This is the journal I wrote daily throughout my journey up and down Kili. It reflects many details of the trip, but more importantly, it reflects my perceptions, and thoughts and feelings that carried me through. Overall, every minute was a pure happiness, and I never noticed the hardship that conquering such a big mountain might cause. I have nothing but happy memories to cherish forever.
August 21
After breakfast at SG hotel in Arusha, we meet the pillars of our Kili crew - our guide Freddrick (with us in the picture), the assistant guide Joseph and the cook Reggie. The driver John is a funny guy, he offers to drive us to the summit in his 4x4 Land Rover.
The drive through Arusha heading east is interesting - on each side of the road there is a stretch of buildings and barracks with the belt of red soil in-between. Here, everything you can imagine is being sold - food, water, beer, phone cards, clothes, beds, leather furniture, washing machines... Nice furniture rests on the rich volcanic soil along the grave stones and fresh fish neatly hung on a rope line. Every few kilometers we come across a riverbed with thick vegetation around it, coffee and banana plantations, vegetable gardens, or small corn fields. These are the rivers of Mount Meru that make Arusha an oasis for its million or so people. There aren't many cars on the roads, mostly trucks, buses, motorbikes, three wheal taxis and safari Land Rovers. Also the carts pulled by cows, or as Reggie calls them, Massai Land Rovers. Funny, yes, but also a sign of how modern Tanzania belittles their Massai culture, similar to how in many countries, Eastern Europe and China come to mind, peasants are often belittled. Massai are struggling to live traditionally, do not send children to school, instead from the early age of four or five, the children learn to tend to cattle. I have witnessed the mockery of Massai people many times.
At some point we stop by a supermarket to buy water for today and snacks for Boris. I also buy the traditional Tanzanian kanga, a large piece of wax printed cotton fabric in beautiful colors and patterns. Boris rolls his eyes as Freddrick offers to get John to give kanga to Lilian, so we don't drag it up Kili. He was the one who told me to relax after witnessing the chaos of my morning before the flight - handling several conference calls, writing emails, buying last minute things for the trip, making copies of my passport, welcoming a friend for a drink on my balcony, letting the cleaners in, finishing packing, calling my mom... then leaving for the airport around 2:30 pm. I tell Boris that now I am relaxed and in return I ask him to relax as well and go with the flow... my mantra this year.
The next stop is to pick up seven porters and load and secure their luggage and supplies for our trek on the roof of our car.
With twelve of us inside, we are now fully loaded. We then continue steadily climbing through the corn and wheat fields, villages and rolling hills to reach the Londorossi Gate to Mount Kilimanjaro. There, it is lively, porters lined up in a long tight line to register on one side, tourists in the other... six times more porters than tourists. The other groups are offloading cargo from the vehicles to weigh it, as per Tanzanian law porters are not allowed to carry more than 20 kg.
Meanwhile, I chat with three guys from New Zealand, Daniel, Zach and Mike, and learn interesting facts about their land, such as that Mauri culture is intertwined with an immense imagination, and also that Mauris are much better treated in NZ than in Australia. I am often asked what is next after Kili and now I might have an idea... Although, Boris wants me to come with him and climb Aconcagua, 6960m, in Argentina. Either way, I am not making any plans, I am living a dream right now.
We are one of the first groups to leave and are now driving up the side of Kili on a narrow road of red dusty volcanic soil with tons of potholes that soon result in a flat tire. Literally, while Boris and I are taking pictures, the driver replaces the tire and we are on our way in no time. Land Rovers carry two spare tires.
The car continues to sway from side to side, pushing through as far as possible, until we reach a small clearing and park to offload everything and everyone and get ready for the hike. Porters are soon on their way, carrying the bags on their heads and their personal packs on their backs. As Freddrick decides to have lunch here, the Kiwis' car shows up. They set to hike right away, but we soon overtake them as they are getting organized in another busy clearing. Zach shouts, 'see you later unless you leave us in the dust'. We like Zach. In this picture, he is behind us, in the dust, and we have just stepped on the Kili trail. We are clean and polished. Wait to see us later.
The path goes through the Lower Altitude Dry Montane Forest, host to Eucalyptus trees. It is cloudy and cold until the path gets steeper and the sun comes out, and soon, we are sweating. Freddrick urges us to drink a lot.. sip, sip.. we hear often. He is setting the pace, meaning, we walk slowly. At one point Boris overtakes him and he simply stops and gives him a look until Boris is behind him. Then he continues walking. Boris is complaining, this is too easy, we should have planned the climb over six, not seven days.
At some point, Kiwis overtake us while Boris finds a shelter between the two trees by the path to pee. Not as easy for me, I anticipate having to be creative about this as we go up.
Shortly after, we see few black and white long haired colobus monkeys in the canopy above our heads. They curiously watch us. Nearby, a bigger blue monkey is sitting on the branch.
After two hours and some 400m elevation gain, we reach the Big Tree camp at 2717m. Boris feels tired now, his muscles are working after a while. 'I don't think I can make it', he says. I remind him of the earlier complaint that this was too easy... this is why I love Boris, he lives in a moment... I know that he will make it.
We register at the round hut, then proceed to find our tents among many. Our tent is close to the public toilet that naturally has a specific odor characteristic to many years of use of two holes with no septic system or running water nearby. So, naturally, I ask Freddrick to move the tent a bit. Boris is grumpy, does not like the new spot, it is not flat, the other spot is too close to the other tents, he won't be able to sleep from the noise. 'Bad smell never killed anyone', he tells me. I am laughing out loud and tease him later about this.
Nicas brings us warm water to wash up, then invites us to the dining tent for tea and popcorn, and shortly after, a dinner of cucumber soup, beef (I skip), potatoes, beans, fresh tomatoes, cucumbers and avocado. While we eat, Reggie continues to cook the meal for the porters, ugali (white corn polenta that looks like mashed potatoes, only thicker) with veggies and meat curry that Reggie calls the 'sauce'.
Freddrick eats with us. Being the guide is the highest step in the Kili business, other than the office job. Joseph is aspiring to become a guide and Reggie wants to be an assistant guide some day. Nicas is being trained to be a chef. Meanwhile, he is managing all porters. Freddrick plans the route for tomorrow and we agree to make a push passed Shira I camp, to Shira II, about 16 km distance, 1,200m elevation gain, and then take it easier over the following two days, spend more time acclimatizing to the elevation.
The tent moved, the noise not an issue as we are exhausted and fall asleep momentarily. Tomorrow we talk and I admit to being demanding at times, Boris accepts and agrees, so we are good.
August 22
Nicas wakes us up at 7 am with tea. We pack and go to the dining tent for breakfast of fresh orange and papaya, hot oats porridge, veggie omelet, sausage for Boris and Freddrick, tomatoes and cucumbers. I start taking Diamox (Boris started yesterday), was going to start a day before the summit, but Freddrick disagrees, he wants to see how I react to it while we are at the low elevation. I have already learned not to question Freddrick.
Then we set off, with a slow pace, through the rainforest, meeting more colobus monkeys and spotting wild gladiolas, black-eyed susans, raspberries and petunias.
Here, next to Joseph is protea flower, the national emblem of South Africa. The trees are mostly hygaena abyssinica, mixed with podocarpus trees and ferns.
As we climb higher, the vegetation is shorter and shorter, it looks like cypress. As we reach Shira I camp (below), we have now left forest behind, the clouds move
away and as I am finishing my lunch and lie down on the warm lava rock, I
catch a glimpse of the Kili crater and I pinch myself to force me to accept that I am living my dream right now.
Continuing, we are traversing Shira plateau, with Kili (or to be more precise, Kibo, the highest volcano crater on Kilimanjaro mountain), always to our left. Freddrick going first setting the pace.
We reach the dirt road used to bring tourists to Simba picnic site.
Boris is not happy, the whole hike up till here was a waste, we could
have been driven here. I don't say anything. If I could shove in more
minutes and more steps in the time spent on this mountain, I would.
Then a funny moment comes, we chat with Freddrick and Joseph,
talk about Nickson Moshi, who was supposedly our main contact here and
who we are dying to meet. Freddrick and Joseph grin, Nickson Moshi is a
former guide who is now the director or ClimbKili for Africa. He is the
big boss now, his mystery slightly diminished.
After another three hours of slowly climbing up the Shira plateau, we reach Shira II camp at 3890m. Hungry and a bit heavy legged, but otherwise we feel great! Speaking of legs I realize that mine have never been dirtier. The light volcanic dust has stuck over the sunscreen. I am laughing, so are Freddrick and Joseph... our skin colors are not very different now... we all laugh. We drink hot tea and wash up, each of us gets a small green basin filled with 1L of warm water and a soap.
Shira II camp is on the rim of Shira volcano, that once was the highest volcano on Kilimanjaro, before Kibo erupted, about 700 years ago, raising up and collapsing Shira to a humongous caldera covered by clouds (on my left). Right behind me is Shira ridge. The mountain on the horizon is Mount Meru, the sister of Kilimanjaro. And behind Meru, is Arusha.
In the evening, as I exit the tent to head to dinner, the southern sky falls upon me and I stare at the unknown constellations and the Milky Way. Kili's dark shape fills the northern horizon, and there is a halo behind it. Freddrick explains that the light comes from a satellite station in the crater, but I won't have it. This show is made for me.
Tonight's menu is zucchini soup, rice and coconut vegetable curry. Freddrick measures our vitals, the heartbeat and the oxygen absorption and is happy with how our bodies are performing. We agree to climb Lava Tower to 4,600m tomorrow to acclimatize, then to descend to Karanga camp at 3960m.
On the way to my tent and I am startled again. Above Kili now is full moon. The camp is bright and there is no need for the flashlight. I am paralyzed for few minutes engraving this moment into my memory. This truly is an amazing excerpt of my life and I am grateful to be here, in Tanzania, under the roof of Africa. I enjoy people the most, friendly, easy going and always in a good mood... in spite of poverty and uncertainty that they swim in.
August 23
I am finding it difficult to describe this day: sharp, with Kili crater in our face, burning sun above 4K, few wind channels that make you feel the Kili power in your bones. The long line of people ahead and behind us, and to our right where we see the Machame route. Mostly porters carrying big loads. Dressed ok and in solid hiking boots (remembering the porters on Machu Picchu trail, carrying double the loads and wearing flip flops, gives me chills).
Resting a lot, turning up the music. At one point I pee along Material Girl. The ritual of peeing is much more elaborate for women. I recognized that on the first day, but now it is harder as we are in the zone of mountain desert and there are few rocks that protect ones' bum from the view. On the dot, every rock I decided would be a good spot has been used by many women before, I see the traces. Men, on the contrary, walk away about 10 meters from the trail, turn their backs to us and go for it... Western men, that is. I have not seen locals do it. They go farther off the trail after they have told me to continue, they will catch up.
Waking up in Shira II is beautiful as the sun is starting to shine on the top of Kili in front of us and above the sea of clouds below Shira Ridge. There is no rush this morning, we enjoy our hot black tea, a bit sweet. Then we slowly pack up, stretch, breath in the fresh air and soak in the morning on Kili. We wash and head to breakfast. First, fresh fruit. Then I lace up my boots, my Asolo's that I have had for twelve years now, blister free, and zip up my gaiters, they are a savior on this volcano covered in thin dust that gets everywhere. They keep my feet impeccably clean day after day. I then eat the best porridge in the world, made of millet, runny and slightly sweet. And finally, eggs with fresh tomatoes and cucumbers. Then we put on the sunscreen, have our diamox dose, add more lip balm with high SPF, stretch some more, take more pictures and set off.
We traverse the desert belt, slowly climbing towards the Lava Tower at the foot of the crater. It gets busy after we merge with Machame route.
Once we reach Lava tower, it is warm as the winds bypass it. Kibo crater is in front of our noses and we catch few pictures before the clouds start coming in. Freddrick points to us the Western route up the crater. Those who are taking it are sleeping here tonight. We chat a bit with other tourists, mostly Europeans and Americans, also our friends New Zealanders, who are summitting tomorrow. I will be thinking of them.
We then storm down Barranco Wall to our left, following a creek with an abundance of alpine flowers and giant senecio trees around it (similar to the ones I remember seeing in the Andes, many lives ago).
We reach Barranco camp in one and half hours. It is huge! A hundred tents or more, nice ranger house, nice new toilets. Our tents are at the southwest corner, it feels like a private camp. While we rest Boris tells me about his army days, both when he served Yugoslav army and when he was in Bosnian war. By now, I know a lot about Boris, and he about me. We get along, help each other, have many laughs and know when to get out of each other's way for a bit. We come to talk about it and never grudge. He is a good man, as Ernest Mushi said, I like him.
The dinner menu starts with the leaks soup and the soup is always our favorite. Then pasta with lots of chunky vegetables and coconut sauce. Boris and Freddrick also get minced beef added to their sauce. We finish with hot cocoa while Freddrick, as usual, checks our vitals. We talk about our day, Freddrick asks how we feel, I say, never been happier. Boris tells a story - he feels good, his heart rate is good, no headache, he is a bit tired from the hike and his hips hurt a bit, he also expects to feel shortness of breath overnight, but generally, he feels good, he is good. Freddrick and I look at each other and suppress a laugh. He and I are alike, we answer in short sentences. Meanwhile Reggie has finished preparing the meal for porters, always ugali with vegetable (and meat, if there is any) sauce. Porters are ready to eat and we leave.
It is only 7:30 pm. Boris likes having more time to go through his ritual, prepare everything for tomorrow, clothes, pills, etc. He says it is a habit from his army days. It is freezing outside now and we are snug in our sleeping bags. Then, Boris plays High Hopes on his iPod, over and over again, and then other Pink Floyd songs. We listen and let the spirit of Kili get to us. PF is helping, words make sense. Boris tells me a story about when he heard High Hopes for the first time, in the war-thorn Sarajevo, and while we relive that moment, we realize that we are living our moment. Then it is late and I go out to pee and stare at the moon, it is four days past full, but still very bright. The stars are our roof. Milky Way shining like a Christmas tree decoration. A hundred tents on 4000 meters are now silent. I breath in the piece and go to sleep.
August 24
I wake up before dawn. I am cold for the first time on Kili. I spread my down jacket over my back inside my sleeping bag and then I am fine.
In the morning I take it very easy. We are not rushing, we are only covering about three hours of hiking to the next camp, Karanga. Those who are going straight to the Base Camp and attempting to summit tonight are leaving early. I see Daniel, Zach and Mike short distance above us and I rush to wish them luck. Daniel is being Daniel, super pumped up, ready to run up to the summit and back. He is over fifty and Zach and Mike are his nephews. They worry that his eagerness and competitiveness will get them into trouble. The way I see it, their guide let Daniel run ahead the first few days, but now he is in control and setting the pace. We like Zach's calmness and reasoning. I wish them luck and they set off.
During breakfast I tell Boris about my dream from last night. Normally, I don't remember my dreams, but here my sleep is often interrupted by Boris and others unzipping the tents to go out to pee. I have realized that each of these dreams plays out in Sarajevo and that my mom and my best friends, Dina and Rubina are often in it. 'I have always said, Sarajevo is the city at the end and in the centre of the world at the same time', Boris concludes, and I agree.
We are one of the last to leave, a short hike to Barranco Wall, then scrambling, at times rock climbing about 300m up the wall. Freddrick is showing us the grips until he sees that we were born to do this, then he relaxes. A third into the Wall we hit the traffic jam. There is a narrow passage in-between two rocks and we are letting the porters go first. How they scramble with their hands holding the loads, is amazing to watch. We wait and chat with South African father with a daughter and a son. Also, an older Greek guy, who is making everyone laugh from his strategic central point. Porters are laughing and singing, it is a happy place as we lean into the Wall and wait. Then Freddrick commands that we go. Once through the crack we push faster, now we are passing other groups, Freddrick is picking different routes so we can do this, an hour and half since we left and we are on top of Barranco Wall. Our camp, now deserted down below on one side, Mount Kibo covered in glaciers and shining above us, the sea of clouds is not as dense and we can see the town Moshi. Mount Meru always sticking above the clouds to the right.
A guide from another group comes over to talk to me, asks me Mambo? (How are you). I ask how to say 'it is beautiful' in Swahili and he teaches me, 'Una pendeza', then he says 'Ina pendeza' (you are beautiful) and it makes me happy to get a compliment on 4,200m. We chill and have a photo shoot with Joseph and Freddrick.
We then go down into a little oasis, then up another ridge, then down again crossing the last creek on the way to summit. This is where porters get the water for the Base Camp, Freddrick explains, 40-60L will cover us, two of the porters will carry it there this afternoon so it is waiting for us when we get there tomorrow. Another ClimbKili group will watch our water.
We then climb the last wall to get to Karanga camp at 4000m. Big and spread out. Beautiful. We have a rich lunch, orange and water melon, soup and sandwich with tomatoes, cucumbers and cheese (mine is made with the spelt bread that I dragged with me to Africa, happy I did, I tried eating wheat and ended up feeling heavy and sluggish for a couple of days, so I switched back to spelt). Also, fried chicken and fries, which I eat with chilli tomato sauce.
After we have rested a bit, Freddrick takes us to the acclimatization
hike up towards the Base camp and we make it to the ridge, just across
from the Base camp, in one and half hours. We have gained 400m.
Freddrick tells me we are really good hikers. I say, yes Boris is great,
he does this all the time in the Rockies, I don't have mountains where I
live. 'But, you are also good', he tells me and it feels bigger than making
it to the summit. We then descend in less than half an hour and tea is
ready for us, Reggie happy to chat.
Then we go through the washing ritual. I do it in the tent's vestibule so I can have my privacy. Boris likes to wash outside behind a rock. I wash and dry most of my body this way, with 1L of water. Hands and the face are the toughest to clean, the brown dust stuck to the sun screen. I put on fresh clothes. Feel like million dollars. I have given up on my hair, I braid it and wear a hat.
Another happy day. Not as easy as I thought as we have climbed over three mountain walls, but our legs and knees are holding up. Tomorrow is a big day and we make it an early night. I use my sleeping bag liner tonight, it s warm, too warm, I wake up at night, sweating, and I push it to the side. My cameras feel cold as they have slipped to the bottom of my sleeping bag and I do my best to warm them up between my feet. Then I fall asleep.
August 25
Today is the day we summit. I will need all my happy thoughts with me.
For now, I take it easy, listening to Coldplay in my tent, drinking my
morning tea and writing my journal. Earlier, when I got up to pee,
the sun was just warming up the sea of clouds and the top of Kibo, and I
took few pictures. Then it is time to get out of the tent and be strong.
Boris has been walking around and now he is back and talking about Isaac Asimov, the writer, comparing me to him. He wrote science fiction and I find it funny that Boris uses Croatian term 'znanstvena fantastika'... The morning sun is hot even at 7:30 am. I stretch outside, then have my fruit and porridge, eggs, salad and potatoes. Freddrick did not sleep well but does not linger on it. We trek strong, the same route we took yesterday and arrive to the Base camp on 4,600m in two and half hours.
Base camp is craziness. The hill of broken rock that porters have moved around to make somewhat flat terraces for tents. Too small to pitch them though, so they use rocks to secure the ropes. We are spread across four terraces, have to scramble and jump over the ropes to move from one to another.
As our guys are pitching the tents, we sit on the rock above them,
among strangers, porters mostly, space here is scarce, we take pictures
of Mawenzi, the third Kili volcano. I suggest that we have a snack here,
then do the acclimatization hike before the lunch. Freddrick laughs to
my enthusiasm, then agrees. I share my trail mix and power bar, I have
plenty. We are fed so well that I rarely have a need to snack in-between
our meals.
Then, I spot Zach, at first we are not sure it is him,
he has Masai blanket tied over one shoulder and is using one pole
in-between his legs to move in small steps, his knees heavy and barely
following. As he passes, I recognize his hat and I know it is him. No
idea where Daniel and Mike are, whether Zach knows where he is going. I
feel like calling him but something stops me, an animal that is hurt
likes to be left alone.
We head up with Joseph this time. The deal is to ascend only another couple of hundred meters then come back. Save the strength for tonight. Joseph and I carry only our water bottles. Boris carries his pack, it is more real that way. Leaving the camp, we meet another ClimbKili group, two Canadians (interestingly, one from Toronto and another from Calgary) returning from the summit, and exchange information. Tough and colder than they thought. But nice once the sun is out.
Just up from the camp the rocks are bigger and we scramble to get through. After that we hit grayish gravel path to the root of the Kili crater. We meet few groups carrying or supporting someone down the mountain. It is now close to noon and the people who summitted that morning are coming back. We know that this mountain is not a joke. Joseph reassuringly says that most of the people go up and down without needing help.
We get to 4,850m, take a shot of the crater, the glaciers above and Stella Point, the highest point we see. Joseph is teaching us Swahili and I record the 'I am happy' lesson... Nime furahi. This will be our mantra tonight.
Then we go back, it is steep and rocky and when we reach the dining tent we are tired. We eat like kings then go to our tents for a nap... sort of, it is hard to really sleep while porters around are shouting and singing, but after a couple of hours, we feel much better. Even though we recognize a bit of shortness of breath. Best to ignore it for now.
Dinner is early tonight, at 5:30 pm and the air is tense. I am excited. We eat and Boris asks more questions about Nickson Moshi. When did he stop being a guide and become a director? It turns out that he still guides sometimes during the busy periods. After dinner as I am mixing cocoa for Boris and I, and tea for Freddrick (I have come to know their tastes), Freddrick goes through the summit briefing. It will be cold. We know, when Canadians say it is cold, you gotta believe them. The sun has just set down outside and instantaneously, it is freezing. Freddrick recommends we wear 3-4 base layers, both top and bottom. Also, fleece, down, gorotex. It will get colder as we go higher. I decide to start with my fleece and gortex jacket and add down later if needed. I don't plan to change my bottoms while I am up there, will wear my water/wind proof pants over two bottom layers. Also, the gaiters, light gloves, mitts, hat, maybe balaclava. Once we reach the top and the sun is out, it will be easier. Then we will be asked to ski down the crater and back to the Base camp. There, we will get food and rest, then continue down to Mweka camp at 3,100m. From 5,860 to 3,100 is 2,800m elevation difference. Let's hope the knees hold up. So far, I only have little pain in my right knee, but I know I will recover. I am joking with Reggie, I will make it back here, but then you might have to carry me further down.
Now, I am cushioned into my sleeping bag and the liner, writing this and listening to Green Day, it is Jan's favorite. I think of my kids, how they make faces when they hear the swearwords in these songs, how Jan shakes his head to this electrifying sound. I am carrying their pictures to the top with me. I will be fine. Nime furahi.
August 25
We left at 1:30 am, after dressing and having hot tea and porridge. I am forever grateful to Reggie and Nicas for making porridge for me at this time, instead of giving me biscuits.
It is 9:10 am now and I am back at the tent after having visited the top of Africa. I am happy. Nime furahi.
In few words, steep, cold, drowsy is how I would describe the climb to the Stella Point on the crater rim. It is also nerve wracking because you are constantly checking yourself, encouraging yourself by recalling happy memories, but also listening to your body.
And you are meeting lots of people on the way, mostly going up, some going down, having decided to turn back. We are one of the fastest groups, catching up to those who left between 11 pm and midnight. Freddrick passes a lot of them, Boris later tells me he has counted 77 people excluding the guides, that we have passed. Each pass is a struggle - we increase the pace, the heart starts thumping like crazy, and we go for it. Straight up, cutting the serpentine. Then, it takes me a while to bring the heartbeat under control again. Later, Boris tells me he feels the same. My camel bag is getting difficult to draw, soon it is frozen and for a while Boris shares his water bottle with me. My fingers and toes are frozen, I drag opening the backpack to get my nalgene because I know I have to take my mitts off. I do it during the only five minute break that we have. Otherwise, Freddrick is pushing up, listening to our breathing and slowing down only if needed.
Around 5,500m I spot snow on the sides of the path, from then on, all I think about is Stella Point, forget about the heavy breathing, the sore throat and my heart running a hundred miles per hour, and soon enough we are there, right on time. As I am stepping up on the rim, Freddrick turns me around to the eastern horizon burning to explode. He asks if I want to take a picture, I say, I have, it is here, and I knock on my head. Few seconds later the sun comes up and the fear is gone. This is why he was pushing! Well worth it!
Freddrick suggests that we proceed straight to Uhuru and take pictures at Stella Point on the way back, to mind the traffic jam. So we proceed. Getting to Uhuru is a walk in a park, we are following the rim that slowly climbs up. My heart is still thumping but I am relaxed, now I know that I have made it.
At Uhuru, I take my backpack down, change to the light gloves so I can operate my camera and just about then the Uhuru sign is available for picture taking and I go for it. It feels like stepping on a stage. Then I hug Freddrick and Joseph really strong and I thank them for bringing us here - for always setting the right pace, having the best plan, adjusting it it our needs and capabilities, worrying about our physical and mental condition, making sure we eat a lot and we eat right, and especially, making sure we drink water all the time, they are not happy unless we get through 3L a day.
Standing there, I take the pictures of Jan and Ena out and include them in this accomplishment. They have been with me all the way, their love and their happy faces.
Then I look around and soak it all in, the glaciers, the crater, the world around Kili. Unbelievable, yet believable and deserved. I am happy I jogged and cycled as much as I did, and did yoga and reiki to stay mentally strong. It took a dream to drag me to the other side of the world and then up 6K through the clouds and through even more dusty clouds to the roof of Africa.
From Stella Point we ski down the scree to the base camp in one and a half hours. Skiing raises unimaginable amounts of grey dust and we are not the only ones doing it. There are other scattered groups around. It is now 8 am and the sun is already high and warm. We stop to remove the outer layers and apply sunscreen. I wonder how many layers of sunscreen and dust is my face enduring. Yesterday we did not wash, it would have been pointless, but the day before after I washed my face with the soap and hot water at dinner I accidentally rubbed the napkin off of it and looked in disbelief at the greyish-brownish trace. My hair is beyond recognition and I am afraid to brush it as that causes half of it to fall off with the dirt that is in it. My nails are permanently dark and I stopped trying to clean them. My gaiters are now hard to zip up, the zipper stiff from the dirt, in the morning Freddrick managed to zip one up and on the second leg, one of the porters. My clothes have changed colours and everything I touch feels dusty. My loving backpack is filthy (somehow much worse than Boris', hmm...). I breath dust and what comes out of my nose is a mix of dirt and blood. I have never been filthier in my life, but I don't give a fuck. I have become one with Kili and breathing together with this gigantic mountain is what keeps my blood rush and what makes this one of the best experiences of my life. Nime furahi. This is the only feeling I know.
We are back at the tent at 9:10 am. I am in awe of the fact that it took us less than eight hours to go 1,360m up the crater and back down. I am immensely proud and in a need of rest. Freddrick wants to continue in an hour, but I talk him into giving us until noon. We eat and have tea, and then we are in the tent to rest. I am writing because I want to capture the moment. Legs are tired but we have to continue down to Mweka at 3,100m. My knees need to endure another 1,500m downhill. Outside, the porters are like a flock of birds, sitting on the rocks, all talking at the same time, sometime one shouting and the others responding. They often speak their tribe language, ours are mostly Chaga. It is too noisy to sleep, yet I am slowly drifting away from their voices. Then Freddrick announces that we are leaving. I strech my back and get up.
We start fast, down the scree and through the moonlike desert around the base camp. Nothing lives here except few ravens and sparrows. No plants at all. But soon, we start noticing short bushes and fragile alpine flowers. Approaching the Milenium camp, used as a overflow camp to the Base Camp, the vegetation turns into cypress bushes as high as I am. This camp reminds of camps of my childhood on Adriatic sea.
Contrary to my expectation my knees are holding up and I don't feel any pain. Using the poles the whole time has helped. So has jogging and cycling.
From then on we are on the men built path, about a meter and a half wide, sometime taking shape of big rocky stairs, other time going over the large rocks where we have to scramble, other yet, it looks like a pebble stone street. Now, my big toes are hurting, the roots of the nails sending sharp pain down my foot every time the tips of my boots touch the tips of the nails. And this happens all the time, whenever I am stepping down a rock. When I accidentally kick a rock, I want to scream from pain. But I am quiet. Instead of stepping I am jumping and trying to keep my feet horizontal. Boris' knees are shaking and we both agree to slow down a bit.
Around us the vegetation has changed, we are now in what they call the cloud forrest in Peru, short trees, with plenty of moss hanging to the ground. This is the line of the clouds that keeps the moisture around most of the time.
After about two and a half hours, we reach Mweka camp, spread out in this forest. Here, the trees are obstructing the view but we hear a lot of happy chatter, some singing. Comparing to the Base camp, it is warm and wet. We wash thoroughly with 1L of water. I start with the face and go down washing my skin bit by bit and drying it with my towel. Lastly I soak my feet one by one in the soapy left-over water. Amazingly, thanks to the gaiters, the feet are clean even after today's skiing. It takes me fifteen minutes, but I have washed and cleaned most of my body. I put on the last clean clothes that I have, I will sleep in them, then wear them tomorrow to the Kili gate.
We then have tea and go to rest for an hour, but fall asleep instantaneously and wake up to Nikos' calling us for dinner. We revisit the summit day with Freddrick, he calls Boris and Joseph mountain chitas, as they zoomed up the last stretch to Stella Point, straight up. We thank him again, deeply grateful, have great respect for him and Joseph, also for the rest of the crew, the porters who carry 20kg up the Barranco wall and sing along the way, who walk for an hour to get water for the camp, who make it with the weight in between the camps in half our time.
I wake up at 6 am to the sound of birds and the porters singing the Kili song. I notice that I have not moved the whole night, one only sleeps like this when healthy exhaustion of every cell in the body kicks in and takes over. We pack up for the last time, I am sad to leave my mountain home from the last six nights. My safe and happy place.
We eat Reggie's breakfast, Freddrick helps with one of my gaiters while I manage to zip up another after washing it last night. Then we are on the way down through the gardens of Kilimanjaro, the tropical rainforest. A hard packed dirt path is a luxury for our feet and is slowly taking us down the mountain. Around us, lush vegetation, pink gladiolas and petunias.
At one spot, Freddrick moves us aside and in-between the tree branches is our mountain, now familiar and visited, standing proud and bringing tears to my eyes. I hug Boris. There is nothing to say.
We reach Mweka gate in two and a half hours, register, then Boris and I go to the public toilet and wash our hands with running water and soap, lots of it. We talk about it, admire the luxury. We let ourselves think about the shower that awaits us in Arusha.
Then Freddrick takes us to someone's backyard, they have set up a table with amazing Tanzanian food, that Emanuel, the driver, brought with him, and there is few beers there. There is also a guitar player ready to start the party. I ask them to wait. I want to buy beer for our crew, so I ask Freddrick to go with me. He gets the orders from everyone, Boris follows. The bar is in a wooden shack, and while Freddrick and I get the drinks, Boris is under a sales pitch attack to buy souvenirs, he gets us each a Tanzanian friendship bracelet. Thank you Boris, you will always be my friend and I will always love you for what you are. Then we all sing the Kilimanjaro song, we dance and cheer. We thank everyone. Boris hands the tip over to Freddrick. The porters never show they notice, even when he sits aside and calculates everyone's share on his phone calculator. We have so much to learn from them. Then, we hug and say goodbyes and most of the porters are on their way to catch the bus to Moshi.
We get into the minivan with Reggie next to the driver, Boris and I behind them, then Freddrick and the guitar man, Joseph and Nikas in the back. As we leave, the guitarist is playing Tanzanian songs, we clap and sing along, Swahili is easy to pick up. I catch Freddrick's smile and I am happy that he is happy and relaxed, job well done. Nime furahi. Then I ask if Boris can play and he chooses Ipak Pozelim Neko Pismo by Bijelo Dugme (the biggest rock band in ex-Yugoslavia).
Past Moshi, we catch a sight of Kilimanjaro, like a cloud in the sky, hanging over the landscape, almost unnoticeable, a guardian of Tanzania. Just over 24 hours ago, we stood up there.
At the hotel Freddrick makes it formal, he wants us to take pictures of each other as he is handing us the Kilimanjaro certificates. And then, it is over, full stop.
Feedback:
ClimbKili, the company we chose to take us to Kilimanjaro and prior to that, to safari, has earned our trust and respect. Thanks to its people, we had the best experience ever, we felt they always had full control over each situation, the organization was impeccable, yet friendly, friendly, friendly.
