we ran into Ranger Bob. Nobody knows where he came from (maybe he hid behind a big rock and stepped out to check permits as you approached his covert spot) but we were happy to see Ranger Bob and pepper him with questions about the trail ahead. We saw Ranger Bob again at the summit, where he seemed to appear out of thin air. Maybe he has a secret underground tunnel with an escalator. Most of all, we loved saying the words “Ranger Bob” because it sounds like a cartoon character.

Bev and Ranger Bob

Then, finally, four hours into the hike, dawn. It was like watching the sun come up while standing on the moon. I was pretty certain that  we weren’t on the lunar surface because we weren’t floating around and I didn’t see any stray golf balls. The high point waaaay in the back is our destination.

We knew that there was still a long way to go, but when daylight breaks you see what’s ahead and wonder “how are we going to get THERE?” Being in the dark had its advantages. Soon after daybreak, we reached Trail Camp where a few of the overnighters were just waking up. Mt. Whitney also came into full view for the first time.

Immediately after Trail Camp, you reach another famously named section of the trail, the “Ninety-Nine Switchbacks”. When you complete the switchbacks on the way up, you are rewarded with spectacular scenery and a view of the summit that appears deceptively close. When you complete those same switchbacks on the way down, you want to scream “That’s the NINETY-NINTH GOD DAMNED MOTHER F***ING switchback”. At that point, you have only descended to 12,000’, have nearly eight more miles to hike, and all you want to do is curl up in a ball and cry. Like I said, this is no ordinary hike.

We strolled through camp and began the dreaded switchbacks, careful not to miss our last water source at 12,600’, which was where altitude sickness began to rear its ugly head. From this point on, some of us suffered a range of symptoms including headaches, nausea, shortness of breath, an unsteady gait, and mental lapses.

Pumping water – snow in the background

The switchbacks were a grind but with every switch, there was a breathtaking view. Literally. Breathing became a little more laborious with every hairpin turn. The trail wasn’t particularly perilous (yet), although it was a bit nerve wracking during a stretch that required cables to keep us from falling to our deaths. It also occurred to me that in a rock landscape, it would hurt a lot if you fell down. Tom would learn that first hand on the way back down, when altitude sickness caused him to repeatedly fall over onto very large rocks. Ouch. The switchbacks ended at a point called “The Junction”, where the Mt. Whitney Trail converges with the John Muir Trail.

It’s also the point where you cross over from the eastern side of the mountain range to the western side. Because we began this trek at 2AM and the sun was still warming up the eastern cliffs, the Junction also marked the line between toasty warm and freezing cold. Crossing over to the western side, we pulled our jackets on and headed into the cold wind for the last 2.3 miles to the summit. 2.3 miles isn’t particularly far, especially if you’ve already walked for 8.7 miles. Sadly, this was no ordinary 2.3 miles. In fact, it was the LONGEST 2.3 miles EVER. The hard and late winter took its toll on this portion of the trail. It was as if God played dice with giant boulders and forgot to pick up after himself. Portions of the trail completely vanished, buried under massive unstable rock piles. Then, as we picked our way through that mess, the trail would open up with the eastern side completely dropping off. These sections are called “the windows” because you can stand on the trail and “see” America to the east and the west with nothing blocking your view. It also meant that you were standing on a three-foot wide strip of rocks with nothing on either side to keep you from plummeting forever. Definitely a poo-in-the-pants moment. Two of them.

This was becoming a bad video game with no end in sight. Just as we finished the gauntlet of wobbly boulders without falling to our deaths, we came upon a three-foot deep snowfield on a steep mountainside. Really? A snowfield on August 28th? Less than a half-hour from the summit? Ugh. The “trail” was a narrow single track path, barely wide enough for one foot. Our trekking poles became ski poles, pushing us upwards. After a little bit of cross-country skiing without the convenience of skis, we knew that the summit was within reach. The air got noticeably thinner and we knew that we wouldn’t be able to stay at the top for very long.

The first trail to the summit of Mt. Whitney was completed on July 22, 1904. Four days later, the new trail had its first recorded death on Whitney. Having hiked the trail, Bryd Surby was struck and killed by lightning while eating lunch on the exposed summit. In response, work began on a stone hut that would become the Smithsonian Institution Shelter, completed in 1909. When that 102-year old stone hut came into view, I wanted to dash to the top. Unfortunately, someone had tied an aircraft carrier to my backpack, preventing me from breaking into a full sprint. Or a slow walk. It was more like a slow crawl to the summit. But when we got there, eight hours and fifteen minutes later, it was pretty damn spectacular.

Those clouds started to gather <insert theme from “Jaws”> and we became concerned about being on an exposed trail during a lightning storm. While other hikers were leisurely sunbathing on the summit, we were anxious to get out of there. Sign the book. Check. Take photos. Check. Now just turn around and hike the damn trail all over again.