Reaching Higher Ground

Eleven p.m. comes early, especially when you’ve only had three hours of oxygen-deprived “sleep,” hiked for five days prior to that, and lived on a diet of Cliff Bars, Gatorade, and Tanzanian porridge. But that was the time our climbing guide Nick told us to wake up and begin our push to the summit of Mt. Kilmanjaro. All in all, there were five people in our climbing party: me, two talkative and middle-aged guys from California who regaled us with stories of climbing Mount Shasta - in what was always a snowstorm, my good friend Buddy, and a high maintenance woman named Sharice whose complaints increased with every 100 feet in elevation gain.

All in all, there were five people in our climbing party: me, two talkative and middle-aged guys from California who regaled us with stories of climbing Mount Shasta -in what was always a snowstorm, my good friend Buddy, and a high maintenance woman named Sharice whose complaints increased with every 100 feet in elevation gain.

Kilmanjaro is a dormant volcano – thank goodness – and the highest point on the African continent, topping out at 19,341 feet. About 25,000 people attempt the climb each year and about half don’t make it because of varying degrees of altitude sickness where symptoms include nausea, severe headaches, dizziness, loss of appetite, shortness of breath, lack of sleep -- just to name a few.

Did I mention I paid good money for this?

Now it’s midnight, and we are assembled tent-side in the dark, dressed in our puffy jackets taking turns blinding each other with headlamps that would hopefully help us navigate the four thousand vertical feet to the summit which, according to Nick, will take about seven hours.

Ugh.

Hiking in the dark is kind of what you would expect: Kind of spooky; kind of exciting; at times, mesmerizing. Combine that with that fact there is half as much available oxygen than at sea level, and you have the makings for interesting evening.


This goes on from midnight until seven in the morning. Alas, the sun finally rises and reveals what looks very much like a lunar landscape, except for the patches of snow and receeding glaciers. The mood of the climbing party changes because we know we’re getting close. We stagger up to the rim of the volcano - Stella Point, elevation 18,800 ft – where we snack on Pringles and RedBull of all things, compliments of our guide. Would’ve been nice if he popped those open, say, maybe four days ago?

It takes bout another half hour to reach the summit where we gather for requisite photos and high-fives. It’s hard to imagine but all of Africa is below me, beneath the clouds. There’s no way to go any higher unless I climbed atop the congratulatory sign at the summit. I reached a new physical and an emotional high and am reminded that anything is possible if you put your mind to it. Now, it’s time to put my mind to getting off this mountain.