by Emily Sopensky

Ten years ago, the dinner conversation turned to climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro. One of the guests explained that no special skills were required; just tenacity and stamina. Besides studying Hemingway’s "The Snows of Kilimanjaro" in high school, her account was my first real brush with the famed mountain. Nonetheless, I decided then to begin my next decade by climbing the tallest mountain on the African continent.

But as the time neared, panic set in. With my work tied to my laptop, spending two weeks without it — even to climb one of the Seven Summits — seemed more daunting than the actual climb itself..

	A dream realized.

Back from Africa, I’m ready to affirm that living without it was absolutely worth it. But those who haven’t gone up the mountain may wonder, why climb?

Why climb

The motivation for scaling the heights of the highest free-standing mountain in the world is rarely complex. "Because it’s there" is often a refrain. But many are also inspired by the mountain’s air of intrigue and mystery.

Chris John, a local business owner, and his wife climbed five years ago during a six-month backpacking sabbatical. He explained, "Kilimanjaro was always high on our to-do list because itís there Thereís also its mystique. Many have written about it. And, thereís the legend about the little jog to the northeast boundary of Tanzania. It is said that Queen Victoria redrew the boundaries of Kenya to give the mountain to her grandson."

Since Kilimanjaro is not a technical climb, only a long, oxygen-deprived trek up a very tall mountain, it attracts many hikers. At the campsite before the final ascent, I met six Americans. One of them, J.J. an investment banker, told me, "We’re not technical climbers. For us, this is an accessible mountain that’s still a challenge."

The experience says it all. The following excerpts are from my journal.

Tuesday-Thursday, en route

My flight to Nairobi International Airport, Kenya took 17 hours with a complimentary 17-hour layover in Gatwick Airport. The Riverside Shuttle to Arusha, Tanzania, the town near the base of Kilimanjaro, picked me up at the airport. Three hours later we stopped at the border to shuffle into the border control house to have our visas checked and passports stamped.

As the sun begins to set, I finally spy the awesome lone mountain dominating the flat, stark landscape. As we draw nearer and nearer, I find myself obsessively drawn to the monolith. It dawns on me that maybe, just maybe, I might not reach the top, that this might be just a little too daunting for someone who sprinkles her conversation with apologies about another "senior" moment when a familiar name gets trapped somewhere in my mind's labyrinth. Thankfully, night falls and I no longer have the mountain piercing my skull with its omnipotence.

	To ensure a good start, a walking stick is proffered for 5 USD.

Speeding is totally impossible on the heavily rutted cow path that leads to the bed-and-breakfast appropriately named "The Oasis." Even in the night I can see the clipped Bermuda grass. Gideon Saul, the owner of Klub Afriko, welcomes me to Tanzania by buying me a beer, while we discuss the next day.

Day 1-Machame Hut

Todaius arrives early to take me to the Machame Gate where we meet my guide and porters who will get me up the 19,980 feet. During the half-hour drive, he tells me he has 32 guides working for him and that he once led Jimmy Carter and his wife Roslyn up the mountain to Shira Hut.

My guide, Lekule, introduces me to his assistant Antone and two porters, Reginald and Lossum. I try to put on my pack, but Antone politely takes it from me and hoists it onto his back.

The steep muddy rain forest trail we climb seems like a walk in the park. About six hours later at the first campsite, called Machame Hut, my tent is already pitched.

While the light is good, I visit the other tents. I find two London couples, Sarah and Charles, and Mark and Anna, four Danes, a German couple and two Belgians. I sense that I’ve infringed on forbidden territory when I approach the porters and guides who are gathered in a hollow where they are cooking and lounging.

As the sun begins to set, the clouds hiding Kilimanjaro begin to lift. Not until the full moon lights the night sky can I see the true majesty of this mountain. To my left, I can see the awesome Mt. Meru.

Day 2-Shira Hut

	Mark and Anna, two Londoners on honeymoon, warm up to the early morning air over a full breakfast spread of hot cereal, toast, fruit, and of course tea.

As we begin trekking, Lekule points to the surrounding treeless hills explaining that four years ago there was a forest fire. The region reminds me of the high plateaus of the southwest U.S. with tiny conifers and straw flowers. Lekule very politely insists that he lead because I was going too fast. "Slowly, slowly" is the incantation heard over and over as guides caution their clients about going up too fast.

When we arrive at the next campsite, Shira Hut (3800m), it starts to snow. But the skies clear by evening, providing another spectacular view of the mountain as dusk settles. Later, I brave the chilly night as drinking a lot of water takes its toll. But I’m greatly rewarded by a breathtaking panorama of the snow glistening under the light of the full moon. It is mine alone to experience, leaving me feeling exhilarated to be in such a majestic and dominating presence.

Day 3-Barranco Hut

As the sun goes up, the layers of clothing come off. For tomorrow, I plan to follow Charles’ lead. Though dressed practically, he is a GQ fashion statement dressed in olive green walking, shorts, shirt, socks and Tilly hat. Boulders and sparse tall grasses dominate the landscape as we stay at the same altitude — just under 13,000 feet — and walk "around" the plateau to acclimatize. According to Lekule, the five-hour hike to Barranco Hut has "three ups and three downs."

	An early morning view of Barranco Wall and Kilimanjaro from Barranco Hut.

Two trekkers, a German couple, come from the valley below to "stroll" to an outlook point, which I can easily spot from my tent. Despite my wobbly legs, I put on my boots and trek to the precipice about a quarter of a mile away. The vastness and the drop are astounding.

Pointing to the Barranco Wall, Lekule tells me we will climb it tomorrow. Kilimanjaro is intimidating but still remote. But I can’t imagine climbing the wall; from here it looks impossible. He tells me, "Wear gloves because the rocks you will touch are cold and sharp." For the first time he insists that I take a walking stick.

Day 4-Barafu Hut

Last night’s sky was once again very clear. I could see the lights of Moshi far below us. Today, the outlines of Kili are gone and Moshi is somewhere under a cloud bank.

By the time we arrive at Barafu, a Swahili word meaning "ice," I’m irritable, tired and hungry. We are on a very small, forlorn rocky plateau that stands at 15,000 feet. Snow lightly swirls around my tent that is surrounded by a rock fence that requires careful navigation. Just the sight of the minor barrier makes me cringe. It was a rough day up sheer cliffs, looking for handholds on the rock face. We walked miles up and down shale hills, shuffled over slate and crossed three streams.

To prepare for the six-hour final ascent, Lekule tells me to rest a few hours, wear three pairs of socks and take two poles.

Day 5- Mwenka Hut

What a day! We start trekking at midnight under the moonlight. Lights from headlamps shine in the distance from those who have preceded us. With my borrowed balaclava covering my ears, it is all too easy to imagine sounds during the moonscaped ascent. But it is eerily quiet. The only real sounds are of feet trudging through the scree. The water in my bottle begins to freeze. At sunrise, we arrive at Stella’s Point. Uhru’s Peak is just a few agonizing minutes away. I’m too tired to enjoy the moment.

As I suspected, going down is worse than going up. Seeing my first timid steps into the scree, Lekule pins my arm against his side. We "ski" in tandem down the steep slopes, narrowly missing boulders placed there as obstacles to our descent.

The trail to Mwenka Hut is all downhill with no plateaus to soften the monotony. My toes begin to ache as they hit the end of my boots with each step. Porters blaze past us as I hit my lowest energy level.

	At the end of the trek, Lekule and porters serenade me and record the Kilimanjaro song.

When we finally arrive, I’m so sore that I can’t think of sitting down. So I grab my cameras and visit those already there. The Belgians, who passed me long ago, are lying on the grass still in their climbing gear, too tired to go to their tent.

I’m in bed before 7pm.

Day 6-Mawenka Gate

The 3-hour trek this morning is again through the rain forest. While it hasn’t rained in two weeks, the path is slippery with some footprints a foot deep in packed mud. When we arrive at the Mwenka Gate, Lekule and my porters sing the Kilimanjaro song for me. It is a delightful farewell. I tell them "kwaheri tutaonaai" (good-bye for now).

The next day

After my 5-day trek, Gideon Saul, the owner of trip provider Klub Afriko, greets me at the bed-and-breakfast where I'll clean up and rest for a couple of days. Each standalone room is built just like an African tribe hut. The door to my Ihru hut is handcarved.

In Arusha, Gideon drives me downtown to buy souvenirs and send a few emails. We pass the site of the World Court Rwandan trials. Near the town’s center, the point where Cairo and Capetown are equidistant, is a tiny alley bazaar with fine inexpensive ebony and soapstone carvings. Nearby is an Internet café where I spend a half-hour standing in line and another half-hour sending two messages.

In the evening, Klub Afriko holds a party for its clients and the neighborhood children. Entertainment is provided by another client, Ihro Sepumen, a Finnish magician living in Las Vegas, who skydives into African tribal settlements, performs magic tricks, professionally tapes the whole thing and sells it to the Nordic TV networks.

Friday, October 2, 1999

After a day walking with giraffes, water buffaloes and elephants, I board the Riverside Shuttle for my return home. The long trip back gives me time to savor my accomplishment, so long just a dream that is now a reality. I never missed my laptop.

Left: Momella Wildlife Lodge, at the top of a mountain in Arusha National Park, is where John Wayne's "Hatari" was filmed. I stay overnight here in one of the huts with a guide and cook on my one-day safari. Right: As a curious baby giraffe looks on, my walking safari guide poses with his rifle — protection against unpredictable charging water buffaloes.

 

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