This morning we woke up to the usual knock at the door at 6am but this morning was quite different as what awaited us outside may be one of the most magnificent things I've ever seen. Oblivious to the cold, I ran outside in my t-shirt and flip-flops and fought the urge to run from door to door, rousing people out of their sleep to witness this as well. To wake up on the side of a mountain is already amazing, but to look out at 3700m at a rolling sea of glowing fuchsia cotton clouds below us with radiant beams of morning sunlight piercing through is impossible to actually describe accurately. It was as close to standing in a painting ...or a dream as I have ever come.
We quickly got ready and set out for our final ascent day. On our way out of camp, another stretcher went flying by us with yet another Kili victim - the 5th one we'd seen so far.
Throughout the day the last of the vegetation disappeared and we were now trekking through what they call the Arctic Desert, cold and barren with a sharp, persistent wind. We ate our lunch on a make shift bench, huddled behind some rocks and tried to distract ourselves with the little striped mice that looked like they were dressed in chipmunk costumes. It was a miracle anything could live out there at all. It started to rain and as the wind whipped around us, I kept reminding myself that this was probably not that bad considering what we had ahead of us.
We rolled into Kibo camp late in the afternoon. There was an instant heaviness in the air that was not just from the lack of oxygen. Kibo is known as the make it or break it camp. At 4709m, the effects of the altitude tend to send more hikers back down, than any other camp. This was also the first time we could see what we'd be climbing that night and to say it was intimidating would be an understatement. It was steep, and I mean STEEP. The camp itself is intimidating. The charming little wood huts are replaced by a large, cold, stone army barrack compound style building. The toilets are nothing more than a hole in the ground to squat over, which is slightly discouraging when you're already freezing fully clothed. There is no water anywhere, so all thoughts of washing are pointless.
Coincidentally, I ran into a guy who I'd met in Toronto before I left, who was also climbing Kili to raise money for M.S. At the time, I remember thinking, this guy is going to make this climb with no effort at all. He staggered past me. I called his name, so excited to see a familiar face in this wasteland. He slowly turned around and what faced me barely resembled the guy I'd met on the ground. He stared at me with puffy, blood shot eyes, not at all recognizing me. I could tell it was hard for him to talk so we just spoke briefly. He said he felt great until he hit the summit, then he collapsed and had to be carried down. This is a big guy, so two small porters carrying him down this precarious slope was unimaginable. At this point, we were still unaware that there was no rescue between Kibo and the summit due to the impossible terrain. Our head guide Solomon was very careful with the amount of information he would share with us that could possibly add to our anxiety. I think all of us had pretty much reached our anxiety peak anyway. This was it, what we'd all been waiting for. Next stop, the summit.
We quickly got ready and set out for our final ascent day. On our way out of camp, another stretcher went flying by us with yet another Kili victim - the 5th one we'd seen so far.
Throughout the day the last of the vegetation disappeared and we were now trekking through what they call the Arctic Desert, cold and barren with a sharp, persistent wind. We ate our lunch on a make shift bench, huddled behind some rocks and tried to distract ourselves with the little striped mice that looked like they were dressed in chipmunk costumes. It was a miracle anything could live out there at all. It started to rain and as the wind whipped around us, I kept reminding myself that this was probably not that bad considering what we had ahead of us.
We rolled into Kibo camp late in the afternoon. There was an instant heaviness in the air that was not just from the lack of oxygen. Kibo is known as the make it or break it camp. At 4709m, the effects of the altitude tend to send more hikers back down, than any other camp. This was also the first time we could see what we'd be climbing that night and to say it was intimidating would be an understatement. It was steep, and I mean STEEP. The camp itself is intimidating. The charming little wood huts are replaced by a large, cold, stone army barrack compound style building. The toilets are nothing more than a hole in the ground to squat over, which is slightly discouraging when you're already freezing fully clothed. There is no water anywhere, so all thoughts of washing are pointless.
Coincidentally, I ran into a guy who I'd met in Toronto before I left, who was also climbing Kili to raise money for M.S. At the time, I remember thinking, this guy is going to make this climb with no effort at all. He staggered past me. I called his name, so excited to see a familiar face in this wasteland. He slowly turned around and what faced me barely resembled the guy I'd met on the ground. He stared at me with puffy, blood shot eyes, not at all recognizing me. I could tell it was hard for him to talk so we just spoke briefly. He said he felt great until he hit the summit, then he collapsed and had to be carried down. This is a big guy, so two small porters carrying him down this precarious slope was unimaginable. At this point, we were still unaware that there was no rescue between Kibo and the summit due to the impossible terrain. Our head guide Solomon was very careful with the amount of information he would share with us that could possibly add to our anxiety. I think all of us had pretty much reached our anxiety peak anyway. This was it, what we'd all been waiting for. Next stop, the summit.
No comments:
Post a Comment