Kilimanjaro Part 7: Ascension. Resurrection.
We've been on the mountain for 5 days now. Day after day we’ve hiked through a never ending sequence of epic alien terrains. But on Kilimanjaro, only one day matters - Summit Day. Everything before has been a warm up - an appetizer for the main course that lies ahead.
Not breaking yourself (like Lauren), maintaining good health, avoid injury, insanity, and conquering each day’s long menu of hikes merely buys you the chance to summit Kilimanjaro’s grand peak.
But nothing is guaranteed. Summit Day is far from a formality. It's a trial of mind body and spirit. A submission to altitude’s dice roll. It’s a test many fail. Zach knows this all too well.
"Morning" on Summit Day is not like the other mornings. The stars and moon ruling the sky provide the only light. Breakfast is freezing gusts of howling wind.
It’s not so much that I wake up, but that I discontinue my afternoon attempt at sleep. Already my heart is racing. I execute the routine I had imagined for this moment. Place the right gear in the right places. Put on clothes. Wool pants. Hiking pants. Summit pants. Wool under shirt. Thermal shirt. T shirts. More thermals shirts. Down jacket. Winter jacket. Balaklava. Beanie Gloves. Wool socks. Thick boots. Headlamp.
I exit the tent looking ridiculous, but so does everyone else. I don’t care. I’m warm enough and the harsh winds don’t bother me anymore. I load my water bottles with electrolytes. They've been one of our many secret weapons on the mountain. I'm grateful for them, but I'm getting sick of the their artificially fruity flavors.
One of you will betray me, I joke during our Last Supper before the summit. Looking like an oversized Jesus adds force to the joke. Beneath the laughter, the mood is tense. Howling winds threaten to Big Bad Wolf our dining tent away.
Nobody, not even Zach whose been here before, knows how the day will treat them. Most of us feel the altitudes’ affect on our appetite. Yet, heeding Jonas' frequent warnings, we stuff ourselves far beyond what our bodies request. Carbs. Meat. Peanut butter. Eggs. Caffeine.
Today will be very difficult, Jonas warns. But I believe you will all make it.
We make our final preparations, pray to whatever Gods we believe in, and set off for what would become one of the longest days of our lives. Darkness forbids any detailed terrain description. All I see are rocks beneath my feet and the steep incline ahead. Fortunately, my gear does it's job. I’m cool, but not cold. The wind feels more like air conditioning. We walk slow.
Pole Pole, as always.
Trusting our fitness, Jonas guides us past slower groups ahead. Tonight is no dance party. It's too windy for music or conversation. Instead, we recede quietly into our own internal worlds.
Alone, together.
As for me, it feels not like I'm hiking, but that I'm piloting a complex biological organism. Everything requires intense focus. I risk slipping anytime my mind wanders.
One wrong step and it's over, I keep reminding myself.
Temperature management becomes critical. Too cold and I'll use too much energy to keep warm. Too hot and I'll sweat, which freezes. For the right balance I take my gloves on and off, zip and unzip my jackets, and even allow some wind to hit my bare skin.
This big fleshy muscle car body of mine needs lots of oxygen to power. I dial in the Super Ultra Breathing Technique I've been perfecting on the mountain.
In In, through my nose.
Haaaaaaaaa, exhale through my mouth.
In In Haaaaa.
In In Haaaaa.
In In Haaaaa.
This becomes my mantra.
I supplement with periodic, but conservative sips of electrolyte water. Can’t run out too soon. Only during brief breaks can I check in on the others. Most seem to be doing well, but not all. Dani, normally a bursting solar system of energy, says little and breathes heavily. Mishka is running on fumes.
Summit Day stress tests decisions we’ve made over the last days, weeks, and months. Each of us is discovering in real time, for better and worse, the consequences of everything from gear selection, training protocols (or lackthereof), self care routines to our diet and supplements. Good decisions are being rewarded while bad ones are getting punished.
Let's go let's go! Jonas never let's us rest for long. We must keep moving!
Pole Pole doesn’t mean Stoppy Stoppy.
Back into the darkness we go. I settle back into my body and re-fire all cylinders. Soon I come to a realization. I'm absolutely dominating this summit. I feel as good as I can possibly can feel. I bust out my secret weapon - Atmospheric Dub Techno. I plug in my earbuds and return to my musical home away from home. Dub Techno is many things to me: deep, dark, surreal, rhythmic, hypnotic, other-worldly, and meditative.
Perfect for the summit.
I'm deep in my body, focused on my breath and lost in my music. I loosen my arms, groove with the beats and become a one man dance party. Time loses all context. Minutes and hours become indistinguishable. I don't know how long we've been going or how long we have to go. I stop caring. Right now, everything is perfect.
Another stop let's me check in on the others. Dani, as she puts it, is deep in the pain cave pushing herself beyond her limits. I sense her struggle is spiritual as much as it is physical, but I know she’ll make it. Mudi hands Dani his water bottle.
But what about your water, Mudi? Dani asks.
Mudi, as usual, says nothing, smiles, and continues along. It's another day in the office for him. Later we learned Mudi didn’t drink any water on his way to the summit. He is built differently. I worry about Mishka who looks pale and breathless. Jonas gives him extra attention, but doesn't waver in his confidence that we'll all make it.
The others look strong. I can sense Zach's relief. Tonight seems nothing like the near-death experience of his first summit. Stefan is tired, but hanging in. Chloe is happier than a mountain goat. Manu seems unfazed.
We march on and I return to my Fortress of Dub Techno Solitude. Minutes, or maybe hours pass. I look up and see dark shades of blue tint the night stars. Far beyond Mawenzi peak a comet’s tail stripes the sky. Dark hues of blue, lavender and orange gradient above. Gloriously, the sun bursts through the horizon. I realize this is the first time I've ever looked down on the sun rising.
We break one last time. Jonas and Mudi hand us cups of piping hot tea. I have no idea how they have access to boiling hot water. We sit, sip and admire the sun as it pastel paints the new morning’s sky. For the first time we see the details of the barren moonscape trail that awaits us. Stella Point appears in sight. It’s not the peak, but it’s the prize before the goal. Virtually everyone who makes it to Stella Point makes it to the peak.
We set forth and march. It takes longer than we imagine, but eventually… eventually…we reach Stella Point. The hardest part is over. We exhale in deep relief and take in our surroundings. Glaciers in the distance rest like frosted puddles in a massive crater. Morning in full force, the color palate simplifies to blue skies, white clouds, and rugged grey earth.
Despite the altitude and how long we've been hiking I feel great. Even the tired seem re-invigorated. After a quick rest we move on to the final prize. This push is mercifully flat. Finally we can appreciate our surroundings.
Slugging along we're intercepted by an oncoming porter and goofy red marshmallow looking hiker. The porter greets Jonas and Mudi and chats them up.
None of us want to stop. We have a peak to get to. Why the hell are we making small talk? As we’re grumbling the goofy red mystery marshmallow barrels towards us shouting.
None of us know what's going on. Who is this person? Why do they seem to know us? The marshmallow unsheds the layers covering it’s face. What unfolds is something that shocks us in a way I didn't know shock could be experienced.
Decca was the first to realize what was happening.
LAUREN?! Decca shouts. WHATS UP! IT'S YO GIRL!!!
This goofy red marshmallow of a stranger is Lauren - the same Lauren who stick-to-the-face’d herself to the hospital on night one of - was standing right here in the flesh right now in front of us - near Kilimanjaro’s summit.
Our shock is that of the disciples witnessing Jesus’ resurrection. Only our red marshmallow of a holy ghost had stitches and cheeks swollen like a chipmunks’.
None of us could process what was happening. Between the shock, swarming hugs and tears of joy we manage to get a few details. It turns our Lauren did not fly home early, violently overthrow a Maasai tribe, or choose to relax in town. Instead, this psycho best friend of ours went to the hospital, got twenty-four stitches inside her mouth, and conspired with Abdul to climb the mountain AND beat us to the summit.
YOU CRAZY BITCH! Dani screams echoing what we’re all thinking. YOU HAD ME SO WORRIED!
For context, it took us, a group of eight athletic adults, six days to summit. Aggressive groups summit in five. Psychos do it in four. Nobody summits in three. The risks for altitude sickness and physical exhaustion are far too high.
Nobody, except Lauren that is.
Jonas, who turns out to be a conspirator, smiles and confirms the absurdity of Lauren's accomplishment. In 15 years I've never seen anything like this, he says with pride. Impressing us was one thing. Impressing Jonas, a seasoned professional whose done this over two hundred times, is a another level.
You can call me a legend, ring Abdul’s words in my head. Before us a new legend was unfolding.
Lauren, by park regulation, could not stay with us for long. She and her team had to begin descending. We swarm-hug our fluffy red ghost goodbye and depart for our final trek. Still high off the shock, we finally…finally…finally make it to Kilimanjaro’s peak.
So much had to happen for this moment. All of us moved heaven and earth to finance, train, carve out the time, fly across the world, and hike for days on end for this us to be here. Not to mention the village of porters helping us. Most of us are too tired and oxygen deprived for words.
Smiles hugs and tears prove to be enough. I give Zach a giant bear hug. Nobody in the world could have gotten me to sign up for this ridiculous adventure other than him. None of us would be here if it weren’t for him.
There’s a traffic jam of other climbers waiting to get their pictures at the main sign. We get our photo-trophies and I venture off to enjoy my share of the prize. Tears flowing, I record a video for the girlfriend and family who haven’t heard from me in a week. Never have I felt so far from home.
I go inward to savor the silence and serenity. I’m on top of the world, far higher than I’ve ever been. Infinity extends in all directions. There’s nothing but deep blue sky, oceans of clouds, surreal glaciers and barren earth.
I did it. We did it. Even Lauren made it. Nothing can make me happier in this moment.
Park regulations and oxygen limitations mean our time on top is limited. We savor our last moments on top of this strange world, share final rounds of hugs and bid farewell to the most glorious achievement of our lives.
It’s been a long and beautiful day. But soon we’ll learn that our day has barely just begun.
For what comes up…must come down.