Final Goodbyes

Within the next couple of hours the rest of the porters and crew straggled down the muddy path eventually followed by the rest of our crew. We were all loaded into a large SUV and taken back to the Keys Hotel where a wonderful hot shower awaited us. We later went down to a fantastic supper and some well deserved cold beer. Later that evening, Faheem arranged for a doctor to visit me and we discussed the problem. He asked that I visit his clinic in Moshi the next day for tests. These tests – and more when I returned home – pointed the finger at Diamox, the drug we were taking to minimise the effects of altitude sickness. It was not a conclusive result, it is just that no other cause could be found and the reference books show bleeding as a possible side effect.

That evening we had a final dinner together in the hotel (together with some new friends from Australia and Western Canada who were going off with Tusker in the morning). That evening Kevin went off to meet his family, who were joining him for a week long vacation. In the morning Jo Ann and her husband, Dan (who had arrived the previous day) went on a 2-week safari. Amélie went into town for some last minute gift shopping before her flight home via Ethiopia (and a snow-bound Washington!). Ramona also headed off on Safari before going to Zanzibar with her freshly arrived American boyfriend Scott which they followed with some scuba diving in the Seychelles. Stephen, Martin and I did a 1-day Safari through Arusha Park and then we went home together.

It was an amazing 2-weeks that has had an enormous affect upon my life. Sometimes I wonder if it really happened, and then I look at the photographs and think about my new friends and smile. It was a huge challenge and, frankly, a difficult trek. It is definitely not for everyone. However, if you have the urge, CARE will be organising another Climb for CARE 2011 with a planned summit date to coincide with the 100^th anniversary of International Woman’s Day. If you have an interest to join with them on Kilimanjaro, and want to be involved raising funds for an extremely worthwhile cause, you can contact CARE via email at events@care.ca or call 1-800-267-5232 and they’ll be happy to answer any questions you may have. I can tell you that raising the money while just as challenging as climbing Kilimanjaro itself, will give you an equal satisfaction.

Bloody but not broken

Soon the trail transitioned into a very rocky, boulder strewn narrow river bed. These were not your ordinary boulders as they were large, sharp edged with two to three foot high steps. This was soon killing my knees. I was relying heavily on my hiking poles but with the slippery rocks and constant stepping down, I was really, really sore. At one point Amélie slipped above me and – thankfully – wiggled around to avoid falling directly down upon me but she managed to land heavily on the sharp edge of a rock. Good for me – bad for her! She later told me that it cost her a rather large bruise on that hip! After several hours I stopped to relieve myself and was shocked to see a stream of red blood emerge! I quietly went over to speak to Eliakim who was worrying over Stephen and Martin. He was taken aback when I added to that worry load. We eventually arrived at our final campsite where we were to eat lunch and spend our final night on the mountain. Eliakim asked that Malya accompany me to the bushes to observe just how badly I was bleeding. When the stream emerged, Malya’s eyes opened wide in shocked surprise when he saw the same bright red urine. He immediately went over to report to Eliakim who was still worried about Stephen and Martin. I went into the mess tent and Richard brought me a great big mango all sliced up and ready to eat! Eliakim came into the tent and Kevin asked of him, “Why don’t we just go down? We’re all wet. Half of us are sick and we could be sleeping in the hotel tonight.” Eliakim asked the rest of us and the uniform answer was, “Let’s go”.

He turned to me and said, “You have no choice. You’re going down immediately. Come with me.” I went out and found a large group of porters had gathered around one of the “Kilimanjaro Stretchers” waiting for me. My sleeping bag appeared and was laid out upon the stretcher. I was then laid upon it, my outer rain wear Gore-tex pants were removed along with my boots leaving me exposed in my long-johns. Stephen, who must have been feeling better, took great delight in photographing the moment prior to the sleeping bag being wrapped around me. I was tied onto the stretcher with plastic yellow cord and Amélie came and put her le Nordik hat upon my exposed head to protect me from the light rain that was now falling. The crew of six porters, two spares and Malya quickly grabbed the sides of the stretcher and balanced it upon the unicycle wheel and I was whisked towards the jungle canopy. The ride was incredibly rough. I was grateful to have Amélie’s hat as the rain started to fall heavily and once we were under the jungle leaves, huge drops would occasionally plop onto my face. The boys ran at a very quick pace with the stretcher bouncing violently down from step to rock to step. After about an hour they stopped to change around and have some ‘magi’ (Swahili for water). Then, back at it. Soon they came to a very muddy area of the path and they slipped and lost control. I went careening off into the forest and I could only see arms and legs flailing and screaming Swahili voices. As I was strapped securely to the stretcher I could do nothing but hope for the best! When I stopped a sheepish looking porter’s very muddy, wet face appeared above me. “Are you okay?” he asked. “Was I okay? Are you guys okay?” They all were quite a mess as they had all gone for quite a muddy ride yet I was dry and protected by the sides of the stretcher.

Soon I was at the bottom at the exit gate for Kilimanjaro and was freed from my stretcher prison. My clothing was returned to me and I dressed while the porters went off to get cleaned up at a facility that was provided for them at the gate house. I wandered over to the cleanest toilet building I had yet seen in Africa. It was spotless ceramic tile. When I emerged I slipped from my muddy boots on the wet tile and fell, clearing the 3-steps and landing heavily on the ceramic base. I lay there in the rain feeling quite sorry for myself. All my legs and arms were in intense pain and I could barely struggle to get up! I had just successfully climbed Mount Kilimanjaro and I hurt myself at the bottom in the washroom!!

More oxygen, please

HACE – High Altitude Cerebral Edema is a severe form of altitude sickness. It is the result of swelling of brain tissue from leakage of fluids from the capillaries due to the effects of hypoxia on the cells of the blood-brain barrier. The symptoms can include headache, loss of coordination, weakness and decreasing levels of consciousness including disorientation, loss of memory, hallucinations, psychotic behaviour and coma. Severe instances can lead to death if not treated quickly. This is what killed Marcel, and Stephen was now suffering from HACE. I was thankful that he was in Eliakim’s capable hands.

Our medical checks were much more intense that evening. It was decided to give Amélie oxygen as her headache had returned, although she insisted that she didn’t want or need oxygen, they gave it to her anyway. I asked if I could have some too and when asked, “Why?” I replied, “Because I’ve never had it!” “But you don’t need it.” “But I want to see what it will do for me.” Eventually they relented to my whinging and at bedtime Malya appeared in my tent with an oxygen tank. Wow! What a great boost! I felt energised and very clear headed. I only had it for about 10-minutes and I fell straight to sleep. I awoke for my first “Diamox break” around midnight. Our tent has two zippers to contend with and these had been constantly jamming with the volcanic dust of the mountain. However, with my totally clear, oxygen filled head, I managed to un-jam both zippers! It was the first time they had ran smooth in a week! I did my business and before returning to sleep, I looked up at the trail of headlamps as another group plodded their way to Uhuru Peak.

I awoke again just before sunrise. When I finished my toilet chores I looked about and could see Mount Mawenzi poking up above the surrounding cloud layer. It was a scene from Lord of the Rings. Mawenzi is a spire filled, straggly mountain peak and the cloud layer was thick and spread totally around and below us. It appeared solid enough to allow us to walk across to Mount Mawenzi itself. Sitting on a rock up ahead of me was Amélie. I crawled up the rocky layer toward her and we sat beside each other in the cold. It was a totally awe inspiring moment as – wordlessly - together we watched the sun rise up spectacularly first from below the cloud layer and then behind Mawenzi. Not a word was spoken as we eventually turned and smiled at each other, arose and hugged, and then descended back into our tents. A spiritual moment we shared that I’ll remember forever.

A few hours later we were all in the mess tent for breakfast. Stephen still looked rough but the shaking had gone and he had only a mild pounding in his head. He was hungry, so that was a good sign. Martin was still having stomach problems and found himself on the toilet far more frequently than he wished. Amélie and Ramona were both feeling quite good and Kevin, well does he ever feel bad? I was feeling pretty good although tired. After breakfast we broke camp and started down the mountain in the damp, misty rain.

Reaching the Top

We set off in high spirits in a set order with me behind Eliakim, followed by Ramona, Stephen, Amélie, Martin and Kevin at the rear with our other guides, Malya, Shabani and the ever present Naftel with our emergency gear. Eliakim, setting a very slow pace, insisted that we keep this grouping and kept chastising Martin for getting out of sequence. Initially the path went straight up the mountain but as it became steeper it evolved into a series of switchbacks. Each hour we had water breaks and our oxygen and heart rates were checked every couple of hours. As we neared the 17,500 foot level I was breathing very hard and Eliakim insisted that I relinquish my backpack to Daniel (one of the porters who was accompanying us for this purpose). After that, I felt like I could fly, but I felt bad for Daniel. Eliakim, however, was insistent: “No. You will not carry your pack. I am also thinking you will not sleep in the crater.” I wanted to argue but I had previously agreed that I would never argue with Eliakim when it came to medical decisions. My problem here was that he was basing his decision upon how I ‘appeared’, not the readings from the O2 meter. During one of the breaks, Amélie went to Eliakim and said she was developing a severe headache and didn’t think she would sleep in the crater either. This left Eliakim with a problem as our gear was now headed to the top of the mountain on the backs of several porters! Kevin, as always, was still the picture of health.

We soon crested the crater rim at Stella Point. I was first over the top and encounter two Brits seated on the edge with their guide and two porters. Seeing how exhausted I was, one of them joked, “You can’t go any further. The trail to Uruhu is closed.” I responded with a “Martin-like” expletive and kept walking past them. A short while later we all rested at Stella Point proper, about an hour away from our target at Uhuru. Stephen wasn’t looking well at all. It was Eliakim’s plan to eat lunch here, rest and then press on to the peak. When he saw Stephen’s state he asked of him, “Stephen. Would you like to rest and eat here or press on to the summit?” Stephen said, “Let’s just be done with it. Let’s go on.” And so we did. I led the way, keeping the pace as initially set by Eliakim while he darted about checking that each of us was okay and snapping various photos. Was we passed near a huge glacier I suddenly became aware of shouting. Unbeknownst to me, the group had stopped to take ‘tourist-like’ photographs in front of the glacier and I had just kept plodding on without them! I returned to the group and happily had a rest and participated in the photographs. I was so focused, I just wanted to get to Uhuru. Stephen was looking unsteady on his feet and was very irritable. Amélie had a huge headache. Martin was complaining of stomach cramps. Ramona had recovered and was doing quite good. I felt slightly light headed, but otherwise fine. Kevin, as ever, felt great.

There was a small hillock of rocks blocking the path that required us to extend our bums out over the crater to pass and then within minutes we were at the rickety signpost at Uhuru Peak. Mass elation erupted as we all hugged one another in relief and exultation. A multitude of cameras appeared and myriads of photographs were taken. Kevin pulled out Jo Ann’s iPod saying, “We even have a piece of Jo Ann to include in our photos!” which raised a cheer from all. Almost unnoticed, the weather closed in rapidly and snow began to fall. Naftel gave me a bag full of food and I immediately started chewing on a cold roasted chicken leg (he told me it was chicken but had the suspicious shape of the legs on the ravens we kept seeing along the trip). It tasted great and I sat on a rock below the famous Kilimanjaro sign – oblivious to everything around me – and thoroughly enjoyed the nourishment!

I glanced up and saw Stephen & Kevin almost running down the path in the snowstorm, followed by Ramona, Martin and several guides and porters. Naftel grabbed my lunch bag from my hands and Eliakim said, “We have to go. Fast.” and he pointed to lightening that was that instant striking just beyond the glacier below us. “Go with Daniel”. I grabbed my gear and set off after Daniel. I looked behind and Amélie and Eliakim were the last to leave the summit behind me.

The snow was now falling quite heavily and I could barely keep Daniel in site as he was moving so fast. He disappeared over the crater lip and virtually fell down the loose volcanic scree on the steep edge of the mountain. At times I was virtually skiing down the slope in the loose scree and heavy snow. Daniel was now far ahead of me and I was following only the mixed up black scree that I could see amongst the white snow. Eventually, with Daniel’s speed and the very heavy snow, I lost the trail. I stopped and stared. I turned a full 360° around and looked fruitlessly about. Not a sign. I could only see about 10-metres in any direction. I knew which way was down, but that’s about it. The trail was lost. I unexpectedly felt a tap on my back. It was a face I didn’t know. He introduced himself as ‘Chris’. “I’m the cook for another Tusker group.” Follow me. Eventually Chris had me up behind Daniel and he shouted something to Daniel in Swahili and swiftly left us in his trail. Another hour or so following Daniel and the trail was gone again. This time, nobody tapped my shoulder. My knees were now burning from the constant impact they were taking during the rapid descent. I was feeling quite desolate when Daniel’s head appeared up from behind a rock. “Babu. Pole, sana”. I came up behind Daniel and scolded him in English, “What do you mean, go very slowly. I am going very slowly but you’re not!!” Of course, this meant nothing to him as he didn’t speak English. Off he went again. The snow had lightened somewhat but I could still see lightening lighting up the clouds in the distant. It was a very strange sight as the light was beside and below me rather than above! Occasionally, you could feel the electricity across your forehead from the very high humidity.

At this time, Eliakim and Amélie caught up to me. Amélie complained bitterly about the electrical strikes as she and Eliakim felt them across their foreheads very strongly at the higher altitudes. We paused and Eliakim wrapped up my knee with a tensor bandage and then continued down at a much slower pace than I had been doing. I was grateful for the company and Amélie’s headache had disappeared with the lower altitude. The snow soon changed to rain and then stopped as we passed through Millenium Camp and we continued down to Barafu. We arrived at about 4:30 in the afternoon to the cheers, clapping and congratulations of our porters. Richard appeared with a thermos of sweet, hot tea that was gratefully received. Eliakim sent us directly to our tents to change into dry, warm clothing. “Put on the warmest clothing that you have”, was his instruction.

I went into the mess tent where the others had gathered. We were all exhausted, tired and elated. The conversation was very animated as we all compared thoughts and feelings. Stephen was the last to arrive and we all went quiet. He stumbled into the tent and was shaking uncontrollably. He appeared to be shivering from cold but he had changed and his clothing was dry. He spoke incoherently and needed help to sit down. I quickly screamed out for Eliakim to come quickly. Eliakim rapidly assessed that Stephen was suffering from a cerebral edema. Rather than run for his medical kit, he asked if any of us had the Dexamethasone steroid with us. Someone quickly pulled out a medicine vial and handed it to Eliakim. Stephen’s shivering subsided and he drank some warm tea. Eliakim led Stephen away to his tent where he provided him with oxygen for over a half an hour. Our mess tent was very quiet as we each exchanged glances of worry over Stephen’s condition. I thought of Marcel Bujold.

Queuing up for the Karanga Valley

We all arrived at breakfast without headaches and eager to tackle the famous Barranco Wall. We emerged from the mess tent for our day ‘4’ photograph and I wondered why there was none of the normal sense of urgency in our guide’s actions and when I looked up at the wall, I realised why. There was only a single path zig-zagging up the wall and on it were what seemed like hundreds of hikers and porters! They appeared as ants very slowly moving Indian file up the cliff face. Eventually, we left our camp in company of most of our porters. It soon became clear why the select group of porters were with us – empty handed. The path required much more than simple hiking skills as it became necessary to stow our hiking poles and clamber up rock faces and boulders. Some were quite high and there was always a helping hand appearing from above that was attached to one of our trusty porters. These amazingly strong Tanzanians could easily haul you up quite steep rocks with those unwavering hands. When we came to “kissing rock”, I was really glad they were there. This is a very steep outcropping with a miniscule ledge that required you to hug the boulder and tip-toe along the ledge with outstretched arms. What a great feeling when I felt Naftel’s large, strong hands latch onto my forearm as I came around the rock. Stephen, who has a fear of heights, had a glance down when he came around the rock. He told me later how his knees started to buckle and then chattered uncontrollable as trepidation came over him. He said , “My body could not get any closer to that boulder. I was so glad the porters were there to help us.”

Since there was virtually a queue to head up the cliff face, the going was quite slow. I really enjoyed the challenge of stretching and reaching my way up the rock face. By the time we reached the top of the cliff, all of us (except perhaps Stephen) were invigorated and giggly.

Our guides told us that this was to be a short day as we hiked across the plateau atop Barranco. In fact, in very short order, we could see the next campsite. It wasn’t even noon yet! What we failed to see, however, was the Karanga Valley that lay between us. Karanga Camp is located at 13,200 feet and I think we went down to around 12,000 feet within the valley. At the bottom is a stream where the guides were loading up with water. This was the last water source until the summit. All of the water we were to use from here on had to be hauled on the heads of the porters! There was already a stream of them heading up the valley slope to Karanga Camp on the top of the plateau. We arrived inside the mess tent just as the skies opened up with a torrential hail storm! We couldn’t have timed it any better.

I had developed a blister on the first day in the forest after wearing sock liners under my wools socks. The theory is that the liners would wick away moisture preventing such problems. However, in my case, they allowed movement between the two sock layers with the resulting hot spot that developed into a blister. This burst open today and left a nasty, bloody mess on my heel. I cleaned it up as best I could and “Daktari” (Swahili for doctor) Eliakim crawled into my tent and applied a moleskin. “Leave it on until we leave the mountain” were his instructions. Amazing stuff, as I had no further issues and it fell off on its own on our last day.

The plan was to spend two days at Karanga in order to better acclimatise before heading to Barafu and the summit. In between, we did a short training hike up the main trail to 14,600 feet. When asked when we would turn back Eliakim replied, “When I have to pee.”

It was during this training hike that we yet again encountered our Norwegian friends, Tonje and Bjarte. Tonje was looking terrible and her complexion was ghostly white. She could barely talk and was moving very slowly. When Eliakim spotted her he strode directly up to her and asked, “How long have you had this diarrhoea?” She was shocked. Tonje is a very slightly built, small woman and this stranger who towered over her was asking her this very personal question. She shyly backed away and hid behind me. I turned to her and explained, “Eliakim knows what he is talking about. He is a high altitude medically trained guide who wants to help you. You’ve said nothing about your illness and yet he has spotted you have a problem. Let him help you.” She pondered my words and then nodded to Eliakim, “Three days.” She was totally dehydrated and unable to eat or drink – and she was planning to climb to the summit tomorrow!!! Eliakim barked out orders to his fellow guides in Swahili. They quickly came forward with several medications. Instructions were given to Tonje and also to her guide. The next time we saw her, she had completed the summit. Her face had a rosey pink glow and she felt great. I suspect that Eliakim may have saved her life.

On day 6 we were up early and on the trail headed to Barafu. Our porters had already made the trip there and back to stock our camp with water. Shabani had rejoined us with the news that Jo Ann was now happily settled into the Keys Hotel in Moshi. The weather had turned and it was now cold and wet with occasional flurries. The landscape was covered with loose shale and larger rocks. There was no sign of any plant life save the odd, dry withering cactus. It was tough going on this loose rock and we were glad to have the extra balance afforded by the hiking poles. It was amazing to see the porters walk by without poles and with 20kg containers of water balanced atop their heads!! Barafu camp is situated very precariously on the edge of a cliff with a path leading straight up toward Stella Point and alongside a glacier. We were very close to our goal now. We could clearly see the rim of the crater.

After dinner we had a discussion about the next day’s summit. We would awaken at 4:30 am and leave by 5:30 am. The plan was for Kevin, Amélie and me to spend the next night inside the volcano at Crater Camp as we were not showing any signs of altitude sickness. Martin had been having nauseous stomach problems as was Ramona. Stephen was having constant headaches. It was hoped that we “Crater Campers” would be able to make two summits. One when we arrived and another on the way back down in the morning. We were all fairly cold that night as we were enveloped by cloud and the temperature was -10°C.

I awoke on my own at 4:00 am and checked the temperature inside the tent. It was -5°C and I had frost on my breath. I stepped outside wearing my headlamp and looked toward the mountain. There was a long, snaking line of headlamps disappearing into the night. Many start their summits at midnight so they can be on the top when the sun rises and to afford sufficient time for their descent. I doubted they would see much this morning as the cloud cover was thick. We were served a really huge breakfast, high in calories and carbohydrates to fuel us for our upcoming trial.

Headaches and Heartbreaks

Stephen was doing pretty good and was always in good humour and kept us laughing with his funny comments. Martin was turning into a really funny guy! Just 26-years old, he is in terrific shape and regularly climbs Mt. Washington (6,288 feet in New Hampshire) just for fun! He was quickly grasping English but, from out of nowhere, every English swear word known to mankind would accompany his new-found vocabulary. Strangely, we were soon emulating this new method of English communication. Our Tanzanian guides were soon joining in and we all were sounding like a bunch of sailors who were too long at sea! It was all very strange as none of us would ever normally use this type of language and yet, here we were! His English improved daily, as did my ‘joual’. Amélie initially complained about a few sore muscles but, being so young, she had already adjusted and was doing well. She had a great outlook on life and split her time conversing in French with Martin and verbally jousting with the rest of us. Her wisdom frequently belied her young years. Ramona was a real trooper: the personal trainer coming out of her all the time. Knowing just when to push, how to encourage. I was really impressed at how she was so supportive of Jo Ann when we were walking together.

Kevin, my tent mate, was having a ball. This was not his first trip to Kilimanjaro. Five years previously, whilst living in Kenya with his wife, they decided to try and climb Kili as it seemed like “the thing to do”. Together they hired a local guide outfit and set off on “The Coca-Cola” trail. This route is the quickest way up Kilimanjaro and you can get up and down in less than 5-days. It is also a very easy, gradual, steady trail that takes you directly to the top from the eastern side of the mountain. However, climbers have but a 25% success rate on this trail. Kevin found out why when he reached the 15,000 foot Kibo Hut and felt like his head was going to explode. He stayed behind trying to sleep in the hut while his wife continued on and successfully summited. When they returned, perhaps 8-hours later, he felt much better and was ready to continue on. However, it was now too late and they had to return down the mountain. Our climb was Kevin’s revenge on Lady Kilimanjaro! He was in excellent condition, maintained by playing hockey several times per week, and knew better than us all what to expect. On this trip, Kevin was very aware of the “climb high, sleep low” axiom we were following under Tusker’s tutelage.

Breakfast was more jovial than most. I think all of the singing and dancing served its purpose to boost our collective morale and lend the encouragement required. I noticed a particularly relaxed attitude on Jo Ann that morning. After breakfast we all dispersed to pack our gear and make ready for the day when the shocker was delivered to me. Eliakim came over to me and pulled me aside. “Jo Ann has decided to go down.”

I was indeed shocked. Jo Ann had looked so happy and serene at breakfast. I guess this was because she had made up her mind and was comfortable with the decision – and the knowledge that she’d be sleeping in a warm, cozy hotel room that night? Eliakim had come to me first as he was aware of my hiking relationship with Jo Ann and he asked if I might talk to her. I went over to Jo Ann’s tent and crawled into the entrance. She was busily packing her bag and had a content look upon her face. Jo Ann is a very determined woman. When she makes her mind up – it’s made up! I could see that look upon her face and knew right away this wouldn’t be easy. We chatted for about 15-minutes and I became emotional as I attempted to tug at her heart strings. (That backfired!) Eventually Ramona appeared behind me to take a crack at changing Jo Ann’s mind. Jo Ann later told me that each and every one of us took an individual try to convince her to go on. That illustrated how we were all each so devoted to each other and the success of the climb.

We all hugged Jo Ann and exchanged farewells. Shabani and one of the porters were to accompany her back to Moshi. I told him to take good care of her and he, of course, promised he would. We took a last (complete) group photograph (day 3) and hiked off in different directions: we were headed up and Jo Ann and Shabani headed down.

We were a much quieter group that morning. Me, more than the others, as I sulked along, feeling as though I’d let Jo Ann down - that I could have done more with our training hikes. I knew this was ridiculous, but I still felt that way. Our moods brightened slightly as we climbed ever higher and actually came upon a direction sign! It was made up of several stones cemented together, giving directions to Shira Hut, Lava Tower, Moir Hut, Arrow Glacier and Barranco. I posed for a silly photograph atop the marker and after a water/biological break, we pressed on.

Ramona had with her a guide book that spoke of things to watch out for along the trail. One of these was to look for a cairn of rocks that was placed as a marker for a Canadian hiker who had died on Kilimanjaro in 2007. It was extremely rare to have any such marker as the Tanzanian government discouraged them. We asked Malya and Eliakim about this cairn and they asked to see the guide book and discussed it between themselves for several minutes in Swahili. Eventually, Malya told me that he would let me know when we reached this spot. As we hiked along, each of us started to become aware of the beginnings of a head ache. It started slowly, but we all knew that this was the beginnings of altitude sickness. Several were fed Panadol tablets by Eliakim. As we quietly approached a small, outcropping that almost formed a cave, Malya stopped and turned to me: “Bob, this is where your friend died.” What? I stopped in my tracks. “My friend?” I enquired. “Yes. Marcel Bujold died here”. I almost fell over. Our group went instantly quiet. Marcel Bujold was part of the Climb for CARE 2007 and died while he was being evacuated from the mountain. He was the only death on the mountain that had occurred with Tusker in their 30-years in Kilimanjaro. We had no idea that “the Canadian” referred to in Ramona’s book was Marcel - whose story we were all well aware of when we started the climb. Malya explained to me that he was in charge of the evacuation and this was the spot where he succumbed to a high altitude cerebral edema (HACE) caused by altitude sickness. It was Stephen Malya who had later returned and built the cairn. Marcel was a 65-year old retired physical education instructor from Carleton, Quebec. We all silently paid our respects to Marcel Bujold and then quietly continued up the mountain.

Not a word was spoken until we saw Lava Tower looming in the distance. Our mess tent had been erected nearby. My altimeter read over 15,000 feet. We had a very quiet lunch. Eliakim questioned us about the lack of normal banter, “Why are you all so quiet?” Our response ranged from headache to my still feeling bummed out about Jo Ann to the remorse regarding Marcel Bujold. None of us felt like walking over and exploring Lava Tower. It was already explained to us that climbing the tower was now forbidden as the structure had developed several cracks and it was deemed a dangerous proposition. I took my first pair of Panadol in an effort to subdue the headache I was feeling.

That afternoon, I stayed at the back of the pack with Ramona and we slowly descended the Barranco Valley amidst the strangest vegetation I had ever encountered. I felt like I was on a Star Trek set! With lower altitudes my headache diminished but my knees were feeling the pain of continual jumps down higher rocks. I was very grateful to have the assistance provided by my hiking poles to lessen the impact. Still, my knees were screaming at me to stop. Ramona was suffering a similar headache but she still managed to crack a few jokes and keep my spirits high. The weather had turned quite chilly and the clouds stayed with us allowing the cold to penetrate our bodies.

Karanga Camp sits high overlooking the town of Moshi. It was odd, as dusk fell, to look so far below us at the twinkling lights and think about life going along as normal in the town. Our thoughts were also with Jo Ann, snug in her hotel bed after a long, hot shower. Considering the rough day we had, with the headaches, colder weather, steep and rocky descent into the Barranco Valley, we all agreed that perhaps Jo Ann had indeed made the correct decision. We were all extremely exhausted that evening. Just before heading into my tent, I took a walk around the camp. There were many more hiking groups here. One of the other groups’ guides were having a party! I walked down to the cliff edge. The clouds had moved down below us and obscured my view of Moshi. Occasionally, they would part and I’d catch a twinkle of a streetlight. To my left, in the moonlight, was our next major obstacle: the Barranco Wall. I had heard so many stories of the difficulties of clambering up this near vertical wall of over 1000 feet. No doubt about it, it certainly is steep and imposing. Tonight, it was just a beautiful cliff basking in the moonlight. As I was considering the day events and the suitability of Jo Ann’s decision I turned and looked up behind me at the snow capped monster that watched over everything. Oddly, within the craggy features of Kibo, was a cut of rocks that had been filled in with the snow that had fallen on the top during the day. It was in the perfect formation of a Holy cross standing guard over the entire camp. I went to sleep that night with a myriad of thoughts swirling in my head.

Through the Moir Valley

One of the drugs we were recommended to take to help us avoid altitude sickness was Diamox. This helps the body adapt to the higher altitudes by accumulating the carbon dioxide and allowing the body to expel it with your urine. What this means is that you must urinate every 2-hours! As I remarked earlier, this doesn’t allow for a very restful sleep. The first couple of nights had me wrestling with the ‘mummy’ type sleeping bag and subsequently the two tent zippers, to struggle out to relieve myself. Invariably, I was never alone in those late night sojourns. Whilst I was standing outside at Shira camp during one of these “Diamox sessions”, I happened to look up. The sky was vividly lit by millions of stars. I had never before seen such a brilliance in the sky. The Southern Cross was also very evident (as we were south of the equator). I turned and looked towards Kibo (the actual name of the mountain. Kilimanjaro is a region, Kibo is the main peak.) I stared in awe at our goal for about 15-minutes when suddenly a light appeared on the rim. Then another. The two lights bobbed along the edge of the crater rim in what is known as the Western Breach. Just then, a dark form appeared beside me: it was Eliakim. He also looked up and followed the two lights. He spoke, “These are two climbers going through the Western Breach. It is closed since two Americans were killed there a couple of years ago in a rock slide. You can get special permission to use this access but it is very dangerous.” Together we silently watched the two head-lamped climbers walk along the rim for about 20-minutes until their lights went out. My heart raced knowing that I would soon be heading to their destination at Uhuru Peak on the top of Kibo. I had trouble falling back asleep after that.

We awoke to brilliant sunshine, a magnificent view of Kibo and a dusty wind! Ramona had us all up and doing morning stretches with a bit of yoga thrown in, much to the amusement of the porters. With bandanas and buffs covering our mouths, we took our morning day number 3 group photo and headed off across the plain. Shira was once the third peak of Kilimanjaro (Mawenzi is the other) but because of constant wind and erosion, is now nothing more than a very flat plain. I was told that lions will still hunt game in this area but we saw no signs of this. (What was I doing out walking alone last night!) During this day we would often look back and see another tall mountain very much to the west of Kilimanjaro, yet currently closer to us: Mount Maru. It is 15,000 feet high and also disappeared in the afternoon cloud cover. Martin frequently remarked that this was “a f***ing big mountain” and we could hardly believe that Kibo was taller. As we ascended Kibo and looked behinds us at Mt. Maru, it began to appear rather diminutive, putting it all into perspective.

Once we had crossed the plain we entered into the Moir valley (at least, this is what I called it). This valley yielded incredible vistas that went on forever. There was very little scrub here and we hiked up to the edge of the valley walls towards the Moir hut at 13,600 feet on my altimeter. The less plant life we encountered, the less oxygen. Jo Ann had been having breathing problems and was going much more slowly than the main group. Eliakim was staying with her and had taking to carrying her day pack. After lunch Ramona and I elected to join the ‘tail-enders’ and try to lend encouragement to Jo Ann. We had a good time, singing a few songs, chatting endlessly, laughing at Ramona dancing along to her iPod. Unfortunately, we could see that Jo Ann was struggling for lack of breath and privately we began to worry. To her credit, Jo Ann would never complain, just “hunker down” and press on. Eliakim was very up beat, though – insisting that there was no problem and Jo Ann would recover and easily join us at the top of Kili. Always with a joke or two, Eliakim was always telling Jo Ann she could be his second wife. I kept informing him that Dan, Jo Ann’s husband, is a big guy who could snap him in two with one hand! Of course, this would only bring another hearty laugh to Eliakim and he would sing more words of encouragement to Jo Ann. In all, in spite of the insanity of walking through cold, wet clouds, it was a good day.

Let me say a few words about walking through clouds. We all see them every day and think about how lovely and soft they are. How wonderful it must be to be in amongst them. Hah! They’re cold, damp and when you breathe whilst enveloped by their gloomy mist, their icy fingers freeze the insides of your lungs! For me, at least, it was a horrible feeling to be in the clouds! Whenever we had to walk through them, I habitually pulled my buff up from my neck and wore it as a mask in an attempt to pre-heat the cold, humid air before it went into my lungs. It certainly affected me more than the others as I was the only one who complained about it whenever given the opportunity. It was also strange to look out over the clouds and see a jet plane flying below you!

When we arrived at Moir Hut we were given a special treat. All of the Tusker crew that arrived before us had gathered on a huge rock. As soon as our tail end group came into sight, they arose into song. It was an inspiring Swahili tribal song that told of warriors returning from a successful battle. Each of our names was included in the song. The chorus leader – a porter nicknamed “Mr. Nice” – lead the group with a war dance wielding a home-made spear! It was totally fantastic. In spite of being absolutely exhausted from our 10-hour hike, we were encouraged to join in the dance with the group. Dropping our day packs, join we did! Jo Ann was led to the front by Eliakim and even she, totally drained of energy, couldn’t help but join in the dancing – swinging her hips in time to the African rhythms. Then, one of the oddest things happened. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a TV camera man appear! We’re talking a full sized, TV camera on the shoulder of an Asian gentlemen. There was only one other group at the camp site and he obviously was part of it. This cameraman was determined to completely cover this spontaneous song and dance routine in the middle of nowhere, Africa. Afterward, I spoke with him. He was from NHK, the Japanese national television service doing a documentary on Kilimanjaro. Apparently, we’re now going to be featured on a TV special in Japan! We exchanged email addresses and I’ve since made contact. I’m hoping a DVD arrives in my mail box any day now.

The Moir Hut camp area is rarely used now and that is why there were only two groups staying here that night. Kevin, Stephen, Amélie and I went off to explore the old, now dilapidated hut. It was located just a little ways above us but we all had to really press ourselves to climb that little slope. What are we going to do tomorrow when we’re supposed to reach 15,000 feet at Lava Tower? We all three just stared at each other when the question was voiced.

I went to sleep that night with many questions on my mind. I was really, really tired when we climbed up to explore the hut. I began to worry about Jo Ann. Was she going to make it? I had done several training hikes with her and saw her fitness improve dramatically, but she was really struggling with the altitude and lack of oxygen. She was already having altitude related headaches and had to take several Panadol tablets. Tomorrow we would be climbing even higher. How would she fair?