Tanzania - Tackling Kilimanjaro!

---

Crossing the chaotic border into Tanzania was relatively pain free and after a few more hours on broken (but improving) roads, we finally got to Moshi. Many tourists stay in Arusha but we had decided to head for Moshi, a smaller, less developed and much less touristy town.

We stayed on the main street in a local hotel (word “hotel” used loosely here) and spent a day or so around town just to get our bearings before tackling the reason for our journey here - Mount Kilimanjaro. We had no prep work done; no fitness training completed, and no trek booked… yikes!

Never fear – being experts at this stage at last minute planning - we ploughed on. So after some careful consideration, lots of informal chit-chat, and “intense” discussions with local touts / mountain guides - we decided to trek the Machame route up Kilimanjaro. It’s one of the less touristy routes but far steeper at the top, as we were to find out a few days later. We managed to get a very good price and hoped for the best, knowing we might have to rough it a bit, due to our decision in going with a local rag-tag band of troops, as opposed to a pristine and expensive, western mountain trekking outfit.

There was a lot to do before the trek; we had to have a couple of prep meetings with our new guide, and had to organise heavy duty sleeping bags, buy food, get rain jackets, boots, trekking pants and a host of other things. Not as straight forward as one would think, particularly as everything takes time to organise in Africa, and you could be the whole day trying to get the simplest of stuff sorted.

We didn’t get to sleep 'til very late the night before the trek, and when I finally did get some sleep (after the constant battling with the mosquito net), it was blooming time to wake up!

An hour or so later we had all the stuff on a truck and were heading for Kilimanjaro a couple of hours drive away on a hot & dusty road. We passed beautiful luscious countryside along the way, so peaceful and serene, all the while with wonderment in our eyes, as to what was in store for us over the next few days.

The History Bit…

The very earliest footprints of humanity were left here around 3.6 million years ago (give or take a few years) when a small group of people crossed a high plateau plain in what is today northern Tanzania, (unbeknownst to them), leaving their footprints in the ground, which was later covered in a blanket of volcanic ash. Hidden for millions of years, the prints weren’t found until an archaeologist uncovered them in 1978.

This is the area that gave rise to Homo habilis (the ancestor of you and me both), a meat-eating creature with a larger brain, who used very crude stone tools to make his way in the new world. Some of the earliest rock and cave paintings dating back 10,000 years have also been found in the area.

Jump forward to more recent history - 1498 to be precise, and the first Europeans were just arriving in an area which was known at the time as Tanganyika. They were led by the intrepid Portuguese sailor Vasco de Gama - who made his way down along the coast in search of an alternative route to the Orient and the East Indies. The Portuguese managed to take control of much of the coast of east Africa for a couple of hundred years afterwards, but they were eventually driven out two centuries later when the Arabs came-a-calling.

The Arabs took control of some of the east islands (including modern day Zanzibar) and setup home in the coastal towns on the mainland. Traders bought ivory and slaves in exchange for cheap cloth and firearms (seemed fair at the time!). Unfortunately for the locals, the traders also carried with them disease, such as small pox and cholera. By the late 19th century, when Europe cast an expansionist eye on Africa, East Africa had already been severely weakened by disease and violence.

In 1885, the Germans arrived in colonisation mode – with gun boat diplomacy. A new western task master, who set up the colonial economy to draw wealth out of the region and into the coffers of the colonial occupiers.

Little investment was made in improving the quality of life or opportunities for the local people. Peasants were compelled to grow cash-crops for export and many were forcibly moved onto plantations. Any rebellions were brutally suppressed; villages burned, crops ruined, cattle and grain destroyed.

German colonial domination of Tanganyika ended after World War I, when control of most of the territory passed to the British under a League of Nations mandate, after the German harrowing defeat in World War 1.

Decades later the British encroachment was finally pushed out, and the East African nation of Tanzania was formally born in 1964; formed out of the union of part of the mainland territory of Tanganyika and the coastal Muslim archipelago of Zanzibar. Subsequent years have witnessed Tanzania moving gradually towards a democratic self-government, but it still remains one of the poorest countries in the world and ranks way down on the human development index.

The Mountain Trek…

At an impressive 5,895 meters, Mount Kilimanjaro is the highest mountain in Africa, and the highest free-standing mountain in the world. It is considered an extinct volcano although it still releases steam and sulphur from vents in the crater centre. It is not a hard technical climb and is achieved without the use of ropes. The most difficult aspect of climbing this iconic mountain, is adjusting to the high altitude. Early parts of the climb could be described as a 'stroll'. But trust me when I tell you - scrambling up the summit slopes after 4 days, at 4am in the morning to reach the peak, is definitely no walk in the park!

At the Machame entrance gate to Kilimanjaro, suddenly there was a population explosion - injected with a flurry of activity. The place was suddenly filled with people, who like us had come to climb the mountain with their guides and porters in toe.

There were many European tourists in their bran new shiny mountain trekking costumes – no doubt brought with them from Europe. Jaysus we were envious! … and there the three of us were, with our mismatched, rag-tag, hand-me-down clothes and broken walking poles; trekking gear we’d sourced locally; scraped together from touts and local vendors that Henry (our guide) knew, from whom we hired some well-worn mountain boots out of their shed!

No time though for romantic notions of first-world clobber! With our worn sleeping bags rolled up, large water bottles-filled, and ourselves lathered in sun screen, we were ready to climb the mountain for the next 5 days!

Undaunted, we started at around 12:30pm and walked through the equatorial rainforest, mostly uphill, and mostly enjoyable. The forest was very lush and beautiful. Spirits are always high at the start of a trek.

Most of the porters and guides belong to the indigenous mountain tribe called Chagga, who migrated to the slopes of Kilimanjaro from West Africa many years ago. They are essentially farmers, but have been drawn into the lucrative tourism business.

The Tanzanians we met climbing had a very easy going attitude towards everything in general, and were cheerful people who never complained. “No hurry in Africa” is a common slogan!

When I did have energy for some social banter, I would probe Henry (our guide) about life in Tanzania and “the mountain” that had drawn us here. Henry told us that this was not a competition and that we must walk extremely “slow” – the phrase being “pole, pole” in Swahili (pronounced “pole-ay, pole-ay”), so as to acclimatize better. Having had severe mountain sickness a few months back in Tibet, and being acutely aware that we would be climbing rapidly, I took his advice seriously.

***Machame Hut*** – is the camp where we stayed on the first night - all three of us (myself, Nicola and Lisa), along with all our trekking gear, squashed into a two man tent! Each morning and evening over the days ahead we were brought small bowls of hot water to use to wash... what no shower? You soon get used to this (I did anyway! - the girls "grew" to love it… eventually!) and you feel just as clean as if you had had a shower… OK slight exaggeration! And in the evening time, we had a delicious dinner prepared by our head chef - followed by copious amounts of tea, which helps fend off the affects of altitude sickness (so we were told!).

***Shira Camp*** (12,600 ft) - “Good morning, good morning” … we heard a booming voice followed by some vigorous shaking of the tent itself. It was actually still dark; very dark, or at least I was hoping it was… Surely it wasn’t time to get up already!?! The tent rustled again. In my sleepy state and with very sore muscles, I managed to open the tent zip to encounter a very cheery Henry - who had been up since 5am with a tray of tea – “bed tea” as it was called; easily the most relaxing part of the day; 20 minutes each morning where you could just sit in your tent and sip tea before the day started… a very good morning indeed.

***Baranco Camp*** – It was a HUGE process… just unzipping yourself out of your sleeping bag, (I was already wearing... several outer layers, inner fleece, outer fleece, down jacket, rain pants, gloves and two overhead balaclavas, so no need to get dressed then!) - yanking on the tent zip and crawling out a 10-inch hole like a worm, then shuddering at how cold it was outside. Then you had to collect and orient yourself in the general direction you wanted to go; inevitably tripping over some rocks en-route in the pitch dark, all because you'd forgotten to turn on your head torch in your sleepy state ... but the effort was all worth it though… eventually reaching the well-worn (and at this stage, not the cleanest) TOILET! .... that is until you remember you've forgotten to bring the damn toilet paper…

At the same time with a different focus; you could be mesmerised by the beauty of the night. The million stars that light up the African night sky. The serenity of the mountain, (as it is suddenly revealed in the moonlight sky), seemed to belong to me and me alone.

Solitude was a treat on Kilimanjaro. Seeing the breath-taking scenery, the mountain peak against the backdrop moonlight validated my being there, in the night, all by myself … while searching for the toilets with a dodgy head torch!

The following morning Henry pointed at a vertical wall next to our campsite that we would be climbing to get to Karanga camp. So there we were an hour later, scrambling up what was termed the ‘Breakfast Wall’; a tame name for something that needed all four limbs to manoeuvre. Scary in parts (think life insurance here people!), almost vertical but “mostly” fun. We gained altitude rapidly and from time to time stopped to enjoy the views of some breath-taking scenic valleys amidst the clouds.

After we caught sight of ***Karanga Camp*** (13,300 ft) - which seemed like we could reach it in 5 minutes, there was still an hour of downhill to Karanga valley and then some uphill where we had lunch, and afterwards continued on to Barafu camp.

***Barafu Camp*** - we reached Barafu camp around 5pm. The camp was on what you could only term as a desolate harsh exposed mountain ridge, with a clutter of tents (some large and some small) placed uncomfortably on huge boulders. The sun and wind here would literally take the exposed skin off your face (as Nicola found out!).

We were shattered when we arrived, and so just sat and watched a small group who had summited the mountain peak the previous night coming back to Barafu base-camp after trekking overnight. They didn’t look too cheery. We were too exhausted to talk with them…

To get to the infamous toilets we had to climb over huge boulders and scramble with our hands. This took every ounce of our strength. On top of that we had to drink and eat more to combat mountain sickness and give us strength to continue, so you just couldn’t avoid the “input-output” cycle! This was way too much hard work…

We looked on green with envy at some of the other trekkers with their own Taj-Mahal style sleeping quarters along with deck chairs, dinner tents and even their own private toilet tents (who knew!).

***Barafu to the Summit…***
An hour or so later we had dinner and went to bed early at around 8pm – exhausted - but we had to get up again about midnight, as we were going to be trekking overnight in the pitch dark… scary!

The climb overnight was simply unrelenting; oxygen became really scarce after a couple of hours and at times we were left gasping for breath. It would have been a manageable climb at lower altitude, but at this altitude everything became so much harder. We moved slowly and very quietly. For once I didn’t feel compelled to chatter on.

Kilimanjaro consists of three peaks but Uhuru Point is the highest point on the mountain that we were aspiring to reach. It was a sight to behold. The destination seemed so far away and daunting, so high above us that it felt ridiculous to think we could ever get there. Yet it was alluring and so majestically beautiful, that it would be ridiculous to give up now.

I had literally gotten sick throughout the entire night and the pain in my head was incessant. I can only describe it as if someone had put my head in a vice and was just tightening the screw more and more the higher I climbed…

As I approached the top, my weariness withered to give way to a strange kind of sadness but jubilation at the same time - when you know you have reached the top and there is nowhere else to go. The three of us reached the famous marker on ***Uhuru Peak*** (19,340 ft) around 9am on the Saturday morning… after an extremely challenging 9 hours climbing on just a few hours sleep!

The power of achieving something like this was an incredible feeling though. It’s a remarkable challenge to undertake. There were times on this mountain when I felt that death was literally approaching (as I walked alone – only a few steps at a time before having to catch my breath) along the mountain ridge overlooking massive glaziers – a sight to behold indeed.

I knew myself it had become dangerous continuing with such severe altitude sickness, but nothing could stop us now - we had done it and the view from the top of Africa was stupendous!

We spent fifteen minutes on the top of the roof of Africa, trying to click pictures, at the same time breathless, and I was continuing to vomit over and over from mountain sickness; the pain in my head becoming more severe the longer I spent here.

I had to descend very quickly afterwards so as to alleviate the symptoms of altitude sickness, and virtually had to run down (off-route) the mountain to get to lower altitude to ease the pain.

Several hours later I arrived back to Barafu camp with one of the porters who I had brought in toe. The girls, Nicola and Lisa, followed behind an hour or so later. I had tea with the porters who congratulated me on summiting overnight. Yes, Kilimanjaro was tougher than I had ever imagined but all the pain was forgotten now!

Would you believe it - after 13 hours we still had no time to sleep - we had to be out of Barafu camp in an hour, so we had a quick rest and got going again for another 3 hours trekking to a lower attitude camp, which was to be our last night on the mountain. This time there were celebrations and cheers. Congratulations all round and preparation for the ceremony the following morning. We got to bed about 9pm and slept soundly throughout the night.

7am the following morning (after a lie-in) we were up and dressed; breakfast, the awards ceremony (where you get to thank the porters, guides and chef) for taking good care of you on the mountain; and we were off again trekking for another few hours to reach the bottom of the mountain, where our truck was waiting to pick us up and bring us back to Moshi for some well-deserved showers and some sleep.

Machama Village

The day after we arrived back in Moshi; myself and Henry headed out to the local African village of Machama – the actual village where Henry was from. We caught the bus, known locally as the “dollar-dollar” which is really a ram-shackled van - not advisable unless you’re used to 19+ people in the back of a small van with no seat-belts, which technically I’m sure the manufacturer only intended 6-8 people to sit in!

As you can guess, safety wouldn’t be to the fore here, and being the only westerner on the bus and probably the only one in a while who’d chanced the journey - there was intense curiosity and giggling, as the bus tore along the broken roads at speed… with all the windows open for air-con!

People shouted at me, “Hello Muzunga!” (meaning hello white-man!)... Anyone who got on the bus along the route had to be told exactly who I was in Swahili - to more outrageous laugher from big white teeth smiles!

We started with some breakfast in the local village eatery, (no menu though; you need a local with you to both order and tell you what’s good) and then we spent a few hours wandering around the food and clothes markets, as well as me being paraded around several local bars, as Henry introduced me as his “best friend” to anyone who would listen!

That evening we came back about 7:30pm; we gave Lisa and Nicola gifts we had picked up in the village after hard negotiations. Then we headed down the street to the East Africa Bar which was followed by a few social drinks, a few more … and then on to a local nightclub. Henry told me he would be in trouble if the local priest caught him here, and you know what – I think he was right!

We loved Tanzania and what it had to offer was nothing short of breath-taking. Our flight out of the country was at 4pm the following day. We flew from Kilimanjaro back to Kenya, and on to Ethiopia, were we spent a six hour wait in Addis Ababa. I would love to have spent a week or two in Ethiopia - trekking around the country, but our passports were completely full at this stage!! We couldn’t take any more stamps or visas – so we literally had to go home…

From Ethiopia we flew to Italy (Rome) and onwards to the UK. We eventually got into Heathrow in London a day later around 9:30am and spent the day around London, before getting the train to Holyhead later that night, in order to get the overnight ferry home to Ireland.

Time To Go Home

SO… our epic 14-month journey must finally come to an end (for now at least!). Forty five countries travelled on this particular journey; (fifty if I count the countries we transited through on flights, or passed through overland on trains). How privileged we were to be able to have had such an adventure, and what we saw and experienced we’ll take with us for the rest of our lives...

From rural Mongolian nomads, to the people of Myanmar, to friendly Tibetan locals high up in the Himalayas; from India and the Taj-Mahal to the slums of Kolkata (Calcutta); from the Angkor Wat temples in Cambodia, to modern Tokyo in Japan or Taipei in Taiwan. From Siberia to the Fijian Islands; from Nepal to Columbia, to the remoteness of Easter Island; or from Petra in Jordan, to the Pyramids in Egypt, to the West Bank in Israel... Everest to the Sahara, from Beijing to the depths of the Amazon jungle and back... and the countless other places we got to experience, and the people we encountered along the way... thank you all!

Travel has changed how we view and see the world in so many ways. I didn’t know what that really meant when I heard people say it before we travelled – I do now.
'Til next time...

---

Photos

Ain't no mountain high enough...
Mount Kilimanjaro - standing at 5,895 meters - the highest free-standing mountain in the world!

No racing ahead now!
The porters physically carried food & equipment... everything that was needed for the trip

The production team!
who helped us reach the summit

Breakfast!!!
Back in Moshi

Known locally as "cabbage corner"..
Local market in Machama

Hairdressing: Tanzanian-style!
Machama village