We made it. Amazingly. Somewhat surprisingly. It still hasn’t quite sunk in yet (maybe because it’s 3 a.m. right now, and I just woke up to watch Sunday Night Baseball – Mets vs. Phillies), but the Hawaiian Hawk and I successfully climbed the tallest mountain in Africa. After starting on Tuesday at 12:25 p.m. (to be honest, we started at elevation: 1,970m), we reached Uhuru Peak (elevation: 5,895m, or approx. 19,300 feet) on Friday morning, just past 7 a.m. Since I know you won’t believe me without the proof, here it is...
Tuesday morning, pre-climb:
Friday morning, at Uhuru peak (it was well below 0°C - that's me on the right behind the beanie, scarf, several layers of clothing, a westside, and, yes, a goatee):
As I told Mike, one of the travel agents who arranged our climb, it was the most amazing thing I’ve ever done in my life, and at the same time, the most miserable thing I’ve ever done in my life. In between, it was surprising, interesting, challenging, patience-testing, and unforgettable.
The climb was surprising mostly in its difficulty. Because multiple people had described the climb to us as “a long walk”, Peter and I had no idea what we were in for. I didn't train outside of my normal exercise routine, nor did I quit or cut back on the drinking, greasy foods, and other vices. To those people, and you know who you are Shashank and Bhargavi, climb Kili, THEN call it whatever the hell you want to. While most climbers made it to Uhuru, we also saw several who were being escorted down by their guides having failed to reach the peak (or even Gilman's Point 200 or so meters shy of the peak) due to altitude sickness, fatigue, etc. (Another surprising part of the trip to Tanzania was running into a guy I went to college with at the Kenya-Tanzania border - what are the odds of that?)
The climb was interesting because of all the people we met along the way:
- A Canadian couple on their honeymoon. “Hey hon, after we get married, why don’t we climb a close-to-20k foot mountain, in the winter, while sharing tiny huts with obnoxious, foul-mouthed Americans?”
- The token Indian couple from Cambridge – him a software consultant, her a doctor. Props to Boylan for the Interpreter of Maladies reference. Although, given the Cambridge connection, he could have just gone with a Shashank-Bhargavi reference, the only difference being Shashank isn’t a software consultant. He’s a bad host.
- A Canadian man in his mid-40’s, whose dream it has been for 25 years to climb Kili. He ditched wifey at home, and dragged his two sons – ages 14 and 16 – halfway across the world to attempt the climb. Unfortunately, the man only made it to Gilman’s Point (about 200m short of the peak, but having been through the experience, quite an accomplishment in its own right). His two sons both made it to Uhuru Peak, although as the father himself confirmed, the 16-year old was bitching the whole way. Classic antisocial older child, extroverted younger child. While the 16-year old sat on his bed playing his PSP and bitching about the climb, the local music, etc., the 14-year old was chatting us up, and just generally being a cooler guy. He’s probably gonna go back to Canada, become Homecoming King, and sleep with his older brother’s girlfriend on prom night. A 14-year old who climbed Africa’s highest peak. P-I-M-P.
- A guide who has been climbing Kili for 56 years, since he was 20 years old. The man looks about 30 years shy of his true 76. In 1985, he guided Former President Jimmy Carter up the mountain. 21 years later, the man is still going strong, climbing the mountain regularly, while two or three times a year, I read a cnn.com article about Carter being hospitalized for some reason or another. Must be that mountain air.
The climb was the most challenging thing I’ve ever done in my life. Part of it is probably due to the fact that I haven’t challenged myself a whole heck of a lot (Exhibit A – being a Business major). Part of it is probably due to the fact that I’ve never climbed a hill before in my life, let alone a mountain. Nevertheless, 5 days – 67km (over 40 miles) walked, probably 45% or so of that at an incline, often times EXTREMELY steep and always with a pretty heavy day pack strapped to our backs. The summit climb was by far the most difficult. Seven hours, starting just past midnight. Sub-freezing temperatures. Six of the seven hours in pitch-black darkness, with only our headlamps and guide to lead us in the right direction. Pounding headaches due to the altitude. When we asked our guide why they have the summit climb at night, in the dark, the guide said the primary reason was so that climbers could see sunrise at Uhuru. The secondary reason: so that climbers can’t see how steep the last part of the climb is, so as to not get intimidated/discouraged. I’m man enough to admit there were a couple times during the summit climb when I honestly didn’t think I’d make it. Not that I’d ever give up – I have too much pride for that. After asking for one short break about 2 ½ hours into the summit climb (and feeling like a pu**y for doing that), I didn’t have it in me to ask for any more, despite the fact that my heart was racing and head throbbing. I thought I might just collapse and have to be carried down. Fortunately, the PowerBars, adrenaline, and embarrassment I’d face if I failed were enough motivation to take me to the top – barely. Once we got there, however, we were too damn cold and delirious to appreciate it very much. Snapped about five photos each, glanced around at the views (unfortunately obstructed by cloudiness), and got the hell out of there.
And wouldn’t you know it. After making it all the way to the summit (relatively) unscathed, within an hour or so of DESCENT, my tired, delirious, clumsy ass took a horrible spill and have cuts all over my hands to show for it. No guys, I wasn’t drunk. To make it even better, our guide apparently didn’t think it was important to bring along a first aid kit for the longest, steepest part of the climb. Not that it really mattered, as when I took my spill, he was off gallivanting with Peter at least 100 yards in front of me (don’t worry Kristina, nothing happened), leaving me with the assistant guide, also sans first aid kit. Thanks guys. Thank you SO much for the first aid kit Mom. I might have bled to death without it.
Patience-testing: Over 100 hours without a shower. Sleeping in tiny (yet admittedly comfortable and warm) huts. Changing clothes in the spacious confines of a sleeping bag. Peeing in either disgusting outhouse-style toilets or behind bushes. Avoiding fiber like the plague, for obvious reasons. Drinking 4 liters (not "litres") of "fresh" water daily that appeared to have been transported via old gasoline cans. Trying to sleep with the annoying girl in the adjacent hut rambling on about being a medical student, having a Swahili name, blah blah blah. (Of course, we ended up meeting said annoying girl the next day, when her UCSB friend saw my t-shirt and asked me “Do you go to Berkeley?” I’m not gonna lie. The tense of her question – “do” as compared to “did” – was quite flattering.) Being without the internet, email, or any external communications for 4 1/2 days. Bush, Cheney and Condi could have quit in some mass-resignation, and we wouldn't have known it. No such luck. Damn.
Unforgettable: for all the reasons above. Honestly, I had the time of my life climbing the mountain. Just as honestly, I’ll never do it again. I’d like to start hiking/camping more, but I think I’ll stick to mountains in the 5-10k feet range.
Sidebar I: I realized, after years of denial, that I have some major sleeping issues. Despite being warm, comfortable, well-fed, and NOT nervous the night before the summit climb, I was only able to sleep for about an hour, lying there in futile attempts to sleep for the first five hours. Note to any mountain climbers out there: one hour of sleep before a seven-hour summit climb at altitudes over 15k feet is NOT enough. If any of you know any good sleep-specialist doctors in LA, PLEASE hook me up.
Sidebar II: NOTHING in Tanzania is a problem. When we arrived at our hotel, the power was out, the hotel dimly lit by a couple not-so-strategically-placed candles. When we asked when power would be restored, the response was “Eez no problem.” WTF?! “What time does the restaurant open for dinner?” “Eez no problem.” “Why did you call our room and then hang up?” “Eez no problem.” “Do you mind if I rape, pillage and plunder through your family’s home?” “Eez no problem.” F’ing third world. So many problems and yet they’re completely oblivious.
Travel Advice I: If you ever plan a trip to East Africa, particularly Tanzania, contact Tanzania Journeys. Not only were they extremely helpful in planning our trip, but they also went above and beyond to make us feel comfortable once we arrived. They were at the hotel to greet us when we arrived, arranged a pre-climb briefing session with our guide to answer any final questions we had, took us out for a nice, booze-filled post-climb celebration dinner, and even called the next morning to make sure our drunk asses woke up in time to make our shuttle back to Nairobi. First class people all the way.
Travel Advice II: If you ever climb Kili, beware of a guide named Godenough Moshamko (the guy in the middle in the Uhuru Peak picture). Cool guy, but not a great guide. I already mentioned that he was nowhere to be found when I took my Humpty Dumpty tumble. And then, after already spending $1,100 to climb the mountain, he sucked out pretty much all our remaining cash the night after the climb. As if buying him and his boys a nice dinner (with drinks) and giving him a $90 tip wasn’t enough, he made Peter give him around $20 for a 12-minute phone call to his girlfriend in Honolulu. Then, he asked us to pay $80 for him and three of his boys to get into some club. Fortunately, despite having a few (ok, more than a few) beers in me, I was sensible enough to give him $20 for him to get into the club and then we said good riddance. First of all, as the bartender at our hotel later confirmed, no club in f’ing Moshi, Tanzania costs $20 cover. Second of all, f*ck you asshole, we’re not paying for you and your boys to get drunk. We appreciate you giving us a ride to dinner – rolling through the streets of Moshi bumping Lil’ Jon was truly an unforgettable experience, but nevertheless - I hope you get downgraded to some other mountain. Or better yet, upgraded to Everest. Good luck climbing that you fat f*ck.
Anyways, this looks to be my last entry from Africa. Unfortunately, Shashank is gonna be stuck dodging bullets/rockets/Condi for the foreseeable future, so I’m likely headed back to LA this week. Sucks that I have to cut my vacay short, without getting to see South Africa. But I’m admittedly getting homesick, and at least I’ll make it back for Smitty’s graduation party. Besides, there’s worst scenarios then 5 ½ weeks of sitting on my ass in SoCal. Vegas anyone???
Labels: Travel
