text/plain

Sunday, July 2, 2023; Day 3

I slept somewhat more comfortably in the night — my sleeping pad, inflated by our porters before we got to Shira 1, was not overfilled and provided a bit more comfort than it had before. I also learned the trick of zipping my puffy coat down into a small pillow which worked better than struggling with the awkward one built into the sleeping pad. As I sipped my morning coffee, I jotted down a short note in my journal:

Today’s slated to be an easy day – a 4 hour hike to Shira 2 before lunch, then a short acclimatization walk in the afternoon. My breathing still feels good, and my only real worry is the consistent gurgle in my belly. Fingers crossed.

We got to enjoy a beautiful sunrise while getting ready for breakfast.

Unlike our prior mornings, our path now seemed pretty simple — “walk that way.”

After breakfast, brushing our teeth, and repacking our duffels, we form our morning huddle and sing our little chant before heading out:

The day’s hike isn’t quite as flat as it looks, but it is much flatter than our prior days’ efforts. It’s mostly a series of small rolling hills, with a tiny river crossing just outside of camp.

An hour or so later, while sitting on a rock during a water/potty stop, I can more clearly observe the groups of porters flying by. Most are wearing boots from REI and the like, although a few are wearing surprising choices like Jordans and even boat shoes. I muse that many of the porters have surprisingly large feet, relative to their comparatively small stature. Later I blame mental haziness from the altitude and lack of sleep for how long it takes me to arrive at the obvious realization that they’re mostly wearing boots left behind by past hikers, and while you can’t wear a boot that’s too small, you can wear one that’s too big.

I took the opportunity to apply sunblock to my face and hands, and then wandered off a few hundred feet to find a rock large enough to pee behind. As was the case from here on out (where the flatness of the terrain meant there weren’t as many concealed places to relieve oneself), there were gross piles of toilet paper on the far side of the rocks, left behind by hikers who weren’t following the rules (and probably weren’t blessed with toilet tents). Yuck.

In the late morning, we stop for a snack break on a rocky hillside overlooking some interesting trees:

Speaking of snacks, our guides supply us with two before we set out each morning: usually one is a packet of dried fruit which I enjoy, and a dense ball or bar made from nuts, chocolate, and seeds. While the latter are tasty, I usually don’t eat them in favor of the peanut/chocolate protein bars I’ve brought from home, whose flavor I prefer and which are a weight in my bag that I’d like to reduce. :)

After an easy morning’s hike, we arrive at Shira 2 around lunchtime and sign in at the ranger station. The camp is on a ridge line with incredible views of Mount Meru poking out over the clouds below.

It’s easily the prettiest camp so far, and I suspect that it might end up being the best one of the trip – it’s sunny and cool but not cold. From here, Kili is cloudless and looms much larger in our field of view than it did from Shira 1.

But as impressive as Kili is, I think the sea of clouds below us from here to Meru is even more beautiful.

I take the opportunity to wander around camp, taking pictures of the mountains and some of the flora that manages to live at this high elevation:

We notice that the porters have congregated on some giant boulders at the bottom of the camp and many of them are chatting on cell phones, so several of our trekmates head there to try to make calls and investigate their still-missing luggage:

We’re at real altitude now, just under 13000 feet, but after lunch we’ll take a short hike up over 13000 feet to help our bodies adjust to the elevation we’ll be crossing through tomorrow. The primary reason that hikers fail to summit Kili is altitude sickness, and our tour’s combination of going slow and “hike high, sleep low” is meant to ensure that we acclimatize as much as we can.

The acclimatization hike up to over 13000 feet took under an hour and wasn’t difficult. It felt great to not have my backpack on for the acclimatization hike. While the pack’s bladder is more convenient than carrying a water bottle, by now I’d concluded that dragging my big camera (and its bag) everywhere was probably a mistake. I can only hope that when I finally get to see its pictures on a big screen I’ll decide it was worth it after all.

We ended our ascent at a patch of giant boulders with cairns delicately perched atop them.

Looking back toward camp, the view was even more impressive:

There was a bit of grumbling about having to descend– losing hard-won steps upward seemed like a waste. Had I followed the guidance to leave my poles behind, I would’ve likely fallen at least three times on the scree (“loose gravel”) on the way back down.

I changed into my thermals before dinner, resolved not to repeat the prior night’s panic.

Tomorrow, we’ll hike to the Lava tower, our highest altitude yet (~15K feet!), before descending to a camp at around the same altitude we’re at now.

Exciting times!

< Back to the Kilimanjaro Journal Index

Friday, June 30, 2023; Day 1

Ndarakwai provided the best night’s sleep of the trip yet, with the combination of the cool breeze through the hut pairing beautifully with the cozy blanket on the comfy bunk. After sleeping at 9p, I woke at 11:30p, already feeling rested. I laid awake comfortably for an hour or so and fell back asleep until 6:10a when the birds got started with their morning songs.

Jason mentioned that he’d heard some “Irish piano music” around 5am and suspected that it was the alarm from the Doctor, who’d vowed to wake up at that time at dinner the night before.

By 7am, we were both up and chatting, waiting to walk down to the common hut where last night coffee was promised to be prepared “at 7:15 or 7:30, or 7:45 maybe“, in the “Hakuna Matata” fashion that the Tanzanians seem to express schedules.

When it’s finally time, breakfast was coffee, scrambled eggs, potato hash browns, bread, and little donut-like treat. While we fill up our bellies, our various devices all fill their batteries:

After breakfast, I finalize my choices for the gear that I’m leaving behind in two collapsible backpacks, and we bring our duffels back to our initial common lodge to fill up our water bottles, and weigh the duffels to ensure that they’re below the 15 kg weight limit. I managed to give away two bandanas, a Nalgene bottle, and a pack of wipes to folks whose bags are yet to arrive. Thankfully, I’ve ended up at exactly 15 kilos.

After tipping the staff at the ranch, I’ve got $1399 in cash left in my camera bag where it will hopefully remain for the next 9 days as we hike the trail.

The crew loads our duffels into the two Land Rovers and we all pile in for the drive to the trailhead, around an hour away. When we finally arrive at the parking lot for the trailhead, we all eagerly climb out with our packs and eye the many dozens of porters waiting nearby.

We spend over an hour futzing with poles and gaiters, meeting personal porters, and being introduced to our crew. Our final party numbers 67: 10 guests, 1 head guide, 3 assistant guides, a chef, chef’s assistant/waiter, 6 personal porters, and the enormous crew of camp porters who carry the tents, food, and everything else that will be in camps. We truly will become a village on the move.

I take two trips to the bathroom, our last indoor opportunity for over a week.

We have lunch together in a pavilion next to the trailhead. The meal seems unnecessary– we hadn’t done more than sit since breakfast not long ago– and I eat little, eager both to get started and avoid anything that might upset my belly before we even begin.

Finally, we embark.

We’re bathed in DEET to repel mosquitos, although we don’t see too many and I end up with no bites. The forest around us is pretty, but mostly reminds me of other hikes I’ve been on — there’s still no sight of Kili’s peak. The grade of the trail is more varied than I expected — it was much more ups and downs than a gradual uphill.

My poles helped a ton and I had my first inkling that I’d be using them much more than predicted.

Perhaps fifteen minutes after leaving the trailhead, we arrived at the the formal “Gate.” It wasn’t really much of a gate, more of a sign to pose for pictures with the team.

I wore my gaiters, but I took them off halfway through the day’s hike after realizing that, given my high boots, their only real function was to hold in my sweat. My pant-legs ended up drenched at the bottom. It was chilly– just over 60F, but I still ended up working up a pretty good sweat between my long-sleeve shirt and my pack. We stop to drink and eat snacks every half hour or so.

It’s easy to get lost in conversations or thoughts, but we all still have to pay attention — beyond the sometimes uneven ground, every few minutes, a handful of porters stream by at high-speed, giant bags balanced across their heads. Sometimes those bags are full of metal (frames for tents or chairs) and it seems almost certain that one of us is going to get clipped sooner or later. Calls of “Porter on the right!” and “Lots of porters on the left!” ring out from the back to the front of our line.

Overall, everything felt basically good, and my heart rate stayed just over 100 for the entire hike.

At our final water break around our expected arrival time, Respicius announces that we’ve got about “forty five minutes” left to go for the day. We’re all in good spirits though, and nobody complains that we seem to be behind schedule. When we arrive at our first camp mere minutes later (around 3:40pm), Respicius insists with a twinkle in his eye that he’d said “Four to five minutes.” We all know he’s lying, but this becomes a pattern– an pleasant surprise just before finishing each day’s hike.

The Forest camp (aka “Mti Mkubwa“/”Big tree”) is buzzing with activity, there seem to be at least two other groups of similar size. After signing the Ranger’s guestbook, we head to our group’s red and grey tents in a small clearing near the back of the area.

We have a welcome ceremony with songs and dancing, but I hang back to watch and avoid getting pulled in.

After the welcome ceremony, we meet our crew’s two “toilet engineers”, who teach those of us who’ve never before used one before how to use our chemical toilets.

While it doesn’t seem too dire (“lift lid. use. pump blue handle. pull white handle.”) I’m happy that I don’t need it yet — we boys end up peeing in the trees a dozen yards away.

Shortly after arrival, we have our first tea-time with popcorn, small cookies, and tea (ginger, peppermint, and black tea). As will become customary, Respicius passes around the meter to see how we’re doing. My PulseOx/HR were 95%/72bpm, and I’m silently proud to have the best numbers in our party.

Jason and I unpack our sleeping gear from our duffels and inflate our own mattress pads– non-trivial, but I warn myself that it’s only going to get harder as the altitude increases. (It turns out that this is the last time we’ll do this– despite our protestations, porters will do this for us at all subsequent camps).

Jason seemed worried that I’d been quiet (not lingering with others at tea), but I’m mostly lost in my thoughts, listening to my trekmates’ stories, and writing in my journal: “At camp @9300 feet, waiting for dinner service at 6pm, my portable solar panels are recharging my Fitbit watch, and I’m listening to the others telling stories in the dining tent next door. It’s supposed to rain tonight, but the tent looks pretty sturdy and watertight — fingers crossed!“

Dinner ended up consisting of a delicious pumpkin soup, vegetables, and a shockingly ambitious (and yummy) lasagna. Dinner discussion ranged from amazement at the food (“Lasagna?? On a mountain?“) to lamentation about delayed luggage, and optimism of it perhaps arriving the tomorrow (as a high mountain road runs near our next night’s camp).

Our final surprise of the day was a 20th Anniversary cake for Jason H and Sherry.

Dinner ends with another verification of everyone’s PulseOx and our first nightly briefing about what to expect for the next day. We’ll wake at 6am, breakfast at 7, and depart by 8.

I’m unprepared for how chilly and dark it gets in camp, and have to learn how to effectively brush my teeth in the dark and otherwise get ready for bed with limited lighting. I’m excited for tomorrow, and despite the chatter from our trek-mates and adjacent camps, I snuggle down in my sleeping bag early. I end up going to water the trees an hour or two later and can still hear our neighbors awake.

Despite the tent’s thick rubber flooring and my sleeping pad (which it turns out I’ve over-inflated), my bed is quite uncomfortable and I have a very restless night.

Back to the Kilimanjaro Journal Index

Thursday, June 29, 2023; Day 0

Another night of rough sleep, but I got two solid blocks from 10:30p-1a and 4a-7:45a. I took a quick shower before heading to our last breakfast at the hotel. There was no omelette chef or hot buffet today, instead we were seated with some of our trekmates at a large table and provided with short menus. We both ordered our now customary omelettes and bacon and met the first of our new friends. First were a married couple, Sherri and Jason H., who were joined by their college friend Liza. In short order we met Matt, a USAF cargo pilot, and Amanda, a Navy doctor. We chatted as we ate.

After breakfast, at 9:30 we headed over to the hotel’s conference room to meet the rest of our group and our head guide, Respicius.

As folks streamed in, we met Norm, Amanda’s ex-Marine father, and Bob, another ex-Marine friend of Norm’s. Finally, we met Bob, a solo hiker from Florida, ex-Army. With two Jasons and two Bobs, we quickly named renamed Bob the Elder “Robert”, and left the Jason confusion aside for the moment. The ten of us sat around a long table to wait for our head guide to arrive.

While we wait, we learn that 6 out of the 10 in our hiking party had not yet received their duffel bags from the airline, and Jason was checking the Apple Airtag tracker and lamenting that it still showed their luggage in Amsterdam.

Respicius introduced himself and told us about his background. He’s summited 5 of the 7 continental peaks (Kili, Elbrus, Denali, Aconcagua, and Kosciuszko). A 52 year old father of four, he’s summited Kili “at least 500 times” (he stopped counting, but suspects over 1000) since 1997, hiking with trekkers aged 9 to 82. The rest of us take turns around the table to formally introduce ourselves.

• Matt (40) USAF Lt. Colonel is a Pilot of C-17s. He was slated to hike with his father-in-law (who’d summited with Respicius the year before), but who had to cancel his second visit. He described some of his outdoor experience, including Survival Evasion Resistance and Escape school.
• Jason H. (nickname: “Gadget”) is a former lawyer who now produced short films, including a super-bowl commercial. He and Sherri have two kids; their 16yo had come to Tanzania days ahead of them with a youth group who would be volunteering in a village, then climbing Kili on a different route days after us. In an amusing coincidence, my brother and I had probably seen him with his group at the airport while waiting for our shuttle to the hotel.
• Sherri is a lawyer and top executive for a major financial company. She’d summited Mount Baker the year before.
• Liza is a NYC health care lawyer, a former schoolmate of Jason and Sherri. She had some hiking experience before, but this was her biggest trip. She was in the middle of closing on a house.
• Robert (70) is an old Marine buddy of Norm’s. He would turn 70 on the day we summited.
• Norm (72) is a retired Marine Colonel. He’d completed 550 miles of the Appalachian trail with his daughter Amanda.
• Amanda (“Doc”) is a Doctor and US Navy Commander living in Japan. She’d completed the full Appalachian Trail in 2004, and climbed Mount Fuji ten years prior. She’d been a Marine before getting an MD and moving to the Navy.
• Robert (“Bob”) was in the Army until 2007; hiking solo, he had climbed St. Helens previously and was a property investor from Florida.
• Jason L. (45) introduced himself and mentioned that we were brothers. (I heard an audible “oh” and amused myself with the idea that some of our trekmates had been trying in vain to figure out our relationship.) He mentioned his past hikes, climbs, and ultramarathons.
• I (“REI”, 44) introduced myself and noted that to this point, I’d spent three nights outdoors in tents so far in my life, two of which were before the age of 13. Amidst the group’s laughter, I could see Respicius mentally flip the “Ah, I’ve found the weak link” bit on me.

It seemed like it was going to be an awesome group, and everyone was especially delighted that we’d unexpectedly had our own doctor coming along with us.

Respicius warns us that, as the head guide, he has the power to send any of us back down before the summit– if we develop any health concerns, we should report them immediately because sometimes they can be fixed before they become problems. A small pulse oximeter is passed around to get baseline readings. My starting PulseOx (Oxygen Saturation/Pulse) is 96%/63bpm.

At its peak before COVID, there were 65000 summit attempts per year. This year, in any given week, many hundreds of trekkers hike the mountain, with many more support staff. We learn that our support staff will be enormous– over 50 crew will join us ten. I was surprised to learn that many of our team had opted for the personal porter. (Technically, a personal porter is designated to carry your backpack, although most of our team still carried their own most of the time. After considering which aspects of the trip were challenging, I no longer felt like hiring a personal porter was “cheating”.)

Together, we eagerly pore over a map of the mountain trails as our route is explained.

We’ll start in the west, curving around the south side of the crater before ascending in the east.

We all had to sign disclaimers and boilerplate paperwork, including papers from the government requiring that none of us were carrying over $100 in cash (in truth, each of us had over $600 in tips). The remainder of the meeting consisted of last minute gear tryouts and rentals from folks whose duffels were still pending arrival. Beyond the cost of renting gear, they’ll apparently have to pay porters to bring their duffels up the mountain whenever they do arrive — and the cost will depend on how many days late the bags are. Surely they will be here in just a day or so?

A bit behind schedule (meant to leave at 10a, we didn’t depart until 11:45), we grabbed all of our luggage and split up into the two Land Rovers for the drive (~45 minutes?) to Ndarakwai Ranch. After driving on paved roads for about 30 minutes, we turn off onto an unpaved dirt road and head into the countryside. There are grazing giraffes and later a small Maasai village alongside the road.

When we finally arrive at the lodge, the compound is scenic and very rustic, far away from the nearest paved road. We have a quick briefing in a mid-sized hut full of sofas where we get our private hut assignments and those of us with gear shed some of it to our new friends (mostly water bottles, bandanas, and smaller items not available for rent). In contrast to our trip so far, we see mosquitos around; not long after this I notice that I’ve gotten my first and only bite of the trip. I really hope my anti-malarial drug works!

Jason and I are assigned to share the “Mbuni” (Ostrich) hut, a 2 minute walk up a gravel path from the center of the camp. It’s dreamy. A cool breeze crosses from one screened side to the other 15 feet away, and birds, monkeys, and other animals chirp and chitter pleasantly outside. Within its canvas walls, there’s a bathroom with a solar-heated shower, sink, and regular toilet. There are no power sockets, but there are two electric lamps and one bulb overhead in the bathroom area.

After dropping our bags, we meet with our team for lunch in the biggest common hut, which has a fireplace, sofas, a small bar, and a long table for meals.

At lunch, we meet one other Thomson trekker who is slated to meet her group and climb on a different route, two days after us.

The group hut has power for USB chargers and a wifi router that doesn’t seem to work.

Lunch is tasty, including a salsa-packed avocado:

I pop over to the toilet hut and giggle a bit while recognizing that this is the last porcelain that I’m likely to see for a while.

After a nice lunch (pork, and veggies over white rice) we have 90 minutes to relax before we reconvene for a “Safari walk” at 4:30pm. This is bliss, and crazy relaxing in a way that the hotel was not. I lay on the sofa in our hut and scrawl in my journal, musing that I could happily spend a week laying around with the sounds of nature all around and the screens keeping the mosquitos at bay. But I looked forward to the nature walk — it would be really cool to see some more wildlife, although I’d mostly given up hope of seeing an elephant.

Bathed in DEET repellent and sunscreen, we excitedly meet with a guide from the Ranch and head out from the lodge to the adjacent grounds. The nature walk proves pleasant but not amazing– we get to see some animals up-close.

I was disappointed that we didn’t get to go up into the “treehouse” overlook mentioned on the itinerary; I assume this is what they were calling the treehouse:

Beyond the animals, some of the trees were amazing and otherworldly.

And some were occupied:

Perhaps the most interesting thing we encountered was a group of kids herding goats just before dark.

Around fifteen minutes before we got back to camp, we get to see the sun descend over the horizon in a beautiful sunset whose majesty neither of my cameras managed to capture.

Frustratingly, (but by this point, predictably) cloud cover meant that we couldn’t get a view of Kili for the entire walk.

After dusting off and dropping stuff back in our private hut, we meet again in the common hut for dinner (soup, salad, meat, rice) and hang out in the dark. Some of our group watch the feeding of a “bush baby”, but I mostly miss it.

Post-dinner, some folks hang out on the sofas in front of the fireplace chatting about the adventure to come (with a long discussion about strategies for Diamox dosing), but the group breaks up before too late as we head back to our huts to sleep.

It would’ve been wildly romantic under different circumstances. :)

As the temperature had dropped into the 50s, we rolled down the canvas beside my bunk and snuggled into our beds under the warm covers. These beds were more comfortable than those in the hotel, and I had high hopes of finally getting great sleep. We turned out the lamps around 9pm.

Tomorrow was going to be a huge day!

Back to the Kilimanjaro Journal Index