#stella point

[cuprikorn]

[cheersmylove]

Saturday 7th June, 2014 [Day 7 Barafu Camp to Mweka Gate]

It’s the final countdown… Woohoo! Loved down hill and leapt from rock to rock for a good 90 minutes. The downhill motion did take its toll on the old toes though and oddly enough, I never had sore muscles following our long treks and yet following our speedy descent, I was walking like an old man! I say that and yet I kind of rejoiced in the muscle pain. I’m so very lucky that I’d borrowed my boots so not a single blister bandaid was required but today my toes just gave up and about 20 minutes from the entrance gate, my boots came off. It was muddy and pebbly in these parts of the rainforest but the mushiness of the mud was welcome relief. Received a fair amount of laughs and odd looks but all in all, those boots had been really good to my feet 95% of the time!

Our final supper all together was a lovely outdoor lunch at the entrance to Kilimanjaro National Park. I’d seen an older woman who called out to me saying words to the effect “Pole sana na congratulations!” After our lunch, I had one of the CEOs translate some words that I wanted to share with her. I wanted to “prove” my Tanzanian credentials by letting her know where I was from and I wanted to express my thanks for her earlier words and perform a sort of greeting that one does for their elders in Tanzania. She seemed to take it well. Now, how can I forget what happened after breakfast? There’d been another singing presentation done by the G Fighters and CEOs which was an absolute blast. Looking forward to sharing the edited footage but what made this performance that much sweeter than their introductory one was that they knew us and we them. You suddenly see Lazaro the man who’d wake us up, bring us our tea, serve our meals doing the lead in various numbers or a seemingly shy person dancing as everyone else claps out a rhythm. Very, very, very cool! Exilema and I did our own version of one of their songs then proceeded to mangle what little we knew of the Tanzanian national anthem. That triggered a disagreement between the bus load of guys which amused us to no end and we may have high fived one another due to the comedic war we’d begun. “No, the verse begins with Africa!” “No, you start with Tanzania!” “Uh, uh! In this section you sing it twice.” I think our Mum will be surprised by how much Swahili we’ve picked up!

Even though my feet are killing me and my knees are feeling things no knees have any business feeling plus my bank card got swallowed up by an ATM, this was a fantastic day. That first shower was amazing! Bumping into fellow soon-to-be Kili trekkers at Reception and then bumping into all bar one of our party and deciding, spontaneously to have dinner together were wonderful. I could tell that I was more myself and no longer affected by the altitude as I was singing once more. Near the end of our dinner, I’d called out to the Australian I’d spoken to earlier and it set off this great discussion between his table and ours… The before and after table. Still hobbling like an old man mind and like I said on the bus ride back to Sal Salinero… I now get why my sister and I are the way we are with singing and creating. It’s because Tanzanians are the same. There was constant singing, friendliness, friendly greetings, more singing. I saw that artistic side reflected in all of them! Pain aside, I am so damn proud of Liv and Kjell. I’m proud of Suzi, Amber and Ex and the G Fighters and CEOs. We became a family. We climbed the mountain and did things ‘pa moja’ which means altogether. You will learn about resilience, about mental toughness, about weakness, about limits, pushing the boundaries, making lifelong memories and you will learn of what it means to cherish that first hot shower after six days without! I’m so very glad that I went. I actually got to witness a part of that glorious majesty.

[thomasjmathew]

Update 13: Summit

Aaron has his serious face on. "This is going to require endurance. It is going to be very very hard. I need you to defeat the demons in you that say you can't do it."

We're sitting in the mess tent, grim and mostly silent. I managed to get some sleep, but every time I stirred or rolled over I could hear Carol wasn't so lucky. Eventually, ten minutes before our wake-up call was due, she started getting dressed. "There's just no point," she muttered. "The damn tent is flapping so much in the wind I can't hear myself think, never mind sleep." I grumble and roll over. Maybe I can delay this a bit longer. The next thing I know, there is a jingle at the zip and a cheerful Swahilli voice says "Hello? Hello? It's time to wake up."

There's no ginger tea today - I think they're concerned for our stomachs as it is. The itinerary briskly states "rapid ascent can cause digestive gases to suddenly expand. Many climbers take Immodium before summit attempt." Hooray.

Aaron is talking again. He says "those of you who went for a walk yesterday might have seen how steep the trail is. It doesn't stay like that. Don't be afraid." We're setting off, all of us with the four guides and a summit porter, Remi, who until now has served as the cook's dogsbody. I ask Aaron why we need so many people - he guffaws sickeningly and chuckles "to carry your bag!" This doesn't sound awesome at all.

We leave camp after a handful of ginger biscuits and a mug of tea. The path out of Barafu is exactly as bad as it could possibly be - shattered slabs of rock in careless tumbling piles. All around us I can see other parties making their way up the slope from different directions, looking very much like lines of American Negro slaves, chained together at the ankles and shuffling up the mountain, the image ruined only by the neon-coloured gear and modern headlights.

We've walked pole-pole before, but this is something else. Imagine you're strolling down a beach at sunset, hand in hand with your beloved. Now halve that speed, halve it again, and put in a thoughtful pause between lowering one leg and lifting the other. That's probably not slow enough. Now imagine the beach is made of ankle-breakingly precarious rocks, slopes upward at 50 degrees to the horizontal, it's somewhere around -10 degrees celcius out, and there's a howling wind. Also, your beloved is a trekking pole.

"Hey Tom," Aaron says, warming up for our favourite joke. "Let's Cruise!" There's a chuckle, and then he says "you walk at front, with me." I'm not sure what this is about, but I have a theory; despite my protests to the contrary, they've seen me arriving later than everyone else at camp and assumed I'm not coping well. On the contrary, I'm just super cautious and really taking it easy. Still, no complaints. It's quite something to walk with the big man himself, never mind by invitation.

We walk. Eventually the shattered rocks give way to loose gravelly scree which is disappointingly not yet frozen solid, and it slips and slides under our boots. Aaron is zig-zagging up the face of the mountain, lessening the rate of ascent by walking back and forth, back and forth, snake-like, up the gulley.

Five minutes out of camp, I realise I've left my sunglasses behind. "Aaron," I call, shouting above the snow. "I've left my sunglasses behind. Will I survive the snow?" He looks at me for a while.

"Where did you leave them?"

"Hanging up in the middle of my tent. Why?"

He says nothing, then yells down the line to Remi in Swahilli. They have a brief exchange, and we carry on walking. I daren't hope that against all sensible odds, he's sent Remi back to camp to get my glasses, and Aaron doesn't give away any clues. We walk in silence, and every so often he turns his head just far enough to catch me in his outer preipheral vision, waits like that for half a second, and turns back to the path. It's quite spooky.

My sense of time completely breaks. I'm aware of nothing besides my feet, looking down and putting them, half a step later, into Aaron's footprints. I try looking up at the mountain a few times, but it makes me feel ill. We stop for our first break and I catch up with Carol, who has been near the back of the line. She's very unhappy: something has gone wrong with her back and the hunched-over shuffling posture up the hill has left her in a lot of pain. Deputy guide James tries to take her bag for her, but she resists. I snap at her that it's no time for heroism, instantly feel bad, and make to turn around to comfort her just as Aaron calls the end of the rest. We can't stand around long or we'll freeze. I'm fiddling with my trekking poles and Aaron pulls me to the front again, right behind him.

Once, I fall out of pace with him and drift about half a metre back. The assistant guides have been herding us, walking on either side of our single-file pack, and in an instant Nicholas swoops down on me, siezes me by the arm, pulls me toward Aaron and tersely says "Keep your pace."

We stop again. It's good to rest (standing up only) and have something to drink. I look for Carol and can't find her. Surely not...? I spot Margie and call her over. "Where's Carol?"

"At the back. There! She's not doing well."

I can hear violent, retching coughing and see James, carrying Carol's pack on his back, linked arms with her, helping her, wheezing, uphill. She's obviously very upset and I want to help her, but I know that if I take one step downhill it will be that much harder to get going uphill again. This is torture.

I take a pee break and the howling wind forces me either to face the crowds or wet myself. Public nudity be damned, this is a mountain emergency. Either everyone is super tactful or too wrapped up in their own misery to notice.

We're walking through the snow now. There is a narrow path of clear ground straight through the snow, but we're still snaking back and forth across the mountain, crossing over the path on every loop. Johan is behind me - I discover this when he says, sounding wan: "Aaronie, I need to rest". Like a trooper, Aaron simply says "Not yet. I show you place to rest soon."

  Eventually, we stop again. The cheerful round face of Remi floats into view and he waves my sunglasses at me. I could kiss him. I say Asante sana as many times as the thin air will alow and pocket them. What a trooper.

There are two summit points on this route. Stella Point is the top of the ridge we are currently slogging towards, at 5739m above sea level. This ridge is the remains of the volcanic crater rim, and if you follow the ridge leftwards for 1.2km you will reach Uhuru at 5895m, the official highest point in Africa. From our vantage point on the slope we can still see the city lights of Moshi, far, far below us. It's just another one of the bizarre details that make this climb so mind-bending.

When the wind gusts upward, I can hear Carol, far below me, screaming and gasping for air. I'm feeling strong now, having shaken off a spell of tiredness that left me half-dozing off between each footfall, and I call Aaron again. "Aaron? Tell me quietly, I know you don't like to talk about it. Is she okay? Is she going to make it?"

He looks at me for a while. I know he has the answer; him and James have been bellowing back and forth at each other in Swahilli non-stop. Eventually he says to me "Look there, that rock. That's Stella Point. We are nearly there." He pauses. "Likely she will turn back at Stella," he sighs.

I'm okay with that. If we can all make it to Stella Point, that's something.

As it turns out, we're not nearly there at all. The middle and ring finger of my right hand freeze and I have to do a dangerous fiddle, taking off my outer waterproof mittens, to dig in my jacket pocket with my dead, claw-like hand, for a second hand-warmer. Two minutes later, once I'm all wrapped up again, I start to feel the blood coming back and it's a burning, searing pain like I've never experienced before. It's all I can do not to scream.

Some time later, I'm behind Aaron on the slope and I'm aware of a change in the light. Sunrise! We've been hiking for around six hours, just slowly grinding up the same damn slope, and the sun has burst through the low-lying cloud on the plains far below us.

I turn around to take a picture. This entails plating my trekking poles in the snow, pinching my right mitten in my left underarm and pulling it off. Then I can use my liner-gloved hand to open my jacket breast pocket, take out my phone, and unlock it. I then pull the buff off my face to use my nose to activate camera mode on the touchscreen, take a couple snaps, and put it back. By the time I have the buff around my face again, the moisture in it has frozen solid. This happens every time.

In the new light I realise Stella Point is right there, and within moments I'm at the top. The sun is creeping over the ridge, lighting the rim of the crater that will lead me to Uhuru.

  Spirits are high. We're so close!

  Carol is still making her way up the mountain. From here I can see that she's coughing so hard she totally loses her balance and James is completely holding her up. I'm trying not to think the words "Pulmonary Oedema" and wondering if she shouldn't have turned back... And now she's within earshot. I point the camera at her and yell "Smile and wave!". Her response: a wheezy, tortured "Fuckoff". Oh dear.

The guides are shooing us away from Stella towards Uhuru. Margie and I want to wait for Carol in case she's going back down and this is our last photo opportunity. I'm also aware that Carol is wearing her NSRI shirt in honour of Dale. If she turns around, Margie and I are talking about taking it up for her.

We can't hang around here much longer. I see Aaron on his knees in the snow, trying to talk to Carol. Through the wind I can hear a horrible gasp, then "If I was going to die of pulmonary oedema it would have happened already. I'm going to the top." That's my girl!

I'm striding along the ridge, checking behind me every few seconds to see Carol still fighting her way towards Uhuru. To either side of us, the glaciers are putting on an excellent show.

  I'm mildly surprised to note I'm still walking along the ridge. Then the path turns, and a small green signboard in the distance, surrounded by a gaggle of luminous jackets, tells me I am about to arrive on the roof of Africa. I'm still not sure how I feel about it, but it's good to be walking.

  We watch menbers of our party taking snaps until Carol arrives. I put on my loud voice and order everyone away: Carol has to get her photo and get down the mountain as fast as possible. James helps her out of three outer layers, she raises both arms with her back to me, and we're done.

  I have a selfish moment, throw my phone to someone nearby and grab Carol. "One of us together?" I shout. Click. Click. A second later, Margie has joined us. Two more shots, and then Carol is gone, down the mountain with James to safety.

It feels like I could stay up here forever. The glaciers look, in Margie's words, completely edible, the air is clear and crisp... and my CamelBak hose has frozen solid. Oops. I dump my bag on the ground, fish out a spare bottle of EnduraPower sports electrolyte, and am startled to discover I can put away 600ml without looking up. I shoot some more photographs (frozen hand and buff again) and listen to the tourists babbling. The enormity of where I am is slowly starting to dawn on me and my breathing shudders in a heavy, dry sob of utter elation. I don't know if I'm laughing or crying, my body shaking with adrenaline and a million emotions. It's a feeling I can't explain... the closest I have ever felt to this is the sensation of running a half marathon and discovering in the last 1500m that I'm about to break a personal record.

The sun over Stella Point isn't helping me regain control of my limbs either:

    It's one of the most magical experiences of my life. Let me tell you, if you have any inclination to climb this mountain, book tomorrow. I left Cape Town a few days ago skeptical of the people who talk about mountain climbing as some sort of spiritual or emotional experience, but it's true: there's some magic in the mountain. I don't know what it is or how it works, but something happened to me up there that I will never forget.

[theworldisourdistrict]

Climbing Kilimanjaro: Summit Night

Summit night on #Kilimanjaro with @gAdventures #travel #tanzania #ttot

**EDITORS NOTE: just in case you’re starting the story from here…at this point of the climb I’d been severely ill with gastroenteritis type symptoms, which goes a certain point to explaining the horrible thing that’s about to happen…sorry. That’s also why…

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