I couldn’t fall asleep for the first two hours after dinner. The really loud South African group was celebrating they’re summit this afternoon. Yes, this is the same group who guides and porters wanted to abandon them for being such jerks.
It appears their guides decided to just get them up and off the mountain as quickly as possible. So they did a mid-day summit instead of climbing during the night like we plan to do.
Once back at Barafu Camp, they had a new reason to be rowdy. They made it to the summit. And, so they spent the early evening hours being even more obnoxious around camp than before. What nonsense! At least we won’t have to deal with this tonight while we’re trying to summit.
Around 9:30 pm, I finally dozed off. But I only got an hour of sleep before our wake-up call. Part of me was really tired and wanted to stay in my warm sleeping bag and just sleep. But, I knew it was time to gear up and get going. This is what I came here for.
Let’s go!
I noticed the wind was picking up as I was trying to get to sleep that evening. I really hoped it would die down before we departed, but that didn’t happen. It was destined to be cold and windy as we made out way toward the summit, and I knew it wasn’t going to be an easy night.
As we began ascending up the route in the dark, my body was still nice and warm from our last minute tea and energy snack. But, that comfort didn’t extend to my feet or toes. They were stinging with the cold, and it took about 45 minutes of walking for the blood flow in my feet to really warm them up.
Our initial ascent out of camp was steep and involved a bit of a rock scramble. Then we passed a higher camp consisting of a large group from the UK that was climbing for charity. Their rows and rows of tents dwarfed all the other groups below in Barufu Camp.
As we continued to climb above them, the temperature dropped to 10 degrees Fahrenheit. And the sharp wind made it fell even colder. Each time we stopped for a rest break, my feet would go numb again. Then I’d spend the next half hour stomping as we climbed to get the feeling back.
The guides were super attentive to our needs during the climb. Ken and Diane weren’t taking Diamox, and they started to feel really sick around 17,000 feet. The guides quickly relieved them of their packs to assist them so they had the best chance possible of submitting.
They had to take a few breaks to throw up, and each time, Jack Bauer would come back and check on them to make sure they were safe to be on the mountain. He wasn’t going to let them go up unless he was confident they’ve come back safely. That gesture boosted our confidence in his experience and we pushed onward.
How high are we?
As we continued walking in the dark, I was exceptionally grateful for my GPS watch, which was keeping track of our altitude. All I had to do was look down at my wrist and I could see where we were and how much further we had to go up.
Monitoring our progress helped keep me focused through the long night. Every time I looked up, I could see headlamps from other climbing groups that seemed hundreds of feet higher than us. But I really had no ability to visually gauge how far we’d come in the dark and much was still ahead. The fact that I could occasionally check our altitude helped me manage my expectations.
The wind was becoming more brutal as we ascended. It was so loud in my ears that I couldn’t hear a thing, and I had to rely on the light of my headlamp to know where to go and when we were stopping. Trying to talk was nearly impossible as the wind muffled any sounds as soon as they left your mouth.
As it got colder, I got madder and madder at the wind. Why did it have to be so brutal? Why did it have to pick today to blow like this? Of course, that’s a selfish point of view and I wan’t going to have a pity party. So I changed my perspective and started fighting back. Since no one could hear me in all that noise, I started taunting the wind. I’d shout things like, “Is that all you’ve got?” “I can totally beat you at this game.” and “You can’t blow me off this mountain.”
Silly as it sounds, it worked. My mind felt stronger with each time missive. And whenever we moved in a direction where the wind was less noticeable, I felt like I was “winning” our battle on the mountain.
Everyone struggles
Despite the cold wind, I refrained from adding my last upper body layer (a thick jacket) until around 17,500 feet. I worried if I put it on too soon, I’d regret it when the cold dropped to -20 degrees.
The cold was definitely my main issue on the ascent; for other climbers their demon was the altitude. Ken and Diane weren’t the only ones to surrender their packs to the guides as we got closer to the summit.
It seemed like a guide was relieving a climber of his/her pack nearly every 20 minutes. People were struggling to breathe and walk as the air got thinner, and we had to take more frequent breaks. I felt lucky that the altitude wasn’t affecting me nearly as much, and I was genuinely grateful the Diamox was working it’s magic.
Nearing the summit
After what felt and eternity, we could see a red line outlining the horizon. Light was peaking over, and the sun wasn’t far behind. This could only mean one thing. We were nearing daylight and the top of Mt. Kilimanjaro.
We reached Stella Point just as the sun started coming up. Stella Point is where you finally stop climbing and finally are on the top of the volcano. Beyond that, you merely walk around the crater’s rim to arrive at Uhuru Peak, the highest point on the mountain.
The guides stopped us next to some rocks us at Stella Point for one final last break before our final push to our goal. At dinner the night before, we all agreed to have two summit porters join the group to carry hot tea and extra oxygen — just in case.
As we took shelter from the wind near the rocks at Stella Point, the thermoses of tea emerged. Let me tell you, I’ve never been so happy to have something warm to drink as I was then. My Camelback had long ago frozen and we weren’t drinking much during our ascent.
Standing there, we all took in the sunrise while enjoying the sweetness of the warm tea. But before long, I was getting impatient to go. As much as the tea warmed my core, my left foot began to hurt tremendously from the cold. I was starting to wonder about frostbite, but knew if my foot hurt, I was still OK.
Uhuru Peak
We packed up and started moving with a purpose toward our final destination. It was apparent the guides were on a mission to get us to the summit’s sign as quickly as possible so we could get down.
Both Polly and Sophie were showing signs of oxygen deprivation at Stella Point. Polly’s lips were blue and Sophie started chattering about nonsense and wandering off. So one of the guides grabbed her by the arm, and we moved toward Uhuru as quickly as safely possible.
During that stretch along the rim, I noticed the majority of the climbers no longer had their packs on. Only Sean, Yassir, and I made it to the summit carrying ours the entire way – which speaks volumes about how genuinely hard this climb was.
We finally made it to the summit and took a bunch of quick photos with the sign. It was brutally cold, and taking my gloves off to get a photo was painful. The wind was whipping harder now, and I was soon eager to start back down to get a reprieve from it.
Back down to Barafu
Although the entire 12-person group successfully made it to summit, once we got back to Stella Point, the guides quickly whisked Polly and Sophie down the emergency route. We watched them race down the mountain and it almost looked like they were skiing down the rocks and scree.
The rest of us moved quickly down the main route and didn’t take any breaks until we were down below 17,500 feet. The route down was steep and slick with loose gravel. But mostly, I was amazed we climbed up this terrain in the dark!
Everyone was starting to feel the sheer exhaustion of the day and it seemed to take forever to descend. The sun was beating down on us now, and the wind seemed to disappear entirely, so many of us were actually overheating a bit.
When we finally arrived back at Barafu Camp, we had about an hour to rest before brunch. Unlike the celebratory South Africans from the day before, our group seemed somber and overwhelmingly tired. Sleep was the only thing on most of our minds.