"Africa: Meredith in the Clouds "
We began our trek of the 5896 meter Mount Kilimanjaro one-day after arriving in Africa. We took the Davanu shuttle from Nairobi into Arusha with a dozen other western travelers. We arrived late in the evening after a day plastered to the dusty window of the bus. We sat wide-eyed and anxious as we watched African women walking with huge bundles balanced on their heads and red clad Masai men tending their herds as the vast Serengeti stretched out before us.
In Arusha we were brought to the AAH Boarding house, where we met our guides Meckmillan and Alan for the first time. The guesthouse was Spartan but comfortable. We had our own bathroom, a balcony, three beds complete with mosquito netting and occasionally hot water. In Tanzania, you need hardly more than that.
The next morning we began our hour-long drive to the Machame gate and our week on Kilimanjaro. We chose to trek the longer, more scenic Machame route. The most popular route on Kilimanjaro is the Marangu route. Machame takes a little longer, sees less traffic and is generally known to be a more scenic route.
The nearly 60 kilometer hike would take 6 days up and back, allowing plenty of time for acclimatization. Both Meredith and I are fit and experienced hikers. I had hiked the Inca Trail in Peru a few years before, as well as a handful of peaks local to the Western US. Meredith had just spent a month trekking the Himalayas in Nepal and was well prepared for a week at altitude. Our guide, Meckmillan soon recognized this and asked us if we wanted to finish the Machame via Arrow Glacier rather than the more traditional Baranfu Hut.
"Is it more scenic?" He nodded, but we are not sure he understood. Meckmillan's English, although good, was rough in spots.
"Sure." How hard can it be? Besides, I had never been on a glacier before.
The trek started with a ten kilometer hike to Machame Hut at 3000 meters. Day two saw a short six kilometers to Shira Hut at 3850 meters. At Shira hut we spent a rest day to acclimate. We then trekked a 10K to Arrow Camp located at roughly 4800 meters. The ascent finished with the three kilometer, 1100 meter, midnight trudge to the summit, followed by a twelve kilometer, 2800 meter descent to Mweka Hut. The hike ended with a quad-burning, calf-aching walk in the mud down to the Marangu gate.
As hikes go, the Machame route wasn't that hard. It wasn't that steep. It wasn't that cold. It wasn't that rugged. We only carried daypacks. Three porters carried our bags and food. Several carried the 60-pound bags in a truly African style, balanced effortlessly on the top of their head as they picked their way up the muddy trail with water jugs in each hand.
Although the trail was relatively easy, it began muddy and wet.
During our walk through the rain forest we hoped to see black and white colobus monkeys, but they stayed well out of sight and out of the rain that started to fall as soon as we reached our first campsite at the Machame Hut. This rain stayed with us all though the next day. As a result, the dark brown mud of the trail coated our boots, our pants, our tent - it seemed to find it's way into everything.
Camping in the rain can be miserable. I certainly wasn't comfortable and hadn't slept at all that night. The rain and wind kept me awake. On top of that, it usually takes me a while to adjust to sleeping in a tent. I'm a side sleeper and without a mattress my irritable shoulders tend to ache after only an hour or so of pressure. The ache eventually wakes me and sends me onto my other shoulder until it too begins to ache and rudely returns me from sleep.
The second day and our hike to Shira Hut brought more of the same. Only the clouds were thicker, the air thinner and colder, and the misty rain more regular. I wish I could tell you that the rain forest was beautiful and the view spectacular. But with the low clouds, mist and rain, we never once saw the valley below, the mountains around us, the peak of Kili, or even the trees a few hundred meters away. We spent the first two days essentially walking through the clouds. It wasn't till our rest day at Shira Hut that I really saw my surroundings for the first time.
It was during that second night when I poked my head out into the cold night air for a midnight boulder (read "potty") break that I caught the first glimpse of my surroundings. During the night, the clouds had finally moved away, exposing the star filled African sky and the 14,000' peak of Mount Meru.
Fellow trekker Bill, an endearing but obnoxiously loud man in his late
fifties from Northern California woke us to our first sight of Kilimanjaro
with a shout of "Barbara, will you look at that!" Bill's subsequent
commentary on the hike, (and the mountain, the geology, the history, his
childhood, his trip to Africa, the local food, the weather, the 1963 Mets…)
all at the volume of a deaf game show host ensured that we were not getting
back to sleep.
But to Bill's credit, his booming vocal alarm gave Meredith and I our first view of Kili's impressive west face. The mountain looked spectacular.
We spent the rest day relaxing and exploring the nearby Shira Plateau and the impressive boulder fields that seemed to stretch forever.
The camping wasn't bad. Our equipment was comfortable, the weather tolerable (despite the first two days of wet), and our guides were terrific. Every meal was brought with Alan's Swahili influenced "Hallo" at the door of our tent.
Food was basic but plentiful. Breakfasts consisted of salty eggs and greasy fried flat bread with butter. Lunch brought us more of the same, only with chicken, fried potatoes and hot soup. Dinner usually saw a stew with rice or pasta. Usually prefaced by a big bowl of popcorn and more grease bread. Every meal included tea, and was finished with East Africa's famous fresh fruit including mangos, papaya, oranges, bananas, avocado, and even the occasional watermelon. As camping fare goes, I can't complain. (But after a week of it, I was jonesing for something western and processed. Like a Coke.)
Regardless, we ate well, and neither of us was plagued by any serious stomach problems. But I was sill popping preventative Pepto tabs like breath mints - just in case.
On day four we began our trek to the base of Kilmanjaro's Arrow Glacier. At this altitude, we saw very little foliage, and the landscape was a scattering of volcanic boulder fields, lava flows and obsidian chunks. The peak of Kili, occasionally wrapped in misty clouds, loomed closer as we walked slowly to the Arrow camp. Our pace was slow - much slower than on any hike I had done in the past. Success on Kili, especially for those of us not accustomed to the altitude depends on walking "pole pole" ("slowly" in Swahili). I walked at half my usual trekking pace, but at 15,000 feet, and God-knows how many miles away from home, I was in no hurry to accelerate my trip. Any sudden, strenuous, or overly ambitious movement quickly left me short of breath, so I didn't mind walking the African way. As any guide in Tanzania will tell you, "Pole pole, there's no hurry in Africa."
We reached Arrow Camp late in the afternoon, and it was here that the panoramic promises of the Arrow Glacier were realized. The other routes trek around the mountain and ascend a different, less dramatic face. The Arrow Glacier is located at the base of Kili's western face at an altitude of more than 15,000 feet. The imposing cliffs reach to the glacier-capped summit; snow, glaciers, and even a 1000-foot ice waterfall decorate the cliff walls. Rock falls can be heard throughout the night, and the clouds stretch to the horizon beneath you like a carpet.
Meredith and I were amazed at the view before us.
At dusk we decided to grab our cameras and photograph our magnificent surroundings. The setting sun cast a orange glow on Kili, and the massive rolling clouds beneath shown with yellow, blue and orange light.
It was impressive, imposing, miraculous.
It's also miraculous that I forgot to bring extra film.
For after only three shots, I had to turn back for the long slow hike back to the tent for more film. And for this altitude induced error in judgement, I am grateful. For on my return from the tent, I was witness to perhaps the most spectacular view I have ever seen. Meredith had trekked out onto a ridge overlooking the clouds, and the shining blue billows were rolling like massive waves beneath her. Her tiny figure cut a dark silhouette on this massive sea of white and blue. It looked as if Meredith had walked right into heaven.
At that moment it wasn't the altitude that took my breath away. I quickly loaded my camera and snapped picture after picture, praying that at least one exposure would develop correctly. And at the same time I knew that no photograph would ever do this justice.
I watched in awe as the setting sun illuminated the grandeur and beauty of Africa while simultaneously illuminating my insignificance in the grand cosmic scheme of things.
It was magnificent. It was miraculous. It was very nearly overwhelming.
And as I was to begin my 1000-meter midnight ascent of the summit in just about five hours, it was time for bed.
