day. My new motto became “There’s no stop
button on the mountain.” My climbing partner
and best friend, Ken, wasn’t as maniacal about
training (but, to his credit, he runs marathons).
In July, we left for Arusha via London and
Nairobi. Upon arrival, we went on a pre-hike
– which Ken dubbed “hiking in vain” – around
Arusha National Park. We met the ten other
eager climbers who would form our party and
our guide, Abel, who had almost 500 journeys to
the top under his belt. Before we arrived, A&K
had sent detailed instructions in a leather binder
with packing lists, immunization requirements
and visa instructions. It was therefore surprising to
learn that some of the hikers didn’t pack parkas,
waterproof pants or even hiking poles. One girl
planned to get to the top wearing only jeans.
The following day we drove to 6,000 feet
above sea level, or the starting gate of the
Machame Route (also known as the Whiskey
Route). While there are less strenuous paths
to the top, this is the most scenic and popular.
At the gates, we signed a book documenting
every traveler who sets foot on the mountain.
The sherpas kept on coming and packing
up more boxes of food, potatoes and bottled
water. One carried fresh eggs on his head while
juggling watermelons in his hands. On average,
each person warranted six sherpas: one to carry
luggage, one with bottled water, one to transport
the tent and the remaining three to tote the
week’s food supply. In print, it seems excessive;
on that mountain slope, it was anything but.
The first day, we climbed from 6,000 to
10,000 feet through dense rainforest on a muddy
path. Much of the trek was through red mud and
up many, many stairs. Quickly, the dynamics of
the group began to fall into place. Peter, a doctor
from Texas, was a life-long bird watcher. He spent
the months leading up to our trip studying Excel
spreadsheets of birds in Tanzania. His goal was to
see 50 “lifers,” meaning 50 birds that he would see
for the first time in his life. Accompanying Peter
were his teenage daughter and sister from Hong
Kong. Simonetta, a luxury accessories designer,
was the trip’s Annie Liebowitz and carried several
cameras. Chris and Mitch, a fit couple from New
York City, were the group’s pacesetters and kept
us moving along at a good clip. Gillian and Alan
were a couple from Chicago who held hands the
entire time. Tim, a doctor from Kentucky, and
his daughter rounded out the group. Everyone
was strongly motivated to reach the top. Mitch
was doing it for his 50th birthday, Gillian wanted
to prove that women over 40 could do it, and I
wanted to prove to myself that I could successfully
complete one of the most physically demanding
challenges. I didn’t think it was possible.
At 10,000 feet, we signed the books at the
first overnight camp. I put on my Ugg boots
and made hot chocolate with marshmallows.
We were encouraged to bring such “tastes of
home” with us, and I can’t emphasize enough
how crucial these were. Before dinner, the
sherpas brought us each a bowl of hot water
to wash our hands and feet.
The twelve of us crammed into the food
tent for a meal of bread and soup. There was
always a carb-loaded choice, such as corn or
potatoes. Even more potatoes or pasta followed,
sometimes potatoes and pasta in the same dish.
The main meal had meat: chicken, beef, or
even fish, along with vegetables. Dinner was
usually over by 9 p.m. then, we would discuss
the following day’s climb and go to bed.
An achievement in itself: every day, the guides
were able to provide three hot meals – several
courses each – for the group. At 12,000 feet, I
had fresh guacamole with chips. Every morning
we ate sausage, eggs and bacon. The cook’s
specialty was fried bananas with a papaya sauce,
and though I had lost much of my appetite to
altitude, I couldn’t stop eating them.
I had a medicine chest with me; for days,
I had been taking altitude sickness pills called
Diamox. The important thing is to go “polli
polli” – Swahili for “slowly, slowly” – while
drinking plenty of water. Our guides were
militant about rehydrating. By the second day,
I was suffering from mild headaches, similar to
a faint ice cream headache. These twinges came
and went throughout the day, even after being
on a steady diet of Advil every couple of hours.
I never threw up or had bad stomach cramps or
nosebleeds, but the altitude was intense enough
that several people had to turn around.
Our exhaustion levels mounted as we climbed
higher and as the terrain became increasingly
foreign. We started in a rainforest and then
hiked through a desert that turned into a barren
landscape dotted with big boulders. All in all, we
moved through five distinct climate zones. Above
Most hikers watch the sunrise from Stella Point, located just 300 feet from the highest peak, Uhuru Point.
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