19340, That's a Jumbo Jambo

The beast is under the wing.
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I wanted to finish our 1.5 years of travel on a high note.  In Africa, that translates to 19,340 feet, or the top of Mt Kilimanjaro.  Here are the logistics:

*3 climbers:  Anne, me, and Barbara, a 58 year young Oregonian whose climbing resume includes Mt Rainier, the difficult side of Mt Whitney, and just about every other major peak in the Pacific Northwest.

*8 porters:  I didn't learn any of their names, but these guys work as hard as any mountain animal.

Mt Meru at sunset. Base camp--12k feet
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*1 guide, 1 assistant guide, 1 cook:  our guide was named Remmy, and the assistant guide was named Moses.  I felt good having a god-guy on our team.

*6 day expedition to reach Kili's summit.  We would be hiking the more difficult Machame route, instead of the easier "Coca Cola" route.  Not because we are huge athletes, but because Machame promised better scenery.

And we were off.  Day one consisted of hiking from about 6,000 feet to about 10,000 feet.  Not overwhelming, but the large rainforest that we hiked through produced a couple of inches of, you guessed it, rain.  This is a bad thing when hiking.  Our gear was soaked through, but we managed to salvage one hour of daylight the following morning to dry some of our belongings.  On to day two.

Porters carry things on their head. Very Africa.
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Day two was a moderate, non-strenuous hike to the next base camp located at about 12,000 feet.  Again, not too difficult, but continued rains hampered our progress and made for a cold day.  The dexterity in my hands had decreased to that of a three-toed sloth making it difficult to even hold on to my walking poles.  The mountain was starting to knock us down, little by little.  Here's something of interest:  during the first two days of hiking, porters from other expeditions would pass us by, saying "Jumbo" every time they passed.  Not really sure what it meant, but I said it back about half the time, receiving glaring looks if I failed to return this new mountain code word.

These are some funny trees. Found everywhere at base camp 3.
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And then day three came.  I started the morning by taking altitude sickness medication (to prevent sickness from starting), realizing that about an hour into the hike that I was having an adverse reaction to the drug.  Vertigo, dizziness, and complete face numbness--like I was on nitrous oxide a little too long--accompanied me the entire time I was hiking.  I really just felt like laying down.  If asked to, I'm guessing I would have had trouble operating heavy machinery, or even an automobile for that matter.  It was really exhausting.  Especially since the hike brought us near 16,000 feet, and then back down to 12,500 in an effort to acclimate to the altitude.  Anne too, had felt nauseated with the elevation, fighting the vomit back into her stomach on more than one occasion.  It was a tough day that ended with splitting headaches for both of us, making me start to think that summit was a long shot.

Yeah baby. No other feeling like it.
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Morning broke on day four, and both of us were feeling better than the prior afternoon.  My newfound good health translated over to conversation with our guide.  "So what does Jumbo really mean?", I asked.  "It's not jumbo, it's Jambo.  It means hello."   "Oh, I see."

During day four, we made our way to the fourth base camp, situated at over 15,000 feet, but not without the mountain releasing more of its fury.  Icy cold wind, eventually turned into stinging rain which felt like razor blades on any exposed skin.   Any stop for a breath, left you colder--if that's possible--than you already were.  Kilimanjaro was not to let up.

Glacier near the summit.
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Day Five.  Summit day.  With a wakeup call at 11 pm, for a midnight start towards the summit, we were as ready as we would ever be.  Unzipping the tent proved what we had already heard on the nylon walls of our enclosure; it was snowing out and Kilimanjaro's was making one last evil attempt to stop our well-deserved progress.  But not tonight.  We had come too far.  At 12 midnight, we started our ascent towards the summit.  The mountain conditions relaxed with just a thin overcast to minimally shear the full moon that aided as lighting.  Our train of five, three climbers and two guides, made slow and deliberate steps towards the 19,000 foot +++ peak.  My pulse was racing.   The oxygen deprivation was eating away my thoughts with every step that we conquered.  Hypoxic conditions reigned through the six hour climb towards summit, but we were not to be denied.

The whole group. Note porter on right.
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SUMMIT.  100 yards from the sign marking the top of Africa, the sun broke over the horizon.  Just in time to stop the frostbite that was knocking on the doors of my finger tips.  It was exhilarating.  The top of Africa.  19340 feet.  The hardships of this climb would prove to be the most physically challenging endeavor that we had ever faced.  Emotionally drained from the climb, I found new energies that I didn't know existed.  After a call to my father from the summit, the lead guide and me split from the other three to start our descent down the face of the mountain.  We ran, taking large strides through the scree fields and loose gravel, and what had taken six hours to climb, we had reached in a little more than an hour on our descent.  Probably not safe, but it was fun to find my childhood again.  Anne and the rest of the crew showed about an hour later.  Her descent was plagued with a vomiting session, brought on by the extreme altitude.

Everything worthwhile has a cost.
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A short nap at base camp four, and it was time to descend to the thicker air at 10,000 feet.  We spent the last night in the comforts of our tent, knowing we had the mission accomplished.  Towards the end of the trail, Anne's big toenails revealed what she was already feeling.  They're goners.  It's a small price to pay when taking on a challenging quest.

We made it to the trailhead around 930 in the morning on day six, with a celebratory song from the porters and guides.  Meaning white mountain of greatness in Maasai, Kilimanjaro was a formidable opponent for a couple of flatlanders.

Goodbye to a worthy opponent.
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