Snows of Kilimanjaro
Climbing Africa’s tallest mountain proves to be a truly humbling experience for Shanaz Shamsuddin
THIS quote, which I chanced upon while reading a running idol’s autobiography, crossed my mind during my trip to Tanzania in midJanuary this year. It perfectly sums up my experience of scaling Mount Kilimanjaro (or Kili, for short) which, at 5,895m above sea level, is not only the tallest mountain in Africa but also the world’s highest free-standing mountain.
Though non-technical, Kili can be daunting, especially if underprepared. The challenges I faced were a reminder that the way to approach life is with perseverance and great humility.
Of all the things I have done in the past that tested my limits and pushed my boundaries, none left me with conflicting emotions the way Mount Kilimanjaro did.
I encountered so many highs and lows along the way that, from the physical and mental point of view, it completely overwhelmed me.
What concerned me the most, however, was the possibility of mountain sickness. The lack of oxygen at high altitude can be debilitating. It was beyond my control and I had to accept that.
THE ROOF OF AFRICA
Kili is made up of four climate zones with distinct flora and fauna — rainforest (up to 3,000m elevation), moorland (3,000m to 4,200m elevation), high alpine (4,200m to 5,000m elevation) and glacial (above 5,000m elevation).
Out of the seven official routes to ascend this mountain, I opted for the seven-day Machame route, dubbed one of the three most scenic.
With spectacular features such as the Lava Tower and the Barranco Wall, it is also one of the most strenuous. Oh well, the best view comes after the hardest climb, right?
THE ALTITUDE EFFECT
I joined a group of five American trekkers, three local guides and a crew of porters.
The first two days hike from Machame Gate through the lush rainforest, moorland and the rocky landscape of Shira Plateau went smoothly.
On Day 3, however, the altitude effect started to kick in as we climbed above 4,500m elevation towards Lava Tower.
I had a bad headache and my breathing became laboured.
“Pole pole,” our guides kept saying. In Swahili it means slowly, slowly. It is the smartest pace to maintain in high altitudes.
THE BARRANCO WALL
Day 4 was the most enjoyable. The absence of rain was a welcome change.
On this day, we also got to climb the most talked-about Barranco Wall, a 300m near- vertical scramble. The steep climb on a harsh rockface, with the Barranco Valley beneath me, was quite scary and couldn’t have been done without our guides’ assistance.
One small mistake and I could hurt myself but boy, did I have fun! It turned out to be one of the highlights of the entire trek.
THE SUMMIT PUSH
The following day was a short hike to Baranfu, the base camp for the summit attempt.
At this point, the peak began to feel more tangible than ever.
I started having “serious talks” with myself, a skill I acquired from lonely hours of ultra-running.
The final climb, which started at midnight on Day 6, was a remarkably painful attempt. My sleep-deprived self moved ever so slowly in the freezing darkness.
As the air got thinner, breathing became more difficult. I was surprised at how disoriented I became and how little control I had over my body.
The sun slowly rose just after we reached Stella Point, the final checkpoint prior to summit.
As I watched in awe at the magnificent orange hues forming close to the horizon, all self-doubt diminished. The peak was only about 30 minutes away. It was well within my reach.
Slowly but surely, we made that final push and before we knew it, the famous signboard at the peak was right in front of us. We were at the highest point of Africa! How utterly surreal.
My mind travelled back to 2003 and a BBC programme titled 50 Things To Do Before You Die.
It was the first time I had seen an image of the beautiful snow-capped Kili. “I’m going to climb this mountain one day”, I thought.
I shook myself back to the present and smiled as I took a final glance at the peak before we returned to Stella Point. It felt wonderful to finally be able to say, “I did it”.
Thank you, Kili, for the lessons you taught me. Climbing you was one truly humbling experience.