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.