Safari Experts' Kilimanjaro Team Ascent - Machame Route
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Tanzania, August 2003
I first climbed Africa's greatest mountain at the age of 15 with a school trip of 12 boys led by one of our masters. We raced up and down the "Coca Cola Route" in five days - full of the typical competitive adrenaline fed by teenage testosterone. The views, the geology, the flora, the fauna, the fragility of an incredible number of ecosystems through which we passed, meant little. Only the ego of achievement mattered...
 A decade later, I was flying safari flights around the peak, tentatively piloting single-engine Cessnas through the thin air at over 19,000 feet, and in the late eighties I often circled my Gulf Air Boeing around the crater. Since 1992 I have enthusiastically persuaded many of my safari clients to take up the challenge of this thrilling, yet non-technical, climb. Knowing I wasn't getting any younger, I realized I needed another journey for myself ….to see it at peace, from an adults' perspective. The reality of the imminent disappearance of Kilimanjaro's ice cap convinced me to plan this trip.
Six of my American clients joined two Maasai safari guides, Godfrey Kinyaga from the Lewa Conservancy and Jackson Looseya from Rekero Tented Camp and the Mara Conservancy, on a spiritual journey to the place of their gods. Along our chosen route, the Machame Trail, they shared their culturally-influenced thoughts and emotions with us hour by hour, adding a whole new dimension to our experience. Some photos are included in this detailed account of our climb; but for a full photographic gallery see LINK…
Arriving in Kenya in July, a couple of us spent three days training in the Great Rift Valley on Mount Longonot, only (!) 9000 feet high, 60 miles outside of Nairobi. From there we drive to Nairobi to pick up Jackson. After 36 years traditionally dressed as a Maasai, he had just proudly swapped his traditional thousand-miler sandals for borrowed hiking boots.
 To break the drive from Nairobi, we stopped at Mike Rainey's traditional tented camp on the Amboseli plains overlooked by Kilimanjaro. Mike speaks fluent Maa, the Maasai language, and enjoys their total respect. He has also led many student groups up Kilimanjaro. Mike and his wife Judy were the perfect cheerleaders for the three of us. Jackson felt at home and we filed away for future reference Mike's advice to "enjoy each beautiful step."
On an evening game drive with Mike, an estrus chase developed and, amid much trumpeting, a young female elephant was caught and forced to give in to the amorous advances of a big old bull - probably for the first time. The clouds cleared in the softening evening light to reveal Kilimanjaro in all its glory, towering almost defiantly 16,000 feet above the plains. Jackson saw it for the first time in his life. At this moment, one of the great Maasai sayings "Taba anaa aoloinyo oibor" - "May you be as big as the white mountain"- took on new meaning for him. It was to be our last glimpse of "The Veiled Lady" before arriving on her shoulder two days later.
Leaving behind the dust and sleepy history of Amboseli, we completed border formalities at Namanga and crossed the remarkably easily. We followed a good road heading south across the overgrazed Maasai steppe and passing Longido, Arusha and Moshi, before pulling into the quaint pre-war hotel on the lower slopes of the great mountain. Marangu Hotel is home base for the Brice-Bennett family and the oldest and most experienced climb operators of all routes up Kilimanjaro, the Brice-Bennett family. Here we met up with the rest of our group and Godfrey Kinyaga, a 24-year-old Maasai moran and wildlife guide at Lewa Downs Tented Camp. I was sponsoring his climb, to raise money for the Lewa Conservancy and to give him this unique opportunity; just as Alison Jones was sponsoring Jackson's climb as a fundraiser for the Mara Conservancy.
We were a truly mixed bag of characters. Julietta is a doctor from Salt Lake; her friend Dave is a psychiatrist; Alisa is a plastic surgeon, Cecilia and Kathy are both drug reps. Alison Jones is a well- known professional photographer. Pam, an accountant, and her husband Steve, a quiet- spoken Union Pacific electrician, were the only real mountaineers amongst us. After curious hellos amongst eleven of us about to share a very intimate week, we did an equipment check, collected sleeping bags and mats, stocking up with last-minute items left behind. Before dinner Seamus Brice-Bennett gave us a very thorough briefing on what we might expect on a daily basis, and the potential dangers of high altitude. He covered all the nervous questions we had.
Day 1 After a wholesome breakfast we were introduced to our twenty-nine porters and five guides in the hotel courtyard. As the whole expedition gathered under gray skies, the steady calm and strength of the seasoned porters was in stark contrast to our excited nervous chatter. Ambrose and his brother Gaudens, our head guides, exuded quiet confidence having done the trip countless times before. We knew the techniques for making it to the top - it would be their job to enforce them, and explain to us, over and over again, the real meaning of slowly - pole pole!
 Food and camping equipment for the next six days appeared from every direction: eggs, vegetables, pots and pans and - most importantly - water containers. When all was bagged and loaded on the roof, we clambered into two trucks for the two-hour drive through fascinating Tanzanian rural life to, the 6,000-foot Machame Gate where we signed out for our 7-day adventure. The last two miles up to the gate gave us an inkling of things to come, as the track turned into a slick, muddy skating rink and our truck slid slowly sideways into the ditch.
 The Machame Trail is considered by many to be the most picturesque of the routes up this, the world's highest freestanding mountain. It used to be the least traveled - but nowadays, word seems to have spread! Starting off on the five- to six-hour hike up to Machame Hut, we soon found ourselves in soft mud, often over our ankles and sometimes our thighs when we missed the roots to step on. We were ever grateful for our gaiters. Although there were fairly steep sections, we were all in good spirits. Even the cloudy overcast did not dampen our spirits or detract from this beautiful lush tropical rain forest, which provides 70 per cent of the mountain's water.
 Wonderful hundred-foot olea trees form a canopy for colobus monkeys and Hartlaub's turacos, while colorful impatiens Kilimanjaro shine out from the undergrowth as floral jewels. Our porters powered past as if on motorbikes, wearing only tennis shoes, but as surefooted as klipspringers. Less fortunate were the Nature Tours porters that we came across, exhausted, collapsed beside the path, obliged by corruption to carry twice the legal load.
Darkness fell quickly, as it does on the equator. For the last half hour it seemed as if we were traversing the land of the ooglie booglies. At last the forest thinned. We hiked the crest of a ridge between two streams, finally reaching the campsite on the upper edge of the forest at 10,200 feet (3,000 m). As we crept into camp, we were grateful to find our tents already erected by our crew, and a hot dinner set.
 Day 2 Rising early for a large breakfast, the vast bastion of the Kibo's volcanic massif presented itself as we set out hiking. The high montane forest thinned on our climb up a steep ridge to 10,000 feet (3,600 m.). For three to four hours we headed straight towards the peak, which disappeared by midmorning as the clouds below began their gentle march up the mountain.
 Views of neighboring Mount Meru provided a backdrop to the yellow bearded trees, while all around the everlasting flowers provided unexpected beauty at each welcome rest stop.
 Our group was beginning to suffer - headaches, shortness of breath, general exhaustion - but our guides kept us slowly moving upwards. Kathy, an asthmatic, was really suffering and had to show the greatest resolve of us all. Our gentle guide Gaudens nursed her along - as he would do for so many of us later on - with his quietly encouraging manner. The path then dropped into a river gorge before climbing gently onto the moorland of the Shira Plateau, offering grand views of the old Shira Crater. The campsite hove into view. While the summit and the wind slowly emerged from the clouds, we gratefully unpacked our gear in a warm afternoon sun at 12,800 feet (3,840 m.).
The two Maasai warriors had enough in reserve to go for a further hike - not so the rest of us! Kathy was awfully sick and unable to eat - clearly a crunch time had arrived for her.
 The temperature dropped suddenly as the sun went down and after an early wholesome supper, I gratefully snuck into my bag, fully clothed. A zip failure in the middle of the night did not contribute well to my sleep pattern!
Day 3 By the next morning Kathy found the inner strength to continue to the point of no return where we had spare guides to bring any one down if needed. Team spirit was building and everybody was willing each other on. As the carefully loaded porters powered past us, we plodded on upwards, the altitude beginning to take effect as most of us passed the highest height we'd ever been before. Alison had never even climbed a small hill prior to her three training hikes on Mt. Longonot. The path continued directly up towards Kibo, climbing steadily up a ridge top at 14,850 feet.
 Vast lava boulders and everlasting flowers were interspersed with the occasional tiny burst of color heralding the true Alpine desert. Ubiquitous ravens circled above, a little three-banded mouse stood on its hind legs to watch us trudge by, and tiny mountain chats hopped busily about -all so difficult to photograph!
After about 4 hours the path forked to the right and descended via several yoyos - it was heartbreaking to descend after a steady climb having achieved so much. Jackson and Godfrey were always fascinated. They stopped to examine everything they saw on this spiritual journey of theirs. They found a buffalo femur lying on the ground as we came across the first ice at 14,500 feet. Earlier they had discovered and measured the scat of a hyena.
 Small glacial streams flowed through the valleys of Barranco Gorge. Giant lobelias, revealing pretty blue internal flowers, basked in the last warmth of the day. Defiant silhouettes of clustered giant grounsels, Senecio cottonii, framed dramatic evening views of Kibo's Peak. Without a detour to the famous Lava Tower, a challenging climb for those who wish, seven hours of hiking brought us into our campsite near the Barranco Hut at 13,000 feet (3,900m). The twinkling lights of Moshi were amazingly far below. As I clambered into my sleeping bag, all my extremities tingled madly - a common side effect of Diamox, the altitude sickness drug I was taking, originally designed to combat glaucoma.
 Day 4 We were awakened far too early with the usual sweet clear tea. A crisp dawn found everything around us well frozen. Thankfully the other groups had left camp well before. As it gave us the feeling of being alone on the mountain - once our porters had powered past us. I was very stiff, and had to push myself hard to get going. We trailed across the Barranco Valley's laval scree, frozen streams and ridges to then face the 800-foot Barranco Wall - not a technical climb - but a scramble with enough sheer drop-offs to excite Ali's fear of heights.
 Our stocks of Power Bars, boiled sweets and trail mix - between us we had brought enough for a small battalion - were devoured gratefully, as was our packed sandwich lunch with more weak tea. We joined and followed the Kibo South Circuit Trail enjoying wonderful views of Kibo's southern glaciers. After five hours we were settled into our camp next to Karanga Valley's river at 13,500ft (4,100m).
 Day 5 I had added this day to our itinerary to be a gentle one for acclimatization. We trekked out at a reasonable time from the Karanga Valley mesmerized by the mountain ahead. After a couple hours we joined the Barafu Path (part of the Mweka Trail) for a further two-hour hike over undulating scree. At 3:00pm we arrived at our campsite near Barafu Hut. Here at 14,200ft (4350m) we had our first view of the craggy and virtually unscaleable 16,200-foot peak of Mawenzi to the east. Had we decamped earlier that morning, we might have reached the high camp at 15,200 feet (4,600m). We would have been colder and had a harder time sleeping, but would have been closer for our final summit ascent the next morning.
 After a quick lunch and more tea, we went off to our tiny tents to relax, organize our kit for the final assault, and get dressed for five o'clock dinner - our last full meal before the push to the summit. Nervous tension was palpable as each of us silently weighed our chances of making the summit. We had come so far. Surely all that was needed was one final push!
We each climbed into our bags, fully dressed to stay warm, ensuring all that we would need would be ready and unfrozen at our wake up time. In spite of taking half of a mild sleeping pill, I was awake again in 90 minutes. I spent the rest of that preciously short night tossing and turning in the bitter cold, thin air. We were to camp at midnight while the step scree was still frozen.
 Day 6 Although we all rose for tea and biscuits half an hour before our intended departure, midnight slipped by before most were ready. Jackson and Godfrey were eager to get going however, so I sent them on with one of the guides, The rest of us assembled slowly in the bitter cold wearing up to seven or eight layers of clothing. Cecilia found that her camelback had leaked into her clothing, a potential disaster, but fortunately her wicking clothes prevented this becoming too much of a problem, we finally trekked out of camp at 12:45am with equipment in place and headlights strapped on.
Ambrose led us "pole pole" on our night climb to summit. High above we found inspiration in the steadily bobbing lights of others quietly pushing themselves to their personal limits, onwards and upwards. I had timed the trip to coincide with a nearly full moon. Serendipitously Mars was at its closest to earth in 64,000 years. Both factors added to a spectacular display of the heavens in the crystal clear, pollution-free African sky.
Along a path that was rocky and twisting, we plodded on, stopping frequently to rest and let others catch up. The group was struggling to find its pace. Despite our wishes to summit together, it became clear some of us were more comfortable moving at a faster pace than others. To give us each the greatest chance of success, we split into smaller groups.
A bitterly cold wind occasionally blew in from the northeast, as if to try to shove us back down again! I suffered somewhat as I could not zip my jacket completely because I had decided to wear it over the top of my camelback to prevent my water supply from freezing. An hour into the climb, my mouthpiece exploded as I tried to drink, dousing me with a jet of icy cold water - to the tune of a large amount of cursing, and a small amount of panic at the prospect of losing all my water!
 On and up we plodded, the slowly dipping moon slowly lengthening our shadows to our right. An hour later the first rays of dawn behind Mawenzi led to a spectacular sunrise, glowing pink on the glaciers above us, throwing our shadows over to our left. The rising sun did not give us the immediate warmth we had hoped for. Worse still, now we could see exactly how far we had left to go! Everyone's spirits were still good even if smiles were a bit wan. Joke telling and singing had completely stopped. Even my rallying cry of "Safari Experts.com" went unanswered!
The scree however was thawing fast, becoming more slippery and thus slowing our progress. We passed a cliff and followed the right side of the Rebmann glacier with the dramatically shrunken Ratzel glacier far away to our right. Just above me I smiled as I saw Julietta being actually pushed up the mountain from behind by our guide Reginald.
About 100 feet below the crater rim we came upon Jackson and Godfrey slumped on a rock, looking totally exhausted. They were resting out of the wind on their way down from the summit. We still had all that to go, but in a couple hundred feet we finally poked our heads up over the rim at Stellar Point at 18,950 feet at 8:15 a.m. The wind blew with icy fury, pelting us with dust and tiny bits of volcanic rock. The two Maasai told us later that they had felt it was the breath of God warning them back. They had to summon internal reserves between them in order to proceed.
None of this could dampen the emotion of the breathtaking view of the crater that lay at our feet. Some cried, others collapsed, exhausted, to gaze on it all. I was shocked to see how much of the ice palaces had disappeared, certainly since I'd seen it as a teenager; but also since just ten years ago when as a pilot I circled the peak in a Gulf Air jet. Then I teared at the thought of how Jackson and Godfrey must have felt, arriving here at the home of their God.
 We had made it - the culmination of a dream for so many. But now was not the time to ponder on that for too long. The actual summit taunted us, only 360 feet higher. Some decided enough was enough. Others found the extra strength to go on. Thankful to now have the bitter wind at our backs, some of us romped off. Mother Nature soon brought me to my knees, panting for breath. I rested a short while, wondering if I would actually make it, before wisely proceeding at a slower pace, the sun shining on ice blue and timeless glaciers. Though shrinking fast, their sheer walls still rise nearly two hundred feet.
 Stopping to take pictures was a bitterly cold experience and time consuming, but the beauty of the glaciers demanded that effort. Plodding on, blasted by the wind, feeling none too sharp, we too joined the many who have stood on Kilimanjaro's summit. It was 10:45 a.m. - one hour and forty minutes since we'd left the rim. We were the last to be atop Kilimanjaro that day. Alone and in awe, we shuffled around stiffly, taking our celebratory pictures beside the now rather tatty sign which proclaims climbers' achievement. Many feet have trodden this path before. Crosses nearby mark the spot where two exhausted climbers fell asleep and never woke up. But nothing can take away each individual's thrill and inner sense of pride. I whipped off my hat and gloves for the photos and was very glad to jam them back on again!
Through the fog of exhaustion, cold and wind, a flood of emotions hit me: thanks for living; my parents and family; the power of life; the enormity of everything around us; and the insignificance of my place in it all. Each of us had pushed ourselves to our own limits of mental and physical ability; and though it is no Everest, it is an incredibly satisfying place to be.
 After 20 minutes Ambrose was urging us to leave. Our day was far from over, and the rising clouds were beginning to lick at the bottom of the glaciers, like advancing waves. Back down at the rim we gleefully launched ourselves off down the same slippery volcanic scree we had had tried so hard to avoid during the ascent. We virtually skied back our way back down to our Barafu camp. It took just one hour and forty minutes to cover what had taken us a full seven and a half hours to climb earlier. We all spread out at our own pace during this descent. Poor Alison suffered greatly as an old knee injury flared up during descent as her water supply ran out.
As we each arrived into camp, we threw ourselves gratefully onto our sleeping bags. As if to salute us, a giant lammergeyer - a golden bearded vulture - silently soared over the camp, our only sighting of this rare bird. Everyone was coping with their own unique situation: Cecilia with nausea; Julietta with an appalling headache; Ali with her knee and Jackson with a frostbitten toe; and Kathy, a stoic asthmatic, had reached her limit. Too much relaxation was not an option. We had to have a quick lunch, pack our gear and continue on down. We set out at again at 3:00 p.m. as the clouds folded in around us, denying us our "victory views" and covering us in light rain. We passed emergency gurneys - stretchers on a well-sprung bicycle wheel - which looked very comfortable in the circumstances. But the well-made trail, recently restored with Canadian money, made the going relatively easy, even though our muscles complained loudly during the descent. We descended again into the high montane forest, the beards of the trees grasping at the humid clouds for moisture, and protea flowers adorning the mountainside as if to welcome us home to reality.
After four hours of very painful descent for Jackson and Ali, we all crowded into a wet and muddy Mweka Campsite just on dark. Trying to remain oblivious to the smell of the nearby overfull public long-drop, we threw down a welcome dinner and collapsed into bed totally exhausted, sleeping soundly in our newly-found thick air at 10,00 feet.
 Day 7 Every muscle in my body begged for more time in bed, but my hip pushing through the ground sleeping bag and mat persuaded me to get up, eat and pack for the last time. Back down into the rain forest we headed, a smooth path made it fairly easy going for all except the injured - Jackson and Alison. The clouds rolled in again to give eerie background to the giant ferns and vast trees, while noisy turacos and colobus monkeys monitored our descent.
In four hours we reached the small, crowded car park where Land Rovers jostled to collect exhausted but exuberant clients. I collected the certificates of achievement for the group, and after some soup and simple sandwiches, we piled into the transport for the journey back to Marangu. There we each had the best bath we'd ever had. Finally clean after seven days, we bought each porter a beer and paid well-deserved tips. We had climbed Kilimanjaro on the backs of our porters - we owed them so much more! Ambrose gave out the certificates; and emotional farewells preceded a moving song by the porters - such genuine warmth from poor men who might not have another job for a month. Our farewell dinner was followed by the greatest luxury of all - a night in a real bed.
At the end of it all what had I achieved? In proving to myself I could do it, I felt I had found peace. Above all though I had shared an important spiritual journey with two wonderful Africans, who without doubt, in the years to come, will both be important players in the East African conservation world.
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