Africa - To the top of Africa, Mt Kiliminjaro

anthonycurnow.com
It is often tagged as one of the must do things on this planet before you die (assuming you don’t die doing it!). Standing at a whopping 5895m above average mean sea level (a.m.s.l), it is Africa’s highest mountain, one of the ‘Seven Summits’ for peak bagging and the tallest free standing mountain on earth. It is, Mt. Kilimanjaro.

Located at a longitude just 330km south of the equator, the mountain lies in Tanzania’s Kilimanjaro National Park (a declared UNESCO world heritage site in 1989), close to the Kenyan border. The mountain itself rises from the flat surrounding African plains, and comprises of two dormant (Kibo summit 5,895m a.m.s.l and Mawenzi 5,149m a.m.s.l) and one extinct (Shira 3,962m a.m.s.l) volcanoes. Close by (70km west), Mt Meru sisters Kilimanjaro and stands steady in her shadow at just 4,566m a.m.s.l, providing hikers of Kilimanjaro with a point of reference and a view to enjoy while attempting to climb the massive mountain.

There are a number of popular routes which people take in their attempt to summit the mountain. Our group however took the path least traveled, which meant two extra days hiking, allowing us to acclimatise to the altitude as we ascended. Following a route which passes over the Shira plateau, we curved our way around the base of the main peak and up to base camp. Shira plateau is an open grassland dominated by paper daisies (Helichrysum sp.), with the Barranco Valley revealing treasures like the endemic Tree Groundsel (Senecio kilimanjari) and Giant Lobelia (Lobelia deckenii).

For the first few days, our group eagerly passed through the unique baron alpine desert landscape, striving forth with every thought focusing on making it to the top. This is my story of summiting her…

I woke at 11pm after having slept very little in the early evening hours, the wind was howling, shaking my tent from side to side. As I woke from my restless sleep, lying there wrapped up in many layers of clothing, I immediately thought to myself “Why am I doing this?” That moment was not the only time I had such thoughts during the preceding early hours of the morning on 15th October 2008. Despite sleeping very little, I felt much better and slightly more positive than I had earlier in the day when we had climbed to 4600m above average mean sea level (a.m.s.l.), the location of Mt Kilimanjaro Base Camp.

We got under way at midnight, after our final group gathering of bland glucose biscuits and sweet sugary tea. The scramble up the first section was quiet exciting as we were all in good spirits, and the altitude for the first half was of no significant issue. I felt great, and had every positive inclination of reaching my first goal of the evening – Stella Point, located at the base of the crater rim. I was following our Assistant Guide who, ironically named Modest kept telling us ‘Hakuna Metata’, No Worries, ‘Poly, Poly’, Slowly, Slowly. The path was lit in front of me only by the full moon, when Modest stopped us in our tracks and proclaimed whilst pointing to a section above, that we were very close to Stella Point. It looked so close…

Minute after endless minute, the distant summit kept growing, and Stella Point disappeared farther and farther sky high, the same way an oasis in the desert shifts amongst the hot dry mirror like landscape. It was this second half that we all, and me in particular, really suffered. My heart strained with every oxygen deprived breath I took. My thighs ached and my head became foggy. I started feeling slightly dizzy, with the potential death of acute mountain sickness (AMS) plagued my thoughts, and yet I kept heading upwards. ‘Was this safe..?’ ‘Was I in worse condition than anyone else..?’ I was exhausted and the slow death row pace of left foot after right became harder and harder. The soft volcanic scree beneath my feet caused for uneven surface and often my feet would slide backwards with each step I took, hindering efforts to make ground. I began to find it hard to focus, breathe and walk. I hunched over after just four or five small shuffles forward, face planted toward my unsteady feet, hands on my knees, grasping for a full breath of some of the freshest air in the world, which would rarely fully invade the cavities of my pressure-crushed lungs.

I sat down on a rock, looking towards the star lit sky in hope of some renewed energy. I found nothing and before I knew what was happening my pack was taken from my shoulders and piled onto one of the porters backs. I was in no position to argue, and simply watched on as this took place, having what I can only describe as a somewhat outer body experience. I was conscience of what was happening, and knew I did not want to pass my pack over as I felt it was cheating, however I simply could not react. It made what was probably only the last 100m ascent to Stella Point a lot easier, and without having my pack surrendered from me temporarily, perhaps I would not have made it.

I moaned in agony with each step, letting my negative energy to somewhat take hold. ‘Was I to be the only one in our group not to reach the summit?’ ‘What if I need to turn back?’ ‘Why can’t I just rest for an hour, and then keep going?’ Through all these thoughts, my feet slowly trudged upwards, following the persons mesmerising footsteps in front of me.

Out of apparently nowhere, with my body swaying at each step, Stella Point appeared in front of me. I stepped up onto the crater rim and congratulated my fellow hikers. My feet were frozen due to the cold sweat soaked socks and the –15°C temperatures. It was really cold! We took some photos of the huge glaciers we had been chasing all night, which glowed under the full moon. We warmed our organs with a cup of soup the porters had brought up with them, and then pressed onwards to Uhuru Summit, the highest point in Africa.

The sun rose up from the horizon, outlining the curvature of the earth – a truly spectacular sight. The glaciers glowed candy floss pink as we walked around the rocky crater rim to the summit. Emotions ran wild, pure exhaustion passed and elation took over as we reveled in our phenomenal efforts. We took our compulsory ‘been there, done that’ photos and then began to head down.

As I descended to Base Camp thoroughly exhausted, the toll on my body of physical exertion and also the altitude caused my head to throb. Despite this, the decent was uplifting itself. Sunlight revealed soft scree runs ankle deep, of which when run down was easier on the knees but also created a billowing cloud of volcanic dust behind me, very similar to the roadrunner cartoon. Summiting the mountain is a moment I will hope to remember forever. The feeling of altitude sickness and its effects on the mind however, will forever stay with me but I would rather forget. It was one of the most challenging experiences of my life thus far.

If you like pushing yourself to the limits, doing the things that your friends would call mad and taking a brutal physical and mental beating which will make you question your abilities and very own position in life, then hiking Kili might be the number one thing you should do before you die. It’s a long hard slog, but one well worth it.

Written by Anthony J Curnow


From the airplane, our first glimpse. Doesn't look that big does it?


The morning after our first day walking over Shira - first full sight.


Giant Lobelia before flowering.


Me at the camp before Base Camp sporting my sexy thermals.


Feeling not the best, just before reaching Stella Point.


At the top of Africa, Uhuru Summit.


Some of the group at the summit.


The team that got us to the top.


The Kili Summiters!