Day 6: January 21

Barafu Camp to Summit; Summit to Mweka Camp

To Summit:
Elevation Change: 15,091 ft to 19,343 ft(+4,252 ft)
Estimated distance: 5km/3.2 miles

To Mweka Camp:
Elevation Change: 19,343 ft to 10,170 ft(-9,173 ft)
Estimated distance: 12km/7.5 miles

Woke up around 11:30 and started getting things ready. We had a tea and cookie service to warm up, quick bathroom breaks (the plastic seat was oh so cold!!) and were ready to go at 12:30, on schedule. Only Amani and Roderick came with us. The porters stayed in Barafu Camp, as we would return there later, on the way back down. So what do you wear to the summit? I had thermal underwear and two pairs of zip away pants on my legs, then a merino wool sweater, a thin fleece borrowed from James, an additional thick fleece of my own, and a Goretex windbreaker/ski jacket. On my head, I had a thin skullcap, and a wool toque, and also wore a balaclava. It was about 20 degrees F, so I felt comfortable and once we got hiking, I rarely needed the balacalava, as I was generating some heat just by hiking.

I was very lucky with the weather. The night was crystal clear, not a rain cloud in site to soak me on the way up. The sky was alight, lit up by the glow of an almost full moon. Looking out from our camp, we saw the lights of Moshi 10,000 feet below us. Here is a photo of Roderick, James and I as we set out.We were on the front side of camp, so for the first fifteen minutes or so, our hike took us in and out of several different campsites, all silent as the porters slept and their climbers had already departed. The stillness was quite eerie, given the hustle and bustle of the camp the previous afternoon and evening. We were one of the last groups to leave camp, as most hikers going for a dawn summit, like James and I, leave between 11:30PM and midnight. I can only assume Amani had us leave later as he anticipated we’d climb a little faster than the others, and didn't want us to arive in the pre-dawn darkness.

We were all wearing headlamps, which illuminated the ground a few steps in front of us. Looking up every now and then, I made out small moving lights on the mountain up above us, the headlamps of other hiking parties. I made a decision very early in the hike to not look at my watch at all. Amani had told us it would take about six hours to summit, and what I didn’t want to do was look at my watch after a particularly tiring stretch, and see that I still had hours and hours to climb. I think this was a good decision – the time seemed to pass quickly. After about a half hour of hiking, I switched my headlamp off – the moon was so bright that your eyes quickly adjusted to the half light, and you could see the trail quite clearly. If you’ve ever had cookies ‘n’ crème ice cream, that exactly describes the color and appearance of the trail. Yesterday’s snows had been ground into the dark lava rock of the trail by the boots of numerous hikers, giving the ground a black and white mix.

Because of the silence, and the half light from the moon, I felt like Neil Armstrong walking in a moonscape of boulders and rocks, taking one small (pole pole) step at a time. As the morning progressed, we climbed steadily, but not dramatically, upwards. The slope was gradual and there were not a lot of switchbacks. Altitude did not seem to be an issue either, as I felt fine as we passed up above 16,000 feet. The lights ahead of us got closer, and we started to hear voices carried down to us from above. Even at our slow slow pace, we eventually caught up to a large group of about 40 hikers, all trudging six million dollar man-style through the night. A couple of them were struggling, and were soon left behind. We stopped for a break, and I noticed for the first time that Amani and Roderick had not brought any backpacks with them (and therefore no poles, water or food) – I was stunned – we were going to be away from camp for a minimum of nine hours, but they just shrugged it off. In fact, they frequently asked us if we would like them to carry our own backpacks, but through some small bit of pride, James and I steadfastly refused (we were fine with our tents, clothes, food and sleeping bags being carried up, but we had to draw the line here!).

Over the next couple of hours, we would pass about 100 hikers, as the trail started to get steeper, and the switchbacks got more pronounced. We passed Tom and Peg from Chicago after about four hours of hiking - they had started about an hour before us, and were keeping to a pace that was comfortable for them. We stopped for a brief chat to wish each other well, and then continued onwards. To this point, I still felt fine, and James also seemed to be doing quite well.

However, it seemed like only a few minutes had passed when suddenly the altitude really hit me hard. The experience felt much the same as it does when I'm climbing in Colorado. You can no longer breathe through your nose, and you can never quite take in enough air. Any change in pace (for example, to climb over a big rock) takes all the air out of your lungs, causes your heart to pound like a jackhammer, and you need to stop frequently for thirty second ‘catch your breath’ breaks. It also got significantly colder, and we entered into a cloud bank, so visibility was reduced. I pulled the balaclava over my face, as the wind picked up and I could feel my cheeks getting cold. After what seemed like an hour of these conditions, and feeling like crap, some faint doubts began to creep into my mind. I looked up and we seemed to be climbing to the top of one ridge, which was sure to be followed by another ridge, and another one after that.

As we climbed over what I thought was the first ridge, the trail wound around this large rock wall with some overhangs. It was then that Amani said: “Congratulations, guys. This is Stella Point and we are over 19,000 feet.Only 400 feet to go.” Wow. Talk about an attitude adjuster for me – whereas only seconds ago I was feeling tired and beat up, now a feeling of pure elation took hold of me, and any weariness or soreness seemed to vanish in the inky blackness that surrounded us. However, the same could not be said for James. As I looked over, he sat down on the ground under the overhang, and I could see that he was not in great shape. He had a strange grimace on his face, and looked like he’d taken a few punches for the team. He would later describe feeling like he was drowning in the mountain’s thin air (which at 19,000 feet has only half the oxygen as sea level).

One note I should make here – I mentioned earlier in this blog that I had been taking Diamox to help with the altitude. Each morning and each evening, I would religiously take a 500mg tablet of the stuff, and I had been prescribed plenty of tablets to last me every day on the mountain. For some reason, the doctor who had seen James prior to the trip prescribed some Diamox alternative, whose strength was only 250mg, and had only prescribed enough for five days. Needless to say, I think this had some impact on why James was being hit significantly harder by the altitude than me. The fact that he lived in Hawaii was also a factor, I’m sure, as his training for the most part was at sea level.

We sat there for five to ten minutes, and then saw in the distance, some lights moving towards us. They were not coming from the trail we just climbed, so these hikers must have climbed Kilimanjaro by another route, or they had spent the night at Crater Camp, which was nestled in the lava crater nearby. As they moved closer, James suddenly jumped up and exclaimed: “They’re not beating me to the top.” He quickly moved off, I looked at Amani and shrugged my shoulders, and then took off after him.Over the next 40 minutes or so, we must have passed about six false summits on the way to Kibo summit and Uhuru Peak. I’d look ahead and see what looked like a high point 100 yards ahead, only to reach it and see a similar point about the same distance further ahead. Here's one of the dicier spots.I was a little worried about James, as his stops to catch his breath became more frequent. At about the fourth stop after Stella Point, the light on the summit got a little brighter, as dawn was beginning to break. I looked over to the left and there it was, one of Kilimanjaro’s famous glaciers. It was much bigger than I imagined, towering at least three or four stories above it’s base. I took a few pictures but the summit was so close, we did not want to hang around.

Some hikers appeared in the early morning gloom, approaching us from the summit, a definite spring in their step, as opposed to the foot dragging, 'one hundred pound weight chained to our legs' pace with which we were moving. One of the hikers came up to us, gave me a big high five and gleefully reported that we were almost there. I was shocked to find that this happy hiker was Uwe, one of the dour Germans we’d encountered along the hike. I looked over at Klaus and their father and they all had big cheesy grins – hmmm, maybe I’ll have to come up with another name for them, as they no longer will be remembered in my mind as 'dour'.

Finally, we rounded one more false peak, and there in the distance was the famous sign that you see posted on every Kilimanjaro hiker’s website. I felt fantastic, my pace quickened as we got closer. There was a group there ahead of us, but they quickly took their photos and started back down. So here we were, on the top of Africa, and no one else in sight. It was very cold, probably only ten degrees fahrenheit, and the sun had not yet come over the horizon, so it was still quite dim. A strong wind was also blowing, so any idea of staying on the summit for a while to soak it all in was not even considered. I walked up to the sign and put my hand on it, just to make sure I was really there.I turned to yell at James, but he’d just sat down in the snow, completely exhausted. After a few seconds, he pulled himself together and we were able get a bunch of photos at the summit. The sounds of Juluka’s song Kilimanjaro kept repeating in my head…”I’m sitting on the top of Kilimanjaro (jaro…jaro)…”.Then just like that, after taking six days, and more than forty miles of hiking, we left the summit after only five minutes. Kind of funny when you think about it – you spend all this time trying to achieve a goal, and then when you finally get there, the only thing you can think of is to leave as quickly as possible. As we hiked back along the summit ridge, we passed many of the hikers we’d passed on the way up, and we were now the ones providing encouragement.The sun came out and we found ourselves above the clouds, in a winter wonderland at the Equator, with towering glaciers on the right, and the crater way down on the left. Here is one of the glaciers.James seemed to be doing much better, which is par for the course when you are impacted by the altitude – as soon as you go lower, you start feeling great. We took numerous pictures and really enjoyed the experience. Tom and Peg from Chicago passed by, in great spirits, and made it to the summit as well (we would not see them again, but we saw their names in the logbook at the base a day later, and they’d listed their highest point as the summit).

As the euphoric effects of the summit wore off, I realized that my knee was actually in some pain. Not sure how I’d done it, but it felt like I might have twisted it or bruised it at some point on the climb. It felt like something had been inserted under the kneecap, and every time it bent, a sharp pain went through my leg. Not much you can do except grit your teeth and move on.

So we hiked down in bright sunshine. The trail down is about 100 yards to the left of the trail up, and is notable for its sandy black soil, which allows you to slide down in places. James was having a great time, really getting into the slides, almost surfing down the trail. Me, I took it much easier, trying to use my poles as much as possible to soften the impact on my wounded knee. Still, we made good progress, and started shedding layers as we got lower and lower, and it got warmer and warmer.At about 16,000 feet, we looked over to the upward trail and saw Mr. Boutique Consulting Company, the filled with gravitas, pompous male-voiced father we had met yesterday. Beside him was his wife, and his camera crew was spread out along the trail. And there was his little seven year old son, moving extremely slowly up the trail, way too slowly at 16,000 feet to have any chance of making it to the summit, in my mind. The poor little guy looked like he was having big problems with the altitude. Where his Dad had looked extremely confident yesterday, today he looked dejected and maybe even a little concerned. He gave us a half-hearted wave across from their trail, then set off after his son. When I got back to the States, I found numerous websites publishing the seven-year old's climb (among them CBS and FOX). However, there was very little on his making it to the top, except for a short paragraph on his own website saying he made it at 3:45PM. The strange thing is that there were no details of the hike, nor were there any photos.

We got back to Barafu Camp around ten, and stumbled back to our campsite. All of the porters came out and shook our hands, with the obligatory thumb wrestle shake from Braison. We had a large hot lunch, and then tried to snooze for an hour or so. I popped some ibuprofen to take the sting out of the knee, and it seemed to work. What had been a beautiful sunny day when we had arrived back at Barafu Camp had turned into an overcast and rainy afternoon as we set off for Mweka Camp, another 4,000 feet below us.

Mweka Camp is strictly for people descending from Kilimanjaro. They’ve actually set things up quite effectively, so that there aren’t frequent traffic jams between people going up and people going down. Instead, all of the trails upwards are only for people going in that direction, and most people descending take the Mweka route. Pretty good planning, I think. The first half of the Mweka trail was through a rocky landscape, with sparse vegetation, and with a very mildly downward sloping trail (so the pounding on my knee was limited). Things got worse in the second half of the hike – the trail became steeper as it wound through the scrub trees and eventually, full forest. Because of the constant rain, the rocky terrain became very slick, so footing became treacherous. Add to that my throbbing knee, and the last half became a two hour struggle.Finally, we wandered into Mweka, and the rain was still coming down hard. Our camp had been set up in a clearing which was now solid mud.

One thing I should note, the tents were always set up in relatively flat campsites at each location. I say relatively flat, because, as we were on the side of a mountain, the sites were downward sloping in most cases (sometimes a very slight slope, but downward sloping nonetheless). It seems that our tent location in Mweka was definitely the biggest downward slope of all. I sat on my Thermorest, after laying it out on the Styrofoam pad, and slowly but surely slid down until I was pressed up against the front of the tent. Frequently, over that night, I would wake up in a pile at the front of the tent and have to hike my way back up the styrofoam pad to lie flat (on a 20 degree angle!!) and try to get more sleep. Given all of that, I probably slept better that night as opposed to all other nights – amazing what 13 hours of hiking will do to your sleep cycle.

Read the next post: Day 7: January 22