Kilimanjaro Trip Part 8: Barafu to Uhuru to High

Hello!  It has been a while, so I'm finally getting around to finalizing my story of Kilimanjaro.  This part won't have many pictures, for reasons you'll soon understand.  So you're left to my description of it, and I'll do my best.

I left off last time just as we were to "sleep" all afternoon, then be awoken at 11pm for a meal and a midnight hike.  As I explained, I was nervous.  I had been working toward this for over a year.  I raised over $8000, bought and organized gear, got quite a few shots, selected plane tickets, broke in gear, trained...It was an odd feeling.  Never in my life have I worked SO hard for something with such a culminating, focused ending that I didn't already know!  College, sure, but I knew I'd graduate.  Having Audrey, of course, but that was "only" 9 months, and I was confident in her arrival.  But this?  Failure was possible.  But alas, there I was.

I think I slept some, because soon I heard Godson gently saying "hello....it is time" or some such gentle thing outside our tent.  Instead of the usual groggy lollygagging, it was business.  Anne and I both arose, almost robotically gathering our gear, cramming water bottles into dirty socks, putting on layers.  I was anticipating the cold, and it was crisp when I (again) stumbled ungracefully out of my tent.  We ate, but I have no recollection of what.  I'm not sure there was even much talking other than when we gave our breathing rate.  It's a blur, as is much of the next 12 hours.

After eating, we got our packs and left.  It was different, with the porters all still sound asleep.  There was no noise other than the crunch of the rocks under our feet and our breathing.  Maybe some sloshing of a water bottle.  The dampened, quiet of the night was very much present.  We got in line, in some order.  I remember debating where to keep my camera.  It needed to be accessible, but also needed to stay warm as to not drain the batteries.  I finally shoved it into my coat pocked and hoped.  We headed off in the pitch black.  Our headlamps illuminated a small circle ahead of each of us.  I felt like my world consisted of my breathing and the few feet in front of me.  Aware of others, but focused on doing everything I could to get up that mountain.  I snapped a quick picture, and realized how hard night pictures are, and that I needed to focus on climbing.

Beginning of Summit Night

My headlamp was AMAZING, by the way.  This picture is a glimpse of the hike just as we left our camp.  It wasn't all like this, but it gives an idea.  Some people used poles, some didn't.  Some struggled more than others, but as usual, we were going pole pole.  Once we got out of the main campground, I looked up in the direction we were going.  I saw black, with a brightly lit trail going what seemed to be straight up a very steep wall.  The headlamps of all the hikers ahead of us.  I felt disheartened, wishing we were already that far up.  The dark can be deceiving, as they truly weren't that far ahead of us, nor was it straight up a steep wall.  But at the time, I felt a bit let down.

We climbed up.  It was dark.  Things went ok for a while, with a few tire pressure breaks (not me!!  too cold!), layer adjustments etc. It was chilly and noses were running.  The guides were all so good at the "Farmer's Blow" technique.  This is where your nose is running, you close one nostril with a finger, then blow out the other, shooting your mucus out.  I can't do it, and mostly used my gloves (gross, I know).  I remember Anne had a water bottle on the outside of her pack and one time we stopped she nudged me and had me drink some of her water as it was rapidly turning to slush.  The temperature wasn't as cold as I expected.  When we stopped I'd get a bit chilly, but when we were moving I was fine in the layers I had on.  Hike, stop.  Hike, stop.  I have no idea how long this went on.  Funny how your mind works at midnight at 17,000 feet. 

At one point, Tanya and Sean fell behind.  I remember wondering if they'd make it, but the guides kept us moving (no worries, a guide stayed with them!).  I remember feeling tired.  Sleepy.  When we stopped, I started to consider just laying down on a rock and taking a nap.  Now, the high-altitude mountain girl that I grew up being KNEW that this was a) caused by lack of oxygen, and b) NOT a good idea.  But oh, it was tempting, and I'm pretty sure my thoughts were verbalized at least once.  Hike, stop.  Then it started getting harder.  Moving my legs was hard and I had to focus on moving them, the lure of a nap still growing.  Jessie was ahead of me, and I remember her collapsing and vomiting a bit.  I thought, "Oh.  Poor Jessie.  I should help her, but I just can't get there".  Now keep in mind she was literally 3 feet ahead of me, but the effort it would take me to get to her and help her up?  No way could I do that.  Goddy, a guide, quickly came and helped her.  That moment is vivid in my memory because it made me realize how I was struggling, how the altitude was affecting me.  

Jessie and Melissa were both having a really hard time and the guides were great at helping them.  Soon the sun was peaking over the clouds on the horizon and I felt just a wee bit better, like there was hope.  The sun was amazing. It looked as if it were a sunrise over the ocean, but it was a sunrise over an ocean of clouds.  

Sunrise during summit

Slightly rejuvinated, I looked up.  Looked up, only to realize we still had a LONG way to go still.  Pole pole, we continued up.  Pausing some, but moving steadily.  My foggy brain was starting to get frustrated.  Frustrated that we weren't there yet, frustrated that I couldn't make my legs go faster.  Frustrated I wasn't doing better.  Anne, Chris and Donnie all seemed to be chugging up that peak as if it were a Sunday picnic.  I didn't understand.  I felt a bit defeated, as if my body were failing me.

Felix and Donnie headed to summit

Time passed.  It could have been 30 minutes or 3 hours, I honestly have no idea.  At some point, Chris must have figured out we were close to some final point.  He came and put his arm around me and said, "We're doing this together".  Thinking back to it brings tears to my eyes.  Such a good friend, and pole pole, we trudged up that dusty mountain.

I paused briefly to take this picture.  It's not great, but it was our first peek at the glacier.  I was excited to see it, as many people believe it will be gone completely in the next 10-20 years.  Plus, stopping felt GOOD.  Chris and I continued, and soon we made it to Stella Point.

Stella Point is at 18,885'.  It's not the summit, but man it sure felt like it should be.  There's a sign, and a big flat spot, and people were resting, shedding layers, hugging, eating.  It felt like we had arrived.  We all celebrated with hugs and high fives, pictures and snacks.  

Stella Point, 18,885 feet

Here's our group.  Goddy, John, Melissa, Anne, Jessie, myself, Donnie, Chris and Felix.  Wow did I feel good!  No more desire for a nap.  I shed my outer layer, ate a Clif Bar, drank water and felt fantastic.  Blue sky, friends....what more is there?  Felix decided that Melissa and Jessie were to not head to the final summit.  Their struggling up to this point was significant, and they were concerned that another 500 feet in elevation and a few more miles might be too much.  

I saw Melissa sitting on a rock looking into the sun, tears streaming down her cheeks.  My heart went out to her, as I could imagine the frustration.  To be so close and to be told to stop.  I remember telling her that she made it to 18,885 feet, higher than most people will ever be.  18,885 feet is nothing to sneeze at.  We all hugged Jessie and Melissa before they headed down with Goddy. Then Felix  promptly moved us along, on a mission.  Our group was now down to just Anne, Chris, Donnie and me along with Felix and John.  We were headed to Uhuru Peak at 19,341'.  We were to follow the rim of the crater to the final point, which in the picture above, is above Chris' head.  It looked mostly flat, open, easy.  Yay, I can do this!

Soon after starting up again, I was once again struggling to move my legs.  Why was I having so much trouble?  Frustration hit again because as before, the other three seemed to be having no difficulties.  Then Anne pulled over and threw up.  I remember giving her an Altoid.  Wow, I had Altoids!!!  I may not move quickly, but I have fresh breath.  

Next thing I knew, those three seemed a mile ahead of me.  I was pulling up the rear, and John was patiently walking with me.  I'd like to say I was "taking in the scenery", but the truth is I was just slow.  People kept passing us coming down, having already summited. I remember a pair of ladies telling me I was close.  Close?  What did that mean, at this point?

Glacier, on the way from Stella to Uhuru

John was amazing.  He was encouraging and patient. He told me stories of camping in the crater, of hiking up the other side.   I was listening, but mostly struggling. Determined to get there.  I was NOT going to quit a quarter mile from the top.  No way.  Step.  Breathe.  Step.  Breathe. Why are my legs not moving?  This trail was never-ending.

Final approach to Uhuru Peak

Then John spoke.
"Suzanna, may I ask you a question?" (yes, he called me Suzanna)
All I could think was, "Dude, NOT the best time for conversation", but I replied, "Sure."
"May I hold your hand?"

Now, this might seem odd.  Or overly polite.  But at that moment, it was the perfect thing.  I think I replied with "Please".  So we held hands.  It wasn't romantic or awkward or uncomfortable, but the opposite.  It was comforting, strengthening.  The power of human touch, human connection.  Just holding somebody's hand was enough to keep me moving.  We sped up ever so slightly, but it felt like I was speed racer.  Every now and then, he'd give me a squeeze and say, "You are amazing.  You are strong, like a lion!"  I couldn't even squeak out a whimper, let alone the roar of a lioness, but hearing it felt good.  Soon, we were there.

Myself and Anne, VICTORY at UHURU!!

The emotion.  So hard to describe.  Joy, victory, power, gratitude, strength, friendship, relief, love.  I remember hugging Chris and telling him I was glad he came along on the trip and then we both cried.  Tears of joy and friendship. I remember taking the above picture with Anne, feeling like we could do ANYTHING.  I remember telling Donnie about John, and how I wasn't sure I would have made it without him, so Donnie immediately gave John his Patagonia down jacket.    

Overall it was a feeling of accomplishment, gratitude and love.  Accomplishment because THAT WAS HARD, but I did it.  Gratitude to everyone who donated to AFCA, to my body for being so strong (even though I had had doubts), gratitude just for being.  Being there, being alive.  Love of my friends.  What an amazing group of friends to share this with.  

Me, Anne, Donnie, Chris at 19,341!

Pictures were taken. So, so many pictures.  I felt human again. And it was literally all downhill from here.  I was at 19,341 feet.  The top of Kilimanjaro.  The top of Africa's highest peak.  The top of the world's tallest freestanding mountain.  

Time to head down.  We got out our poles and started.  Down, what a concept.  This thing called gravity?  We were friends again.  Not too far down the trail, we met Sean and Tanya headed up.  Yay!!  They would make it all the way in the end, which was awesome.  As we descended, it got warmer.  Felix paused us at one point for a layer adjustment.  As I was flailing in the volcanic ash, trying to get layers off as smoothly as possible, he magically pulled out snacks for the four of us. We each got a packet of cookies, a juice box, and a full-sized Cadbury Dairy Milk bar.  

Snack break on descent

 Again, not a great picture, but it's good to show the terrain.  That's Chris in the blue jacket in awe of a Dairy Milk bar.  The trail we're "on" in this picture is actually quite steep, but it doesn't appear that way.  After devouring our snacks, we were off again.  Felix and Donnie basically ran down the scree.  I didn't see them again until camp.  Anne and I were in the back (with John of course), and Chris was between the two groups. It was all down, and would be hard to get lost, so it felt as if we all had some freedom.  After 6 days of walking in a line pole pole, "skiing" down fine volcanic skree felt like heaven.  Yeah, the dust was everywhere, including in my lungs.  Yes, my legs were exhausted.  Yes, all I really wanted was a shower.  But overall, still, I was feeling on top of the world.  

As we got back to the campground, I saw people "moving in", as we had the day before.  These were the people who would summit tonight.  It felt nice to be on the other side, and they looked at us as if we knew something they didn't.  And we did.  We knew the struggle and the payoff.

Melissa and Jessie were at camp, sleeping.  I tried to clean up a bit, and I wrote in my journal while I had a few minutes.  I didn't write much, but I made a list.

     1) I need to perfect my farmer's blow.

     2) I both love and hate today. 

     3) My friends are amazing.

We had time to rest a little.  I think it was about lunch when Tanya and Sean rolled into camp.  We had lunch, packed up, then headed down.  This was the only time I got to see the porters pack up our camp.  What an operation!  Gabriel (my porter) had a hand-held scale.  He weighed each of our bags, then depending on how much it weighed, added a bucket, a tent, a chair, a something to that "pile" for that specific porter.  Very fair system.  We headed down, and soon our crew literally ran past us down a very slick trail.

Going down felt nice because it's "easier", but it was scary.  My legs were exhausted and the trail was slick mud.  Luckily it was only a few miles to camp.  We arrived and checked in, back in the land of vegetation and oxygen.  Donnie and I turned from the registration desk and I immediately spotted Gabriel.  We started to our camp, and the porters started singing!  Impromptu dance party?  Why not?

Our final camp on Kilimanjaro

Windswept trees at camp

Our welcoming party!

Dance party, Donnie, John, Jessie

We rested a bit, tried to eat dinner.  Lamb stew, but nobody ate much.  Our best guess was just exhaustion.  

Anne's sleeping bag had gotten a bit wet, and she felt sick, so I let her have my bag for the night.  Along with everything else I experienced and learned that day, I learned that a Kelty sleeping bag rated to 0 is not as warm as a Mountain Hardware sleeping bag rated to 0.  

Goodnight!

Kilimanjaro Trip Part 7: Karanga to Barafu

Start of Day 5.

Morning at Karanga Camp, 13,100'.

  At this point, every morning felt a bit the same.  Drink a perfect cup of coffee from John, crawl into some clothes, some or all of which may be clean if I was lucky.  We would often announce things like, "Hey everyone, I have clean socks/pants/shirt/bra!" if it was such a day. Fiddle with my blister, which although hadn't improved after four days of hiking, also hadn't worsened.  Stumble out of the tent, gasp and the view, fight with hair, enjoy the hot bowl of water outside my tent to wash with, then roll in to the dining tent with empty camelback and water bottles for breakfast.

I don't mean to make the mornings sound bad, or dull, or mundane, but they were a bit routine.  To me, there's always something nice about routine.  It's calming, knowing what to expect, or what is expected of you.  Granted, this  particular set of mornings, one would call anything but "routine", but there was a bit of it stuck in there.

Nothing from the morning at Karanga sticks out in my memory, other than a bit of anxiousness.  Describing it is hard.  This was the day we were to hike to Barafu, and Barafu is the camp from which we would summit.  So, in leaving Karanga, I had this broad, vague, distant bit of nervousness.  Summit night (more on the 'night' part later) was rapidly approaching.  I wasn't feeling 100%, as I'd had a cold for a few days.  Oh yeah, I forgot to mention.  I had been fending off a head cold since the first day in Tanzania.  I was pretending it didn't exist, that it was all in my head.  I wasn't making a big deal out of it, hoping it would fade.  Things were going fine, but I knew I wasn't as strong as I could be.

This day would be a short hike, maybe 3 or 4 miles if I recall correctly.  We were to be at Barafu for lunch, then had been instructed that we were to nap in the afternoon.  So, off we went, carrying as much water as we could since there was no water supply at Barafu.  Up we went.

Trail leaving Karanga, porter, Kili.

Endless hill

The hill outside of Karanga seemed to go on and on.  Seemingly headed straight into the sun, we continued to follow each other, putting one foot in front of the other.  We had started at 13,100 feet, so conversation was not as boisterous as some previous days, and at times I felt like we were all focused on the task at hand.  The silence wasn't at all awkward or uncomfortable, as silences sometimes can be.  At one point, I paused and turned around and was surprised at what I saw.

String of hikers leaving Karanga.

Behind us was a string of hikers and porters.  Keep in mind, we were usually one of the last few groups to leave a camp, so most of the people were actually ahead of us, and there were STILL this many people behind us.  It reminded me again of just how many people are on this mountain at any given time.

One foot, one foot, one foot, sip of water.  Up we went, heading to 15,300 feet.  We took all the regular tire pressure and snack breaks, even stopped a few times just to enjoy the view.  Kilimanjaro was right there.  Instead of being way down by her feet, we were on her shoulders now.  Seeing the top this close was another reminder that summit night was TONIGHT.

Everyone was focused.

Kili, she's close now!

Water break!

I think it was here, at this water break, where we could see Barafu Camp.  A short day felt good, so I was excited that we could see camp.  The thought of an afternoon of rest was pretty appealing!

Barafu in sight!

It's hard to see in this picture, but Barafu is on the top of that ridge, just left (uphill) of where the trail reaches the top of the ridge.  Great!  We just had to walk across that plain, then up another steep hill.  Again, a bit of anxiousness crept in to my mind.  That's camp.  That's the camp where I will summit from.  As we crossed that plain, moods were cheery and the walking was easy.  Just before the ridge, we noticed that people had cleared rocks (boulders?) from areas, then used those rocks to spell words.  "hello" or "jambo" or "Julie" or "Dan"...all sorts of things were spelled out.  I kept thinking how amazing that people would take (and have!) the energy to lift heavy rocks and move them around. 

We got to the base of the ridge, probably took a break, then headed up.  The trail up that ridge was pretty straight up, not a lot of switchbacks.  And we didn't stop...once.  We were like the little engine that could, slowly plodding up that trail, almost as if any loss of momentum would stop us forever.  Our guides took us right up to camp.  

Barafu Hut, 15,300'

Now normally, camp felt welcoming.  Tents felt friendly, and were set up in some sense of "community", in a circle, or next to each other, something that felt communal.  Not at Barafu.  Barafu felt harsh and alien, uninviting and exposed.  One of my first thoughts was, "we're camping HERE?  This is the best spot around to camp?"

Our camp at Barafu

 The site was a volcanic boulder field, on a slope, and it was windy.  Part of me felt like something was going to happen to make it better.  Maybe the wind would stop.  Maybe my tent would magically be on the ONLY flat rectangle of ground in the area.  Maybe the rocks under my thermarest would actually feel like little massaging hands.  Alas, nope.  This was our site.  This was to be our haven before and after summiting Africa's highest peak.  This was to be our energizing site and our recovery site. You have GOT to be kidding me.

Looking out from our site

 Which tent looks the most comfy?  Ours was the one just on the other side of the person in the gray coat in the center of the picture above.  Front and center, facing the wind.  Oh boy.

Tents tucked in where they would fit

But hey, clean toilet!!!

Time for a comedic break, as I feel this particular post has been pretty serious.  I don't mean it to be, and I don't think this day was any more serious or any "worse" than previous days overall, but personally I felt, again, a bit of anxiousness.  Ok, comedy.

So, the toilets.  Yay for clean toilets!  We rolled into camp, went and registered, then had time to settle in before lunch.  I had to go, a "long call" if you recall the terminology from "Kilimanjaro Part 3: Machame Gate to Machame".  If you don't recall, feel free to refer back to that entry.  As I approached one of our two toilets, I could tell someone was in there by the feet sticking out a bit.  So I waited.  Soon, the occupant came out, and quickly said, "Oh, I'm sorry!" and went off to unpack.  When I entered, I noticed that they had had a long call as well.  But really, at this point, it was no big deal.  So I did my business, and noticed with a chuckle, that mine looked just like theirs!  Clearly, we had been eating all the same things.  Later, I saw that person and commented, "hey, no worries, clearly we're on the same diet!" and all feelings of awkwardness vanished.  So yay for toilets!

I looked around, and looked up.  Tents trickled up the ridge, then a faint trail could be seen winding up.  "That's it, that's my trail", I thought.  The part I could see didn't look so bad.  But it was daylight, and I couldn't see much.  When we had registered, we met a few men coming down and they made some snide comment, something along the lines of, "Good luck, you'll need it".  This, among other things, continued to play in my mind.

Once we were all settled, we had lunch.  Felix had a lot to tell us.  After lunch we were to sleep or rest in our tents until dinner. During this time we were also to collect exactly the clothes/gear we were going to use for summiting, and he could come and check it all before dinner.   Around 5, we would have dinner, go over safety gear, then we were to sleep again.  We would be awakened at 11pm, have a light meal, then leave at midnight to summit.  Fun, right?  Let's do this.

Anne and I retired to our tent.  Tents in the sun  get hot.  Tents at 15,300' in the sun get hot too.  We tried to get a breeze going as much as we could, but that tent was hot.  I might have slept some, but it wasn't quality sleep.  I was also worried about Felix's gear check.  What if I couldn't find something (yes, I was still constantly misplacing things in that tiny tent)? What if I didn't have the right gear?  What if my coat wasn't poofy enough or my gloves weren't warm enough or or or or.... Finally we had our gear ready.  Seeing it laid out made me feel a bit better, but the thumbs up and passing grade from Felix, who has summited more times than I can imagine, was what really put my mind at ease.
Also much to my relief, Felix said the coldest we could expect would be around 15 degrees F.  Heck, that's not bad!  When we heard this, Donnie and I had high-fived.  We're from Colorado, we're tough!

PAC bag,....looks fun, right?

I don't remember dinner, but I do remember discussing the safety gear.  I wish I had a picture of some of it, so I borrowed the above from the internet.  One summit porter was to carry first aid kits and oxygen in case we needed it.  Another carried a PAC bag (Portable Altitude Chamber).  This was in case someone was beyond the point where oxygen would help.  They'd be placed in this body-sized bag, which can be filled air/oxygen to simulate air pressure above ambient.  It basically simulates lower altitude air pressure/environment, allowing the crew to carry the person down.  Felix assured us that they had never used it, but always took it in case.  It felt good to learn all of this, and it made me feel safe.  Summiting a 19,300 peak in the dark would not be easy, and there certainly would be chances for trouble.

Felix instructed us what to put in our packs, and how to pack.  Water bottles were to be slid into dirty (or clean, but hey, nobody had clean anything) wool socks to insulate them.  They were to be put INSIDE the packs, top down, so if they freeze you could still drink.  We were to carry as much water as possible, since it was unknown how long we would be on the mountain.  Snacks were to be maximized as well.  Spare batteries for headlamps and cameras were to be kept as close to our bodies as possible.  It all felt so detailed and specific, I felt stressed again.  What if my water froze, or my camelback cracked?  What if my headlamp broke?  What if my blister FINALLY decided to rupture?  Beyond the more gear-oriented worries, of course I was worried about making it. What if my O2 level at 11:00 was too low?  What if I didn't make it up?  What if I came all this way, hiked for 5 days, then didn't make it?  How would I handle that, how would I tell people, and what would they think?  What if my cold prevented me from summiting?  Could it?  Would it?  There were so many thoughts and worries in my brain as we left the safety meeting....and I couldn't make them go away.

We all crawled into our tents, hoping to sleep.  At 11:00, someone would wake us up, we'd get dressed, pack our backpacks, and head up to 19,341 feet.  In the dark.

Kilimanjaro Trip Part 6: Barranco to Karanga, Extra Focus on Friends

Day 4 begins.  If I recall, my hair was getting dirty enough that it was eternally tangled.  Each morning, my ritual now not only consisted of tending to The Great Blister of '15, but also fighting with my hair.  For the first 3 days I had it in two french braids, a la Pippi Longstocking.  I did this in hopes that it would keep it from a)getting totally filthy and b)keep it from getting tangled.  Magically, it managed to tie itself in knots WHILE in braids.  I think on this particular morning, I wrangled it into some sort of pony tail, frustrated.  My journal is funny, I wrote that my hair was the most annoying part of the whole hike.

When I stepped out of the tent, thankfully the fog was gone (or was just lower than we were).  What a sight, to see the Barranco Wall towering to our east(ish).

Donnie, Kili, Barranco Wall

I love this picture of Donnie for some reason.  Dawn light like this is one of my favorite kinds of light, knowing a new day lies ahead.  Donnie is a bit like that, always optimistic for what's coming down the pipeline.   I'm not sure what he's looking at, as Kili is behind him, but that's not the point. He was always up first, ready to hold my coffee/gloves/hat/hairbrush/coat/sunglasses while I tied boots/drank/brushed/put on sunscreen, etc.  I knew if I needed anything, he would be first in line to help me.  If needed, he would have carried me up the mountain. He was energetic, reliable, helpful, and such a comfort to have around.  This picture was taken early, right after my battle with my hair.   Kili was there, waiting. Felix showed us the Barranco Wall, the dark wall on the right of the picture.  That wall was where we were headed.  Up the wall.

At Barranco Camp, looking away from Kilimanjaro.

 Another morning above the clouds.  I couldn't get over constantly being above a sea of clouds.  It was amazing, but I kept wondering to myself if the clouds would ever clear.  Would I ever be able to see "out there"?  To look out over Africa?  The clouds were breathtaking each day, but for a western girl used to large vistas, it felt strange to not see what was there.

Me, Anne, best tentmates!  

Anne.  Dear Anne, one of the best friends of my life.  This picture of Anne and me isn't the best.  We look a bit tired (we were), a bit dirty (we were), but we were happy.  For a tentmate, she was amazing. Being tentmates means getting pretty intimate with another person. Let me explain....

**PSA, this might get a bit graphic**
Example 1)Wet wipes.   I'm not sure what day it was, but one day after hiking we gave ourselves wet wipe baths in our tent. Now, after 3(ish) days of hiking, wet wipes feel pretty amazing.  We started with our face, hand, arms, feet...oh my did that feel good.  Thank you Target baby wipes and your Shea Butter scent, oh how I love you.   Anne stripped down and well,...you know...got clean.  I think she briefly apologized to me, but soon I was following suit.  Now, after 3(ish) days of sleeping in pretty much the same clothes you hike in, it feels SO GOOD to just be naked.  Yep, I said it.  Bare skin, meet fresh air.  Then, to make it better, to have wet wipes to clean with!?!?  Holy canoli.  I think we both laughed about how absurd it was that we were both naked in a tent with piles of clean and dirty wet wipes.  But oh so worth it.  You know what they say,..."Ain't no party like a wet wipe party!"

Example 2)  Dirty undies.  Yep, they happen, even on a volcano.  We changed them daily (they were the only thing we changed daily), but still, they're dirty undies.  I had packed some Swiss Army vacuum seal bags just in case something got super wet, but it turns out they were great for dirty clothes.  So, each day, we would hold our breath while I opened the bag and we'd both shove in dirty undies, socks etc.  It would have been funny to watch, and it's funny to recall.  Yeah, it's pretty gross, all our dirty clothes sealed up in a bag. For days.   We started opening it and setting it outside our tent to let it "air out" if we had some time, but still.  Wow.

So, as you can see, things get intimate in those tents pretty quickly.  How thankful I was to be in a tent with one of my best friends.  In the end, we discussed it.  How it was awkward in the beginning, but then, it was freeing, refreshing to be so comfortable with another human.  Best tentmate ever.  Thanks, AP.

Ok, on we go...

 Again, breakfast was warming and spirits were good as we packed up our gear and left snacks for our porters.  While we packed up, the sun hit our camp.  Deciding on what layers and how many layers was tricky.  I didn't want to be that person who had to stop first for a layer adjustment, but it was always bound to happen.  I don't recall exactly what I wore, but I do remember stopping to shed some leg layers pretty quickly.

Packing up at Barranco Camp in the sun.

We left camp and I was excited.  This was to be a short day in terms of mileage, about 4 hours of hiking.  Barranco Wall was to be the "most technical" climbing we would do and I was ready for it.  No gear was required, but this would be a bit more than just walking like we had done the previous 3 days.  Anne was excited, Donnie was bouncing, but others weren't as thrilled.  For people not comfortable with heights, I can understand why the Wall might be a bit daunting.  Felix reassured everyone, reminding us that the porters do it with massive loads and things on their heads.  Well, as we already observed, the porters were amazing.  So Felix's comment perhaps didn't do as much good as he was hoping.  We teamed up, and helped make our teammates feel as good as we could.  We'd get up that wall, all of us.

Headed straight toward Barranco Wall

Getting a good perspective in pictures is so hard, especially of tall, steep things.  The wall was steep, but not flat, so that was good.  The rocks were bumpy and gnarly and "sticky".  Sticky rocks, rocks that your boots grip onto, where you step and feel confident that your foot will stick.  So in terms of climbing up a wall, this was a good wall to climb up.

Up Barranco Wall

 We paused a few times, of course for tire pressure, as well as layer adjustments.  As we did this, porters just flowed past us.  Even as we hiked, they'd pass us.  I was amazed at how confident and nimble they were, like mountain goats.  While we carefully clung to the wall, placing hands and feet just as Felix instructed, the porters would hop over cracks, jump between rocks, as if there were nothing but down pillows below.  And of course, they did this with massive loads.

Porters headed up Barranco Wall.

Anne and I were loving it.  I remember vividly her saying how she wished "we had a few days to play around on this wall".  How we wished our friend Jenn was with us, as she would have loved this part of the climb in particular.  The climbing was invigorating.  I felt great.  The weight on my back (which included 5 liters of water, snacks, spare clothes, camera) didn't bother me.  It was part of me now, an extension of me.

We all made it up.  Those who had been hesitant made it with no problems, and we were rewarded with a view of Mount Meru, another volcano in Tanzania.  Meru is categorized as active, with events as recently as 8000 years ago, and tops out just below 15,000 feet.

Atop Barranco Wall, Mt. Meru in distance.

We hiked a bit more, and soon our guides told us to take a break, and it was obvious why.  We were at a high point, and were headed down for a bit after this.  We all took our packs off, released tire pressure in more mine fields of used toilet paper, and I dug out a pack of Starburst I had been hauling around.  I wasn't sure how to distribute, but just started giving each person one.  I gave them to everyone, hikers and guides, and amazingly had exactly enough for everyone.  Then, we enjoyed the amazing view.

Team, Kilimanjaro!

The picture above is one of my favorites.  I know the sun is glaring, and it's hard to see the people, but it's still at the top of my list.  I love the bright snow on the peak. I love seeing the rocks we had been climbing on, and our colorful packs strewn about below us.  The sense of joy and teamwork at this moment filled my heart.  This picture includes all four of our guides and everyone was celebrating.  More pictures were taken, then more.  Hugs and high fives were shared.  Life couldn't get much better at this point.

Anne, me.

As we left our break spot, Felix told us there wasn't much left, just "across, down, then up".  So we fell in line and got going.  We went down through a bit of fog (surprised?) and again felt like we were on another planet.

Hiking down, somewhere between Barranco and Karanga.

The across part was nice.  It was mostly flat and the sun was out again.

Headed into the "across" part.

 We were to hike across, then where those low clouds are on the right in the above picture, we had some down, then some up.  Doesn't sound too bad, right?

Chris, Kili

I snapped the above picture of Chris very nonchalantly.  It isn't posed, I'm not sure he even knew I was going to take it, but it turned out well.  Many times on this trip, I was thankful Chris was with us.  Chris is always in good spirits and never fails to amaze me with the things he is capable of.  Maybe I like it so much because when I took it, that mountain did look huge, and we had no idea what summiting would be like.  But now, after our trip has ended, I know what summiting was like, and I know that Chris was key in my success.  So in this picture, I see a friend who is not only adventurous and fun, but so very strong.

Ok, enough mushy stuff.  Back to hiking.  Soon we got to the "down" part, and down it was.

Headed down into the valley, trail in background headed up.

The down was pretty intense.  The picture above is the only picture I took until we reached camp.  If you look on the horizon, you can see little blips along the ridge.  Those are tents, that's camp.  So hey, we could see it!  But we had to go waaaaay down then waaaay up.  I took up the last position in line.  It feels safer to me, so if someone slips they don't land on me.  It was dry and dusty and steep, and there was a lot of slipping going on.  Tree trunks were worn smooth from hand after hand gripping them.  Down and down, it seemed so long, I was getting a bit annoyed.  For each step down, another up would have to be taken.  Going down here was one of the few times I got frustrated.  I turned my attention to Goddy and Felix, who were behind me.  They were talking in Swahili, and I let their language distract me from my own head.

At the bottom, we paused.  There was a clear stream running down the valley.  Felix informed us that this was the last water source until after summiting.  Wait, what?  We were headed to Karanga Camp, then we had to hike to Barafu Camp, which was where we would summit from.  That meant that all the water needed for the next 2 days (including 6 meals, 2 nights and summiting) would have to be hauled from the little stream in the bottom of this valley.  UP to Karanga Camp (seen in the pic above), then UP to Barafu Camp.  We were surprised, but not surprised when Felix politely asked us to fill any empty water bottles from the stream, to help lessen the burden of the porters.  We all filled our Nalgenes, and the water would be properly filtered once at camp.    Beyond the necessity of the stream, it was gorgeous.  It was coming straight from the snow and glaciers on Kili, which made me feel a wee bit closer to its summit.

Fully loaded once again (me with 5 liters), we headed up.  I knew camp was at the top of the hill, which kept me going.  Donnie flew ahead, volunteering to come back down with a bucket to haul water up.  Pole pole we went, and by the time we got up to camp, Donnie had washed, put on fresh clothes (shorts and a tshirt it was so warm), unpacked, etc.  

Karanga Camp, roughly 13,100 feet.

Camp at Karanga, on a hill.

The relief of "rolling into camp" each day wasn't diminishing.  We had hiked for about 4 hours, and were to have the afternoon off, free to do with as we pleased.  The prospect of having 5 hours free was wonderful.  We were supplied with bowls of hot water to wash with.  It was really lovely out, and Chris and Donnie took sponge baths outside.  Our trusty toilets were set up, which were always popular.

Our toilet, permanent toilet, Kili.

Now, Donnie owed me from a previous bet.  I had won, so he owed me a foot rub.  At this camp, he paid up.  He washed my feet in hot water.  I wrote in my journal, "I feel human again, even though the rest of me is filthy."  I truly felt like a different person after that.  I felt like I could continue on up that beast of a mountain.  He ended up doing the same for Tawnya as well, and she was equally as grateful.   

Heavenly foot wash

Lunch was leek soup, veggie pies (think big handheld veggie samosas) and fruit, one of my favorite meals.  After lunch, some people napped.  Some of us played games and had a rollicking good time.  My mom had sent Farkle along with me, which ended up being a HUGE hit.  We played and laughed and ate popcorn and made up rules pretty much until dinner time.  The afternoon was a much needed respite from four days of hiking.

Playing Farkle in the dining tent

Dinner was tomato ginger soup, pasta with tomato and veggie sauce, butternut squash and broccoli, fruit salad for dessert.  After dinner, we had our water bottles filled with hot water to put in our sleeping bags with us.

I think this is when my favorite moment of the trip happened.  We had hot water bottles, and left the dining tent.  A few of us stepped away from the tent to look at the stars.  The stars, it's hard to describe them.  Take all the stars you've seen and quadruple their number and pull them closer.  They were everywhere, and they felt like we could touch them.  The milky way was as if someone had taken a paintbrush of white paint and pulled it across the night sky.  We found a rock to lean on, hugged our water bottles to our chests, and stood side by side together in silence.  By now, all noisy thoughts from life at home had settled out, tucked away safely for when I needed them later.   My mind felt clear, quiet, content to simply see the stars as I'd never seen them before.  I felt the warmth of the people near me, the cool of the rock I was leaning on, the heat of the water bottle, the clear night air flowing in and out of my lungs.  This is what being alive is.  

Kilimanjaro Trip Part 5: Shira to Barranco

Oh, the beginning of day 3 of hiking. Waking up and realizing all you have to do is walk and enjoy scenery and fantastic company was rapidly growing on me. I woke up feeling rested and not as smelly as I had felt the day before.  Perhaps my nose was immune to the smell, or maybe we all truly did just stop stinking.  Regardless, I was feeling pretty good when John (assistant chef) brought coffee to our tent at 6:30.  I doctored up my blister, which became a daily ritual, layered on a few clothes and again, ungracefully stumbled out of my tent and saw this:

Shira Camp front porch view

Now, when that's the view from your front porch, it can't be anything but a great day, and Day 3 turned out to be one of my favorites.  It has been interesting to reflect back on this day, because initially I thought that this particular day would really frustrate me.  Why?  We were to hike from Shira at roughly 12,500 feet up to 15,000 feet, then BACK DOWN to 13,000 ft.  Yep, DOWN.  The whole goal was go to UP the mountain, and I feared that I would become frustrated at losing two thousand feet of elevation.  But alas, I get ahead of myself.

The view was amazing, I didn't have to pee in a cup, John's coffee was as good as ever.  I was ready.  Breakfast was served:  I think we had porridge first.  We had porridge every day, and I'm not totally sure what it was.  Some people called it gruel.  But, it was warm and not too bad if a mounded spoonful of berry jam was stirred in.  I don't recall what else we had, but we always had fruit and toast at minimum.  Here's what the breakfast scene looked like some days.... Fruit tray covered up, table set, thermoses of hot water and coffee.  The 5 gallon bucket by Melissa was always there, always full of filtered water for us.  This is where we filled our water bottles.  Ok, we rarely filled them, as a crew member was almost always on the watch for empty Nalgenes and he would take them and fill them.  Water was collected at each camp from springs or creeks, then filtered.  It's all snow/glacier melt and tasted fantastic.  Nobody got sick from the water, which is a good thing!

Inside for breakfast

At this camp, recall the previous afternoon, we had finally met all of the crew.  The ladies of the group started a conversation that would continue on, about how the crew could easily make up a calendar, a "Crew of the Month" calendar.  We all had our ideas of who would be what month.  Perhaps this was a bit inappropriate, or maybe not.  We all had some good times about this, but maybe the guys in our group felt a bit left out?

After breaky, we all packed up like we did every day and headed out.  Kate, a member of our group who was supposed to climb Kili before but hurt her leg, had been having a hard time.  She set out with us, but within 10 or 20 min, she made the choice to head down.  To quit.  I commend her for that decision, as I'm sure it was a very hard choice to make.  We knew we'd see her after the climb, so we waved goodbye and watched as she turned around.  She's a strong lady for making that choice.

Kili, morning of Day 3.  She's closer!

Lobilia, my favorite plant of the trip

We walked, pole pole, up and up.  What few plants were around soon shrunk or completely disappeared.  We walked on dusty trails that intertwined like vines, weaving in and out of each other. I liked it, as it allowed us to sometimes walk next to someone, which was a welcome change from trying to talk to someone ahead of or behind, and the endless views of someone else's rear-end and backpack.  The trails weaved in and out of large rocks and boulders, endless evidence of the volcanic action from long ago.

Intertwining trails, porter.

Fields of boulders

 Up we went.  The lure of lunch at Lava Tower at 15,000' kept us going, and just seeing something called "Lava Tower" was pulling me up.  It felt long and barren and exposed.  Somewhere on the way up, Donnie and I high-fived because we guessed we were finally higher than all of Colorado, higher than either of us had ever been.  Yay!  I think we got a few chuckles from others, "oh, you Coloradoans, making this look easy".  My body was feeling great and my backpack was becoming part of me, I wasn't noticing it much.  We paused for a tire pressure break and Donnie made a cairn for our team; one rock for each of us, including Kate.  These cairns were everywhere, hundreds of them.  Now there's one more very special one.

Our team and the cairn Donnie made for us in the back.

I was feeling good, Donnie was feeling good, but others were starting to really notice the effects of altitude.  Many had regular dull headaches, which luckily Advil took care of.  A few felt a bit nauseous, but luckily it passed relatively quickly.  Our team was doing really well.

As we continued, we encountered some fog.  It wasn't cold (Donnie is in a tshirt in pic above), but the fog sure made things look eerie.  We all likened this part of the hike to being on Mars.  Almost no plants, barren, desolate, and now some strange atmospheric aspects.

On the way to Lava Tower

Lava fields

Creepy!!!

Lava Tower with Melissa, Jessy, Donnie, myself.

We finally got to Lava Tower, up at 15,000 feet.  It's possible to camp here, but we were merely pausing for lunch.  Our toilets were set up (yay!!) as well as a tent for lunch. After a few requisite pictures, we crammed into the tent (it wasn't the giant dome tent) for a lunch of....potato bacon chowder and grilled cheese!!  Now, potato bacon chowder is good.  Grilled cheese is great.  But, grilled cheese grilled with the grease from the bacon?  Amazing.  Put that in front of hungry hikers?  Heaven.  That meal was at the top of our lists as a favorite.  I'm not sure bacon has ever tasted so good.   After lunch we packed up and started heading down.  I pulled out my hiking poles for the first time, worried that 2000' of hiking down might make my knees sore, and still having 4 days left, I didn't want to have aching knees!  After about 20 min with them, I packed them up.  I've never used poles, and that was probably the problem.  I felt awkward and clumsy with them.  I've always hiked with my hands free, something I learned when I was little.  Free hands can really help, so having them occupied by poles was not working for me.

Heading down into the mist after a yummy lunch.

 Down and down and down....

Suz, on Mars?

Finally we were back in the vegetation zone, and they looked Seussian, not like what we had come out of a few hours prior.  I recall taking my time on this particular afternoon.  I was often the last of our group, with only a guide behind me.  We were always bracketed by guides, and I loved how the guides assigned with pulling up the rear didn't mind going slowly.  No matter how slowly we went, or how many tire pressure stops or picture breaks, they never seemed agitated.  I think that's often a trait of Africans; there's no rush.  No hurry.  We'll get there when we get there, hakuna matata.  I paused a lot for pictures on this afternoon, and was encouraged by the guides, because, after all, I'll probably never be there again!

Plants on the way to Barranco

Trees?  These were easily 8 to 10 feet tall.

Everything was shrouded in fog as we headed down.  I kept waiting to get out of it, but we never did.  We finally found the sign in hut at Barranco and registered.

Barranco Hut, 13,000 feet.

 We walked more.....and more...occasionally catching glimpses in the fog of tents, but they weren't ours.   It felt like we walked through fog and tents for ages, and I was thinking how glad I was that I wasn't in charge of finding our camp....when our porters came and met us!  Gabriel, oh sweet Gabriel, he took my backpack and hugged me and congratulated me.  Such simple acts and they felt so huge.  We walked with our porters to our camp, which was, big surprise, foggy!

Camp at Barranco Hut

The fog was moving, constantly, and once in a while we'd get a glimpse of the mountain above us.  Or maybe they were glimpses of part of the mountain, we weren't sure.  It felt confining and frustrating to not be able to see it.  Dinner rolled around.   Kale, cauliflower, beans, rice and beef stew.

Dinner, Day 3, Barranco Hut

This was a pretty typical dinner. Soup preceded this (pea soup this night), as it did at each dinner.  Meals were high in fiber, carbs and citrus (vitamin C).  Guides told us these things all helped with altitude (and energy).  I ate everything they gave me, which often were huge helpings, but figured they know more about getting people up that stratovolcano than I do.  As you can see, the protein was more of a condiment, an afterthought....

We had hiked 7.5 miles that day, topping out at 15,000 feet.  My body felt great, the hike had been beautiful in a martian way, and I wasn't frustrated at coming down in elevation.  I think we were all pretty tired, as after dinner we all headed straight to bed, curious what we would see in the morning.