Climbing Kilimanjaro

Flying into Kilimanjaro International Airport, I glanced out the window of the plane and saw the peak of Mount Kilimanjaro in the distance. Nervousness hit as I quickly realized that the plane was possibly flying at the same height as that of the peak. My first thought was ‘what have I got myself in for?’. However those thoughts were quickly banished as Sean Wisedale, our expert mountaineer and guide, pointed out the glaciers and various summit routes distracting me from my fears.

As we were setting of the next morning, that evening involved meeting up with Nadine, a South African friend now living in the UK; repacking our gear to ensure it was organized and waterproofed in our gear bags and backpacks and having a good dinner to give us energy for the first day of hiking. Eating would quickly become a theme of the trip as we needed to keep our energy up and Sean would watch us like a hawk to assess if altitude was affecting our appetites. Scrambled eggs never tasted the same for me from three thousand metres onwards and my daily coffee became unpalatable, however it is apparently normal for one’s tastebuds to go awry at altitude.

Our planned itinerary was a seven day hike (five days up and two days down the mountain) of the Machame route. On the first day, we registered at the Machame gate (1980m), where we met our Tanzanian guides, Bongo and Bertus. With over five hundred summits between them, Nadine and I were instantly put at ease by their humour and friendliness. Although when Bongo mentioned, ‘You are going to kill the mountain, not the mountain kill you’, I quickly replied that I’d like to take it ‘pole pole’ or ‘slowly slowly’ as the Tanzanian porters say.

With Bongo organizing our porters, we set off at a slow and steady pace through the rainforest. We had an assortment of ten porters, a cook, a waiter to set up camp, carry gear, food and water just for the three of us. It all seemed a bit much initially however combined they make a slick, professional outfit and I am not sure we would have made it as easily without them. Every morning we were woken by a gentle greeting a warm mug of Milo by Goldizzi, our waiter. Once we were dressed and ready for the days hike, we communed in the mess tent for porridge, omelettes and fruit. Lunch and dinner were delicious hot, three course meals prepared by Salvatore, our chef. It astounded me that Salvatore could whip up delicious food on a one plate gas stove and I struggle in a fully equipped kitchen.

At the end of day one we arrived at the Machame camp at 3000 metres to find our tents already set up. The realities of camp life set in quickly as we were introduced to the long drop toilets or ‘internet cafes’ as our guides humorously referred to them due to the aerial pipes used to air them. It was a far politer way to ask where the toilet was and each camp was introduced citing it’s attributes. Bertus introduced one of the camps by saying that ‘there were seven internet cafes with good computers, however if you wished to use your laptop, please find the nearest bush or rock’. We were afforded the luxuary of one tent per person and a thermarest mattress to smooth out any bumpy ground. The nights were cold and we slept bundled in thermal underwear, fleece tops, a thermal sleeping bag inner and a -15 degrees C sleeping bag and as we got higher on the mountain, beanies, gloves and buffs were added.
Day two took us from Machame camp through mystical heath and moorland, complete with rolling mists and Grandfathers beard hanging off every available branch. It was a dry and dusty path as there had been very little rain recently and we climbed some very rocky terrain to the highest point of the day at 3900m before descending to Shira camp at 3800m.

Sean had Nadine and I focusing on breathing in through our noses and out through our mouths and putting one foot in front of the other. He stressed that it was important to never get out of breath, but rather to slow down and breathe deeply. It was also important that we drink three to four litres of water per day and I hadn’t quite drunk my quota by the time we arrived at camp and I had a nice dehydration headache that would teach me an unforgettable lesson. Shira camp was set on a rocky outcrop with breath taking views above the clouds. A point of great interest at this and many other camps was the helipads that had been constructed out of yellow and white painted stones for Roman Abramovich’s attempt at the Kilimanjaro summit a few weeks previously. Abramovich, along with one hundred and fifty porters had aborted their attempt at the Barafu high camp at 4600m and never got to use the helipads. The porters found the helipads amusing as any helicopters would have had to fly in from Nairobi and the ‘Kili Ambulance’ would most probably have been used in the event of an emergency.


Day three was a long day with an acclimitisation leg up to Lava tower at 4600m. We climbed steadily uphill through desolate rocky landscape and chilly mists. We made it to Lava tower for lunch, feeling good but tired. Camps were set up at Lava tower for those attempting the Western Breach summit approach. The Western breach is one of the more dangerous routes that has been closed for a few years as climbers were killed during rockfalls. A little extreme for my taste!


We quickly descended down into the valley from Lava tower as we headed towards the Barranco camp at 3980m, as part of the climb high, sleep low acclimitisation strategy. We quickly felt stronger as we descended through my favourite terrain of the trip. The Giant Lobelia and waterfalls were almost reminiscent of prehistoric times and I kept expecting a Triceratops to come loping around the corner.

Early the next morning after our daily ‘bath in a bowl’ and wet wipe shower we climbed up Barranco wall, ascending from 3980m to 4800m. It was not a technical climb however involved a bit of rock scrambling, which was surprisingly fun! I did wonder how the porters managed carrying in excess of fifteen kilograms on their heads and backs. The entire days hike took three hours, winding up and down Karanga valley until we finally arrived at Karanga camp at 3950m. At camp, we had the customary hot drink, popcorn and marie biscuits waiting for us. At altitude, my taste buds had gone slightly awry and I could no longer stomach coffee or scrambled eggs. Peanut butter and jam sandwiches became my new mountain craving while we played cards and talked about the day.

Shortly after we left Barranco camp that morning, we received news that a porter had been evacuated off the mountain with suspected pulmonary odema. It was a nasty reminder of the very real dangers faced on the mountain as 5 -8 people die every year. Day five was another short three hour hike from Karanga camp to the Barafu high camp at 4600m. It was a slow walk through barren landscape covered with broken sheets of shale that tinkled musically as they slid off the path. As I tried not to think of our summit attempt later that evening, I dremt of pizza, Coke Lite and warm showers. When we arrived at Barafu camp, we felt good considering the altitude and prepared all our gear for summit night, including snacks to maintain our energy. Mini BarOnes were a my lifesaver and would later get me through one of the longest nights I can recall. We then tried to get some sleep from 2pm to 10.30pm, although my sleep was disrupted and broken due to the lack of oxygen at 4600m.

We were woken up at 10.45pm and slowly started to put on all the layers we would need to keep warm: thermals, fleece top and trekking pants, gortex jacket, beanies, buffs, gloves and our down jackets carefully packed in our backpacks. We tried to eat a bit before we set off at 11.45pm. It was initially quite a still evening and all we followed was the pool of light in front of us, created by our headlamps. At one point, I looked up and all I could see was a weaving trail of headlamps winding up the mountain ahead of me. All I could think was ‘that is a long way to go’.

We trudged uphill in the eternal darkness, our feet slipping backwards with every step we took in the loose sand and shale. A freezing wind kept picking up and I had to think of every happy thought I could to chase away the cold and I kept wondering whose bringht idea this had been. We eventually put on our down jackets, which instantly kept me warm. I refocused my thoughts on making it to sunrise and kept watch for the morning star. On our short breaks for a drink and a Sparkle, Nadine and I often glanced at each other and shook our heads. Fatigue and tiredness due to the thinner air was definitely setting in. It was indeed one of the toughest nights I have endured. Each time I wanted a break, Bertus kept encouraging me and told me that I was strong and we would stop a little further up. I can’t recall if those stops ever came, but I do remember focusing on breathing and putting one foot in front of the other. A while later, I started to get really drowsy and felt like I was falling asleep on my feet. So I put my ipod on in an effort to stay awake. This distracted me and gave me a huge morale and energy boost, which amused Bertus who chuckled and commented that I was awake now as I picked up the pace.

Three songs later, with the morning star on the horizon, Bongo tapped me on the shoulder and told me that we were at Stella point at 5756m. This surprised me as it was still dark at 5.45am, and was far quicker that Sean had predicted, as most groups only arrive after 7am. We had a quick BarOne break and a sip from our waterbottles, as my Camelback had now frozen before setting off for Uhuru point.

As we traversed the crater rim the sun started to rise, giving us a spectacular view of the glaciers and Mount Meru in the distance. As it became lighter, the reality of what we were doing and the beauty of standing on the highest point in Africa hit me and I started to become a bit choked up. Nadine and I kept stopping to take the views in but also to rest as tiredness was starting to set in again. It was 6.30am by the time we reached Uhuru point at 5895m as we jubilantly clambered up to the summit marker to pose for our summit photos. We let out whoops of delight and big smiles on our faces. We had done it!

After taking our fill of the summit and it’s breathtaking views, we started to head down. Before I knew it, Bertus had me skiing down the loose sand and shale, using my ski poles for support. Such fun but quite scary to see some of the precarious terrain that we had come up in the dark. We arrived back at Barafu camp at 4600m, feeling much stronger and collapsed for an hours nap before heading down off the mountain in one day. A soft bed, a worm shower and a Kilimanjaro lager beackoned.