The Roof of Africa — YOFO Adventures

Our bucket list is one big item shorter. On 31 January we summitted Mount Kilimanjaro and stood on the roof of Africa. At 19,341 feet of elevation, reaching Uhuru Peak made for an epic challenge and adventure. Which, we imagine, raises a few questions. In our eighth month of our YOFOAdventures, how the hell did we find ourselves standing on top of the tallest mountain in Africa (the tallest free-standing mountain in the world)? Better yet, whyyyyyy?

Team Simba at the summit with our head guide Davis and assistant guide Magnus.

The how is a bit easier to answer and we’ll endeavor to give you the highlights. The why is a little up for debate. When you’re standing on the summit suffering from a migraine brought on by your brain swelling as a reaction to the high altitude, it is hard to summon feelings of elation at summiting Kili. Yet…there is still this overwhelming sensation of “holy shit, we’re standing at the top of Kili! How effing cool is this?!!” Followed immediately by, “quick, let’s snap a few photos so we can get off of this effing mountain!” Still…holy shit, we stood on the roof of Africa! #lifegoals

Kili peaking through the clouds as we began the approach to Arusha-Veiko’s pic

We drank 3-4 liters of water a day to help acclimate to the altitude. Not including tea and meal beverages.

Call it a bucket list if you want, but if you’re at all like us, you have a few things or places floating around in the back of your mind that you’d like to do or see sometime in your life, hopefully before you decline physically (or mentally) to a point where you can no longer do such things. Neither of us feel like we’re approaching that tipping point, but then again, we ain’t getting any younger either! Climbing Kilimanjaro had somehow entered the front of our consciousness sometime in the past year or so, perhaps after reading an article about how the glaciers and snowfields are melting on top and may not be there for much longer. In any case, it was still just this fuzzy concept…you know, a “hey, we should go climb Kili someday. Yeah, sure, that sounds great!” sort of thing, but how often do you pull the trigger on stuff like that? I suppose you could argue that it is similar to our notion: “hey, we should quit our jobs, sell our house and everything in it, buy a truck and trailer, and see our great country!” Right? Who does that anyway?! In a sense, the moon and stars just aligned. We had the resources, time, and our fitness for hiking would never be better. We had been brainstorming adventurous ways to occupy some of our winter months anyway, so it quickly went from “why climb Kili” to “why not?” And if there’s one thing we’ve learned on our YOFO, sometimes you have to stop the excuses and just do it. So…we picked a Kili guide company, plunked down the money, and began to put together the gear, medicines, flights, and cash we would need.

Sorting the logistics of a trip to Tanzania (22 flying hours…22 flying hours) was almost as challenging as getting up the mountain itself. We were still getting Amazon Prime packages the day before we left as we attempted to make sure we had the necessary gear and would be somewhat comfortable in our quest. The weather appeared that it would be in that immortal sweet spot of suffering – 40s and rainy – but mountains are fickle things. Also, one can’t run out of phone or camera batteries whilst standing at over 19k feet of elevation, so getting the right supplies became a pursuit. Medically, we each just needed a few immunization updates, a daily anti-malarial pill, and if you’re contemplating something like this, strongly consider getting a Diamox prescription. It helped both of us adjust to the higher altitude, with some predictable side effects, and meant no Excedrin (or other aspirin based medications), so you’ll definitely want to read the fine print, especially if you’re ibuprofen-intolerant.

At our first camp. Our tent, gear bags, and mess tent in the background.

Getting onto the plane, we knew we had the hiking fitness to cover the 55-ish miles over the 9 days. We thought we had a plan for the altitude parts of it (largely true, but still some surprises). There’s always a bit of imposter syndrome at work, especially with not wanting to be the weak link of the group, so we weren’t completely void of doubts and concerns. A big unknown for us was the group – both with respect to guides and porters as well as with our fellow client-aspirants. We absolutely lucked out in both cases. Dean’s research into the company (Peak Planet) paid off and the vibe we got from their website, emails, and phone calls remained consistently positive. By all indications this was a company interested in doing things ethically, but also in pushing (safely) for all the clients to get to the top. The six other folks in the group were top notch, and it didn’t take long for all of us bond as a mutually supportive team. We saw disfunction in other groups as we leap frogged along the trails and our group had none of that. Everyone was supportive when needed and self-focused as the situation required. It turned out that we contributed both the oldest and only female member of the group, so there was no time for that imposter syndrome to creep in as we both just got to work pulling our weight and being team players.

Porters weighing in their gear as part of Day 1 fun.

Talking about pulling our weight – that’s in a very, very limited context. The porters and guides are the ones who literally carry their own weight and most of the clients’. The porters broke down camp each morning, began each day’s trek after us, carried heavier loads, passed us on the trail, and set up the new camp before we arrived. They set up and tear down all the tents, do all the cooking, cleaning, and general camp life activities, including dragging water up from nearby streams. Clients were only required to carry a day pack and walk from one camp to the next. We carried food, extra layers of clothing (and rain gear), other random gear (such as camera and a first aid kit), and water. Water made up half the weight of our packs, which probably ran about 8-10 kilograms total (say, fifteen-plus pounds). Porters carried a National Park-regulated maximum load of 20 kilograms (say, 45 pounds), in addition to their personal equipment. In short, we were awestruck at the toughness of these guys and gals as we came to consider them hard as nails. Our porters earned about 150ish US dollars for their 9 days with us (including tip), which doesn’t sound like much but since the average monthly income in Tanzania is about 150 dollars, it’s really not bad money. But they certainly earn every penny of it.

Our tent, porter tents, and Mount Kilimanjaro looming over us.

Our trek was 9 days total: 8.5 days up, and 1.5 days down. Yes, that adds up to more than 9, but summit day is a long one so it counts for >1. There are shorter routes by both time and distance, but fewer days on the mountain increases your risk of not summiting for failing to sufficiently acclimatize to the altitude. The trip we chose went up the Northern Circuit. It essentially circled the mountain, allowing for us to periodically climb up a bit to acclimate to the altitude, and then climb down a bit to sleep at a slightly lower altitude. The first foray above 15,000 was a bit of a wake-up call for Dean. He got a helluva headache, such that when the head guide came to the tent and offered some non-descript little pill from a local Tanzanian pharmacy, Dean downed it without question! About an hour or so later, he was sleeping pain free. He’d be seeing those pills again. Better climbing through Tanzanian drugs!

We lucked out with head guide Davis. We credit our professional guides for getting us up the mountain. The smiles are a bonus!

Without running you through the daily details, the trek covered five different climate zones as you ascend/descend: cultivated; rainforest; moorland; alpine desert; and summit (glacial). We only saw the rainforest on the first and last day, but it was fun with different types of monkeys and birds and the dense foliage you would imagine in a rainforest. The bulk of the trek bounced back and forth between the moorland and the alpine desert – moorland to trek and sleep and the alpine desert for some amazing views and acclimatization purposes. The moorland vegetation was shrubby and reminded us a bit of sage brush prairies, although the plants are obviously completely different. The alpine desert was familiar as well from our state-side hikes between 10-13k feet, but sadly it does not appear that they have pikas or marmots on Kili. They do have a member of the raven family though – we have come to appreciate the daily visits by Huginn and Munin (google Norse mythology if you’re curious) and were appreciative that their white collared cousins kept close tabs on us.

If you are pondering climbing Kili, give the route careful consideration. We highly recommend the Northern Route. It does take more time (and thus, money), but you get to see more (and more importantly, you have more time to acclimate to altitude). The Northern Circuit touches on all the other routes up the mountain. The days, while certainly not leisurely, also don’t feel rushed either in pace or distance. The route starts along the Lemosho Route, approaching from the west and making first camp at “Big Tree” Camp. That place was a circus! There were literally tents everywhere and at least seven trekking companies worth of clients and porters making their first stop. The next day thinned out as we headed to Shira One camp with its ascent up and over ridges and getting firmly planted in the moorland zone before heading down slightly to sleep. From this point on, you don’t dip back down below about 11k feet of elevation for a week, so you’ll know if genetics and/or Diamox have tipped the scales in your favor. We ran into some weather on our approach into Shira, which soon became a daily pattern. The mountain weather deities decided that afternoon storms should hit between about 1400-1600 daily (plus or minus). Given the altitude, most of the precipitation was a rain-sleet-hail combo that would have been miserable without gear or if it had been a few degrees colder.

Working on getting used to the altitude.

After Shira One, you stay on the flank of that long dormant volcano (first in the three-plus major explosion series that created the Kili mountain) hiking almost along a contour line to get around to Shira Two. Almost along a contour lines means that you don’t stay quite level and that you get to explore drainages as they cross your path. On Day 2 (Big Tree to Shira I), our guides had timed their “don wet weather gear” instructions perfectly and we had our gear on about 20 seconds before the weather got feisty. Our luck wouldn’t hold the whole time, but it was impressive how well the guides knew the mountain and could almost read the weather. Being at altitude had the side benefit of quickly drying things when the sun popped out…which was unfortunate for both of our bottom lips. Day 3’s hike got us farther from the crowds of Big Tree and sleep was easier to come by. Day 4 was the second hardest day of hiking (summit day wins, hands down) as the route takes you up to Lava Hut Camp (approx. 15.4k) before descending to about 13k feet at Moir Camp to sleep. Almost everyone in the group saw some altitude effects from the trip up to 15k feet (we stayed up there to eat lunch as well, which was part of the acclimatization plans). It was interesting to see how things manifested – Dawn’s sinuses went nuts and her left eye kept leaking (plus a headache), Dean’s tinnitus (ringing in his ears) got louder, and he got to experience a non-migraine-migraine, several others had headaches, most of us were grouchy, and all of us lost appetite and the dinner went largely uneaten (which was a shame, as we ate surprisingly well on the mountain – excellent soups and main dishes). After Moir Camp, you are definitely off the “popular” routes for a couple of days and get to explore a bit of the scenery on the Kenyan (northern) side of Kili.

The Northern Circuit gives you plenty of oportunities to watch the mountain watching over your efforts.

The next couple days saw us largely staying in the same altitude range (11-13k feet) as we made our way from Moir Camp to Buffalo Camp and over to Third Cave Camps. We continued to be pestered by afternoon rains and one day took a good soaking (missed the weather call by about five minutes). Most of the stuff dried out, but we were doubting the packing list. One thing the Army teaches is “dry socks, non-negotiable” but in the interest of keeping our duffels under the weight limit and figuring “wool Is good even when dirty or wet”…yeah…should’ve stuck with our Army instincts. Pack extra socks and fewer granola bars. Trust us on this one. There were a few more forays higher to continue the acclimatization, but everyone settled in to the altitude and did well. The daily health checks showed that everyone was normalizing a bit (saturated oxygen was lower than “normal” as expected, and pulses / blood pressures were off of normal, but well within the expected bands).

Day 7 saw things ratcheting up. It wasn’t a long hike from Third Cave to School Hut Camp, but we gained about 3000+ feet of elevation and would be sleeping above 15k feet. Given the previous group experiences with lunch at 15k feet, we were looking forward to it mostly as a way station for summit night/day. Lunch and dinner were early as we would be getting up at 2300 to hit the trail at midnight. Nothing like altitude and pressure to make for a good night’s sleep! One random note: since the guys mainly were using pee bottles at night, they missed out on some amazing star displays. The afternoon rains would clear out and by 2200, the sky would be insanely populated by stars to the point that it was tough to pick out constellations. (Not least because they were in different spots – Orion was directly overhead and the Big Dipper pointed out the North Star sitting almost on the horizon.) A perk of going outside to pee multiple times a night (yay, Diamox side-effect), was the incredible display and seeing the Milky Way seem to trail off into the moonlit summit of Kilimajaro. Most nights were right around 32F, so brisk for sure, but not so bad that the incentive to stare up and gawk was gone. Now, back to your regularly scheduled posting!

This is “Mama,” our cook, prepping dinner.

On Day 8, Summit Day, we hit the trail just after midnight with a full super-moon overhead and our headlamps lighting the way. Three liters of water didn’t quite seem enough for climbing 4000+ feet plus descending another 7000+ feet, but everyone’s water bladders froze a few hours in and we glugged down water from Nalgenes at breaks. We had been stocked with warm water (tea-warmth) before starting, but it was cold by the time we were drinking it. The unofficial motto of climbing Kili is “pole pole” (slow slow). And we went pole pole for sure. We could see other groups ahead of us on the trail making their way up the switchbacks. We all just stayed confident (well, as much as you could) that our guides knew the deal and were going the best pace to set us up for success. It felt like we looked up at those switchbacks for hours and hours (we did) without the ridge top getting any closer, and the moon disappeared behind the summit area before we topped out. We had an amazing view to the east as the sun rose over the Tanzanian coastal plains and backlit Mawemzi Peak (major explosion #2 in the Kili formation lifespan). We finally topped out at Gilman’s Point (18,600’) and were excited that we could see the summit of Uhuru Peak beckoning us. We took in some Scooby Snacks, gathered up our scrotums (proverbial or otherwise), and trekked on.

Glacier remnants atop Kili, with Mount Meru dominating the western skyline.

The next stop after Gilman’s Point is Stella Peak. Some routes ascend directly to Stella Peak, and this was the place where we’d begin our descent. But, we had an out and back to do to get to the official summit. After dropping our packs and getting some more Scoobies in, we headed off, pole pole. There’s some snow up at the top, but it was well trodden and, while there was exposure, we never felt unsafe. The sun bakes off a lot of the snow, so we trekked mostly across summit rocks. Our guides had timed our trek and ascent and we were largely alone as a group up on the summit. It was nice to not have to jockey for position or feel rushed. The views at the top are amazing. There are still several intact glaciers and you’re looking down on the clouds. We quickly took our pictures, but there was no lingering – headaches were cranking, grouchiness was in effect, and we knew we had several hours of hiking “downhell” ahead of us. We had already seen multiple people looking rather ghastly, getting escorted off the mountain – some with one guide assisting and at least one person with a guide on either side bodily removing the person from the summit. Again, we have no reason to doubt the professionalism of the other groups’ guides, but we felt exceptionally comfortable with the team that got us to the top. They kept track of where we were, how each of us were doing, made sure we were taking in calories and liquids, made sure we were still coherent, got us off the summit in a timely manner, and generally managed the situation to the point where we just had to put one foot in front of the other. Pole Pole.

Dang, this is high up. Oddly warm (thank you, Sol) which gave us a chance to soak in the views in every direction.

We summited at around 0900, so had been moving for about nine hours. We knew we had at least six more hours to go and the pace descending was much faster than the pole pole. No one was particularly spry about it, but everyone was looking forward to the cup of hot tea and warm lunch near Barafu (at about 15,000 feet – another chaotic, crowded place) before we continued down to Millenium Camp at about 12,000 feet. Lunch was good, although our appetites were still suppressed, and the hot tea nearly magical. A couple of hours after leaving Barafu, we were able to get our rain gear on before shit got crazy! A rather fierce rain-turned-hail storm hit us about 20 minutes outside of camp. The trail in that stretch looks like it either started as a drainage or became one – we were walking in running water over loose rocks, while getting hailed on. By the time the storm had run its course, there was probably about a third of an inch of hail piled up everywhere…well, everywhere that water hadn’t taken it downstream. Everyone took a brief nap before dinner. Seriously, the porters are absurdly tough folks – few of them have good gear, but they still had everything ready to go and were helping make sure tents were dry and gear stowed as best as possible.

Our entire group with guides and porters.

Day 9 saw us descending from the moorland, back through rainforest, and then along a road that seemed to run adjacent to some banana plantations and some coffee farms. A few monkeys were on hand to chatter at us as we went by. Oddly, the downhells are almost more brutal than the uphills (can’t emphasize enough the need for trekking poles on Kili), and there were audible sighs of relief as we got to the end and boarded the bus back to our hotel in Moshi. On the way down, we had noticed some metal carts about the size of a gurney with a single bicycle tire (complete with shocks) in the center as we approached Millenium Camp. The guides had said that they were for evacs, but we didn’t really believe them. On Day 9, we saw porters transporting a couple of carts up the mountain (dang, those things are heavy). Then, we heard shouting behind us to see about 8-10 porters steering one of these carts down the mountain at full tilt, client onboard (The trail was extremely rocky and as they passed us they dang near dropped the client!). We later found out that he was okay – but two porters and a client from another group died while we were on the mountain. While this is definitely a do-able challenge, it’s still dangerous and you are definitely at risk. That was more than a bit sobering in the aftermath of our summit high.

Descending - bigger vegetation means lower elevation.

But – we’re done with high altitude trekking (we can cross Everest base-camp off the list…ok, it was never on the list, but you get the idea). Altitude sickness is some serious shit, and one of us seems prone to it. In case you were wondering, banish the idea that you can exercise your way into immunity. Being prone to altitude sickness has nada, zilch, zip to do with fitness. A couch potato could climb Kili and feel zero effects (one member of our eight-person group felt nothing) while a world-class endurance athlete could fail to summit. It’s all about genetics. Most people will acclimatize to some extent, but it takes a lot of time (hence the pole pole pace). Diamox helps, but it is not a miracle cure-all.

A twiga. Just chilling and being photogenic.

Back in Moshi, the hot shower felt magical as you might expect after spending 9 days on a mountain in cold, wet weather. Our trip to Africa ended on a very positive note. We had decided that we should take advantage of being in Tanzania to see some of the wildlife, so the morning after getting off the mountain, we headed out on a two-day safari. Our first day was in Lake Manyara National Park and we overnighted and spent the second day in Ngorogoro Crater National Wildlife Refuge. Even if we had not come to Tanzania to climb Kili, the safari alone would have been worth the trip. The wildlife was spectacular, and our guide, Abi, was superb. We caught some young lions on the hunt (unsuccessfully, since they were foolishly looking to take down a water buffalo (the water buffalo is the most dangerous animal of the so-called big-5). We saw thousands of zebra and wildebeest. Some elephants decided to cross our path so close that we could have reached out of the truck and touched one of them. Giraffe, hippos, rhino, baboons, monkeys, hyenas, jackals, gazelles, elands, warthogs, jackals, and lots of cool exotic birds, not to mention the flora and fauna, made for a dazzling display of the treasures that these parks are for Tanzania. We both resolved that we’d love to return with young nieces, nephews or grandkids in tow to show them the wonders that are still protected (as best they can be) from poachers.

Trying fresh banana beer (not good!). Like Kili, a “one and done” for us.

So, the final question you may now be asking, “Is Tanzania really a “shithole country?”” Well, parts of Tanzania are decidedly poor, if that’s your definition. Some of its people live in conditions of extreme poverty and deprivation that would break many in our country. Yet the Tanzanian people are tough as nails; they’re resilient, educated, friendly, and they have a rich culture that they are proud of and that they love to share. And they are appreciative. They're thankful for American goodwill and still admire the enduring ideals that our country stands for. They remember our Presidents that have visited and extended a helping hand. This is a vibrant, beautiful people with great promise and they hold onto hope of making a better future for their children. At a minimum, the Tanzanian people deserve respect. Beyond that we fervently hope our country will continue to support such people in their striving to improve their quality of life and their children’s future. Oh, and did we mention they take dollars, have good roads, grow excellent coffee, have superb National Parks, do more phone banking than we do, and many speak English – this is an easy place to be a tourist. Even if we don’t recommend the banana beer.