Entering the bus on the way to the mountain revealed something else about our adventure. This was no ordinary hike. Accompanying the nine of us were over thirty porters and guides.
This was a full scale expedition.
These porters, these current strangers, over the next week would become our smiling guides, our heroic helpers, our laughing saviors, and by the end, our dear friends. Without them, none of this would have been possible.
Airplane mode on, everyone! Zach says adamantly. No internet. No texting. No scrolling. Nothing. We were to disconnect entirely from the outside world.
Out of nowhere a previously quiet porter belts out. (translation included)
Jambo! Jambo bwana! (hello! hello everyone!)
The other porters, on cue, chime into the chorus.
Habari gani!? (how are you?)
Nzuri Sana! (very fine!)
Wageni, mwakaribishwa (guests, you are very welcome!)
Kilimanjaro!
Hakuna Matata (no worries!)
On goes a long sequence of ritualistic songs and chants sung with full force. Our bus had become a rolling pep rally. They were preparing us for a sacred journey to a land few will ever see.
Hours later, we arrive at the mountain’s entrance and eat lunch beneath a covered pavilion. Rain ambushes us. The weather is unpredictable, Jonas, our lead guide says.
This would be his default answer to anything related to weather. Jonas is short and bald, but with 15 years and over 200 summits under his belt, he walks with calm confidence. It’s clear he commands respect from his men. It’s why Abdul entrusted him to guide us to the top.
The rain clears and we depart. The lush rainforest we walk through is not what I had in mind for a volcanic mountain. Flanking our trail are moss covered trees, colorful wildflowers, and mysterious fungi. Sunlight seeps through the densely covered canopy.
We hike with fresh energy and excitement. Time passes with little drama. In what feels like no time we arrive at Big Tree Camp to spend our first night. It feels easy. Too easy. Our first hike ends anti climactically.
By the time we arrive the porters have set everything up. Sleeping tents, a small tent housing a modest portable toilet that would prove to be invaluable, a dining hall tent with space for each of us, and my favorite, the kitchen tent. Shuku, our smiling chef, or as he put it, our stomach engineer, greets us warmly.
His kitchen consists of three burners atop propane tanks. One boils water for drinking and cooking. Another heats oil. The other sautés vegetables. The heat turns the tent into a makeshift sauna, which would also prove to be useful later on. We nestle into our new realities. Organize our tents. Make our beds.
Washy washy! Wilson, a thin porter announces.
In front of our tents he places two bowls of hot water with a small bar of soap. This would be the closest thing we have to a shower. It’s far from ideal. I take off my shirt, hunch over, and scrub myself with soapy lukewarm water. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing. It wouldn't take long for cleanliness, or the mere feeling of it, to become a deeply desired luxury.
We gather in the dining hall tent waiting for food to arrive. We pass time with idle chatter. Zach walks in. Something about him is off. He tries to speak, but struggles to form words.
Not knowing how to deliver the message, he gets to the point. Lauren had an accident.
Everyone quiets.
Lauren fainted, fell and hurt herself. She’s not dead or anything, but there's a lot of blood.
I rush over to her tent and find Lauren dazed. Structurally she’s fine. There’s a bloody gash on her mouth. Dani is comforting her, trying to make her laugh. It doesn’t seem so bad, I comment.
No, Lauren said. It's inside. The inside of my mouth is fucked.
In comes Pierre, a Swiss alpinist and doctor volunteering at camp.
Thees ees not good, he says with a thick accent discovering the full scope of the damage. You have to go to the hospital tonight. He goes on to list the many risks, mainly infection, of not doing so.
The news is devastating. Dani and I are losing our best friend on the hike. Zach partially blames himself for the accident. Lauren is understandably angry, sad, and frustrated. She spent a lot of money, and carved out a lot of time to make this trip happen. And now it was ending.
But, as a testament to her character, Lauren is more grateful than anything else. I’m so lucky. It could have been so much worse, she says between sobs. I could have poked an eye out, fucked up my teeth, hit my head. I can handle whatever this is.
We hug and wave Lauren goodbye. Jonas and another porter guide her back down the same trail we just ascended. But what to us seemed like the end of Lauren’s story was merely the prologue of a tale far more epic than any of us could have imagined. That story will come later.
Lauren's accident was sobering. We hadn't slept a single night and yet we've already lost one.We could die any day, Zach states matter of factly. People die doing exactly what we're doing. Nothing is guaranteed.
It rattled us out of a complacent fog. What we were doing was very real and very dangerous. One wrong step and it could all be over.
And this was only the beginning.