A TASTE OF THE HIGH LIFE
Trekking to the summit of Mt Kilimanjaro can be a truly breathtaking experience, as Sam Conway discovers
Channel your inner explorer with a trek to the summit of Mt Kilimanjaro
‘ REMEMBER, pain is temporary, victory is forever’ – these are the words of encouragement drummed into our group as we attempted to reach the rooftop of Africa – Mount Kilimanjaro, which stands 19,342ft above sea level.
Stepping off of the air-conditioned bus, not only was I greeted by humidity but also by a sea of purple uniforms – the Kili Kings. Our guides and porters welcomed us with beaming smiles, belting out Swahili songs and beckoning us to join in. It was impossible not to. We were all very upbeat as we set off into the rainforest to begin the ascent.
It was on the first day that the group were introduced to the phrase ‘pole, pole’ by our guides, meaning ‘slow, slow’. This would become critical in the final days of the hike, when we were at high altitude, but was said initially to remind us to conserve our energy and enjoy the thick lush greenery that wrapped around us for miles on end. We meandered along pathways, while black and white colobus monkeys and their kin danced throughout the tree tops, waving their bushy tails at their new guests.
As we continued the seven-hour hike, the trees and birdsong began to fall away behind us, and we entered a new landscape of heather and scrub that stretched for miles in every direction. The reality of the challenge I had embarked on began to sink in.
The second day was one of sheer adventure. I awoke to the sound of rain of biblical proportions and Pembo, my designated porter, delivering a coffee in bed and a bowl of hot water to have ‘washy washy’. Having tackled a relatively smooth track the day before, we were now faced with a jagged landscape peppered with boulders, which we would need to climb and scrabble between. The heavy downpour had caused fast-moving icy rivers to form, dividing the landscape and blocking our path.
We created our own bridges made from rocks and logs, which we heaved into the moving stream hoping they would provide safe passage. Sadly, this was not always the case, and a few good-natured members of the group slipped and fell in, experiencing a pretty bracing pick-me-up.
Spirits were high on the third morning. The camp had woken to the sun beaming down and the most beautiful al fresco breakfast, which we enjoyed above the clouds. Tucking into pancakes, eggs and fresh fruit while catching our first glimpse of the summit, I thought to myself that even the most luxurious safari camps couldn’t buy this view.
Next stop on the itinerary was the ominous Lava Tower. Located seven kilometres further on, this checkpoint is incorporated into the route as a test to see how the trekkers cope with altitude. At 15,190ft above sea level, this part of the trip is where the majority of the team began to feel the impact of altitude sickness. Just as I was beginning to feel sorry for myself, I was snapped out of it by the enthusiastic chanting of a group of porters, who overtook us effortlessly.
They were the true heroes of the group, carrying a variety of heavy items, from gas canisters and tables to thick, rollout mattresses and our beloved chemical toilet – all of which made our stay more enjoyable. They cheerily greeted us with a ‘Jambo’, before rushing up the mountain and disappearing out of sight to set up camp for the evening ahead.
THE FINAL PUSH TO THE SUMMIT
Scaling the Barranco Breakfast Wall was certainly a very different start to the day. When I first pictured climbing Kilimanjaro, I considered it a slow and measured experience – I certainly hadn’t imagined I would be scaling a 850ft high wall five minutes after wolfing down my porridge.
For the vertigo sufferers on the trip, this was a real mind-over-matter moment, which involved shimmying along a ledge, grazing your nose as you went – literally kissing the wall!
We soon fell back into our usual trekking order, with the focused hikers, who enjoyed gritting their teeth through the pain and getting on with it, at the front. Meanwhile, I seemed to find my way towards the
back, playing games of ‘would you rather’ with my new-found friends, or discussing our winning Come Dine With Me menus or anything else food-related.
It was from this position that I built a friendship with one of the Kili Kings, Brunno, who was put in charge of the stragglers of the group. He ensured we guzzled enough water and ate copious amounts of Haribo in order to retain energy and keep a ‘positive mental attitude’.
This PMA was definitely aided by him blaring Bob Marley’s greatest hits, which we all cheerily joined in with much to his dismay. Brunno had followed in his uncle’s footsteps in becoming a guide. Initially starting off as a porter in his teens to fund a football shirt obsession (Man United), he had worked his way through the ranks, improving his English and learning the ways of the mountain. Brunno told me of the great work G Adventures were doing in his local community, including supporting women to open their own businesses and offering fair treatment and good conditions to their porters.
The mess tent on summit night was a starkly different place. What had begun as a vibrant hub, where we’d swap stories from the day and gorge on peanut butter, was now eerily silent. I don’t think much dinner was consumed that night as we waited on tenterhooks for the night’s briefing: ‘This mountain is not a joke. Some of you will not make it. Pushing yourself may be fatal – but if the mind is willing, the body will follow.’
We went to bed to try to get a few hours’ sleep before waking at 11pm to take on the toughest challenge of our lives. After what felt like ten minutes of broken sleep, wrapped up in five layers of mountain gear, I was awoken by Pembo: ‘It is time, my friend.’
The team zigzagged its way up the dark mountain, illuminated by one of the starriest skies I had ever seen.
The routine became shuffling for an hour, stopping for five minutes, shuffling for an hour, stopping for five minutes, spurred on by the guides’ Swahili lullabies wishing us a safe passage. After the fifth break, I became aware of why we were only allowed five minutes. I found myself hunched over a rock, consumed by tiredness, nausea and breathlessness.
However, as the determination began to leave my eyes, the expert guides ran towards me brandishing ginger tea and biscuits. As I sat on the rock wondering why I was doing this to myself, I began to witness the most spectacular light show – the sun had begun to rise. The sky filled with layers of black, purple, reds and golds, and clouds gathered around mountains far below us. We pressed on.
Eventually the team made it to Uhuru Peak, our first landmark in the now blazing sunshine. It was here we came upon the first travellers outside of our group, who passed us with cheers of encouragement. The sense of camaraderie was empowering.
Trudging over the final peak, I saw the sign I had been envisaging for the past six months: ‘Congratulations, you are now at Stellar Point 5,765 metres above sea level’.
The sense of euphoria and pride was incredible. We all shed a tear, hugged one another and took group photographs (for bragging rights) as if we’d been friends for years! It had been brutal and, in the darkest hours of summit night, a real mind-overmatter situation. But, just as we had been told in the mess tent, when the mind is ready, the body will follow.
It’s now been more than a year since I climbed Kilimanjaro with G Adventures, and I often reminisce about it. Lockdown has been a struggle but, if anything, it has made me grateful for the experiences and friendships travelling has given me. As soon as the time is right, I will be booking my next bucket-list adventure!