Saying "Yes" to Adventure

Jordan rushes into the cafe. I am wiping down the corner table just about to wrap up my shift for the day. “Emily, I just had the most amazing idea!” She gasps to catch her breath. “Want to come with me to Tanzania to climb Mount Kilimanjaro?” I look at her and laugh.

I love that I have surrounded myself with friends who crave adventure as much as I do. My immediate reaction is to say yes, and a week later our trip was booked.

Our 30 hour flight finally ended as we touched down in Nairobi, Kenya. We exited the airplane onto the tarmac and made our way to the open-air airport. After we showed our proof of vaccinations and passports, and gathered our luggage, we found our way to a taxi service that would bring us to our tent hotel.

Driving through Nairobi was fascinating. Traffic was heavy but moved slowly as motorcycles weaved in and out of vehicles. Vans passed packed to the gills with travelers poking their heads out to get a wisp of fresh air. Finally we arrived at our destination and walked into the welcoming tent to check-in. We were escorted through beautiful gardens, past a pool, to our canvas home with two twin beds. After getting settled, we began making plans for traveling to Tanzania and finding a guiding service to take us up the mighty Mount Kilimanjaro.

The next morning we hopped on a bus that would take us from Nairobi, Kenya to Moshi, Tanzania. We had made a great connection the night before while out to dinner with a woman named Anna. Anna was from Sweden, but had been living in Nairobi the last few months in order to start a safari business. She suggested a guiding company that was affiliated with her friend's hotel located in Moshi, and was able to offer a discount that we couldn’t deny. That night, we arrived at the hotel, ate dinner, and packed our bags with the gear we needed for the trek.

Our guiding crew met us the next morning, to shop for last minute items and packed us in the van that would drive us to the starting point. We would begin our adventure at Machame Gate.

The weather was overcast and drizzling as we arrived in the bustling parking area with our small van amongst massive charter buses. It was clear that we had lucked out getting a guided trip with only the two of us. Many other companies had over 20 guests that would be traveling up the mountain together. Our team consisted of two guides, nine porters, and Jordan and I. Having nine men carry my gear up a mountain was a strange concept to me, as I had already completed two thru-hikes; the John Muir Trail, and the Pacific Crest Trail, both of which I was responsible for carrying all of my own items for survival.

As our porters unpacked and began hiking up the mountain side, Jordan and I were asked to wait in the covered gazebo. Shortly after we were seated, we were approached by two of our porters who set up a small folding table, covered with a tablecloth. They began by serving hot drinks. There was an absurd amount of options; hot tea, coffee, hot chocolate, and my absolute favorite; ginger tea sweetened with fresh cane sugar. After we were finished, they cleared our plates to make way for the massive platter containing the main course. The quantity of spaghetti pasta they served us was larger than both of our heads combined! They also made sure we had an abundant selection of sides to go with. Needless to say, we only made it through a fraction of the food that was offered. I was stuffed and a little concerned we were going to begin the hike in only a matter of minutes.

Our two guides soon approached us confirming my fears. The senior guide named Mathew, had been guiding for over 30 years and had achieved more than 100 successful climbs up Mount Kilimanjaro. Our second guide was a younger man and an apprentice to Mathew. His name was Sam. He had started as a porter almost ten years prior in his twenties and had advanced his career to guiding; a huge accomplishment.

We walked through the entrance gate to the heavily wooded trail lined with monkeys. Mathew and Sam warned us not to leave our packs unattended around these critters as they were notorious for snatching up trekkers’ things. Just as they had finished their warning, we saw one of them scrambling up a nearby tree carrying an entire loaf of bread in its mouth. We kept our bags close.

The rest of the day was spent meandering up the trail, passing other hiking groups and porters taking well deserved rests. We learned more about Mathew and Sam’s lives. Mathew grew up and had a family still living in Moshi, Tanzania, and Sam was from Niarobi. Being guides on Mount Kilimanjaro was a great accomplishment and we could sense the pride they felt for making their dreams come true. They also explained that they were born with traditional african names, but once they reached puberty, were given traditional christian names. This was a common practice in this area.

After a full day of hiking, we made it to Machame Camp, 9,842 feet above sea level. There were people everywhere when we arrived. Around ten different camps were set up on the hillside crawling with guests, porters, and guides. There were three toilet areas sprawled around the camp. Each consisting of five by ten foot brick buildings with four holes in the ground to do our duty. They smelled HORRIBLE. The stench was so wretched, I would have to bury my face in my coat collar just to keep from vominting as I went inside.

We made our way through the camps and found that the porters had already set up our sleeping quarters with dinner cooking next door. There was a little dining area in the front vestibule with a table, two chairs, and a big bowl of popcorn. Our mats and sleeping bags were set up in the main area just behind. We settled in just as the sun disappeared and the temperature dropped. The cooking staff brought us a bowl of warm water with soap and towels to clean our hands before the meal. Soon after, the first course arrived; a pot of broth. After we had slurped down our share, the main course of steaming hot rice with lentil sauce, slices of bread, and fresh fruit were delivered. Just as I thought I had gorged myself to the brink, dessert appeared; thin doughy pancakes with a variety of sweet sauces to drizzle on top. Finally, the meal was over. We crawled into our sleeping quarters and fell fast asleep.

We were woken up to the announcement that breakfast would be served in a few minutes. When we emerged, we were welcomed again with a warm bucket of water and soap, and began our morning feast. After, we changed to our hiking clothes and started back on the trail with our guides. The porters packed up the entire tent and passed us up the trail with a speedy pace. The climb on the second day was much steeper, forcing us into a slower pace. The trail was still forested, but the trees were becoming a bit thinner allowing us to get glimpses of the vast mountains in the distance. We trudged along all day stopping for lunch and a thermos full of my favorite ginger tea. The afternoon brought on a bit of chill and a light rain. We were thankful for the ponchos that were given to us as they kept both our bodies and backpacks dry.

After the fog set in, we didn't have much for views until we arrived at our second destination; Shira Camp, 12,598 feet above sea level. The campsite was located on an open hill where groups could be dispersed more widely. Just as before our tent was ready upon our arrival. We slunk in, changed into warmer clothes and snacked on popcorn while dinner was being prepared. We were greeted with another extravagant three course meal, and wrapped up the night by learning a song and dance our porters and guides performed for us. After dinner, our guides reviewed the day and took our nightly heart rate measurements to keep track of how our bodies were adjusting to the higher elevations. That night, we were treated with the most amazing sunset. The red, orange, and yellow colors danced in the sky as the sun slowly slipped below the horizon.

We began the day with our usual routine of breakfast, heart rate check, and packing our day bags. Before we knew it, we were on our way. We hiked throughout the day, climbing and climbing until we met our first snowpack. It was a cold lunch as we gathered around a shallow cave next to a camp area called Lava Tower at 15,092 feet. Some hikers taking a different route, already had their tents set up for the night. Because we had chosen to do a quicker expedition, we would be hiking on to the next camp. We scarfed down our food quickly so we could continue walking and maintain our warm body temperatures. We trudged on through the snow until we reached our camp for the third night; Barranco Camp at 12,959 feet. We did not leave the tent much at all that evening, as it was a cold damp night. After dinner and vital checks, we made our way to our sleeping bags and spent the night trying to keep warm.

The next morning we woke to a wonderful sight. The sun was peeking out between the clouds, warming our campsite. The moods were high as we completed the morning checklist with smiles on our faces. We viewed the trail ahead through the open tent entrance with anticipation. It wound up an intimidating 900 foot cliff edge, named accurately as the Great Barranco Wall. Our guides prepared us for the journey, warning that the rocks would be slippery and would give way to many exposed sections. Before setting off, our crew eased our nerves with another round of singing and dancing, and this time Jordan and I joined in. We circled together singing and clapping until my concerns drifted away. After, we grabbed our packs, and set out to conquer the pass. Because the trail was so slow moving, a line of hikers had formed cautiously making their way forward. Porters and guides were helping their clients over gaps in the trail and slippery sections that gave way to a foggy, dark abyss. I became concerned as I watched some of the young porters make their way up the trail, slipping occasionally as their footwear was often worn down, with no tread left whatsoever. Several anxious hours later we victoriously made it over the rocky pass to a flat protected area on the other side. The fog was so thick that we couldn't see more than ten feet in front of us. We sat on rocks amongst the fog with different hikers from all over the world, and shared stories of how we ended up on Mount Kilimanjaro.

After the pass, we hiked over rolling hills until we began the descent into Karanga Valley. We traveled down, down, down, losing almost all of the elevation we had gained going over the pass. At the base of the valley, we stopped to collect water in the small creek, and gazed up to one of our first views of the snowy peak of Kilimanjaro. After the short rest, we began the steep climb out of the valley that brought us to Karanga Camp where we met our crew for lunch. Many others stopped here for the night, adding an extra day to their expedition. We however, continued onward to camp Barafu at 15,331 feet, just below the summit of Mount Kilimanjaro.

The temperatures were very cold and the elevation was getting to me as we arrived a few hours later. I had a splitting headache that would not subside so we prepared for an early bedtime. Mathew came in around 7 pm to take our vitals and informed us that we would wake at 11pm that same night to start the final ascent to the summit. Our vitals reflected the stress the elevation was putting on our bodies through. My resting heart rate, normally around 60 beats per minute, was in the mid 90’s. My body felt achy and restless. Mathew suggested that I take a pill that would help with my altitude sickness and ease my headache. The mysterious capsule helped just enough for me to rest my eyes, but sleep seemed impossible to find.

11pm came way too soon as we heard a bustle outside of our tent. We were woken by one of the porters informing us that it was time to get up, eat some breakfast, and begin hiking. We emerged from our tent dressed in our warm clothes; snow pants, boots, winter jackets, hats and mittens. Our headlamps securely fastened around our foreheads, were our only defense against the penetrating darkness that surrounded us. I looked up in the direction of the peak and saw several bobbing lights slowly moving in the distance. Although I could not make out the shape of the looming mountain , I knew these lights belonged tohikers slowly making their way to the top.

Mathew met with us, checked over our gear, and made sure we had stocked our backpacks with extra layers and snacks. We then began our journey upward. Mathew led the way followed by Jordan, Myself, and Sam taking up the rear. The temperature was much colder than I was anticipating, and my headache pounded as we inched up the mountain. My headlamp focused on Jordans heels in front of me as we made our way in silence. The air was so thin it made it nearly impossible to talk even though we were moving at a snail’s pace. Switch back after switch back we marched, up and up and up, stopping occasionally for water, snacks, and to catch our breath. An hour into this, my toes were stiff and screaming from the cold. I needed to stop to warm them up if I was to go any further. My guides reluctantly haulted and let me pull my feet from my boots so that I could vigorously rub them in order to regain feeling. After a few minutes, the blood returned to my toes, and I was able to continue hiking.

We spent several more hours trudging up the mountain in the darkness, with only our quiet thoughts to distract us from the frigid temperatures and the howling wind. After climbing nearly 3,600 feet, the trail began to flatten out. Mathew yipped in excitement as he informed us we had made it to Stella Point, signifying we were past the most difficult section! Here we stopped and huddled next to a stack of rocks, eating and sipping on a hot thermos full of ginger tea as we waited for the sun to rise over the horizon. The break was enjoyable, until our body temperatures plummeted. I had to keep moving if I was going to make it to the top.

The sun finally rose in the distance and we were flooded with beloved warming rays. This was our signal to surge on. We gathered our things and inched onward to complete the last 441 vertical feet to the summit. At last, we saw the beaten down wooden sign that signified the summit of Mount Kilimanjaro. We were overcome with joy as we approached the marker, gingerly making our way over the snowblown and icy terrain. I fumbled with my camera to take as many pictures as I could, but my hands were so frozen, it was nearly impossible. Our guides, smiling with pride, took over as photographer and snapped several shots of us huddled around the sign. We were barely recognizable in the photos, as only our eyes protruded from the countless layers of snow gear and face warmers. It wasn’t long before the ripping wind, and freezing temperatures began to freeze our frosty eyelids shut. It was time to head down.

The descent was fast! Our adrenaline was pumping as our victorious summit became a reality. We took large, sprawled steps downward, eager to lose elevation and gain warmth. We began stripping our layers as our bodies thawed. When we arrived back at our tent that we had left several hours prior, we were greeted by our porters grinning and cheering for our accomplishment. After lunch we packed our bags, and continued the journey down to Mweka Camp, where we spent our final night on the mountain.

I woke up feeling rested and headache-free. My body was feeling much better at the lower elevation. We enjoyed breakfast in the early morning light, then set out for the final miles of our journey. At the lower elevation, the snow and rocks were replaced by mud and trees, and we began to see more wildlife. Monkeys and birds were perched in the canopy above as smaller creatures scrambled through the brush below. We finally emerged from the forest at the Mweka Gate where a parking lot full of buses awaited their exhausted travelers. Jordan and I were escorted to a gazebo where we were served a cold lunch amongst other hikers who had all completed the expedition. Spirits were high as our bus pulled up and we climbed in with our crew. The only thing left to do was reminisce on the adventure as we made our way through villages, and fields of crops, before arriving back at our hotel in Moshi. Once we arrived, we were awarded our certificates of completion, and began our farewells with the crew. I couldn’t thank them enough for their efforts to get us to the summit.

Looking back, I am filled with gratitude and hope for the future. You truly can do anything you put your mind to. It may get difficult, but with determination, believing in yourself, and the help of others, dreams can come true. By saying “yes” to adventure, you never know what you will discover and accomplish.