Part 1 — Preparation
Looking Back — Mt. San Jacinto, 2005
Before Kilimanjaro, there was Mt. Whitney. In 2005, while training to climb Whitney, I hiked Mt. San Jacinto in California and suffered from altitude sickness. Not drinking enough water left me weak, with headaches and nausea. I did not summit on that hike, and it haunted me throughout my training for Kilimanjaro.
May 1, 2012
I sit in my comfortable office today with the need to document this trip, the preparation, and all my thoughts surrounding it. Hiking Kilimanjaro is a goal that I have wanted to achieve for many years. Thanks to Mikel Homa, that dream will soon be a reality.
Mikel and I worked together at the Rock Church in San Diego. He was one of the pastors, and I was in charge of building the church’s new church and school building. We quickly became friends and stayed friends when life took us in different directions — he to a new church in California, and me to a construction company in Georgia. John works with Mikel at his new church. The two of them are going on a mission trip to Kenya and adding the climb to the end of it.
Since speaking with Mikel on April 17th, I have bought my airfare, updated my passport, paid the deposit for my trip, and purchased much of my needed equipment. I’ve also begun my training, so that means going to the gym every day and working on cardio and leg work. It’s been great having a milestone of significance to focus on.
I wasn’t ready for the emotional load. On Saturday, I went to Starbucks to read the information regarding the trip for the first time. In two spots while reading, I became very emotional, and tears flowed down my face. I’m not sure why, but it just felt right. I felt loved. I felt as if God were going with me on this trip and was saying to me, “It’s going to be just fine. Enjoy.”
May 5, 2012
I’m sitting in the Atlanta Bread Company after hiking Kennesaw Mountain today with my new poles and boots, and they both felt good. I’m worried about my boots being sturdy enough. I’ll hike again tomorrow and test out my other ones.
Training continues six days a week. Legs are feeling strong. No hip pain today. Great. I’m finding myself thinking about this hike all the time. I can’t wait.
May 6, 2012
Today I went for a hike again at Kennesaw Mountain. I set out on what I thought was a ten-and-a-half-mile hike. I made the mistake of not looking at the weather beforehand, and forty minutes into the hike: thunderstorms and lightning. Did I have anything to protect me? No.
It lasted about an hour and actually was a blessing. I loved it, but part of me was initially afraid. Interesting. Now I know, and now I’m better off.
I hiked the entire loop and was really tired at the end of the day — only to learn that I did 16.2 miles in six hours. What a day!
Part 2 — The Journey There
June 25, 2012 — So It Begins
Sitting at the gate, awaiting the first leg of a very long day. I went to bed at eleven o’clock and woke up at 1:30 a.m. I was at the airport in plenty of time — although I parked at the international parking deck and didn’t have to, because I was flying out of the domestic terminal. But so far, I feel good.
I prayed this morning and asked God why He allowed me to go on this trip. I felt like He said, simply, “Because I love you, and I know it’s what you want.” What a wonderful beginning to a lifelong memory and experience.
June 26, 2012 — I Arrive
Best thing is that all my luggage did too. Praise God! However, when I see Mikel, I learn that his luggage did not. I pray that God will find it and send it in time for Mikel to use it.
The flight from D.C. to Addis Ababa was long — thirteen and a half hours in a seat that did not recline. Poor me. But seeing Mikel and John, fresh off their mission trip in Kenya, was great.
Staying at a nice hotel, the Impala, with great food, people, and room. All good. Dinner was great — Indian food — and I went to bed at 6:30 p.m., exhausted. Rain during the night. I’m a happy man.
Part 3 — On the Mountain
June 28, 2012 — Machame Gate to Machame Camp
Our first day on the mountain. It began with us signing in on a log so the authorities would know, at any time, who was on the mountain. That’s comforting!
June 29, 2012 — Machame Camp to Shira Camp
Waking up from our first night, wet and cold. Thank goodness today we hike our way out of the rainforest.
Today we get our first look at Kili! I tell myself there is no way I’m going to be able to hike from where I am today to the top of that thing! We spent the day hiking in the sun and pitched our tents that evening in the open.
June 30, 2012 — Shira Camp to Barranco Camp
No more green. No more trees. Only rocks, of all sizes. This must be what the moon looks like. Kili looms overhead as if he is watching our approach. It’s an eerie feeling.
July 1, 2012 — Karanga Camp
I’m in a tent at 13,200 feet, overlooking a valley. And behind me is Mount Kilimanjaro, looking down on me.
I’m in a group of seven hikers: Patrick, our leader; Rebecca from New Zealand; Tom, her brother, from New Zealand; Tim and Jack from Wisconsin; Mikel; John; and me. That’s our group.
Jack quickly earned the nickname “The General.” He didn’t listen to Patrick’s advice to go at a slow, sustainable pace. Instead, he forged ahead, barking advice and encouragement to his buddy Tim, right behind him. They were both proud of their pre-climb training regimen: walking up and down the hill in their backyard in Wisconsin.
And then there was Team Sweden — two girls traveling together from Sweden, hiking with a different group. We would pass them on the trail, and then they would pass us. We leapfrogged each other this way for much of the trip. Just when our group was tired and complaining, Team Sweden would appear out of nowhere and pass us by. We laughed, and it rallied us to suck it up and keep going.
We have been on the mountain for four days, and so far, so good. The days have been hard — from rainforest to desert, to high altitude, to ice, to rock climbing. So far, I’ve done it all.
This morning met us with what we came to call the Breakfast Wall — the Barranco Wall — an extremely difficult climb, literally almost straight up. One misstep and there would be no coming back. It was one of the scariest moments of the entire week.
July 2, 2012 — Barafu Base Camp
Today will be a long day. We will hike to base camp, get there by one o’clock, and then rest until that evening for the push to the summit.
Here I am at base camp, elevation 15,200 feet — taller than Mount Whitney. Our hike today was all up: very steep, with lots of loose rock of all sizes.
So far, our team has held together as well as can be expected. Tim from Wisconsin is hurting the most; his stomach has been bothering him from the start. We arrived at one o’clock and rested until three o’clock. Then we had lunch.
My head is hurting just a little because I didn’t drink enough water getting here. No time for such a rookie mistake. Resting is difficult. I’ve got all my clothing laid out for tonight, but I don’t know what time we will leave. We tend to go slower, due to having to stop for Tim and Jack.
I love this experience. I’ve never camped up to this point, and I can now also cross that off my list. Almost — I didn’t cook or set up my tent, so maybe not.
I’m not going to use my iPod on the summit. I kind of enjoy going into a kind of walking meditation state. I can’t wait.
Part 4 — Summit Night and the Descent
July 2, 10:00 p.m. — The Push Begins
Dinner of porridge, and a quick briefing by Patrick. His only advice was, “Pole pole.” We had our dinner, and before I knew it, I had my pack on, it was 11:00 p.m., and we were off. But I didn’t have time to go to the bathroom. Rookie mistake.
The next several hours were a combination of up and breaks, due to Tim and Jack. Tim was having a very hard time, and Jack, although pushing hard, was struggling as well. I was feeling my stomach begin to churn, and I was hoping that I would be able to summit without having to step behind a rock and shed all my winter clothes. I first walked and prayed. It seemed to work.
Losing Two, Pressing On
At about 16,000 feet, Tim and Jack began demanding more frequent breaks, and the rest of the group would stand around and begin to get cold. Finally, at 17,000 feet, Tim announced he was going down. Many of the group tried to convince him otherwise, and he did try to make a few more steps, but finally, at 17,600 feet, he was done, and no one argued. Then Jack also announced that if Tim was going down, so was he. Again, no argument.
Now we were five, and the push for the summit continued. We continued to climb over the next few hours. At about 17,600 feet, my water began to freeze in my CamelBak. Luckily, I had remembered to turn my water bottles upside down, and I was able to continue to drink — unlike many in our group.
Now the weak link became John. He was unable to carry his pack and became disoriented. We had to take several breaks to allow him to rest, but we and he pressed on.
The 50-Foot Clown
The memory of San Jacinto was with me on this climb, especially on this night.
But altitude has other effects, too — like the lack of oxygen to your brain. It can cause all sorts of things one cannot train for or anticipate. On this night, at this altitude, in the pitch black as we ascended to our next spot, I looked up the mountain and saw a 50-foot-tall clown walking perpendicular to our trail. Just as he approached the trail, he lifted his leg really high, as if he were stepping over a large object. There was no object… nor was there a real clown! But that is what I saw, and that is what altitude will do — or did — to me!
July 3, 5:30 a.m. — Stella Point
Finally, at about 5:30 a.m., we reached Stella Point. What a relief! This was the top of the crater, and the next hour and a half to the summit was a bit easier. But by no means were we home yet. The altitude really became an issue, and we were walking in snow and on ice. It was a very long hour and a half, as we watched the sun begin to rise over our shoulders.
It was then that all of our porters — about 12 of them — began to sing in Swahili. They were singing some type of spiritual songs, all a cappella, and it was the most beautiful moment I’ve ever experienced.
July 3, 6:30 a.m. — The Summit
Finally, at 6:30 a.m., we reached the summit. I have never been so relieved and happy. I cried, as did everyone else. We all hugged each other, and it was quite a special moment.
The sun was just above the horizon, and we were surrounded by glaciers and snow — 360 degrees of awe and beauty. The top of Africa. I had done it. No nausea, no headaches, and still feeling good — not like San Jacinto. All of my training had paid off.
Running Down Kilimanjaro
We took about ten minutes for photos and were hurried off, due both to the altitude and to the endless hikers behind us. Now we were to go down.
The next three hours were tough. All of the ground that was previously frozen had thawed; it was now a rock slide. Each step was a potential fall, as the rocks would slide. This was killing my knee and thighs, so I tried to go even slower. I fell one time and wiped out pretty good. What a pain!
Then I saw a guy from Switzerland come flying past me, dragging his poles behind. I asked him what he was doing, and soon I adopted his method: slide down and drag your poles. Run, almost. I ran down Kilimanjaro and created quite the dust storm. But I didn’t fall.
I finally arrived at base camp at about 9:30 a.m. What an experience! But that was just the beginning. We were only halfway through our day.
On to Mweka Camp
I soon realized that we were going to have lunch and then hike another six hours to our next camp. So at 11:30, we finished lunch and started down.
My feet were killing me because we were walking on nothing but sharp, softball-sized pieces of slate — all loose, shifting under my already tired legs. So off we go. The hike continued through open spaces of rock and sand, and wind that caused the dust to burn my nose and lungs — constant coughing and a runny nose.
We continued down the old stream bed. What that means is nothing but rocks and more rocks, killing my feet, my knees, and my thighs. So much fun. We continued down below the cloud level and finally arrived at our camp at about 6:30 p.m. What a day!
Part 5 — Off the Mountain and the Flight Home
July 3, Night — Mweka Camp
Our camp would be the final one. We would hike out the next morning. This camp was larger and more active, in a smaller area. Camp Chatter, as I call it, continued throughout the night.
We were at the edge of the rainforest, so, as you might imagine, it was wet. Everything was wet or damp, both inside and outside my tent. I couldn’t sleep very well because of the cold, but that was normal. I didn’t sleep well during the entire trip due to the cold.
July 4, 2012 — Hiking Out
The evening was short, and the next day we set out on our final hike to the gate. We would hike four hours through nothing but mist, mud, and more mud. This was not the time to fall. I can think of a thousand different ways God could have ended my life, but I didn’t want to go down on the way out of the park. Everyone was slipping and sliding, and the pace to the gate was a quick one — not pole pole.
Finally, at about 11:30, we came down the hill, and we were met by a group of our porters and two guys playing guitars, welcoming us down. They were singing and dancing, and it was an amazing experience in every way. What a way to end a trip!
We were also the first of our group to come off the trail — another accomplishment, beating the “Private Party.”
The Celebration
We had a celebration lunch with Kili beer and food. We passed out our certificates and gave the porters our extra gear and tips. I also bought beer for all of our porters. We finally made our way to our van, and after some last-minute buying from street vendors, we were on our way.
We got to the hotel, and I took the longest hot shower of my life. Dirt came off of me from places I didn’t know I could get dirty. I can honestly say I stunk, but it was worth it — every bit of it. I’ll never forget it.
The Flight Home — Kilimanjaro to Addis Ababa
The flight is full of Jordanian teenagers — teenagers that are running wild. Our flight is on the ground, and has been for the past two hours, with a mechanical issue. In all likelihood, I’ll miss my connection to Washington, D.C. But God is in control, and I trust Him. I just hope I don’t kill one of these kids in the meantime.
6:49 p.m. We’re finally on our way. Bathroom door swings open. Overhead bins wide open. What a flight crew! What a trip!
Trip at a Glance
Summited Uhuru Peak — the top of Africa — at 6:30 a.m. on July 3, 2012, via the Machame Route.
| Route | Machame Route |
| Dates | June 25 – July 7, 2012 |
| Days on the mountain | 7 (June 28 – July 4) |
| Summit | 19,340 ft, reached 6:30 a.m., July 3 |
| Summit day | 13 miles, 14 hours (Barafu → summit → Mweka Camp) |
| Leader | Patrick |
| Team | Patrick; Rebecca and her brother Tom (New Zealand); Tim and Jack (Wisconsin); Mikel Homa; John; Bob |
| Summited | 5 of 7 (Tim and Jack turned back near 17,600 ft) |
| Hotel | The Impala |
| Made possible by | Mikel Homa |
Fun Trip Facts
Swahili We Learned
| Swahili | Meaning |
|---|---|
| Jambo | Hello |
| Poa | Cool |
| Poa kichizi | Crazy cool |
| Poa kama ndizi | Cool like a banana |
| Karibu | You’re welcome |
| Pole pole | Slowly, slowly |
| Dada | Sister — that was Rebecca (“Dada, are you ready?”) |
| Kaka | Brother |
| Baba | Father |
Camp Routine
| Time | What happens |
|---|---|
| 6:30 a.m. | Breakfast tea |
| 6:45 a.m. | Water for washing |
| 7:00 a.m. | Breakfast |
People, Places, and Inside Jokes
- The Private Party — from Florida (and we beat them off the trail)
- Team Sweden — the two girls from Sweden we leapfrogged all week
- The General — Jack, barking orders up the trail
- The Breakfast Wall — the Barranco Wall, July 1’s near-vertical morning climb
- Camp Chatter — the noisy last night at Mweka Camp
- Porters running by
- Simba — Tom taking his own route
- Tim and Jack — cussing all the time
- “Never trust a wet rock” — Mikel Homa
The Itinerary — Machame Route
| Date | Leg | Elevation (ft) | Distance (mi) | Time (hrs) |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| June 25 | Depart for Africa | |||
| June 26 | Arrive Kilimanjaro | |||
| June 27 | Rest day | |||
| June 28 | Machame Gate → Machame Camp | 10,600 | 3.7 | 6 |
| June 29 | Machame Camp → Shira Camp | 12,480 | 2.8 | 7 |
| June 30 | Shira Camp → Barranco Camp | 13,000 | 5.6 | 8 |
| July 1 | Barranco Camp → Karanga Camp | 13,200 | 2.2 | 4 |
| July 2 | Karanga Camp → Barafu Camp | 15,200 | 2.2 | 4 |
| July 3 | Barafu Camp → Summit → Mweka Camp | 19,340 (summit) | 13.0 | 14 |
| July 4 | Mweka Camp → Exit gate | 3.7 | 4 | |
| July 5 | Rest day | |||
| July 6 | Leave | |||
| July 7 | Arrive home |
Reflections
Pole Pole — Slowly, Slowly
What a great lesson! Pole pole (pronounced “po-lay po-lay”) means “slowly, slowly” in Swahili. It was the first directive our guide gave us as we began our trek up the mountain, and he reminded us of it before each stage of the climb and several times throughout each day.
What I learned is that by taking smaller steps, both vertically and horizontally, I was stronger and much more efficient by the end of the day. I felt great regardless of the terrain or length of the hike. It also gave my body time to adjust to the ever-increasing altitude. And by holding to this pace over time, we overtook many of the groups that were initially walking much faster than ours.
When I think about it, everything that has lasting value in my life has been made by taking the very same small steps, consistently, over time:
- Relationships — where small, consistent acts of kindness and love are given.
- Financial — a commitment to saving and growing your savings over time.
- Spiritual — daily time in the Word.
- Social — reaching out and touching base.
- Giving – it doesn’t have to always be money…
Slow, small steps take less energy and produce the greatest long-term result.
Big change does not happen overnight… it happens over time.
Just Enough Information
All I really need to know is what my next step is. That played out each evening, when Patrick would come into our tent after dinner and brief us on the next day. He would tell us what time we would wake up, eat, and what to pack. That was it. If we asked how long we would hike, or what time we would arrive at camp, or any other details about the day, he would just smile and repeat back to us the time we should wake up, eat, and what to pack.
This “unknowing” just about drove many people in our group insane! But what I learned about not having all that information was that I was less stressed throughout the day. I knew what I needed to know, and then I was allowed to experience the rest of the day from a fresh perspective. I wasn’t judging my experience against what I thought it would or should be. Every experience was fresh, new, and vibrant. Very cool!
Like Patrick, God only gives us enough information for what we have to do next. He gives nothing else. Like God told Abram, “Take your family and go to a land I will show you.”
“The Lord had said to Abram, ‘Go from your country, your people and your father’s household to the land I will show you.'” — Genesis 12:1 (NIV)
Why do we feel like we need to know all the details at the beginning of everything we do? Why can’t we just use the information we need, and then experience the rest?
Just enough information. That’s really all we need. Any more than that makes us feel stressed, and we worry if things change. God has it all under His control. Trust Him to give you what you need when you need it — not before.
So what if I tried to live my life this way — pole pole, and only deciding on what my next step is going to be? I think I would be much more effective, less stressed, happier, and ultimately more successful. It certainly is not the norm in our culture, but I’m not sure I need to know whether it will work. I just need to begin doing it.
Looks like I’m already learning. Pole pole!
These reflections first appeared, in part, on my blog: Reflections from Mt. Kilimanjaro, July 8, 2012.
Epilogue
As I write this, it has been over 14 years since I did this climb. I’m 67 years old and I try to stay in shape the best I can, hoping for one more adventure. Climbing Kili was hard. Training for it was hard. The gear, the trip was expensive. Yet, it was one of the greatest moments of my life. I wonder if I have it in me for one more such adventure. If so, what would it be?
Hard things are good things. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life working and looking forward to the occasional golf outing. I don’t want easy. I want something that is going to challenge me and require new things from me.
It is a small voice that has whispered non-stop to me for years. I try to ignore it, rationalizing that I’m too old, too busy or a million other stupid excuses. So that’s where I sit. I know I don’t have to do anything now…but I think it’s time to begin to at least listen to the voice…because that voice may not be mine!
To Be Continued…
