Kicked my butt. Beat the crap out of me. Whatever you want to call it, apply it to this handful of days. In an effort to see the top of Africa, I have since felt I’ve come back from the dead.

 

 

What You Need To Understand

At this point, summiting Kili is very much so an overdone bucket-list item. A touristy mess.

Tour companies and park agencies have flooded this opportunity for profit, and will go so far as to hire porters to be solely in charge of carrying a toilet bowl 4000 meters above sea level just for your private group, complete with a tall zip-up tent to serve as a stall. Keep in mind each campsite has a perfectly functional, tiled bathroom compound.

The altitude is real. Bring your pills and oxygen and oriental herbs. To acclimate to an elevation of 5985 meters, treks must take 5-8 days and each day, a new park admission fee is charged, while food costs, porter labor, and tips rack up.

There are hundreds (hundreds!) of tour agencies among the towns at the base of the mountain. For the non-luxury options, every detail is almost the same as the next company’s itinerary. All the costs start to melt together. Even your meals mirror those in the tent next door. And they’re good meals too: pastas, tea, watermelons, pineapple.

Seriously. Tanzanians carried watermelons on their heads so that we might enjoy fresh fruit every day. The burden of porters included our tents, gear, another tent for dining, folding chairs and tables, gas stoves and pots for cooking, tablecloths, candlesticks, not to mention all of their own supplies.

I don’t need this. No one does. But anything more basic would require significant training and preparation with regards to altitude. You could feed me 12 MREs over the next six days for all I care. That’s what one guy I met on the shuttle from Kenya was planning on doing—he had all his own gear and wanted to finish the Lemosho route in four or five days. I don’t know if he ever found a guide and realized his goals. He was a biology teacher from Minnesota.

So why bother? My dad first described Kilimanjaro to me, but the cost is so nasty. I thought I was letting this one go, but by the time I was in Kenya, I knew I wouldn’t live it down if I came back without seeing Uhuru Peak, the highest point of all 11.67 million square miles of Africa.

 

Budget Breakdown

After all costs are totaled, the number unfortunately sits around 2500USD. Keep in mind each party consists of more staff than group members (i.e. 34 porters for a group of 12, plus cooks and guides), all of whom each need tips for 5-7 days. Some estimates of the specifics covered by tour companies, per climber, include:

• Kilimanjaro National Park entry- 60 per day
• Staff entry- 1 per day
• Camping- 50 per night
• Staff services- 10-25 per staff per day
• Food and water- 15 per day
• Transport- 100
• Rescue fee- 20
• Tip total- 200

Additionally, all gear is available for rent in town. Other items, like trekking poles, water bottle, hats, gloves, and sleeping bags were scrapped together and borrowed at my hostel. All prices given in USD.

 

 

My Decision

I trusted the staff at Mara Explorers Camp, who referred me to Rafiki Backpackers in Moshi, Tanzania. Most people come to this town and use it as a base for Kili. Rafiki is a great stay run by Alfred and Stephanie.

Alfred goes far out of his way to help you enjoy your experience in Tanzania, and you might come home to him making fresh mojitos for his guests.

Stephanie works for Viva Africa Tours, which organizes Kili treks in addition to a rainbow of safaris. She set up a reservation and assisted me with the wiring of finances, since Tanzanian inflation was so bad that a 10,000 shilling note sat around 4USD and ATMs just didn’t have that many bills. Stephanie will also help pick a start date, whether you are alone looking to join other solo travelers and couples (preset days offer this “join group” option) or you already have a decently sized party.

This worked smoothly for me as I didn’t commit to the idea until I was already in Kenya. My share of the tour and tip via the 6-day-5-night Machame Route totaled to 1627USD, and the gear I rented (hiking boots, down jacket, etc.) was another 94USD. Although 1000USD was normal a decade ago, this is now considered to be on the low end without risking safety.

My group consisted of seven other Chinese students foreign exchanging at Toronto University, who were volunteering in Arusha (another popular town for a Kili base) at the time. We really got to know each other and remain in touch. I was happy to learn more about modern China from the perspective of a much younger and less removed generation than my parents, and my mandarin improved dramatically.

 

Getting There

From Nairobi, a ~30USD ticket with Impala Shuttles for Moshi, Tanzania can be booked at Impala Hotel and depart daily at 8:30am. Another option is the Riverside Shuttle. Both will stop in Arusha. The 7-hour ride was comfortable with intermittent bathroom breaks, and the scenery outside is pretty unique. Lots of red-dirt and dry shrubs in Kenya, and field after field of sunflowers upon entering Tanzania. Crossing the border was smooth—fill out a tourist visa while ignoring the winged ants on the table you’re using (some are still alive), pay 100USD because you’re from America (50USD for other countries), and buy some street snacks while you wait for everyone else (I recommend grapes and cashews).

A brief aside:

My friend Emma knew one of the shuttle managers and they agreed to pick me up at a stop for local busses, because it was en route after the rest of the passengers would be getting on at the main station. They forgot. We waited. And waited. And got worried. What ensued was a hellish episode of Emma yelling in Swahili over the phone at multiple people as we used up a dozen calls and jumped on the next bus to a random gas station to meet them. The shuttle had gone back and forth looking for me, the passengers hated me because I delayed the whole ride. I was probably most pissed of all. Long story short, wake up early and go to the main station.

Once I booked with Viva Africa, the staff checked over all gear the day before, and briefed us on what’s ahead. Basically “everything under control” and hakuna matata. The morning of our trek, we were picked up from Rafiki and shuttled to the national park entrance at the Machame Gate.

 

 

The Trek

 

Day One

Moshi → Machame Gate → Machame Camp

Today we wove through misty jungle. It was raining and freezing. No views or animals. Quickly started sweating and was soon peeled down to one layer. I should carry my own bag. The porters balanced crazy sized sacks on their heads and looked so tired; they only make like eight dollars a day.

We hiked five hours before reaching the first camp, right around 5pm. I couldn’t smell anything, so the coffee was tasteless and the bathrooms were great.

We had our own tent to dine in. It’s ridiculous. Potato wedges served as candle holders. We were waited on, and ate using Masai table cloths and wet chairs. They gave us hot water while they cooked.

My group, consisting of myself and seven Chinese students studying in Toronto, was bent on playing mafia. The game entertained us until fish and chips came. Bufan, the funniest member and also the spokesman of my new friends, was liberal with his mandarin curse words whether he was pleased or pissed; right now he meant it in a bad way. They were so sick of fish and chips.

We also had cucumber soup and veggie stew. I thought it was really amazing and way too luxurious for camping, or even glamping, but whatever.

The stars! They made the cold not matter. The Southern Hemisphere…how I wished to know the constellations. I saw the brilliant crescent moon and the morning star. And finally, at last, I understood what people mean when they say they’ve seen the Milky Way. It’s out there, it’s inspiring, it’s beautiful.

 

 

Day Two

Machame Gate → Shira Gate

Really fun and challenging day. It was uphill and rocks the whole way, with lots of sun.

Early on we got great shots of the peak from a small boulder. Clouds had become a sea beneath us, trees scarce, and muscles sore. We beelined for the lunch spot because Bufan was nonstop screaming about his chakula, or food, our primary motivation at all times. We had carrot butter sandwiches, a first. We also got fresh bananas and oranges, and chicken thighs and hard-boiled eggs for protein fuel.

We arrived to Shira camp with time to spare. I practiced some inversions and checked out a small cave, and we invited Michael, a Chinese-American medical student from Texas, to join us. His Chinese is better than mine. He’s so nice and lonely, being the only one in his tour group. We insisted he come eat with us.

Tonight the others were satisfied with dinner. Rice, stew, and a sliced up mango. We finished eating before sundown. We ended with a heated debate about controversial topics in China.

 

 

Day Three

Shira Camp → Lava Tower → Barranco

Every night is freezing cold my sleeping bag feels cold inside and my feet are about to solidify and break off. Waking up was miserable. I was sleeping in drool and snot.

With a cloudless sky, the hike quickly became enjoyable. After a bit I got a small headache so every rest and bite of chocolate helped. We acclimated to 4600 meters at Lava Tower, where we shivered and ate more chicken for lunch. The wind numbed my fingers as I watched a cute puffy bird peck scraps of meat. The formation we were sitting on was a legacy of the ancient volcano. As we approached, it loomed as a dark plateau in the middle of no where.

We descended to Barranco camp through a desert zone. This biome apparently confused the trees on whether to grow into a cactus or a palm tree. Creeks flowed by the surrounding jagged cliffs.

We had reached the end of the world and it was nothing but sky and clouds below us.

 

 

 

Day Four

Barranco → Barafu Camp

We started with a bit of full on rock climbing. A clumsy process when you’ve got hiking poles.

We’ve hiked so much it’s all haze.

We reached Baranfu and ate crappy pasta before heading to bed early. Exhausted to the bone. My lips were purple from lack of oxygen and I had a constant headache. Uneasy about being able to catch my breath for the final summit push…

 

Day Five

Barafu Camp → Uhuru Peak, Kibo Crater → Forgot name of camp

Midnight. My head was throbbing, so much so that I couldn’t sleep. Looking at the tea and cookies on the table made me want to throw up. And I did a few minutes later.

Up until now, I hadn’t even considered altitude sickness. I had dismissed the medications as placebos. Warning: the following paragraphs may be disturbing. Do not let them discourage you, the rest of my group had altitude drugs and did not have symptoms like me.

Having a seven hour hike, in the dark, with over a kilometer increase in elevation, was an out-of-body experience. I was dying before we’d even left. I constantly needed a break. The only way was to follow Stanley’s advice: just think like a baby.

If we did break, I would immediately freeze and shudder and make nonverbal whiny sounds without really thinking about it. Farajah, another guide, had to take my day pack and give me my water every time, and pack it back up every time I was done drinking. I watched his feet, left right left right. Several times, I had to conciously force myself to not pass out, because then I would be rolling down the slopes at 4am.

My life flashed by. I thought of Andrew and his baby face and smile. My last day with Ana on the dirty lake shore.

I tried so hard to breathe through lips that no longer felt like mine. Soon the sun warmed the skies and I was plagued with being close to the finish but still freaking far away. The ordeal continued. I could barely take 20 steps without stopping on that last steep hill. You finally get to “the top” and realize Uhuru Peak is literally another 45 minutes away. Almost everyone else was already there. Farajah was propping me up as I hung onto consciousness. My eyes were blinded by beautiful ice shelves and glaciers. Looking into Kibo Crater was a stunning contrast of pure white and mud patches.

I found myself at the ultimate 5,895m marker. Doing a handstand like I had originally wanted would equal disaster. I was half delighted half blacked out. Grayed out?

Farajah and I slid back down the gravel mountain. So bad. Everything soon became a total desert and I could see little tents like dots way down at camp. Where was I? It was all brown. If we paused I was falling asleep on his arm. If we moved I was just letting my feet plop wherever, stirring up clouds of dust. I kept trying to take sips of delicious cold water. It kept resurfacing as yellow vomit.

I admired Jo, Chente, and Mei for being able to use their own poles and feet. It took so long, there was just perpetually more distance to go. Cindy wasn’t doing much better, having two guides moving her along like a puppet.

Wow. Ass kicked. Our tent was a steaming hot oven and I was ripping off my layers so ready for a deep nap. I requested fruit and the most tasteless punch, along with some fresh pineapple, had never been so welcomed by my body.

For lunch everyone tried to make me eat but I threw up again so they gave up on that. Zero appetite for those soggy veggies and soggier, pastey noodles. More sleep. Then more hike. Not kidding. My energy had clearly bounced back from total depletion, my fever disappeared, and Goodluck, Bufan, and I took an easy pace for the next two hours to camp at 3600 meters.

Dinner was rice and coconut veggie stew. I ate a lot. With two to a tent, Mei had been my loyal buddy and that night we squeezed our lower halves into the same sleeping bag because warmth was so nonexistent.

 

 

Day Six

Not the standard camp of the itinerary → Mweka Gate → Moshi

Nothing mattered except to get off the mountain. Woke to a throbbing migraine and popped ibuprofen. Soon felt better. Everyone agreed I looked reborn.

The crew sang and danced for us. Look up the Kilimanjaro song.

Down we went, the trees got taller as I got sweatier. We took our last snickers+almonds+Pringles break, then kept going. I began running until out of breath, catching breath, and repeating. We finished the last down hill at lightning speed, signed out of the national park, and rolled back to Moshi.

One of the longer showers of my life, dirt just pouring down the drain. I joined my hiking fam at Africa House across the street for mushkaki grill before parting ways.