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Climbing Kilimanjaro
By Chris Pavitt, a second year St Mary's student studying Law and Psychology
Part 1 (from The Gazette)
I arrived in Moshi, a small town at the foot of Kilimanjaro on the border of Kenya and Tanzania. I felt tired, but ultimately excited about the climb to come. The connecting flight from Tanzania to Moshi had taken about thirty-five minutes.
My thoughts about extreme turbulence and the generally poor condition of the plane were put out of my mind by a tap on my shoulder and the words “G’day mate.” It was the first and only encounter with an Australian called Nathan. After speaking to him for just a few minutes I established we were both there for the same reasons, the ascent on Kili.
The plane landed and everyone assembled around the foot of the cargo hold to watch the baggage being thrown off one rucksack at a time. If you were lucky, and positioned correctly, you could potentially catch it as it was thrown off. I decided not to risk an injury at this stage.
When Nathan and I arrived at the makeshift arrivals lounge, a piece of cardboard with Nathan’s name on stood prominent. I couldn’t see the person whom I’d arranged to pick me up from the airport, and if they were there they certainly didn’t make themselves known.
Eventually after a couple of phone calls to find out what had happened to my driver, I gave up all hope and decided to hail a cab from outside the airport. Unfortunately there were only two donkeys and an elderly gentleman who spat at people as they walked past. I sat on my rucksack for what seemed like two or three hours, and I couldn’t help thinking that I had made a mistake and that this was a bad omen.
As I sat, I heard the mechanics of a very old, rundown engine. I stood up and ran down the lane to the motorway. The car screeched to a halt and I went up to the driver’s window and signalled for him to wind it down. Looking in my African phrase book, I was just about to utter the words ‘Lift please’, when the gentleman sitting in the driver’s seat said, “You’re a long way from home.”
I said, “You’re not wrong, I’m trying to get to my hotel. Can you direct me to a taxi?” He told me there were no taxis, but offered me a lift as he was heading that way. I was truly thankful.
The journey to the town of Moshi was speedy to say the least. At one point I read the speedometer – we were travelling in excess of 105mph on the broken up, litter ridden motorway! By the time I had got to my hotel, met up with my guide, Robson, and discussed a plan of action, it was 6pm and was starting to get dark.
Robson suggested I get some dinner and have an early night. In reality, settling down to a quiet night was easier said than done. I decided to eat as much as I possibly could at dinner, as this was the last proper meal I would eat in just under three weeks. I retired to my room feeling sick, but I knew it was necessary to try and store as many added pounds as possible for the journey to come.
When I got in the room, shut the door and lay on my bed, it was the first time I had had to reflect, and an overwhelming feeling of loneliness and realisation of enormity of the task came over me. I started to think about home. Whenever my emotions got the better of me, I felt it was always safest to focus my attentions on something practical. I decided the best thing to do was to get my map out and draw my route, in case I was separated from my guide. It was agreed we would walk to the edge of the Machame Route, then take the South East face of Kilimanjaro for the final ascent. I sat for what seemed hours with my head torch and maps strewn all over the room.
I awoke at around 7am the following morning. The sun was bursting through the wooden slats on the blinds. I packed my rucksack and readied myself for the journey. How do you ready yourself to climb the tallest free standing mountain in the world? I don’t know, is the answer. All you can do is overcome the challenges that are put in front of you, or the challenges you put in front of yourself.
On Day One, as my guide did not have any transport, we were to walk to the Machame gates, a distance of around fifteen miles. Good sense told me to split the load of my rucksack and I managed to get the weight I was carrying to around 60kgs. It included tent, sleeping bag, cold weather jacket, gloves, scarf, hat, goggles, balaclava, combats, jumpers, t-shirt, shirt, baseball cap, waterproof trousers, first aid kit, dex kit, knife, lifesavers sack, mobile phone, i-pod, maps, boiled sweets, books, camera, compass, climbing gear, eight litres of water, emergency water, food and various other bits of equipment .
On Day Two, after a night’s camping, we arrived at the Machame Gates – a big wooden structure. Someone had inscribed ‘Welcome to Hell’ on the upright fence post. I chose to ignore it.
The next five days were a mixture of landscapes, from forest to desert to mountainous. However there was a common theme running through each of them, it was all up hill! Eventually we reached the Barafu rock, which is an 800ft wall of sheer rock face, and the start of the climb. The only way to make an ascent on the summit of Kilimanjaro (Stella Point) is to breach this rock wall.
We started the climb at 11am, so that the rocks, I was told, had a chance to dry off. Questions started to creep into my mind, but I held them back and decided to grit down and just climb it.
About half way up the only way forward was up and over a rocky overhang. We were not roped up and had no specialist equipment for this part of the journey. I like to think of myself as a mentally tough person, but on this occasion I don’t mind admitting that I had never been so frightened in my life.
Part 2
My foot slipped on a piece of gravel embedded in the rock, and it was only the fact that I had a three point contact (my remaining leg and two arms) on the overhang that I didn’t fall off. Once that was over I sat down and had a well deserved cup of tea.
A day later I was kitted up and stood facing the final ascent. My current height was 18,300ft and the biggest problem I encountered at this height was AMS (Acute Mountain Sickness). This is basically due to the altitude at which I was climbing, where the air was so thin it subsequently starved my brain of oxygen. The major symptom was headaches, although there were also hallucinogenic effects.
For instance I kept imagining my girlfriend was throwing snowballs at me, then running behind a rock to hide. On one occasion I chased after her, which was actually quite dangerous, because of the threat of ice crevasses, bizarre to say the least. In the end an American Medic from the US Rangers, who was also making an attempt on the summit, helped me by getting me to hyperventilate myself, thus forcing oxygen into my brain. It worked!
We started the final climb at midnight and climbed until 8am the following morning. As we got to Stella Point, both Robson and I saw the biggest sunrise it’s possible to see on earth, due to the tidal position, curvature of the earth and the fact we were 19,000ft up in the air. However, we weren’t quite at the top.
Uhuru Peak was the next goal at 19,300ft. I noticed that most people were wearing crampons and using ice axes for this part of the climb, which would have helped me, but unfortunately my guide had left them back at base camp. The last bit of the climb was a story in itself, from which I will spare you. However, we reached the top of Kilimanjaro at 9:40am.
Reaching the top wasn’t as triumphant as I thought it was going to be. The first thing I did was throw up from the physical exertion. I stayed up there long enough to get a photo of me at the peak, then left. The following days on the way back down I had time to reflect on the trials I had faced and what I had learned about myself when forced into those moments of ‘fight or flight’. I realised that I missed my family and girlfriend more than I thought, and that I had needlessly put them through a great deal of stress. But I make no apologies – I wouldn’t have changed a thing.
Camps International, who deal with rehabilitation and biodiversity projects in Africa, helped me fix this once in a life time experience. The money donated to them helped fund projects to provide African children with a safer, more stable future.
