March 5 @ 8:00 pm
Well, I sit here at the quaint Springlands Hotel on a wonderful March night drinking a Kilimanjaro Premium Lager, relishing on what I have accomplished over the past eight days. Come to think of it- the Thomas's would love this place. A 500ml beer costs only 1000 shillings or $1.00. I suppose I should get to the purpose of why I'm in Tanzania. At 6:15 am on March 4, 2005, there was not one soul on this Dark Continent looking down on me. Even now as I write, thinking of that moment in time still overwhelms my thoughts. As I read from countless articles and heard from scores of people it was the most demanding challenge they had ever endured…I was no exception. The summit attempt began at 12:00 am with six of the most arduous hours to follow. The last two hours pushed me to limits I had previously never experienced. There were times that I felt like passing out with a few times where I was beginning to fall over until catching myself with my poles. With the 60 -70 climbers attempting the summit, yours truly was one of the first to reach the Uhuru Peak; undeniably more from the efforts of Charles than from myself. Because of the freezing temperatures Charles would not let me relax for more than two minutes, which at the time was fairly frustrating due to the observance of so many people resting along the way. There was a group of five that would get ahead of me then rest and as they rested I would pass. They would recover, pass me again, rest and be passed yet again by me. This tediousness continued until passing them for the last time half way to the top. I'm not certain if they made it.
The one time I managed to find an inviting rock to sit my derriere on, Charles came over and gave me the "win this one for the Gipper" sermon. He disclosed to me that the success to the summit lies in my heart and you need to get up and keep going. I wanted to enlighten him with the fact that that it wasn't my flipp'n heart that was the hindrance, but my brain informing me to sit my ass down and take a little break. I suppose Charles did make some sense on his reasoning. As we approached Stella Point the top grew extremely cold. From about 4:00 am on, my left fingers became entirely numb. Charles forewarned me of this possibility prior to the climb but assured me that those phalanges would thaw out as soon as the sun emerged…he was correct.
The scene looking down at the exhausted souls in the wake of me was surreal. The serpentine like appearance emanating from the climbers headlamps blending into the backdrop of a starry night was stunning;
while
over my left shoulder the Southern Cross constellation was chasing me up the mountain.
One of the funnier moments of the trek happened a few meters from the peak. If I wasn't so dead tired I would have buckled over laughing. In the shadow of darkness, just before sunrise, a few feet behind me I heard the shuffling feet of a couple climbers. I stepped aside to allow a passing, only to realize that it was my trekking nemesis, Mr. Japanese and his guide. I was tempted to drop my poles and challenge him to an all out 100 meter dash to the finish - I didn't and granted him passageway. He was the one who took the picture of Charles and me at the summit sign. I regret not getting his name.
A further amusing moment was at the beginning of the climb I asked Charlie a question on a request from Julie. About ½ hour into the climb I inquired "are we there yet?"…he didn't find much humor in that!
As I write there's an old English chap giving away all his climbing gear to the porters by means of drawing numbers. Nothing off limits; everything from his sleeping bag to his underwear is scattered about. They're having a great time. I was not as fortunate to give away all my gear but after witnessing the extent of work that these porters perform at and their limited resources they perform with, any gesture of good will is appreciated. Wrapping up their night the gentleman walked back to his room retrieved a harmonica and entertained his departing friends with a closing rendition of
Auld Lang Syne.
Due to the bitter cold we were only at the top for a short period. Charles easily handled the lack of oxygen at this altitude but the frigid conditions were difficult for him. Accompanied by a slight amount of guilt I did manage to grab a few souvenir rocks. On the way back I was able to witness the breathtaking view of our Sun rising over the horizon of East Africa.
As we began the long journey down we passed many people who were struggling to reach the summit. Some climbers were so fatigued that they were being assisted by guides under each arm. After six hours of using all the energy my body had to offer I needed to turn around and spend the next seven hours going down. Downhill may sound effortless but the relentless pounding to every one of your lower joints becomes rather painful.
Half-way to Mweka Camp there was a national park station that offered Coke-Cola. Remembering Flannery's $5.00 left in one of my opened cards and $1.00 that was in my pack, I purchased Cokes for my friend Charles and myself - best Coke I've ever had. $6.00 may sound pricey for two Cokes but after recognizing the effort it takes to haul bottles of pop to an altitude of 12,500 feet it possibly may be the best deal on the planet.
We reached camp in the afternoon, had supper and fell asleep at around 6:00 pm…one tough and gratifying day.
Today, it took four hours to get to the pick-up point. As with the first day, the trip took us through the fertile Kilimanjaro farmlands.
