20: Kilimanjaro (Tanzania)

 

Picture Album Here

Week 20 Update:

Marangu, Mandara Huts, Horombo Huts, Kibo Huts, Uhuru Peak, Horombo Huts, Marangu.

Day 134:

Nothing earth shattering happened in the latter part of day 133. We did our chores, had our dinner, went to bed and started dreaming about mountains. Day 134 dawned with heavy cloud cover, but no rain. We had very little to do before our 10am pick up so enjoyed an extra long hot shower discussing the probability that we would never actually see the mountain we were about to walk up and how we felt very ill prepared for the adventure.

By 9:45 we sat in front of reception, all excited, very apprehensive, but smiling and waiting for our transport to arrive. The truly African taxi rolled in a little after 10:00 and we were introduced to our group: Asaya was the assistant guide, Joseph the cook, Harry the porter and a representative from Afrigalaxy to help us with the park paperwork. Our head guide and three other porters were to meet us at the gate.

From the Marangu Hotel it is a 10km drive, climbing 1000 meters to the start of the hike. The Marangu gate is the main gate to Kilimanjaro National park and was also the easiest gate to reach. We swiftly dealt with paperwork and managed to pay our extortionate park fees of $1 046 for our five days by VISA debit card, without the additional percentage charge most places seem to add. We met William, our head guide and after a short faffing session set of into the rain forest.

Our first day had a mere 7.5km to walk, climbing almost another 1 000 meters from 1970 meters to 2720 meters above sea level. Both of us used to be very fit and used to walking. Both of us used to be fairly good at walking in mountains and as we used to live at about 1 500 meters above sea level, the effects of altitude used to hit us a little later than those poor souls who suffered the fate of living at sea level. This was before we spent four and a half months in a car, of which most of our time was at lower altitudes and often on a beach. William our guide was however excellent at slowing us down, reminding us that it was not a race against time, but a competition to see if we could walk up the hill without ever getting tired or out of breath. “Pole Pole” or “Slowly Slowly” was the overlying motto of the mountain.

We reached our lunch time point after an hour or two of rain forest hiking without getting tired or being out of breath. We were amazed at the slowness of the pace set by William, but also appreciated someone to keep us from exhausting ourselves on day one. The packed lunch was simple but adequate and swiftly dealt with by us both. We were ready to walk on within fifteen minutes of stopping but were held back another ten minutes. The last few kilometres were a little steeper than the first, but we still managed to reach the Mandara Huts by 14:00, some 3 hours after setting off from the gate.

We opted for the Marangu Route for two reasons: The first was that it was nicknamed the “Coca Cola Route” as it seemed to be the easiest way to reach the summit. The second was that the accommodation was in mountain huts instead of tents. Not that we had anything against tents of course, but simply because tents would mean more porters which would mean more money. After checking in we were shown to our humble accommodations. There were numerous A-frame wooden huts dotted on a hill side clearing. These were divided into two halves and each half contained four beds. Three beds at floor level and a bunk bed furthest away from the door. There was pathetically little space for luggage and the mattresses were thin, but the use of available space was genius. We shared with a mountain guide from Scotland, Peter.

Our rucksack arrived shortly after us and with it the news that our tea was ready. We were shown to a big A-frame building which obviously served as an eating hall. Each group’s specific table space was marked by their cook’s table cloth and that seemed to be sacred territory. Our Joseph appeared with a huge thermos full of hot water, some tea bags, coffee (Instant), hot chocolate, sugar, milk powder and the biggest plate of popcorn and peanuts you can imagine. We feasted!

We were supposed to rest for the remainder of the afternoon, but got stuck into some card games instead. Dinner arrived around 18:00 while we were still sitting at our allocated table cloth. It was clear that we were not going to be left hungry as the containers of food held enough for at least a party of six. We had rice and vegetables and meat and sauce and fruit and more hot water with the usual assortment of flavourings. I over ate so much that I simply could not move, even if I wanted to. We sat chatting to Peter while finishing off the thermos of hot water before finally surrendering and retiring to our beds around 20:30, not tired in the slightest, but a little cold and quite apprehensive as to what the next day would hold. Needless to say that the night’s peaceful rest was broken at least twice by the mighty call of nature after the copious amounts of tea between early afternoon and bed time.

Day 135:

Our Joseph knocked on the door around 7am. His arrival was accompanied by two steaming hot bowls of water for us to wash from and the refreshing news that tea and breakfast was ready. I was astonished by the efficiency! Breakfast was served within half an hour and consisted of porridge as a starter, followed by fried egg and heated up Vienna sausages, some fruit and another thermos of the hot stuff. It had been a cold night made comfortable by the goose down sleeping bags we had. The time between leaving the sleeping bag and getting into clothes and then getting into the eating hall which wasn’t heated at all was long enough for us to get cold though, but the food and drinks more than made up for the heat loss.

By 8am we were off, led down… or rather up the path by our trusty guide, William. William couldn’t tell us how old he was, but he could tell us that he had been guiding on Kilimanjaro for 30 years and he had made more summits than he cared to remember. He said that he counted the first 200, but lost count after that. From our conversation it seemed that 200 summits made you a veteran and nothing after that really mattered.

Pole Pole along the path took us through the last bit of forest. It was remarkable to notice how the giant rain forest trees suddenly turned into smaller trees which turned into shrubs and finally into Fynbos… Oh the Fynbos! The guides and locals called this part of the mountain the “Moon Landscape” because it everything apparently looked the same. I couldn’t really see this as it looked like good old Western Cape Fynbos landscape. Although it was a slight little higher than Table Mountain.

We rose above the cloud line soon after emerging from the tree line. This was more spectacular than I ever imagined it would be and far more impressive than any of the pictures I had seen of Kilimanjaro. I didn’t think we were that high, but as we continued our stroll the clouds seemed to form a fluffy blanket below our path and seemed to stretch out for eternity forming an ocean like landscape to one side of us. When we finally cleared all clouds and mist William pointed at a pimple looking thing far in the distance and respectfully said: “That’s Kibo” which meant little to me. It was pretty though and the top was covered in snow.

At some point we happened upon some steel tables and a couple of wooden sheds which we guessed were toilets. This was clearly a designated lunch spot, so we stopped and offloaded our day sacks. Asaya, our assistant guide arrived shortly after with two plastic containers of lunch. This was made up of a piece of chicken, a boiled egg, a muffin, a couple of slices of bread, half an orange, fruit juice and the world’s smallest ever banana. I was astonished that someone would actually carry that 2 000 meters up a mountain.

With lunch came some clouds and it also became very cold, so rather than hang around and rest we opted for taking the walk, slowly as always, to our next camp. By 12:00, four hours after setting off we reached the Horombo Huts at 3720 meters, 11 kilometres and another 1000 meter climb later. By then the process was clear. We checked in at the reception and got shown to our hut which we shared with a couple of guys from France.

These guys looked absolutely shattered and it was obvious that they had just returned from their summit day. Neither one of them looked out of shape or unfit, but both of them looked desperately tired and one of them looked positively grim. He was grey in colour, had no energy at all and through droopy eyes told us that he made it to Gilman’s point but not the summit. He said that the way down was terrifyingly terrible for him and that he really just needed to sleep and get off the mountain. I think it was right at that point that I started to recognise the seriousness of the challenge we had chosen. Coca Cola route or not, walking up an almost 6000 meter mountain was no easy task and I was a little scared of what lay ahead of me.

Despite the doubts, we were still feeling strong. I though the day was easier than the previous one and felt no fatigue what so ever. This was also not the highest we had been in mountains and we felt no effects from altitude at all. Joseph came along to announce tea time which was like turning on the central heating. We spent the afternoon chatting to Peter the Scottish mountain guide’s group of people. These were students and youngsters who were on a charity holiday. They had spent some time waking around the Usambara Mountains and doing some work in schools in the area before their climb. I found them entertainingly naïve and almost blasé about the hole thing, but refreshingly so. Peter on the other hand seemed frustrated with their lack of seriousness and discipline. He tried to get them to use tea spoons to scoop their popcorn from the big plate into their hands. Hygiene was the concept behind it and the fact that you did not want your body to suddenly pick up a bug or be compromised in any way. He instructed them to use water purifying tablets for their drinking water and insisted that they wash their feet every day… It all made sense. Catt and I just thought that we shared bugs, so using our hands for the popcorn would be OK. We had been drinking water from all sources up to then, so mountain stream water seemed perfectly fine to us, but we did wash our feet, along with some other parts every day.

Dinner was served around 18:00. It was of the vegetarian variety, but more food than we could dream to finish. With darkness imminent shortly after 18:30 I ran around the camp with my camera for a while. The clouds below us were lit up by the rays from the low sun and it was as if someone pointed a giant spotlight at the people standing on the edge of the camp. It was idyllically beautiful and everywhere you looked made another breathtaking image. I stumbled upon a contraption known as the “Kilimanjaro Ambulance” It looks like a gurney in some respects, but had only one central wheel which had mountain bike like suspension on and seemingly the same kind of rubber. Reserved for serious cases of altitude sickness, the patient gets strapped to this thing and rushed down the hill by two porters, head first. That sounded like a cruel, but possibly fun joy ride to me and I could not help but wonder if the grey French guy was going on the ride of his life.

We managed to hydrate and stay in the freezing eating hall until about 20:00 before quietly sneaking into the room where the two French guys were still fast asleep. I felt truly sorry for the poor grey one.

The night was bitterly cold and it took a long time for my feet to warm up inside the sleeping bag. I took my socks off and threw them at the bottom and actually put some of my clothes underneath me to keep them a little warm for the morning.

Day 136:

The porter responsible for the French dudes knocked on the door first and woke us all up. The grey one seemed better, but still looked a little like death warmed up. The other guy seemed tired, but ok. We had leaned the previous night that a lot of people stay at Horombo for two nights to acclimatise. They sleep there on night two of their climb; go for a three hour walk reaching a higher altitude the next day and return to the same huts for a second night, making their total time of the mountain 6 days instead of five. As we did not really know the option existed, we packed up, had our usual breakfast and headed out by 8:00. This was going to be the day we would exceed 4000 meters and the highest mountain we had walked up.

Pole Pole was still very much at the order of the day. William seemed to have a perfect understanding of the system and seemed to always get us to the perfect place at the perfect time. We obviously wanted to be the first group to leave camp that morning and the reason became evident very soon. It was incredibly dry! The path had been stepped on so many times and by so many feet that the dust was as fine as icing sugar and without as much as a breath of wind, it lingered in the air long after its cause had left the scene.

We reached the designated lunch time spot so early that I could still taste the eggs and sausage in my mouth and my belly was still absolutely stuffed from breakfast. William must have felt the same as he suggested we skip that spot and move on. I did notice a heli-pad there and guessed the altitude to be around 4 200 meters wondering who had a helicopter capable of that altitude…

We chose to have a rest and a bit of food at a place called “The Saddle”. Throughout the morning the Kibo thing we were shown the day before became bigger and bigger. The plants became less and less and the only wildlife we saw was a few mice. It became abundantly clear that Kibo was the top of the mountain and that we had chosen to walk to the top of it. The scariest thing for me was that I could see the path leading to the summit, or what I perceived to be the summit, from at least 10 kilometres away.

A few kilometres before Kibo Huts was another designated resting or eating place. Asaya had caught up with us by then and the four of us found a spot in the sun and out of the wind to rest a while before taking on the last little uphill to the huts. Neither Catt nor I were tired or out of breathe or felt any effects from the altitude at that stage and were keen to get the walking done so we could rest up for the mammoth task awaiting us later that day. We finally reached Kibo Hut reception at 4703 meters after 4 hours and some 9.5 kilometres, after gaining another 1 000 meters in altitude. It was 12:00.

Kibo was different to the other huts we had stayed in. Apart from the fact that the toilets seemed to get perpetually worse the higher you went there was no water at all. Nothing grew that high above sea level and there was only one building for the climbers. That building had a series of 12 bed dorm rooms with a table in each one for eating at. We were, not surprisingly, the first people to arrive and had the choice of beds.

Our instructions were simple: Sleep as much as we could manage. Tea would be served after two hours, dinner at 17:00 and the wake up call for the great ascent would be at 11:30. I don’t know if we were showing signs of tiredness, or if the altitude started having an effect on us or if we were just plain terrified, but neither one of said a word… for a while. An hour or so later, as our tea arrived, some other climbers joined our dorm room.

The first to arrive was an American father and daughter. They were followed by a Mexican girl and Italian girl who met in New York while studying and lastly we saw the arrival of two guys who we thought were Spanish, but they did not speak a word of English, so communication wasn’t really forthcoming.

The different “Josephs” for the different groups spread out their table clots, bustling for position and insistently marking their territory. We tried to explain that we were all adults and we would play nice and share the table and the table clots, but this was evidently not the way of the mountain, so no ones tea was allowed to touch another table cloth… All of us tried to go to sleep in the afternoon, but the new found bond between us all meant that chatting and sharing rumours was much more important than the much needed rest.

Dinner was served, as promised, at 17:00 and consisted of mostly carbohydrates. The menu seemed the same for everyone and by 18:00, as it started getting dark, everyone in room 2 was ready to make a serious attempt at sleeping. The two girls were told to expect their wake up call at 10:30, so we only had four and a half hours left to rest.

With 10:30 arriving way to soon, the Joseph for the girls snuck into the room and woke them up as quietly as he could. I had been awake for a while, courtesy of the snoring American father, so I saw him walking into the room. Once he was sure they were awake, he whispered some instructions and as he left the room he turned the lights on and slammed the door. That was it! The whole room was awake.

I was definitely not ready to leave my warm and fluffy sleeping bag yet, so insisted on staying in bed until our Joseph arrived. Catt was seemingly excited about the prospect of the day ahead so was as awake as anything and energetic and unhealthily bouncy for that time at night. Our Joseph arrived promptly at 11:30, thermos and tea in hand and that marked the start of our summiting day. I had to get up.

We started applying the layers of clothing and I ended up with: Three pairs of socks, including a thermal pair, thermal long underwear, thick waterproof trousers, thermal long sleeved top with turtle neck, t-shirt, long sleeved t-shirt, fleece jacket, water and wind proof ski jacket, balaclava and gloves. Catt had 5 layers on the bottom and 7 on the top. We filled our water bottles, grabbed our walking poles, head lamps and day sacks and headed out the room mere minutes before midnight.

Day 137:

The cold night air hit me like a brick in the face. I pulled the balaclava over my mouth and nose and pulled the hood of the ski jacket over my head. My head lamp with new batteries was incredibly bright and I focused the beam on Asaya’s feet in front of me. My intention was to simply follow him, step by step and Pole Pole. As we left camp I was convinced we were not taking the path I had seen and dreaded and with that came a magical relief, thinking that our route would be easier.

I knew we had at least six and half hours before sunrise and I knew the idea was that we could not see the massive mountain we were about to walk up but every time I did brave a peak out from under my hood I saw the headlamps of the groups that had left before us and they were ridiculously higher than we were and at an insane angle no human should be attempting to walk up. Still, one foot in front of the other, so slow that even at that altitude our breathing was normal, we continued up the path and started passing group after group before long. I was struck by the breathlessness and the expression of utter despair on some of the faces we passed.

Before too long the effect of the hired gloves I had compounded into a problem. They were too small and evidently cutting off some blood supply from my hands. This in turn had the effect of pins and needles in my hands and because of the lack in circulation also meant that my hands were getting colder and colder the longer we walked. I had packed my own pair of fleece gloves and without missing a step managed to get Catt to extract them from my bag and hand them to me for a glove swap. That was a huge mistake though! The old and warn fleece was simply no match for the coldness of the night and after less than half an hour I had lost all feeling in my fingers. I simply had to change back to the tiny gloves and deal with the lack of circulation. I found it fascinating how something as simple as gloves and freezing hands could become an all consuming issue in your mind, but for me, trying to get feeling back into my fingers was the single most important thing I had to do. The glove swap back to the rentals was done seamlessly once again and without missing a single step.

We stopped for a rest at a small overhang at some stage in our journey. I had no idea how long we had been walking for, nor did I now how high we were. I knew we had passed a sign for William’s point, marking 5000 meters, but how close we were to the top escaped me completely. We had a drink of ice cold water before heading off again and the reason for the rest soon became abundantly clear.

We had reached a surface which can only be compared to a sand dune, or mine dump. That side of the volcanic crater was made up of tiny gravel rocks which offered no traction or resistance at all. For every one step you took up, you would slide half a step back. The walking poles became essential in our progress and balance and the concentration to keep going even detracted from the immense pain my hands were in. Before long we heard an all mighty “HOOOO HAAARRRR” and knew that the Irish group had made it to Gilman’s Point at 5681 meters. We could hear that we were not far off and I suddenly became emotionally excited about the prospect of actually making it to the summit. Chatting to Catt after the fact she recalled almost crying out of happiness for the group followed by a stark realization that we may not be able to make it.

Half an hour after the shouting was heard, and after we climbed over boulders and being convinced that Asaya was lost on the hill side, we rounded a big rock and were welcomed by a sign that read: “You are now at Gilman’s Point, 5681 meters. Tanzania, welcome and congratulations” It did nothing for me. We were told that we cold have a little rest, so I ripped the gloves off, opened by jacket and put my frozen hands in my arm pits as suggested by Catt. Within two minutes my hands started burning and throbbing and I knew that feeling was returning slowly to them. It hurt like hell! Asaya wanted to continue, but I bluntly refused and told him that I needed at least two more minutes, explaining that the rest of me was absolutely peachy, but my hands were just too cold. Catt helped to fold away my waking poles and I put the fleece gloves back on, but kept my hands in my arm pits, as did she. When I started noticing that my feet were also really cold I smiled. I knew that my hands were not the all consuming thing any more.

I also knew that we were less than an hour from achieving our goal and looking at Catt I could tell that we would easily make it. Neither one of us suffered any ill effect from the altitude. We were both full of energy and waling with our hands in our pockets, instead of wrapped around walking poles meant that we were snugly warm and happy to Pole Pole along in between William and Asaya.

At a place called “Stella Point” William, our veteran guide left us. Asaya told us that he was suffering badly from altitude sickness and had to turn around and descent some. This served as a very stark reminder of where we were and what we were doing. However, before long the skies became lighter and the sun started peaking over the cloudy horizon and with the first rays of welcome hitting the glacier’s trailing edge we could see the sign, marking the highest point in Africa and the highest free standing mountain in the world!

There are truly no words to describe the utter beauty of that sunrise and there is simply no way to explain the emotion that flowed through our bodies as we took the final steps to touch the Uhuru Peak sign at a mighty 5895 meters above sea level. It was 6:31, pretty much exactly six and a half hours since we had left Kibo Huts. Needless to say that we were both insanely close to tears, but simply had no breath to start the crying process. As the line of tourists walked up to the summit, no words were spoken or conversations held. A simple knowing and encouraging nod between fellow adventurers was all that was needed to confirm the awesomeness of the thing we had all achieved.

As I pulled the Canon 5D from my bag with the 70 – 200 IS lens, weighing in at almost 3kg’s I was pleased to see someone with the same camera, but heavier lens standing next to the sign. We took some pictures for each other, relinquishing our hands to the bitter cold for the lasting snap shots before inevitably starting our return journey to Kibo hut.

The concept of Pole Pole was no more! Walking down hill required very little cardio fitness and Asaya seemed to be in a hurry. We passed many groups on their way to the summit and looking at the sheer determination and almost shocked expressions peering out from under their hoods, I could honestly say that we managed pretty damn well. We encouraged every group we met by short descriptive explanations of how close they were and how incredible the top was and could see the anguished looked turn to smiles as we passed them. We got back to Gilman’s point, took some pictures in the light and tried to have a drink of water. Only we couldn’t because all out water was frozen solid. Seriously, three litres of water, inside day sacks on our backs manage to get frozen solid in the seven hours we had been outside the hut. THAT was how cold it was!

As we started our descent I suddenly understood why the grey French guy hated it so incredibly much. After clambering down the rocks we hot the loose gravel and met up with William once again. He was feeling much better and ready to lead us once again and his solution for the loose gravel was simple and marvellous, unless you were suffering from altitude sickness that is… We ran and jumped… landing on the gravel, you would slide two or three meters at a time and repeat the process over and over again. It was very much the same as running down a sand dune and I was sure that a sand board would have been a perfect vehicle for getting down quickly. It still took the best part of an hour to reach the harder ground and by that time my thighs were shattered! The last couple of kilometres to Kibo Huts were incredibly hard!

I was told before that the summit should always be seen as the half way mark of the journey. I was as prepared for this as someone who had not been to such a summit can ever be, but there was no real way to be mentally or physically fit for that last few hundred meters. By the time we reached the huts Joseph was waiting with some fruit juice and our shaky legs just managed to get us back to our beds before we took off the thermal layers and lay down. Years before I took some photographs at the finish line of an ultra marathon and couldn’t understand how the runners managed to carry themselves on legs that were visibly shaking from tiredness. As I put my head on my pillow that morning at 8:30 I suddenly understood it all.

After half an hour of intense rest, Joseph came around with some more tea and breakfast. William came for a chat and told us to be ready soon to start heading back down to Horombo for our overnight stop. His theory was that the longer we stayed at Kibo, the harder it would be to start moving again and the sooner we get to Horombo, the longer we can rest undisturbed. I liked his theory and with some tea and breakfast in us, we felt refreshed and ready for a walk!

Both Asaya and William allowed us to walk in front and set the pace as the concept of Pole Pole was clearly something of the past. It was absolutely amazing to notice how much easier it was to walk down the hill on the hard path and without breaking a sweat seeing how the porters coming up the hill were suffering in a big way. We crossed the alpine desert and passed the saddle and reached the point where the smallest bits of vegetation started before meeting the first climbers going the opposite way. Remembering how we felt a mere 24 hours earlier we smiled and tried to look energetic as we wished them good luck with their adventure. Most of them looked as apprehensive as I had been and some looked positively terrified. We met Peter’s group from England and shared advice and a fact or two before telling Peter the whole truth.

After two and a half hours we reached Horombo’s reception and checked in. We were, once again, the first to arrive. We were shown to our hut and told that we could go to sleep before Joseph would call us for afternoon tea. Strangely though, neither one of us was really tired any more nor felt like sleeping. We decided to try and stay awake until after dinner and then try to get a decent night’s rest from just after dark. We sat down on one of the beds and started working out how far we had travelled that day. It worked out to a ridiculous 19.5 kilometres and after climbing about 1 200 meters, we descended a whopping 2 200 meters. No wonder we were a slight bit weary.

Our hut was soon shared with two ladies from the land of chocolate and cuckoo clocks. They arrived for their first of two nights at Horombo and were still clean, with dust free shoes and clothing. We had a chat to them about the experience we had and encouragingly shared some tips before the arrival of Joseph and the announcement of afternoon tea. We were both pretty tired of being cold so took one of the sleeping bags into the dining hall with us and sipped hot drink after hot drink until the thermos was empty. Joseph arrived with lunch at 15:30 which we devowered unceremoniously before returning to our hut to re-pack our rucksack. Everything we had worn for the summit was caked in the fine dust from the rim of the volcano and needed to be separated from the relatively clean clothes. We had both kept something nice for the last day.

With the chores done we returned to the dining hall and were served an early dinner around 17:30. We shared a table with the girls we had met the previous day and swapped stories of our individual summiting experiences. This played absolute havoc with the master plan of the Josephs as we dared to share a table cloth. I could sense the utter disgust and unhappiness and rivalry between the guys, so folded our table cloth away when we had finished which seemed to calm the mood drastically. Oh the simple things people find so incredibly important!

Darkness arrived at 18:30 and we were snugly warm in bed and fast asleep by 19:30.

Day 138:

The Swiss ladies woke up first and as I opened my eyes I could see it was light outside. I was pretty sure that my position had not change one little bit during the night and I felt great for it! Catt was awake too and keen to get up but I bluntly refused to move before Joseph knocked on the door at 7:10 with two bowls of steaming hot water to wash from and the announcement that breakfast was ready for us. I have to be honest and say that I was expecting to be so muscle sore that I wouldn’t be able to move. To my surprise, this was however not the case and after getting dressed we walked down to the eating hall to find our table cloth. The Joseph’s clearly conspired against us as the table cloth for the two girls we had made friends with was set on a different table and our cloth was folded in half, taking up very little space.

William was already waiting for us by the time the sausages and Spanish omelettes arrived and after guzzling them down he announced that we should hit the road straight away. This suited us fine as we also thought that the longer we linger, the harder the walk would be. We did have about 18km and a drop of 2 000 meters to cover and I was seriously not looking forwards to that concept! By 8:10 we took our first steps towards the tops of the clouds.

It was a fine day above the clouds and with time going by it seemed like the weather would only improve. Within an hour or two the clouds had dissipated completely and we could see far into the valleys below the mountain. We couldn’t spot Marangu Village, but the huts on the ridges we could see indicated that we would have a clear view of Kibo from the hotel where Maggie was waiting patiently.

We reached Mandara Huts after passing hordes of climbers, guided and porters who were travelling in the opposite direction. We concentrated on smiling to the new cloud of adventurers, wishing them good luck while trying not too look too tired. Although the hiking was definitely starting to take its toll on our bodies, we still felt strong and the progress was fast. We managed the first 11 km in under 4 hours and sat down in the shade at the Mandara huts awaiting instruction.

Given the choice to either wait for the chef to arrive to cook us lunch or hi tailing it to the Marangu gate and have lunch there, we opted for the latter and after filling our water bottles once again we set off down the familiar forest path we had used five days earlier. We had 7.5 kilometres and 1 000 meters to go and we were keen to get it over with. Our pace slowed dramatically as I believe William was waiting for our lunch to catch up with us, but it was comfortable and we did not mind in the slightest. The noisy Irish passed us along the way and as we started passing new climbers on their first day and on their way to Mandara we still managed words of encouragement without looking or sounding too exhausted.

At 14:00 we reached the final destination of Marangu Gate and our initial starting point. Signing back in and getting our uniquely numbered certificates took a few minutes after which William directed us to a shady spot on the lawn to enjoy our much deserved lunch of chips and salad. Soul food, I thought. By that time we were hungrier than we expected and polished off the mountain of starch and bucket of greens with no apparent effort. We got loaded into the familiar African taxi and dropped off at the Marangu Hotel by 15:00 to complete the full circle.

The only thing left to do was to sort out tips for our team which we promised to do two days later and drop it off at the office. We explained that we had to visit a bank to enable us to this and that was met with some hostility and much unhappiness from the porters. Asaya and William was a little more understanding, but I have to say that the whole concept of them taking a tip for granted upset me a little. The receipt we received from paying the company clearly stated that our fee included salaries. It did say that the fee excluded tips, but seriously, a tip is something you give on a performance base and should be a bonus, not a demanded right. I could go on to say that if they want more money they should have a discussion with their greedy national parks authority who charge so incredibly much that no one can realistically afford to pay the tips that they want, which would have amounted to half the fee for a full five day climb. I refused to get upset by their attitude though and simply smiled, pled ignorance and promised to see them in two days time.

We checked back into the Marangu Camp site, pitched out tent and abused their laundry service. Every single piece of clothing we took on the mountain was absolutely covered in dust and we didn’t even want to put it inside the car before having it washed. I guess we could have washed it ourselves, but the hotel’s laundry service was cheap enough to make the decision to use it very easy.

After a shower that lasted for what felt like hours and washing my hair four times I started to feel clean and human again and ready for a celebratory beer in the gardens by the bar. From the gardens you have a great view of the two highest peaks on the mountain with Kibo’s snow cap glistening in the sun. I was pleased that we did not have that view before we started our climb as the task looked absolutely mammoth from that cushioned chair in the garden with a cold Kilimanjaro beer in hand. We had a fried chicken dinner in the hotel’s restaurant that night and crashed into bed just after 20:00, dead tires, but feeling a little like super heroes.

Day 139:

I opened my eyes to bright blue sunshine day in Africa with birds singing and feasting on the fruit from the trees in Marangu Hotel gardens. We stayed in bed as long as possible and eventually left the tent after 8:00. The day was clear so I strolled over to the gardens to take a photograph if Kibo in the distance. I could still not believe that we had been at the top of that beast a mere three days before. We had very little planned for the day and for that reason adopted the “Pole Pole” attitude of the mountain. It took more than an hour to make and have morning coffee and with binoculars, 400mm lens and bird book we managed to identify a few new bird species for our records.

We saw, for the first time, the Brown Breasted Barbet which is endemic to the area as well as the Crowned Hornbill which the book described as “uncommon”. These guys were feasting on the avocados that fell on the ground and provided much entertainment as they picked at the fruit. I also heard an avocado drop and sprinted over, in competition with a flock of Hornbills, but managed to get there first. I grabbed it up and carried it back to our chairs, stashing it in the car for later consumption.

The morning shower happened after 11:00 and was absolutely heavenly once again. This was followed by lunch before 12:00 and part of the afternoon on maintenance. Somewhere along our way the built in compressor had lost the will to live, so that needed reviving. After taking it, and a part of the trim of the car apart it seemed like the wiring was faulty and the fix easy. Our tent’s mosquito netting was ripped, so while I was getting dirty on the ground, Catt started sewing that back up. The success of that all put us both in a great mood and the rewards was an afternoon spent in the gardens reading, writing and generally relaxing.

The early evening saw the arrival of a big overland truck complete with the nightmare of highly energetic and loud children who had been cropped up in a vehicle for most the day. They ran absolute riot in the camp site for a few hours while we were cooking a fine Risotto. Against all odds the whole group seemed to loose their energy before we did and by the time we scaled our ladder, at around 21:30 all was quiet in the land, except for the night watchman’s pacing and coughing.

Day 140:

It was with great delight that I realized that the noisy unwashed did not pack up and leave at 5:00. I woke up after 7:00 with the tantalising smell of bacon and eggs from the overland chef’s kitchen. I almost felt like asking for the left overs, but I was still far too lazy to move. We did get up shortly after and waited for the big truck to disappear around the first bend before indulging in yet another boiling hot and comfortable shower. We were far from being used to the pleasures of that phenomenon!

Before long we had packed up, filled our water tank and started to head in the direction of Moshi and the Afrigalaxy office to hand over our tips. We had decided on a fair 10% of the total cost of our adventure and made the split in such a way that the most senior person would get the most benefit. Catt was feeling utterly British and guilty that we could not give more. I was feeling utterly realistic and even reckoned that the tips we were giving were ridiculous. Neither one of us were in any kind of mood for confrontation though.

In Moshi we entered the seemingly empty office and was greeted and congratulated by Wema Pagali, the executive director of the company. We explained that we had come to thank him for the efforts and to leave some tips for the guides and this was received with great appreciation on his part. We had a short chat and parted happy. Our next stop was Arusha.

The town of Arusha was seen by many as the Safari capitol of East Africa. This became very apparent as the intensity of safari vehicles increased exponentially the closer we came to town. We drove directly to the Toyota dealership and made an appointment for a major service for poor Maggie who had not seen the inside of a workshop in over 20 000km. Driving around town I recognised the aggressive driving style and concluded that the only driving schools in Tanzania had to be in Dar Es Salaam and the motto had to be; “The most aggressive driver has right of way”. I was still a little weary from the hiking and perhaps a little less patient than I should have been, but man I found Arusha to be a dirty, unfriendly, aggressive and ill-mannered hole of a place.

After Toyota we headed to a Patisserie by the clock tower, the apparent place where people advertise last minute safari deals. The notice boards were full of ridiculously prices four and five day safaris and nothing that suited us, so we opted to share a pizza for lunch and move on to grocery shopping as we had emptied our food stores completely before our climb. The Shoprite was absolutely fantastic! They seemed to stock local produce at market prices and a fine selection of meat to stock up on. We managed a week’s worth of shopping in one place in half an hour for a very reasonable price and hit the road towards the Masai Camp ages before the start of what could only be a nightmare rush hour.

The Masai Camp was a very pleasant surprise as well. They charged a very reasonable $5 per person to camp and with the very noticeable absence of overland trucks; the place was peaceful, tranquil and insanely spacious. We had an appointment for the car to be serviced the next day, so we sign up for two nights and received a warning about loud music and great parties on Friday evenings as well as a suggestion to camp as far as we could away from the bar. Our chosen spot was next to a bamboo mini forest with the solar panel in the sun, the tent in the shade and the table and chairs tucked in behind Maggie for some privacy.

By 17:00 the half a Pizza was used up by my body and the only snack I could think of was chocolate cake. This was easily made by using the trusty Cobb and the five minute chocolate cake recipe, adapted slightly to incorporate peanuts and raisins for a little extra flavour. Afternoon seamlessly rolled into evening without a huge party and after feasting on some Pork chops for the first time in ages, we drained our glasses of the finest box red wine known to Tanzania and went to bed, happy and relaxed and excited about the next week’s adventure.

If I had to do it again:

Contact details for Afrigalaxy are:

Wema Pagali (Executive Director)

Cell: +255 754 309521

Office: +255 27 275 0268

afrigalaxytours@yahoo.co.uk

info@afrigalaxytours.co.tz

www.afrigalaxytours.co.tz (Some browsers don’t like this one)

Despite the tip issue, the company was fantastic and the price was right! Including $100 of gear hire and $185 in tips, we ended up paying a total of just less that $2 000 from the day we arrived in Marangu until the day we left. Most people will tell you that the climb will cost around $1 500 per person. It would be worth contacting the Marangu Hotel directly to get a quote as well. The reception ladies can line up guides and porters for you. Check online what the expected daily rate, or tip should be if you do that.

My top tip for Kilimanjaro climbing is simple: Make 100% sure that you can be comfortable at minus 10 deg C for six hours. Boots, socks, balaclava and gloves are probably the most important pieces of kit you need. The rest of the hike is not that hard and any reasonably fit and healthy person should be able to cope fine. It is however not for sissies and the thing you need most of all is determination to reach the summit. We did take Acetyl Zolomide to help cope with the massive gain in altitude. I can’t say how much it worked or not as I have no comparison, but at less than $10 for enough tablets for two, obtained in a pharmacy in Moshi, there was no reason not to use it.

If I had to do it over again I might consider going on a tented route rather than the huts. I think you spend more time with the people who help you on your way and there is much more privacy. You do need to keep in mind that you need more staff and usually an extra day of you go that route, so it will be more expensive.

The Marangu Hotel is a fantastic place and even if you’re not climbing, it’s worth a three to four day stop over to relax, recuperate and stare at the highest peak in Africa and highest free standing mountain on earth from the comfort of a garden chair with a cold Kilimanjaro in your hand.