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Our dreams of climbing Kilimanjaro remained
just that for six years, as Sylvia was still too small to be left alone. Our skin problems were also a deterrent to a
trip of that nature. In the beginning
of 2001 both Sylvia and I were much better, and Sylvia was old enough to sleep
over at friends. Would our dream become
a reality? We read extensively about
the mountain, discussed the trip, and read some more. I started training in March by walking up and down the 305 steps
to the beach every day: initially just three times, but by July I was walking
up and down 6 times, with mountain boots on and 6 kg on my back. Special gear and equipment had to be bought
or borrowed or put on birthday lists.
The week beforehand I was busier organising everything for the children
than with my own preparations!
When we arrived in Tanzania, the sky happened
to be clear usually the sky is overcast.
From the aeroplane we could see the mountain in the distance so huge,
so high above the surrounding plains that it took our breath away and the knees
became wobbly and that without setting foot on it. The ice cap reflected the setting sun, and we were deeply impressed.
At Kilimanjaro airport we had to wait
everywhere for the toilet (there was only one ladies toilet!), for the
customs and the visa.
I stood as last one in the customs queue and
when at last it was my turn, Jean-Paul had not reached his turn in the visa
queue. The customs official obviously
wanted to go home, for he just waved us through!
It was dark outside the mountain had
disappeared. It was our introduction to
what was to become a familiar scene: a chaotic milling about of people,
shouting and gesticulating, baggage everywhere, a motley collection of buses
and jeeps, being sent from the one to the other. Jean-Paul suddenly missed his climbing poles, which a stewardess
had taken from him in the plane. So I
lugged our luggage around on my own. It
took ages, but at last he returned with
his poles!
It took a small miracle, but at last all
luggage and people seemed to be in the appropriate vehicles. The bus to Keys Hotel in Moshi was loaded to
the gills. A friendly man with a bright
white shirt and a bright white smile accompanied us on the 45 minute bus ride,
during which we could get to know our fellow climbers a little. There were two large groups: one of 11
people who were trying to raise funds for Childline, and a group of 18 Vodacom
employees for whom it was a company perk.
It seemed an unlikely bunch of people to climb the highest mountain of
Africa!
The reception at the hotel was very friendly
when we finally got there. We were
assigned to a rondavel, then all the climbers gathered for a briefing. According to the guide Arrow Glacier was a
possibility. Arrow glacier is an
alternative, more difficult route that Jean-Paul had found and found
attractive. After a tasty supper and a
final bag organisation we finally could go to sleep. We had left home at 6:30 that morning! Fortunately there were hardly any mosquitoes or other flying
insects. The tropical night was hot and
muggy and a sheet was enough cover. It
seemed unrealistic that we have just been handling thick down jackets,
balaclavas and thermal gloves
DAY ONE: UMBWE
GATE (1500m TO UMBWE CAVES (2850m)
Many people were starting the climb that day,
all milling about at the hotel. In
spite of that Jean-Paul and I were regarded as a party, and were assigned our
own three porters and two guides. Again
it was Chaos with buses, landrovers and bags, trying to sort out which
belongings must go to Machame and which to Umbwe, the hotel staff trying to
distribute packed lunches simultaneously, people gulping down breakfast
hurriedly, only to stand and wait, and through it all the local population were
trying to sell their wares. A long,
slow and bumpy bus ride followed, over a sandy track that meandered through
banana plantations. Here and there
little houses hid among the trees, and people in their Sunday best stared unsmilingly
as we passed. The track rose steeply to
Umbwe gate, the start of our climb. The
by now familiar scene ensued: a mixture of people, bags and baskets. Men were shouting to each other, tying
bundles with ropes, were repacking things, stood around and did nothing and
yet again everything happened that should have happened. I saw someone carefully transferring eggs,
and assumed that they were boiled. I
was wrong: we had an omelet for breakfast each morning! We were introduced to our chief guide,
Freddy, a wiry young man with an infectious smile. We signed the book. One
problem was that one of our porters had not pitched up. Freddy and the other two porters would wait
for him. After about an hour we left at
last, guided by Isaac, our other guide, who, besides carrying his own backpack,
carried an enormous load on his head.
After all that noise it was quiet in the
forest we heard very few birds or other creatures. The rain forest was high and dense, and the clay path wet and
red. The jeep track changed to walking
track. We walked slowly (pole-pole in
Swahili) as that is important for acclimatisation, as well as for energy
conservation. The best is to walk at a pace
that does not tire and the advantage is that one can then enjoy the surroundings
more. Nevertheless we overtook the
other soon they had started half an hour ahead of us.
Soon we were walking in the clouds a thick
and almost tangible mist. The forest
was dripping with moisture, and soon we were too! The trees, tree ferns and monkey ropes seemed to be etched darkly
against this white background. White
begonia florets littered the path. The
only other colours were the dark pink impatiens at our feet, and the thick
green moss that covered most of the forest floor. We just walked on and on, stopping for lunch and an occasional
rest, higher and higher up this invisible, mysterious mountain. After a while
we became aware that it was lighter around us, that the path was dryer. Suddenly the sun broke through! The forest thinned out somewhat and stopped
dripping: we are now above the cloud cover.
Before we had expected it we reached the campsite of Umbwe caves. I was drenched with sweat, but as soon as we
stopped became cold. I was glad to have
taken spare warm clothes in my day pack!
We ate a little, talked a little, took some photos and video footage
glad just to be, without needing to
be busy. We regarded it as a great
privilege to be on the mountain, and became very still in the realization of
its greatness.
Slowly the campsite filled with people and
with noise! Some people seemed really
exhausted after the climb I was glad for my fitness training. Porters started to put up tents. Our porters had not arrived yet, and we don
our rain suits to keep warm. We meet
four Icelandic men, one of which wants to climb the highest peak in each
continent within a year. This is his
third trip. He has also hiked to the
North and South Poles an intrepid young adventurer!
Towards the end of the afternoon we decide to
go for a ramble, a little higher on the mountain. We quickly lose the track and realised how difficult the climb
must have been for the first explorers.
We stumbled over thorny creepers and into moss-covered holes, crawled
under bushes and over tree-trunks. But
it was worth it, as through the trees we caught our first glimpse of the top: a
huge snow-covered dome glistening in the late afternoon sun. Would we be able to reach it?
When we returned to the campsites our porters
had arrived and our tents were pitched: we could quickly get organised before
the sudden darkness fell. It felt good
to put on warmer clothes we shared some out to fellow travelers whose porters
had not arrived yet, and were shivering in their shorts and t-shirts under some
flimsy raingear. We were treated to
popcorn and tea in a special dining room tent we quickly moved the table
and stools outside to enjoy the
mountain. All around us conversations
flowed in Swahili I wondered what they would be saying about us. We could just see the mountain reflecting
the suns last rays through the trees when Jean-Paul took out his panflute, to
the delight of some of the Tanzanians.
We enjoyed our three-course moonlit supper,
complete with tablecloth and candle.
Both of us had a little headache, but I already had it at the hotel, so
could not contribute it to altitude. I
did become slightly dizzy if I bent forward, but this disappeared immediately
when I straightened up again.
We went to bed early, curled up in our
sleeping bags on the hard, thin mats.
The Tanzanians around us still kept talking for a long time. As I am drinking a lot of water, which is
advised against altitude sickness, I had to get up and visit the long drop
twice that night!
DAY TWO FROM UMBWE CAVES (2850m) TO BARRANCO
(3950m)
We awoke early. It was chilly outside, but the temperature rose quickly once the
sun was up. We were served a huge
breakfast with maize porridge, toast and an omelet. We repacked our bags funny, but it is always harder to fit
things into ones bag the second day.
Jean-Pauls big, heavy climbing boots went into my bag he was wearing
his light shoes for the initial climb.
They took up a lot of space and were difficult to accommodate but was
I glad I did not have to carry them!
Our porters commented on our comparatively light bags to my mind they
were very heavy.
It was a beautiful walk. The trees became thin and stunted, about 4
meters high, and usually covered with lichen.
There were no more forest flowers in the moss at our feet. Our path takes us up a narrow ridge the
mountain falls away steeply on both sides.
Where there were gaps between the trees we could glimpse the view of
deep chasms at our feet, and then the endless cloud cover, with only Mount Meru
transcending it in the distance.
Suddenly the trees made way for moorland,
dominated by huge Erica bushes. The
Senecios (giant groundsels) were very striking: thick stems covered by old dry
leaves, then, at about 2 meter, a round crown of big leathery leaves. They can survive for hundreds of years. We stopped for lunch in a little clearing
full of everlastings, reflecting the sun from their papery petals. The air was thin and clear, and we noticed
that we needed a little more of it to keep going, but it did not present any
difficulty. Walking was easy and
rhythmical at a pole-pole pace, and my resting heart rate was still below
60. We parried, joked and teased each
other during lunchtime it was good to be together, and to be so relaxed. In our lunch packs, everything was wrapped
separately in foil, so we had a guessing game with each item; sorry Jean-Paul
that long rectangular package did not contain chocolate, but a carrot!
We continued on our way together with the
Icelanders people with knowledge and respect for the mountain. Although it is hot and I am sweating
copiously, it is not unbearable. To my
surprise I find that my 3 liter drinking bladder is empty at about 14:00 I
really am drinking a lot! I had also
almost finished my flask of tea, but luckily carried a spare water bottle. I suddenly notice that I only have a tiny
shadow around my feet, and remembered that the sun is directly above the
equator in September. We thus have
minimal exposure to the sun our broad brimmed hats catch it all!
The path became steeper. Deep belly breathing was an efficient way to
replenish the oxygen supply every few steps.
We rounded a rocky outcrop and were
astounded. There it lay before us, high
and huge: the rocky dome of the summit, clothed with glaciers and clouds. High, cold and impersonal, enormous and
impressive. Straight ahead of us lay
the Barranco valley, dotted with tents.
Over it presided the steep Barranco Wall. This was our second campsite, Barranco Hut, at 3950 m. I decided to go for a wash in the little
stream before I cool down. As the tiny
stream was ice-cold, I cooled down rather rapidly but felt much the better for
it! The hot cup of tea tasted wonderful
afterwards, again accompanied by popcorn.
By then, the clouds had disappeared and we could see the whole mountain
we could not take our eyes off it.
It was here that we had to take the decision
as the routes diverged. We had been
discussing it all the way up should we take Arrow Glacier or not? Our guides thought we could do it, they were
keen. It was also a much more
interesting route than the customary route through Barafu, which consists
mainly of slogging up to the top in scree.
The Icelanders were also taking Arrow Glacier, but were waiting a day in
order to acclimatise. We could not do
so because of our flight back. Arrow
Glacier beckoned, and we took the decision.
Yes!
I descended back to the streamlet to filter
water for the next day. We would need
about 10 liter. The shallow stream was
full of algae, which made it hard to fill the bottle. Pumping it through the filter was slow and laborious every time
I squeezed the filter bottle only a few drops came out. My thumbs started hurting, so every now and
then I used my knees to squeeze. Frank,
one of our porters, also came to fetch water and showed me a clear little pool
under a rock, which was a big improvement.
He asked if we could tip each person individually at the end, else the
guides take most of it. A whole
religious discussion followed and continued till his jerrycan was full. I continued to pump the water and saw the
Childline people arrive in ones and twos, stumbling exhaustedly down the
valley. The sun crept out of the little
kloof and it became cold quickly. I
climbed to our tents with a backpack full of clean water and cold, stiff
hands. Supper had been prepared in the
mean time, but Jean-Paul was nowhere to be found, also not with the
Icelanders. After waiting a little
while I saw him descending down the path we will take tomorrow he had gone
for a walk.
As a strong, cold wind had suddenly started
blowing, we decided to eat inside the tent.
The food was soon covered with dust, even though we tried to cover
everything. Nevertheless the soup was
tasty and hot. While we were eating the
sun went down -we were disappointed that we had missed it, but then the
mountain suddenly glowed in sunset colours with the sun just gone.
Some more tea was welcome. Ablutions were done quickly in the cold
wind, and then we crawled into our tents.
Jean-Paul played some well-known songs on his panflute and I sang with
him when I could. We were cosy,
comfortable and content in our tiny tent on this great big mountain, under the
wide sky and in Gods hands.
Of course I had to leave this warm comfort in
the middle of the night, after all that tea drinking. One advantage was that I could enjoy the mountain in the
moonlight!
DAY THREE: FROM BARRANCO (3950m) TO LAVA
TOWER (4600m)
I woke up early the next morning. It was cold outside it felt below freezing,
but it warmed up very quickly once the sun rose. Jean-Paul was wise enough to stay in his sleeping bag until this
momentous event had actually happened!
I took my little bible and wandered off a little to find a spot where I
could be alone with God. It was not
difficult to worship him in such surroundings, looking onto this grand,
powerful vista of ice and rock and snow.
The words of the psalms continued to be with me for the rest of the
journey:
Lead me to a rock that is higher than
I. For you are my refuge
Splendour and majesty are before him;
strength and glory are in his sanctuary.
Psalm 121 was also a big encouragement to me!
I returned with a refreshed and joyful
spirit. Jean-Paul had eventually
emerged from the tent, and breakfast was nearly ready. Again our table was laid here in the
wilderness with far too much food ones appetite decreases with
altitude. When packing our stuff,
Jean-Paul did so in the tent and I outside, else we were continually in each
others way. I had finished packing
when I saw my thin pair of gloves still lying around, so just put them in my
day-pack, which turned out to be a real blessing later on.
Lets go! Twende! Slowly we climbed
up the ridge. The vegetation decreased
dramatically no more shrubs, just small hardy plants that grew against the
rocks here and there. A strange type of
Lobelia grew here the flowers are hidden by spiraling bracts that close over
the flower at night, protecting it from frost.
The Senecios were still with us.
They looked like old, wise men standing in rows against the sky, giving
us their ancient blessing.
We started the climb in bright sunshine, but
the mist descended quickly. With the
mist came the wind, and it was suddenly very cold. Freddy had not kept his colourful wooly Kilimanjaro hat on for
nothing! We quickly put on warmer
clothes, and I was glad of the gloves.
Jean-Paul was wandering around with the video camera, but meanwhile two
people froze waiting for him. We
carried on through the mist, through the rocky desert, slowly, breathing
consciously, step by step. Freddy
always had his little radio on although it was never loud, it still intruded
into the silence. I enjoy walking in the mist: when the big vistas are removed,
the rocks and other objects close at hand gain in definition and clarity. Shapes loom up, become close and real and
disappear behind you again. Perhaps
there is a lesson for life in that.
The mountain played its endless game of hide-and-seek with the clouds:
now you saw it, now you dont. Shafts
of sunlight illuminated a glacier or a rock for an instant, and disappeared
just as quickly. Now and then we saw
Lava Tower in the distance our goal for the day!
Where there was a little soil between the
rocks, it looked as if someone had neatly raked it. The wind blew little furrows in the sand, and if a little rain
fell, it froze immediately. It looked a
little like a Zen garden, with a strategically placed plant here and there.
Dutifully we stopped for lunch, although
neither of us were hungry. While
walking, I was pondering about the factors influencing altitude sickness. Women appear to suffer less than men do
would that be because women received a monthly stimulus to create a lot more
red blood cells? I did feel better than
Jean-Paul, and had lots more energy.
Would the fact that I donate blood every two months have any positive
influence? As high altitude also causes
dehydration with resultant acidosis, it seemed sensible to me to cut out
proteins for the next few days. No more
omelets for breakfast!
Before we reached Lava Tower, we still had to
descend into a steep little valley, and climb out of it again. Here we encountered our first lump of
ice. We also met a German doing the
Machame route we had chatted to him in the hotel in Moshi. He had already had lots of problems with
altitude sickness: vomiting and severe headache, but was feeling better since
he started taking Diamox. After a short
chat we carried on in opposite directions, trudging towards the same goal: the
summit. Two more days It could have been two weeks just as well,
two years, two centuries, it still seemed to be far, unreal and
unattainable. Time appeared to warp
itself in this hard, windy mist-desert.
I did believe in it, this
mountain-top, and believed that I could make it. This belief fired my resolution to keep going. I compared it to my faith in God to which
I also had to cling in the winds and the mists of life, also when the ordinary
things of life I take for granted suddenly become a conscious effort as
breathing was at that moment. Lead me
to the rock that is higher than I
There it was: the rock. Lava Tower.
A colossal, more or less rectangular chunk of basalt, once thrown here
by incredible force. It stood while
lava flowed down the mountain on either side.
Slowly we climbed up its flank, glad to see our little tent sheltering
out of the wind among the rocks at its base.
Our porters had passed us earlier that morning and had set up camp
already. We crawled into our tent
gratefully, glad to put on warmer clothes and to crawl into our sleeping bags
to warm up. Soon we heard the familiar
sound of popping corn coming from the guide tent not that we needed food, but
the hot tea was welcome. Jean-Paul
preferred hot chocolate. He heaped up
the cocoa in his mug, and then heaped milk powder on top of it. A miniature Kilimanjaro, we giggled
childishly. It was the silly smiles
like these that kept us going.
A big white-crested crow circled our little
camp noisily. He was obviously used to
being fed. Little gray-and-white
mountain chats dared to come quite close to us. They looked like little balls of fluff with their feather all
puffed up against the cold. I respect
any being that manages to survive in this harsh climate! They come quite close to you to pick up bits
of fallen popcorn, and I managed to get them on video. Later, when exploring around the rock, I
found the footprints of what seemed a small antelope. I felt like climbing the mist-enshrouded rock, but Jean-Paul was
not in the mood for it and I was not going to do it one my own, even though it
seemed a fairly easy scramble.
I returned to the tent and took a photo of
Jean-Paul with his thick jacket and beanie on, in his sleeping bag. Then I acted very sensibly and crawled into
my sleeping bag next to him. To my
surprise I managed to sleep a bit, which did me lots of good. Jean-Paul slept a lot longer he obviously
needed it!
Towards the end of the afternoon we emerged
from the tent, as we still wanted to ascend a bit on the path to Arrow
Glacier. It is good advice against
mountain sickness to climb high, sleep low, so off we went: first down
through the loose scree, and then upwards.
We were now just below the big glaciers. The little stream in the valley was rimmed with ice. Next to it was a swampy area covered with a
kind of grass. The green looked
surrealistically bright in the gray-brown desert landscape. The path meandered up and down through
little glacial valleys, that were probably still covered with ice a decade
ago. They were typical U-shaped
valleys, with a line of rocks on the sides and here and there a bigger heap of
rocks among the smaller ones on the bottom, where the melting glacier had left
them
Suddenly the mist lifted, and the dramatic
view unfolds in the late afternoon light.
Perpendicular rock wall rise upwards to broken edges. Glaciers shine smoothly is contrast. Arrow Glacier route, through the Great
Western Breach, is still a mystery to us, but let us forget the technicalities
for now and just enjoy the view! On the
way back to camp we often stop to look behind us and above us, but once again
the clouds are playing among the cliffs.
When we arrive at camp the food is
ready. We enjoy the soup, manage one
pancake, but had to leave most of the platter with chicken, string beans,
carrots and potatoes to the others. The
fruit for desert was too much too!
Jean-Paul disappeared immediately into the
tent. I try to write my diary, but with
the cold and the low air pressure the ballpoint pen was less enthusiastic I
kept putting it under my armpit to warm up!
But then I became too cold as well and it was getting dark rapidly, so I
admitted defeat and cocooned myself in my sleeping bag with quite a few layers
of clothes on.
It was an endless uncomfortable night, with
an unexpected reaction to altitude. I
have a tendency to suffer from abdominal gas normally, but with this low air
pressure it was an agony. My abdomen
swelled like a balloon, and I doubled up with cramps. The farts were like minor explosions I dont know what the
Tanzanians thought of us, but there was nothing I could do about it. It continued hour after hour, and I wish I
could communicate to my intestinal bacterial flora that the pressure in my tum
was far, far higher than in the atmosphere.
Here I was, equipped with a whole medical kit: antidiarrhoeal,
antibiotic, anti-inflammatory, anti this and anti that, but no antiflatulent! After many painful hour I decided to take an
antihistamine. At least I could sleep a
little.
Through the
cramps and the farts I heard the far-off thunder of falling ice. A while later, the lonely howl of a jackal
echoed eerily round the cliffs.
DAY 4: FROM LAVA TOWER (4600m) TO ARROW GLACIER
HUT (4900m)
This was an easy day we only had to ascend
300 m. This was important for
acclimatisation, and to give us the opportunity to rest before the last and
most difficult climb to the top, which would begin at midnight.
We did not have to get up early, but we woke
up just before sunrise as usual. I
needed to visit the long drop desperately at last!! The wooden floor of the toilet bent ominously under my boots, so
I was even more relieved than usual to leave.
A few words about the toilet facilities on the mountain: they just have
a hole in the wooden floor, and unfortunately some people need target
practice. They are also very shallow
short drops in stead of long drops, which is either because they are not dug
deeply enough (no joke with the hard ground), or because litter is dumped into
them. They are not very appetising,
with the result that many people dont use them. This would not be a problem if faecal matter was covered up and
loo paper burned, but unfortunately one frequently discovers little heaps
behind rocks, and toilet paper flutters everywhere. In that dry cold climate it will decay extremely slowly. Litter is another problem, especially at the
campsites, and it originates from both the Tanzanians and the tourists. According to Freddy a party of cleaners
sometimes comes up to remove the litter, but this is not sufficient and should
not be necessary.
It was cold.
The basin of washing water that stood outside our tent was frozen
solid. A cup of warm tea was
comforting, but it was warm rather than hot.
The boiling temperature of water was considerably lower than at sea
level. The porridge also tasted good especially
with lots of honey!
During breakfast I noticed that Silva, the
youngest of or porters, did not look well.
From the beginning he had been
the only one who was a bit unfriendly.
He had not been there when we left from Umbwe gates, causing the others
to have to wait for him, and also carried far less than the others. Thaddeus was a cheerful young man who wanted
to learn English so that he could become a porter. He was incredibly strong and carried most of the stuff. Frank was older and always friendly towards
us, but he could grumble to the others and caused an open fight at least once.
It was odd to have other people carrying our
belongings and provisions, and to leave everything to them that we could have
easily done ourselves. All we had to do
was walk up the mountain. The porters
carried about 20 kg each, and we were astounded at the pace they set and their
balance skills when going up or down steep rocks. They thought this quite normal themselves in fact, Freddy was
surprised when I told him that we normally carry everything ourselves. It is an employment opportunity is a very
poor country. When Jean-Paul asked if
the work was not too heavy, or if it was not difficult to leave your family
behind every time, they answered that they were glad to have work and it was
better than the mines. Many of
them have a little farm, where their
wives grow coffee, maize or bananas, and with which they help when they are
home. At the end of the trip we gave
them a generous tip, as their salary is ridiculously low. They all appreciated my attempt to learn a
few words of Swahili.
It was impossible to get Silva to talk. Freddy explained that he had fever.
I gave him some Panados and also a Diamox against altitude
sickness. Most Tanzanians dont want to
use them they prefer fighting altitude sickness by drinking lots of
water. As Diamox resulted in irritating
pins and needles in my face, hands and feet I also preferred the water-drinking
method.
After we leisurely packed our belongings yet
again, we hit the path to Arrow Glacier
- first some downhill to the little stream, that was now completely
frozen, then zigzagging upwards in the loose scree. The route took us up and down through several little glacial
valleys. The scree was very dusty, but
my gaiters prevented my clothes getting too dirty. Lava Tower becomes smaller beneath us. Mount Meru was visible above the clouds and we had a lovely view
of the Shira Plateau on the western side of Kilimanjaro. Shira is an older and lower crater than the
main crater Kibo. When Kibo was still
active it filled the Shira crater with lava, resulting in a fertile plain on
which wild animals still live. The
crater rim of Shira is visible as a ridge.
In front of us was the route we had walked
the day before. With the zoom lens of
the video camera we could just make out some people walking on it they were
the porters of the Icelanders, and looked rather like ants.
A good hours walk brought us to Arrow
Glacier Hut. The hut itself had been
destroyed by an avalanche a couple of years before. We ourselves encountered no snow on the whole mountain, not even
on the summit just ice. The glaciers
looked smaller than they were drawn on the map Kilis ice cap is slowly
melting.
We were keen to explore further, so walked up
Arrow Glacier route for about an hour.
Jean-Paul fell behind he was not coping as well with the altitude as I
was. My belly breathing was a practiced
skill by now and I could continue slowly without having to stop all the
time. Jean-Paul was clever he chose
to film and photograph, and gave me instructions to carry on upwards! The only wildlife we saw up there was a tiny
spider I wonder what it lived on?
Although Freddy tried to point out the route
we would follow the next day, it still seemed impossible to us that going up
that vertical cliff was only a scramble.
It was an exercise in trust!
By the time we descended, our tent had been
erected. Our first and most important
task was to prepare our backpacks and clothing for the ascent. With clothing it is important to trap air in
multiple layers. I had three dry wick long-sleeved tops, a polar fleece track
suit top and then a thick jacket. On my
legs I wore a pair of old wooly tights that had also served me well in Iceland
many years ago, and polar tec pants.
I wore a thin pair of socks under the tights, and thick socks over
them. My feet only just fitted into my
boots! The rain suit was packed as well
as thermal gloves and a balaclava. I
was a well wrapped parcel
I had taken wet-wipes with me. Although I never use them at home, they were
recommended on the kit list because of poor washing facilities. The dirt had become ingrained on my hands,
so I decided to use one, which caused a minor uproar in camp. The breaking of the airtight seal sounded
like a gunshot I could actually feel the air rushing out. After all that the wet-wipe did not help
very much
Continue packing. Of course my first aid kit went with I had been carrying it
with me all the way anyway. My flask of
tea was essential. Although I prefer to
drinking pure water, I put rehydrate powder into my water bladder this time
to prevent it freezing. We had prepared
summit bags at home already, with chemical handwarmers, extra sweets and energy
food, extra batteries etc. We turfed
out most of the sweets, put new batteries into our headlamps and then crawled
into our sleeping bags to try and get some sleep. The mist made tiny tapping noises against the tent, as it was
made up of ice crystals. We did not
sleep, but it was good to rest. Even
small tasks sent our pulse rate up. I
was a little proud of my resting pulse rate, which was still between 60 and 70
it was even slower than Jean-Pauls was!
I felt excited, happy and well.
During the afternoon two more groups arrived
one international group, that was also planning to ascend that night, and a
Swiss group, that would climb the following day and then spend a night in the
crater before ascending to the summit.
This meant that the porters also had to climb up Arrow Glacier! It also seemed risky to me to spend so long
at that that altitude, but I reckoned that Swiss climbers know a thing or two
about mountains.
We grew tired of doing nothing, so we decided
to walk to the Little Breach Glacier just east of us. We made beacons while we walked, as it is easy to lose ones way
in the scree. Although a lot of the
rocks were still standing, they were completely pulverized by ice erosion. A little push reduced them to a pile of
gravel. Jean-Paul wanted to video this,
so I had to act Superwoman! He also
wanted me to water the few tiny plants there were which probably did them no
good anyway, as the water turned to ice.
The mist suddenly thickened, and we gave up our plan to go to the
glacier. We were thankful that we had made beacons when we returned. A little later the mist disappeared again,
just in time for another glorious sunset.
Freddy was dancing and singing
by his tent: Arrow Glacier, here we come.
It was good to know he was also looking forward to the climb, even
though he had been to the summit many times.
The guides much prefer Arrow Glacier to the usual slog!
After a meal of soup and stew we retreated
back into our sleeping bags again. Jean-Paul managed to fall asleep, but I was
far too excited. Freddy would call us
at midnight. None of us had a watch,
but Freddy had his radio. Hour after
hour passed by while strange thoughts milled through my mind, with the endless
chatter of Freddy and Isaac and the whine and jangle of Radio Tanzania in the
background. That eternity was punctuated
by the pip-pips from the radio, trying to convince me that time does pass
DAY FIVE: FROM ARROW GLACIER HUT (4900m) TO
UHURU PEAK (5896m)
At last it was midnight, at last Freddy
called us. He brought us some tea and
biscuits, which we ate dutifully. We
quickly rolled up our sleeping bags, put on some extra layers of clothes,
stuffed our feet in into our boots and crawled out of the tent. Then I did something stupid that could have
ended our ascent right there. Freddy
and Isaac stood behind the tent. In my
excitement I turn towards them while putting on my backpack. I tripped over the guy ropes and fell on my
knee, but fortunately landed softly on my backpack. I thought back to Psalm 121: he will not let your foot stumble
and was thankful.
Jean-Paul was still stumbling about in the
tent for another five minutes just long enough for the rest of us to get
really cold. In spite of all the warm
layers, my fingers and toes were hurting with cold. At last he emerged and we could begin with our slow shuffle
through the scree: first Freddy, then I, followed by Jean-Paul and finally
Isaac.
It was a beautiful night. The waning moon was three quarters full. And
shed enough light for us to see by without having to use our headlamps. The mountain around us was dreamlike and
silent: the glaciers shone with blue-white reflections of moonlight, and above
us the rock-walls were clearly visible, with pitch-black shadows in the
gullies. Below us the camp became steadily
smaller. We could even see the shadow
of Lava Tower in the background. We
trudged on through this dreamland.
After about 20 minutes Jean-Paul and I were too hot, and had to divest
ourselves of several layers.
Unfortunately my fingers and toes were still cold, while the rest of me
was sweating!
We had been on our way for about half an hour
when we saw lights moving underneath us the second group was on its way. An hour later they had disappeared we
never saw those people again, not on the top, neither on the way down.
Left foot, right foot, left foot, right
foot. Left stick, right stick, left
stick right stick. This monotonous
rhythm was accompanied by the thudding of my heart. Every ten, twenty meter we stopped a while to breathe. Freddy pronounced it "briefing",
as the Swahili-speaking people cannot say the th. Briefing has now got
an entirely new meaning for me! Our
throats became raw from the dry thin air, but I was still coping with the
breathing. We were glad to have the
climbing poles, and needed them to drag ourselves upward or to rest our heads
on during briefing! It became a lot
steeper, the shuffling decreased and the scrambling begun. Yet the rock wall looked just as high and
daunting as before. Hoisting your body
up over rocks was no small task in that thin air. I only asked for help once: when a rock was covered with ice and
I would rather swallow my pride than fall down below. Freddy almost dislocated my shoulder in the process!
We were amazed at how Freddy was able to find
the way. There were no beacons or no
track, but he led us without hesitation.
So often it looked as if we were climbing into a dead end, but he would
always find a way round a big rock, on a ledge, or between two rocks. Once or twice it was a bit exposed I was
glad that the dark hid what was
underneath
Jean-Paul and I needed all our breath to keep going. Not so Freddy and Isaac they talked continuously, and loud enough to communicate from the front to the back of the line. I noticed that Tanzanians made jokes about the Kenyans one of them would mention Nairobi and a little later the other would burst out laughing. The endless chatter worked on our nerves, but we felt it would be rude to ask them to stop.
Towards the end of the climb I had dj vu
feelings not of the mountain, but of Annekes birth, which was very long and
difficult. Breathing was the same
conscious, laboured effort, and I experienced the same feeling of
timelessness. On Arrow Glacier it was
also impossible to turn back once we had started scrambling. During the birth people also talked back and
forth above my head. Even my voice
sounded the same: strangled and breathless
So now Jean-Paul had an inkling of what it
felt like to give birth! He struggled
more than I did it does not often happen that I have to wait for him. I did make one serious error, of which I had
to suffer the consequences at the top.
As it was below freezing, we had to blow back our water into the bladder
so that it would not freeze up in the drinking tube. I struggled to do this, and had to ask Jean-Paul to help me every
time. As I did not want to ask him too
often, I drank too little. I still
maintain that I would not have suffered altitude sickness at the top if I had
drunk more during the climb.
We heaved ourselves over another rock and
suddenly realised that there were no rocks above us. We had arrived on the crater rim! In front of use lay the mass of ice known as the Kurtwangler Glacier. We had to cross a little plain, and then
climb the final obstacle: Uhuru Peak, still about 150 m higher. There was a cold wind here, and we quickly
put on our rain-suits. A cup of tea
tasted good, and gave an alternative meaning to the concept of high tea. I was feeling OK, Jean-Paul a little
less. Freddy complimented me on being a
very tough lady. But we could not
tarry long, as it was too cold, and the sky was starting to glow in the
east. Uhuru Peak was still ahead of us,
and looked very steep.
Carefully we made our way over the ice
luckily that was only a few meters. We
trudged towards the peak under a brightening sky we realised we would not
beat the sun to the top any more, as at the equator these things happen
rapidly. It was already light when we
came to the foot of Uhuru. Again we
were faces with a slow, steep climb through scree. After ten minutes Jean-Paul sat down, and asked me to carry
on. He was feeling nauseous and
dizzy. Freddy took out a rope and
wanted to pull him up, but he would have none of that on his own steam or not
at all. There was no alternative route
but past the top. I kissed him, very
concerned, but kept to our previous arrangement we had promised each other
that if one had to stop, the other must continue. It was the hardest thing of the whole climb to leave him behind. Isaac stayed with him and Freddy walked on
with me. By now the mountain was
glowing in the pre-dawn light.
This last climb took everything I had. It was an incredible effort just to put one
foot in front of another. My whole
will, my whole being focussed on this simple task, to the exclusion of
everything else. Suddenly Jean-Pauls
voice penetrated my hazy thoughts.
What is the matter? The sun, yes, I can see it, so what? So its sunrise, I can see that. You want a picture? OK then, but I must
carry on. I must drag myself up this
mountain. Im feeling really strange
and awful, Freddy has disappeared in front of me, but I must carry on. Keep climbing, keep climbing, keep climbing.
At last I stepped over the ridge, and faced a
slight incline. What are all those
people doing there in the distance, black shapes against the bright morning
light? There is some sort of sign there
too. Oh the top is there. I havent got there yet. I must go there. Another 200 m. Come on
Eva, this is just walking. My feet
dragged through the gravel. I was too
exhausted to use my poles and just let them drag behind me.
I had made it: Uhuru Peak, 5896 m above sea
level. The roof of Africa, the highest
volcano in the world, the highest freestanding mountain. I stood among all those people, dazed and
confused. Freddy congratulated me and
gave me a hug, but it meant nothing to me.
I turned away from it all put my thickly gloved hands to my face
and cried, sobs racking through my dry
throat. I had made it, but I felt
awful, and worried about Jean-Paul. My
thoughts were whirling around in my head, and my emotions were not much better.
I tried to pour myself some tea, but the
effort required was almost too much.
After a few sips I could not manage it anymore anyway, so threw it
out. Groups of climber posed by the
sign, unfurling banners and flags dutifully I helped to take photos. I took some photos of the view one in each
direction, of the crater and the glaciers.
Africa was yet again hidden under thick clouds. I could not find my headlamp, as I had
borrowed it from a friend, I was very concerned, but did not know what to do
about it even checking my bag was difficult, as the sick feeling increased as
I leaned forward. All that time I
peered into the distance to see if Jean-Paul was there yet. After twenty minutes I could not bear it any
longer. I walked back to the rim,
knowing that I could not start descending as I would not have the power to
climb again.
At last I saw him I was overjoyed. Like me, he was breathless and dizzy, but
also angry with me for not taking the video camera with me. Dutifully I took it from him and filmed the
view, giving some comments in a breathless voice, and then slowly dragged myself
up again.
We stood there wordlessly in each others
arms, both weeping quietly. It was as
if we were alone: all the people around us, the noise and the milling around,
Freddys incessant radio it all did not exist any more. We had each other, here on this high
mountain in this thin air, and we loved each other. We had made it, made it together! Jean-Paul mumbled
something that this last climb had been the toughest thing he had ever
done. And that from a
multi-ultra-mountain-marathon runner!
Back to reality: we had to pose for the
necessary photographs. Stick a smile on
your face! While we were doing that the
Childline group arrived: against my expectations all eleven had made it, unfit
smokers included. Of the Vodacom group
only seven of the eighteen people made it it shows what a role motivation
plays. For the Vodacom group it was
just a holiday, whereas the Childline group were determined to raise money for
a cause they cared about. We
congratulated each other, and then it was high time that we went down, as I had
already spent much too long at the top.
I was still able to crack a feeble joke with Freddy: Now I know why this route is called the
whiskey route. Right now I would be
unable to walk on a straight line!
(The easiest route up the mountain is nicknamed the Coca-Cola route, as
soft drinks are on sale at the huts.)
I was still worried about my headlamp, when
Isaac suddenly brought it to me. He had
found it on the track it had probably fallen off when I had pushed my balaclava
back.
Although it was cold on top, it was not as
cold as we had expected from other peoples reports. We had prepared for 20 degrees, but it was a mere 9 degrees,
as we found out later positively balmy!
DAY FIVE: FROM UHURU PEAK (5896m) TO MWEKA
CAMP (3100m)
A trifle unsteady, we started on the return
journey along the impressive Southern Icefield. The glacier shone blue-white in the morning light and was covered
with gigantic icicles. Because we went down via the popular route, there was a
lot of traffic. The people still
walking up did so with exhausted, determined faces, and the people descending
were equally exhausted, but had triumphant look about them. We met our German friend again, who was
still going up in spite of his earlier bout of mountain sickness!
Descending was a little like skiing through
the scree a question of mobile balance skills. It went quite quickly, but was very dusty. The fine dust settled everywhere, including
ones mouth, ears and nose. At this stage we took off several layers of
clothes, and changed our balaclavas for sun hats.
I was up front with Freddy again, and was
going really fast I wanted to get to the Barafu Hut and have a really good
rest there. I was still drinking far
too little I had put my tube in my backpack because of the dust, and did not
want to stop to take it out, not did I want to ask Freddy. I could very well be mistaken, but I
suddenly did not feel quite at ease with him.
He was a little too quick to help.
I noticed that his disarming smile charmed quite a few of the
women. I was sure he would never try
anything, for he would lose his precious job.
Nevertheless, the discomfort was there.
I was hot and had a raging headache by this
stage. With a determined pace I strode
on, not wanting to stop, for then I would just need to get going again. The hut lay far beneath us, but came
steadily nearer. The ground became
firmer, and the last stretch we had to do carefully over slippery basalt rocks. There was hardly any shade at the hut, but I
took the little there was, not caring whether it was dirty. My first and most important task was to look
after myself now I knew I was dehydrated, and had a bit of a shock when I
realised how little I had drunk. I took
a Panado, and then kept drinking my water with Rehydrate in tiny sips. Some sweetened orange juice also
helped. I was not hungry, but nibbled
at an almond and honey cookie anyway.
While I was busy with this all Jean-Paul arrived, who was also feeling
pretty lousy. He only drank some water
I should have been more pushy and made him have some other things. He just sat quietly against the rock face,
saying nothing.
Within half an hour I was
feeling remarkably better. It was
getting cold in the shade now, and I had to move into the sun. The mountain had disappearedin the mist
again. We stayed a little longer. It
was quite a crowded spot on a ridge, so I was glad to move on again. The path went down gradually most of it
was an easy stroll. I needed to find
shelter behind a rock again at regular intervals a sign that my fluid balance
is normalising again. Jean-Paul still
felt awful. Suddenly he announced that
he will take a Panado I was surprised that he had not done so already. And yes, hey presto! A few minutes later my man talks to me
again, and even manages a smile.
Suddenly we see plants again, that grow in
size as we descend. The soil is dry and
brittle and the path is very eroded. As
walking poles add a lot to the erosion, I stopped using them unless I really
needed them. This route is the decent
for many climbing routes, and descending is more eroding than ascending. Deep gullies had been worn in the soil, and
secondary paths weave around the gullies.
Little is done to reinforce the paths.
We arrive at Mweka hut at about 15:00. It lies just within the tree line, and is
dusty, noisy and filthy not to speak of the filth in the surrounding
forest. Our porters arrived shortly
afterwards, while we were lying in the shade in one of the few patches of
grass. Our porters and guides start
arguing I cant remember whether it was amongst each other or with another
group but they waved around threateningly with the tent poles. Fortunately everyone calms down, although
there is still a lot of grumbling, and the tent poles are put to their proper
use. I ask where I could wash, as I am
desperately dirty, and they tell me to wait later someone brings a bowl with
lukewarm water. A little cleaner, and
with cleaner clothes on, we roll out our sleeping bags and thankfully crawl
into them it has been a very long day.
Quietly we talk, reliving the days experiences, but when Freddy calls
us for supper, we were both fast asleep.
After supper we went straight back to bed. After two sleepless nights and a physically and emotionally
exhausting day, I slept as on a soft bed rather than those hard little
mats. I dreamed a lot about the
children, which was a sign of how much I missed them. And also a strange dream full of fir and destruction was it an
uneasy premonition of the events four days later, September 11 2001?
In spite of all the dreams the good nights
rest was refreshing. Jean-Paul was like
a different person, cheerful, cracking jokes with everyone and full of
energy. It was good to see him like
that again! We had been warned before
we started the trip that the descent would be killing on the feet, back and
legs, but the only ill I suffered was a tiny little blister on my left big
toe. Not bad! We ate and packed quickly, and packed a separate bag with
clothing, shoes and other goods that we wanted to give to the porters and
guides. Although we gave each of them a
generous tip, these gifts were often of more use as they were items not easily
obtainable in Tanzania.
We walked down at a quick pace, and overtook
several groups, including the Childline group.
Jean-Paul found his mountain running stride and disappeared in the
distance, leaving me to continue at my own pace, accompanied by Freddy. Our trip was often interrupted by the
greeting jambo, jambo as a porter came running and sliding along, managing to
balance himself and his load as he continued at breakneck pace down the
slippery path. This added a lot of wear
and tear to the path, which were hollowed out to deep muddy furrows. If this were to continue, the mountain could
be too damaged to climb in another decade.
I decided to write to Kilimanjaro National Park about it, also
suggesting better toileting education and facilities and pole-free zones. (I wrote this letter soon after my return,
but never received a reply. It is
probably stuck in a filing cabinet in some dinghy office.)
Once again I really enjoyed the forest. It was sunny, so we did not walk in a thick
mist this time. This gave the forest an
entirely different character. At times
I forgot that it was not prudent to walk and look at the same time I landed
on my bun twice! I knew that I would
probably never come here again, so took my time and opened all my senses to
enjoy this environment to the full: the curve of a fern leaf, the many flowers,
colours and textures of tree trunks and the play of sunlight trough the high
leaf canopy. Freddy just had to be
patient I was enjoying myself and took plenty of photographs. Once we saw a whole troop of monkeys chasing
each other in the treetops: high-flying acrobatics!
The track changed to a jeep track, the forest
made way to banana plantations on one side.
Before I knew it, the path opened out to a dusty parking place full of
jeeps, buses, milling crowds and there was my husband, coming towards me with
a big smile. We had reached Mweka gate,
the end point of our trip. Amidst the
feelings of gratitude and satisfaction that we had made it, there lurked a
little sadness: something of oneself is left behind on that mountain, which was
once again invisible. It is over, the
dream has been fulfilled.
Isaac filled in our certificates, which would
be given to us at the hotel with a little ceremony. The other thing both of us are looking forward to tremendously is
a shower and oh, a hair wash! We had
to walk a little further still to our jeep, running the gauntlet of begging
children and pushy souvenir salesmen.
We got into the car, where a lunch packet lay
ready. Down the bumpy track we went,
back to Keys Hotel in Moshi.
Back to our home, to our children.
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