We've been on the mountain for three nights. Kilimanjaro begins to normalize. It isn't easy, but it is simpler. Here, life revolves around the basics - eating, sleeping, texting & faxing, cleaning, avoiding injury, and bonding with friends. Problems of the world beneath the clouds like taxes, politics, professional ambitions and amorphous personal anxieties seem distant. All that exists is the here and now.
After three intense days it feels like we've been here forever. With Kilimanjaro’s peak looming above us it's hard to fathom we're not even half way done.
What's on the today's menu, Mudi? A little birdie spoiled that today would be shorter than the last two marathon days. Mudi says nothing. Instead he smiles and points towards a massive rock wall in the distance - Barranco Wall. A column of little highlighter colored dots of hikers and porters march in the distance.
Shorter? Yes. Easier? No.
We descend past waterfalls and Barranco’s alien plant life towards the wall’s face. Breakfast is more rock climb than hike. Every move is a delicate coordination of feet, hands and body. One wrong move and….I’d rather not think about it. Nothing is guaranteed. Still, porters blast by us as if they're riding an escalator.
Pole Pole for us. Not for them.
Still, we make time for the occasional impromptu photoshoot. Together, the icy peak and steep rock wall make for a glorious backdrop. We pass by Kissing Rock and the barren terrain that surrounds it. Other than the looming threat of catastrophic injury, Barranco Wall is fun a contrast with the previous day’s hikes. Hours pass as yesterday’s alien world shrinks away.
We top the wall, exhausted. Are we camping here, Mudi? I ask innocently. He nods, and points ahead. Deep in the distance is a long sequence of ascending and descending paths. I thought this was supposed to be a short day! I complain. He smiles.
Pole Pole.
We break to recover, text, snack and hydrate. Soon we're back off. Another day. Another planet. This one barren and hostile. Stubborn shrubs cling to life. Volcanic rocks and moss covered boulders in all directions. Not much for wildlife other than ravens and the occasional field mouse. Soft clouds blanket the sky making today feel like a voyage through a terrarium.
Dj Decca returns with the beats. Zach bops to hip hop. Dani and Chloe sing to indie pop. Mishka introduces indie rap. Decca, afro beats and soul. I resist pitching my preferred genre - hardcore Berlin style techno. Stefan, Manu and I groove along.
Hours later we arrive to Karanga Camp with much sun remaining in the day. It's a barren colorless moonscape. Rocks, dust, rocks, and more rocks. For the first time we have ample time to attend to basics. Some nap. Others stretch and address body aches. Zach snaps pictures.
One whiff of my body odor is enough to make me desperately wash myself. It's too cold and windy for a makeshift shower. I settle for moist wipes and a changes in base layers. It's not much, but here, a little feels like a lot.
Some of us mingle with porters in the kitchen taking advantage of it's sauna like qualities. The porters are amused by us as much as we're amused by them. They're curious about our politics, the latest celebrity scandals and tastes in hip hop.
We learn more about them. Their lives are hard. Porter work, as we’re witnessing in real time, is incredibly demanding. The days are long. Each hike exposes them to serious injury. I doubt they get anywhere close to the same nutrition we do. But what’s also becoming clear is that their comradery is deep and real. Many don’t just work together, but live together in the same villages. Judging by how much they’re laughing and playing it isn’t obvious who is having more fun.
We're achy, weary, but content all things considered. Lauren's absence remains a blemish on our otherwise good spirits. Over dinner's soup-meat-carb sequence, we imagine what she's doing without us.
Maybe she's flown back home and resumed work. Maybe she's interviewing villagers for her podcast. Maybe she's quietly relaxing and recovering back in Moshi. I suggest Lauren could be violently overthrowing a local Maasai tribe and installing herself as leader.
As we're talking the tent opens. In walks Shuku with a surprise that proceeds to break our minds. He bears a platter containing eight brown buns, between which contain green lettuce, shredded cheese, sliced red tomatoes, red onions slivers, and meat patties.
No. Fucking Way. None we couldn't believe what we were seeing. This couldn't be real.
ARE THOSE FUCKING BURGERS?! Dani blurts out.
Realizing, that yes, before us was a platter of freshly composed burgers, we proceed to lose our collective shit. We laugh and cry in amazement and disbelief. I haven’t been this excited since getting an Xbox for Christmas.
Huzzah. A Miracle on the Mountain.
We suspect they overheard us talking about how much we missed the burgers that reminded us of home. Somehow, seeking to fulfill out wishes, they managed to get everything from the lettuce, tomatoes, buns, and chicken patties. Shuku and his assistants smile seeing their conspiracy pay off.
Eventually the burger high fades and we set off for bed. Night returns. The stars flicker. Far in the distance, beneath the clouds another constellation appears - Moshi's city lights. The others join in quiet admiration.
Somewhere in that constellation is the hotel rooftop where, at least for me, this journey truly began. Now we’re staring back.
We've come so far.
Yet there's much to go.