I’ve never had a more surreal experience in my life than summiting Kilimanjaro on Friday, October 13th. The seven hour climb to Uhuru Peak from Kibo Hut was filled with thousands of tiny, plodding steps, difficulty breathing, thirst, hunger, and extreme fatigue from the lack of oxygen. At times, it felt like I was an observer of my own body, one that normally wants to race but now only wanted to rest.
At that point of the climb, my original five person group was now split into three units. The first and fastest were the experienced climbers, which happened to be the two woman. Then me. Then Rob and his son, who were having difficulties adapting to the altitude. Altitude, cold, and wind do strange things to your body; your brain can swell and the lining around it can fill with liquid, the lungs can be burned with the extreme cold and suffer from edema, and the lack of oxygen and pressure can cause hallucinations, disorientation, and gastrointestinal distress among other things. The higher we climbed, the more people we saw drop (or be carried) down.
Once I reached Gilman’s Peak (the destination of many), the sun was rising, but I still had at least another hour of climbing to the true top. The trek to the top was around the cone of the volcano to the opposite side; we walked along what was often a mere three foot wide path that, with one misstep, would lead to a five-hundred foot plunge into the core or, on the other side, a thousand foot slide to the glaciers.
At this point, the lack of oxygen made me extremely fatigued. My body was in slow motion as was my brain. I was extremely thirsty and hungry. I carried a CamelBak hydration system with me and had taken precautions to prevent it from freezing…yet, the hose froze. To reduce the weight of my pack, I had given my insulated backup water bottle to the lead guide, never intending to be separated (we were separated when he took the girls ahead along with my backup water).
As I plugged along zombi-like taking chameleon steps (two steps, stop, breathe, two steps, stop, breath,….forever it seemed), I came to a point where my energy level was at a low. I had to have something to eat and drink. I stopped, took off my pack, and retrieved a ProBar. It, too, had frozen and turned to powder. I ate it anyway. With no saliva in my mouth, it stuck to my teeth, roof, and sides of my mouth. A new low was reached. Thankfully, my experience guide, Charles, took the CamelBak out of my pack, smashed it around to break up the ice, and opened the filler cap to allow me to drink. Nothing tasted better.
We continued on like that for a while, stopping, sipping, and him telling me we only had a few more minutes to go. I would stand up, shuffle forward, take in the absolutely amazing views, and tell myself, “I will make it even if it takes all day.”
As it turned out, it didn’t take all day to reach the summit (just an hour and a half). When we got there at 0721 in the morning, a few other people were posing at the sign. They stayed long enough to take a few pictures, then headed out. I had climber 19,341 feet for this one moment. I wasn’t going to be deprived. The wind was howling, it was well below freezing (-20), and there I stood. The sense of accomplishment was great, but it was shadowed by the knowledge that I still had nine to ten hours of trekking ahead of me.
Charles and I had our picture made standing in front of the sign, then Charles made a few of me. I had taken my right glove off to use my camera. I left it off for about two minutes too long. The back of my hand become frost burned…a rookie mistake. Charles was now very cold, so we started back down the mountain toward Kibo Hut retracing our steps.
The journey back was very tough on my knees; the boulders, rocks, and scree don’t allow for steady footing. You slide down more than walk. It was probably a good thing we climbed in the dark, because the hundreds of switchbacks though the boulders would have been very intimidating had we seen them up close.
Once back at Kibo, covered from head to toe in volcanic dust, I thought about the climb. About achieving a long time dream. About overcoming physical and psychological obstacles. About the beauty of this world. About the kindness of other men. But most of all, about how fortunate I was to be there at all. I had been where only a small percentage of the human race had been. I was, and still am, a very lucky man.
Lawyair On The Run 