The 5 Days of Kilimanjaro

I reached the summit of Mt. Kilimanjaro at 6:48 AM on July 7, 2016. The sun emerged over the convexed horizon as my labored breaths and pounding heart powered my body to the peak. In one moment, five days’ efforts came to an apex of adrenaline and pure exhilaration. There I was, about 11,000 feet closer to the sun than I had ever been before (the summit is 19,341 feet in elevation). I swear I could hear the Earth creak like a medieval drawbridge, rotating under its own weight.

Up until that point I had never realized how stunningly magnificent our planet is.

To Machame Camp, Altitude: 9,301 ft. July 3, 2016

The five-day trek to the summit was nothing short of remarkable. Every day was its own ecosystem, its own season, its own adventure. As I entered the trailhead I immediately engulfed myself in the forest. I was greeted by little monkeys, the gatekeepers of the mountain pass. A 6-hour uphill trot left me and my small group of traveling mates utterly exhausted. We let the excitement get the best of us, and our legs let us know.

Entering camp that night the temperature must have been dropping at least 10 degrees per half-hour until it landed at just above freezing. Such a massive variance from the jungle climate just hours before. As we settled in our resting spot for the night, we hurriedly helped our porters prop up the tents so we could try to warm up.

Our porters were absolute superheroes, by the way. These guys climbed Kilimanjaro up to 25 times per year while carrying jugs of water, heavy packs, and food. I truly still cannot wrap my head around their abilities. They helped us set up our tents and propped up a tiny dining tent for me and my traveling mates to have dinner in. The level of hospitality was astonishing and the meals were hearty and filling - so good that we dubbed the cook “Stomach Engineer”.

To Shira Camp, Altitude: 11,250 ft. July 4, 2016

Every day was a lesson and a test of my mentality. Our guides, Christopher and Vale (pronounced Vah-lay) were such interesting guys. Both of them had farms they ran with their families. Guiding people like me up Kilimanjaro was a supplement to their farming income. Any time we started to walk a little too fast, they would say “Pole pole” (poe-lay poe-lay); it means “Slow, slow.”

At one point Christopher said to me “Pole pole, Dan. Kili isn't going anywhere.” I laughed, slowed my roll, and adjusted my gaze to the summit. Still 3 days away. Here I am, rushing to get to the top, when my destination is gazing down upon me showing off her majestic beauty. It’s only beautiful if eyes are there to see it, otherwise it doesn’t exist. I basked in her beauty and smiled.

Having experienced such an enlightening moment, feeling as though I had a 19,000 foot tall protector watching over me, I broke away from the group as soon as we got to camp. I wanted to meditate on that feeling, let the mountain envelop me in its history. Here’s the excerpt from my journal:

“I went out on a boulder overlooking Africa and meditated. How cool that was. I actually forgot my location momentarily, but a nearby crow ensured I remember. This whole trip is bringing me back to the necessities of life: 3 square meals, a place to sleep, and drinking clean water.”

To Barranco Camp, Altitude: 13,044 ft. July 5, 2016

Emerging above the cloudline we were able to get a wide-range view of neighboring Mt. Meru. I felt like that badass gunslinger being born out of a dust cloud in an old western. Morale skyrocketed as we gained altitude at a faster clip than the previous two days.

The name of the game on the third day was to climb high, sleep low. It’s a tactic used in climbing to help acclimating to the altitude, hopefully preventing altitude sickness. We approached an altitude of around 15,000 feet and stopped to have lunch. Feeling super strong, I got cocky and ate a bigger lunch than I should have.

“I guess altitude sickness isn’t going to affect me like I thought it would.” I quite literally wrote this in my journal the night before. I got what was coming for me. As we began our mild descent to sleep low, I completely lost my cookies. The lunch I ate confidently now laid on the ground by my feet. My brain felt like a collapsing star preparing to explode.

The throbbing continued with every labored step, and I began to hallucinate. We were navigating through a very strange region as we approached camp, and the trees looked like something out of Dr. Suess. I don’t have a very clear memory of our arrival to camp, except for imagining the Lorax hopping along the trail beside me. As we settled in, Vale looked at me and just smiled. It was that kind of smile that said “I’ve been there, I know exactly how you feel.” He said “Tomorrow you will wake up with no headache - like magic.”

I wrote one simple line in my journal that night: “Today was truly hell.”

To Barafu Camp (Base Camp), Altitude: 13,800 ft. July 6, 2016

Like magic, I woke up a new man. Vale was right, he was always right. Waking up a new man could not have come at a better time, because the next two days were only going to get more and more difficult.

This day was the day I got to know myself. I sat inside my head, as I muttered “pole pole” over and over. I dove deep inside the recesses of my mind as if I were searching for weights at the bottom of the deep end of a pool. Altitude has a funny way of opening up doors. It peeled back the ivy of my mind's brick wall revealing passageways I never knew existed.

The existential, the trivial, the incomprehensible, I pretty much covered it all. Me myself and I solved all sorts of world issues in the span of 7 hours and I ended up making a new friend. Not enough people take the time to build a friendship with themselves.

When our tired legs and loopy minds came to a stop at camp, we went over the game plan for our summit strategy. Go to bed by 7, wake up at 11:30, shove off by midnight and don’t stop until you reach the top. It was a short strategy session.

As I journaled before shutting my eyes, I felt a magnetic pull to go outside. I promptly ignored my intuition and wisdom, trading it in for my warm sleeping bag, and drifted off to sleep. I began to have altitude dreams, and boy, are they insane. I was lifted off the Earth by a mysterious hand, pulled through the atmosphere and dropped into the black. realm reminiscent of Fantasia. I hovered there, suspended and weightless as a meteor entered my vision, not making a sound. It clipped the moon and sent the lunar body into a vicious tumbling rotation, making its way to Earth. The impact released a supersonic boom that jolted me awake. Needless to say I couldn't fall back asleep.

I wriggled my way out of the tent, a human-sized worm, refusing to get out of my toasty sleeping bag. Then, I looked up. I’m not quite sure how long i stood there, mouth agape drinking in the entirety of the Milky Way. Maybe five minutes, maybe thirty. Time dissipated; space has a way of doing that.

To Uhuru Peak, Altitude: 19,341 ft. July 7, 2016

Midnight came and up we went. A few groups had begun their ascent ahead of us and I could see their headlamps like fireflies on the mountainside. We had a six and a half hour hike ahead of us, 95% of it switchbacks. Everyone was singing, most of us belting “pole pole” to the tune of “ole, ole ole oleeee”. What a great way to start the ascent.

High spirits dropped off left and right, people started wheezing, asking for breaks, mentally fracturing. I entered a strangely heightened state of perception. Every sound was amplified, every gust of wind felt like getting slapped in the face with an icicle. I refused to stop, looking over my shoulder to vomit every so often, but I wasn’t stopping.

Every 5 minutes I allowed myself to look up. Truly it was enough to drive a man insane because for the first 5 hours my view absolutely did not change in the slightest. All I could see was a winding line of headlamps, like poorly hung christmas lights. “Oh my god, when will we get to the damn top.”

At 6:00 AM we reached Stella Point, at 18,885 ft. Christopher said “About 45 minutes to go.” At that moment I had enough adrenaline to where I just felt like running to the top. Triumphant music began playing in my head as soon as I could see the old wooden sign marking Uhuru Peak. I belted out a Leonidas roar as my pace quickened. I slowly spun in circles absorbing the vastness laid out before me and stepped foot on the roof of Africa.

Mountain tops are often regarded as the peak of exploration, end goals of determination, and a sign of work paying off. Whether it's a proverbial mountain or completely literal in its meaning, it all adds up to the same thing. Accomplishments can be measured in terms of distance traveled, height reached, or steps taken.

Just as important as the summit are the moments that lead you up to it. I met my true self on Kilimanjaro. I experienced timelessness gazing off into the galaxy. I felt the comfort of the Earth, the connectivity of all living things. I pushed my limits only to discover that I was the one who put all of my limitations in place.