By George Deeb

STARTING OUR ASCENT
We arrived at the Marangu Gate to Mount Kilimanjaro (on the border of Tanzania and Kenya) at 2:30 pm, eight and a half hours after our departure from Nairobi that morning and a half an hour after the gate "officially" closed. But our sweet talking guide, trying to sweeten his tip, got us into the park. The 30 porters had already arrived and were just sitting around sizing up our group of 14 unsuspecting Americans, and first timers in terms of mountaineering and high altitude trekking.

This tradition is strictly forbidden to be spoken about with tourists, for I tried on several occasions, but it was obvious; the porters were setting odds and placing bets on each one of us individually. All talking in Swahili to disguise their misdealings, the leader would point to one of us, all heads would turn to that person and the rest was like watching traders on the New York Stock Exchange. I did not realize this was going on until I heard "Michigan Hat" intermingled in a sentence of Swahili, and I turned around to see the porters sizing me up as I adjusted my "M" cap. The best I could do was to stick out my chest, suck in my gut and pray my odds were not the worst of the group.

After months of serious physical training, I was as ready as I would ever be, as we set off on our three-hour hike through a rain forest to Mandara Hut, elevation 9,400 feet above sea level.

When I learned the first terrain we would experience was a rain forest, I thought of palm trees and oversized ferns like I saw in Belize. This rain forest had a much less tropical feel and is better described as a hot, humid trek through dense, unrecognizable foliage. The hike itself was totally uphill with varying degrees of steepness, but nothing less than a real workout. The terrain started off over grass and rocks until we actually entered the rain forest, where the terrain was damp, muddy soil. We did not see any wildlife of mention except for one troop of monkeys in the treetops above, looking over the next group of suckers to attempt their hike. I am not taking nearly as many pictures as I anticipated given my lack of motivation to do so, completely focusing my efforts on getting up the mountain.

Our group split up into multiple sub-groups, broken approximately into fast, medium and slow. Since my goal did not include getting into any record books, I went with Jamie and Terri at a very leisurely, yet challenging, slow place. The energy exerted at this early level was much greater than I ever expected. The humidity and heat trapped by the rain forest only added to the sweat created by physical exertion. Huffing, puffing, sweating and likewise, we marched on. I also quickly learned the lesson of packing your daypack with only the essentials needed for the day. I was carrying enough heavy candy bars and other stuff to last two weeks, and it definitely took its toll on my shoulders and back.

What was even more frustrating was watching the porters carrying our 40 pound baggage on their heads and laden with a bunch of other essentials (e.g., food, firewood). They were going up the mountain like it was nothing at all and could only think of them laughing at us and increasing the odds on their wagers.

Finally, after a grueling three-hour hike, we successfully reached Mandara Hut. It had started to rain for the last fifteen minutes of our hike, which did not help things, but Jamie and I were the last ones to pull into the campsite. Here I am, in the best shape of my life, finishing the day's journey in last place of our 15-person group!! What a mental obstacle!! Steam was billowing off of Jamie and me, given the heat of our bodies at this slightly cooler temperature. My legs and shoulders were dead, and all I could think about was food and sleep.

The tin and wood A-frame huts each slept four persons and looked to me like the Plaza Hotel after what we had just been through. After an interesting experience in the primitive bathroom, or should I say hole in the ground, it was off to bed. Tomorrow we will depart for Horombo Hut, I hope my legs will be ready.

TO HOROMBO HUT (12,340 FEET)
Upon waking, I felt much better and my legs were tight, but not as sore as expected. But, as luck would have it, the rain that started at the end of yesterday's journey only got worse and would continue to challenge our uphill ascent through muddy trails. The rain could be the greatest enemy we have had to meet so far.

After breakfast, I got out my rain gear and did my best to cover my luggage in plastic as we began day two. We would continue to march through rain forest for the first hour of what would become a five and a half hour trek. Rain made the trails slippery, often becoming mini-rivers, which did not bode well for my Reebok hiking boots or running pants half way through the trip. The water increased the weight of my feet and legs, offsetting the excess weight I removed from my daypack the night before. My glasses were wet and foggy, and eventually, I took them off to see better. Next time I do this, Gore-Tex waterproof boots and apparel are a must.

Upon leaving the rain forest, the terrain became mountain meadow and eventually became rocky trails. The path would sometimes take a downhill rest, but for the most part, it was a very steep uphill ascent. On top of the rain, wet boots and fatigue, I could sense the altitude was starting to take its toll. At one point, I would walk up fifty yards and have to rest for a minute, several times in succession, in order to make it up a particular steep incline.

But determination kept us going, and everyone eventually made it to Horombo Hut in approximately the same order as the day before. The only exception was John, perhaps the best athlete among us, who was struggling near the end since he had not been taking his altitude sickness pills. John and Peter had unsettled stomachs because of the trek. I think Peter's problem was that he was simply going too fast. We finally met up with Erik at this point, who was in great spirits, despite his nine-hour haul in one-day to catch up to us.

The view up there was unbelievable. We were actually above the clouds and the stars at night are brighter than I have ever seen. I could actually see the Milky Way, and the Big Dipper was upside down given our locale. It felt like you were in outer space. It was here you could finally see the snow-topped peak of the mountain, which looked spectacular and nerve-racking at the same time. The mood of the group is getting more nervous, but we are still confident we will reach the top if we take our time. The stories we are hearing from successful climbers coming down are not helping things in the least. This is definitely going to be a battle of mind, and heart, over matter.

Day three of our hike is our rest day here at Horombo Hut. Here we will rest, think and prepare for tomorrow's hike to Kibo Hut. We spent most of the day trying to dry our clothes near the fire and can only hope it does not rain over the next 24 hours. Today was a beautiful, sunny day. I hope that is a good sign.

TO KIBO HUT (15,520 FEET)
Well, the marathon day had finally arrived, a mere 24 hours from now, we will have hopefully reached the summit. But before we begin our trek to the peak, we have a four-hour hike to the Kibo Hut at 15,520 feet above sea level beginning at 9:00 a.m. on the fourth day of our journey.

As luck would have it, the only sun we have seen came on our day of rest. Today's weather starts off drizzling and proceeds to turn into rain showers, making trail conditions muddy for the early part of the day. The terrain begins as rocks and smaller foliage and turns into an Arizona-like landscape of never-ending uphill, red-sand trails.

Today, I finally got the physical performance I expected of myself, jumping from last place to the lead pack, consisting of Chris, Lisa, Kate, John, Dave and myself. All other trekkers continued on their normal pace except for Peter, who intentionally fell to the back of the pack to help Tammy, who was having problems hiking given the altitude.

After a dramatic increase in steepness to an otherwise gradual uphill trek, we finally arrived at Kibo Hut, roughly three hours after departure, or one hour ahead of schedule. We had made great time considering our guide rolled in approximately one hour later.

Kibo would serve as our resting grounds from 2:00 pm to midnight before our early morning assault on King Kilimanjaro. Altitude was really starting to take its toll on our group, as many of us got headaches at this level. Not surprising, since the oxygen level at this altitude is half of the level normally experienced at sea level. Two common ailments at this altitude include lack of appetite and lack of sleep. The former could not be further from reality as we ravaged through a carbohydrate intensive spaghetti dinner. The latter, on the other hand, was dead on. We all went to bed around 5:00 pm, and I could hear most of the group tossing around for several hours thereafter. I am lucky if I got two to three hours of sleep before our guide woke us up at midnight for a cup of black tea to help us on our way.

The Kibo Hut was so cold that one of the lenses of my eyeglasses chipped off on contact and one of the noseguards snapped off when I tried to adjust it. Unfortunately, Lenscrafters was a little inaccessible at 15,000 feet above sea level!! More frustrating was the fact that none of our wet clothes were drying, making us each careful in allotting our apparel needs for the week.

Final preparations were made at this time. I took Advil to reduce my headache, I increased the dosage of my altitude sickness pills and I chowed down a Reese's peanut butter cup for extra energy. This last point had my week's supply of the candy in high demand and led to several successful trades along the way.

TO GILMAN'S POINT (18,500 FEET)
Mount Kilimanjaro actually has two goal points: Gilman's Point at 18,500 feet, the most tackled by tourists, and Uhuru Peak at 19,300 feet, for the really head strong. The goal of our group was Gilman's Point given the forecasted snowstorm at dawn.

All of us tired"yet excited"trekkers assume our position in a single-file line following our guide out from Kibo Hut at 1:00 am. Since I was using two walking sticks, I put my needed flashlight on the outside of my backpack, so the people behind me could see better. I then decided to follow somebody else with a flashlight, and who better than our guide and leader, Peter. That made me the first person of our group to assault the mountain. Funny, I felt more like Bob Eucker in the front row than a fearless leader!!

Anyway, on we marched...or should I say snail-crawled, up the mountain. We each were taking baby steps to conserve energy and better regulate our gasping for air at these levels. More importantly, slower was better given our newest peril...the snowstorm, which covered our path and reduced our vision (of which mine was already limited given the destruction of my glasses). The snow wasn't bad at first, but it proceeded to intensify with high winds as we continued closer to the top.

So far, so good. Everybody was doing well, or well enough given the conditions, as we reached William's Point at 16,500 feet. We couldn't just go straight up the mountain given the steepness, so we snaked back and forth as a sailor does when he tacks into the wind. I feel good here; my mind and body are 100% in the game as we reach Hans Meyer Cave for a wind-sheltered rest at 17,000 feet. Several people of the group are not as fortunate as the altitude brought on increased headaches and nausea. At this point, I popped in half a Snickers Bar and some more water to keep the engine going.

What followed was an increase in steepness to an already steep ascent. Huffing and puffing, baby steps, lots of short water breaks and, oh by the way, colder temperature and increased winds. I didn't know Africa could get so cold. If I didn't know better, I would have likened the situation to Ernest Shackleton exploring the South Pole.

Here is where the mind starts playing games with your body. Your brain is saying, 'What the Hell are you doing you stupid fool?" Increasing the physical pain from fatigue and the cold. I tried to think of anything to make me feel better: the beaches of Cancun, Michigan whooping Notre Dame, whatever. Finally, I broke and needed to slow my already snail-like pace. I took a long breather at 18,000 feet and fell in near the end of the single file line. Once again, a recurring theme of this trek reared its ugly head and played all kinds of nasty mind games.

The snow became deeper; the temperature felt sub-zero and the winds were blustery. I no longer had sensation in my fingers; they were numb and immobile, infringing on the use of my much-needed walking sticks. Dave slipped in some hand warmers that did not help much. I had almost completely lost hope until Peter came along to coach me further and keep an eye on me.

Peter kept repeating, "six steps, rest; six steps, rest." His encouragement kept me going. The terrain became nearly impossible: straight up large, snow covered rocks to the pinnacle. I asked the guide how much longer, and he finally broke his string of silence and said, "40 more minutes, maybe 35." I just about died, for we had already been scaling towards the peak for the last four and a half hours.

Pete kept me going. Slow, but sure, one foot in front of the other. I was surely delirious. I began to see blue dots and did not have full equilibrium, continually resting on my walking sticks. The altitude was winning and no motivation could beat that. But in my last ditch effort, I saw a group gathering about 50 yards ahead, THEY had reached Gilman's Point!!

With the break of dawn brightening the darkness of the last five hours, I concentrated, took a deep breath and took the last few steps towards the top. I had done it!! But, exhaustion, the snowstorm and the altitude prevented me from enjoying the moment. As the rest of the group stood around and took pictures, I just stood there and rested.

EPILOGUE
Mount Kilimanjaro, the highest mountain in the world not part of a range, was successfully conquered by most of our group. The porters were in shock that 14 of 15 had made it to Gilman's Point, and I am sure there were a lot of unhappy bettors at the end of our trip as the park warden handed us each a certificate commemorating the accomplishment.

Reflecting on the week, it is easy to say that hiking Mount Kilimanjaro was the most physically (and mentally) challenging feat I have ever undertaken. It is filled with memories for a lifetime and I am definitely glad I did it. Would I do it again? Probably not. But if I did, I would keep the following under consideration. The trek would have been much more bearable under drier, warmer conditions, making August perhaps the best month to take the challenge (not May during the rainy season). It would have been a lot easier to motivate myself up the mountain if I could have seen blue skies in the morning stretching as far as the eye could see, rather than the snow storm and winds which limited visibility and forced me down the mountain prior to the peak.

Am I disappointed I did not make Uhuru Peak? Not really, especially given the fact the conditions were so miserable. You could not see the crater at the top of the mountain, you could not see the horizon, you could not see anything except the ice shelf below your feet. Had it had been a clear day as described in Michael Crichton's "Travels," you can bet I would have pushed harder on those last 800 feet to the pinnacle.

But, nonetheless, Mount Kilimanjaro offered an adventure of a lifetime that I will never forget. Is it time to start training for Mount Everest (altitude over 29,000 feet)? I don't think so!! Not yet anyway!! Until next time, "Kwaheri" and good bye.

Date Entered: 1/24/2000