Kilimanjaro Trip Report

Kilimanjaro

Tanzania, Africa
19,340 feet/5896 meters
Summited September 19, 2011
7 Summits Climb for Alzheimer’s

The roof of Africa, Kilimanjaro, was a great cultural experience and a satisfying climb. It was exciting to climb with a team of 14, where 12 had never been above 14,000′, and then have everyone reach the summit! The safari afterward was an experience of a lifetime.

I left for Kilimanjaro only three weeks after summiting Elbrus in Russia (18,513′) and four other Summits in the previous seven months. So, I was in excellent condition and confident I could summit Kili. I never expected to get injured on the descent, which required a massive human effort to get me off the mountain.

Meeting in Moshi

I had thought about climbing Kili for many years to experience the African culture and perhaps add a safari to my climb, so when The 7 Summits Climb for Alzheimer’s project started, I especially looked forward to this climb.

I left Colorado in mid-September 2011, flying through Amsterdam to the Kilimanjaro airport in Tanzania. There, I met our International Mountain Guides (IMG) guide, Eben Reckord and my 13 teammates.

We took a van to the New Keys Hotel in Moshi and settled in for two nights. We checked gear, went shopping in Moshi, and got to know each other. I immediately had a good feeling that this climb would be fun. On the third day, we left the comfortable accommodations and took about an hour to reach the Machame gate by van to begin our climb of Kilimanjaro.

The RAIN Forest and Beyond

It was cloudy and rainy as we started, depriving us of the classic view of the giant Kilimanjaro relief as it rises over 18,000′ off the Tanzanian Savannah. With full rain gear, we left the gate after Eben checked us in, and we said hello to our team of local guides and porters, which totaled 49 people.

One of the unique aspects of a Kilimanjaro climb is that you must hire local guides and porters; thus, all you ever carry is water, snacks and some extra layers. We rarely interacted with our porters as they left after us after breakfast and then passed us with our gear to establish the next camp before we arrived. However, we got to know our local guides well by hiking alongside them, asking questions and sharing stories. They had a fantastic wealth of knowledge about the mountain, wildlife, flora and history of the area. Many had summited Kilimanjaro over 60 times and worked with IMG for decades.

The first day took us through the rainforest and jungle, with screaming Blue Monkeys in the tree canopy. The trail was groomed and terraced to prevent erosion. Even with the rain, the mud was not too bad, but I was glad I wore my gators that day. With the cloud cover, the temps were mild, and we never experienced the annoying heat that many report low on Kili. We arrived at the Machame Camp, near the tree line, after six hours, going very leisurely.

Our tents and the dining tent with tables and chairs were already set up. After a nice dinner, we crawled into our tents for the first night on Kilimanjaro. Dawn came early, around 6 AM. Another good breakfast prepared us to move for 4 hours to the Shira Camp, which overlooks the extinct Shira volcano crater.

The trail steadily gained altitude from 10,000 to 12,300 feet, which reminded some people that we were mountain climbing, not just walking. A few spots required bare boulder scrambling, but the trail was smooth and well-traveled. The flora was out of this world, with strange trees but familiar flowers.

The Shira camp was in an open space with few trees. There must have been 200 people, including climbers, guides, and porters. At sunset, we were rewarded with a clear view of Kilimanjaro’s Kibo summit, our goal a few days later. The next day promised to provide more challenges, so we went to bed early.

Day three took us from 12,300′ to 15,000′ and back down to 12,500′. This route took us over sparse vegetation and mostly smooth trails to the aptly named Lava Tower at the pinnacle of today’s route. The landscape became barren and strewn with loose rocks. We felt isolated as we descended from the Lava Tower on a very steep and rocky trail, and then the low clouds moved in. We didn’t know it, but it would remain that way for the next day and a half.

Climbing the Branaco Wall in the Fog

We arrived at the Branaco Camp in dense fog, not seeing much. However, just before sunset, it cleared, and we had our first view of the Branaco Wall and the route for day 4. From the camp, the wall looked steep and intimidating, especially for those with little rock climbing experience. However, upon closer inspection, there was a trail from bottom to top.

We left the following morning eager to get higher and closer to our summit bid. The first half hour took us closer to the Wall, and soon we were in the middle. It required Class 3 rock scrambling with a few big moves, meaning that the climber must take very large steps with their legs while using their hands for balance and sometimes pulling on the rock to move their body higher. The wet rock made it slightly more complicated, but the guides did their best to help everyone. Everyone seemed to feel this was the highlight of the approach to the High Camp on Kilimanjaro, and even those with zero climbing experience did well and had fun.

Arriving at the Karanga Camp, it was still overcast and very cloudy, so once again, we had no views upon arrival but cleared by morning with our first good look at the goal. Another good dinner and night’s sleep brought us to day 5 and a short 3-hour walk to the Barufu Camp at 15,000′ and the launching point for our summit bid at midnight that same day.

From the Barufu Camp, the third volcano of Kilimanjaro, Mawenzi, became visible. It looked otherworldly with its ragged crater rim. Also visible from this camp was our route to the summit of Kibo. We had a big lunch around 2:00 PM and retired to the tents to sleep, knowing our wake-up call was around 10:30 that night. We wanted to be on our way around midnight.

Cleared for the Top

I got a few hours of decent sleep and dressed for the summit. I had been wearing light hiking pants and one Merino wool top thus far, supplemented with jackets and rain gear as needed, but now I put on my full high-altitude clothes, starting with long underwear, heavy pants, two tops and my R1 Hoody, plus a wind shell and gloves. The temps continued to be mild, around 40F, as we left at midnight.

With headlamps glowing, our team set a very slow pace up the scree trail towards the summit from our 15,000′ camp. We had planned on taking about 8 hours to reach the top, so there was no hurry on this perfect night. The rain and clouds had moved on, leaving us with excellent conditions. The trail was a bit crowded with other teams heading up, and the higher levels looked like a well-lit street with a continuous line of headlamps.

Occasionally, we passed climbers sitting on nearby rocks, heads between their legs, teammates trying to offer encouragement. The altitude was beginning to take its toll on some. Around 17,500′, the thin air took hold, and everyone slowed down. The sun started to create a thin orange line to our right as the temperatures reached their low for the morning: around freezing. With no wind, it was not too bad.

I felt great. My conditioning proved excellent as we approached the summit rim at 18,800′. I was a bit surprised at how abruptly the summit appeared. Like Rainier, the crater rim is the entry point, and here, it is named Stella Point. But I was focused on reaching the true top and didn’t stop.

A Perfect Summit

The trail follows the crater rim and is pure dirt and scree—no snow. I never touched snow throughout my entire Kilimanjaro climb. The trail continues to gain a bit more elevation, as the summit is 19,340 feet, making the gain another 540 feet. After about 20 minutes, I arrived at the world-famous sign, which had no word ‘Kilimanjaro’ anywhere!

About 50 people were gathered, all taking pictures and videos, posing alone, with signs and with entire teams. There was a true festive feeling to this summit. I made my audio post to this site, called, as is my tradition for every summit and sat down to wait for the rest of the team to arrive.

I pondered the glaciers, which are the canary in the coal mine for climatologists. It was clear they were melting, as there were patches, not long expanses as I have seen elsewhere worldwide. I have read that there will be no glaciers in Kilimanjaro by 2020 (update in 2025; they are still there). So I sat quietly and looked at these works of nature with respect and admiration.

The team soon arrived, and we took our team summit picture. I was incredibly proud to be with these fellow climbers. All had worked hard to reach the top and never gave up, even though some were nearing their limits.

Starting Down

After an hour and a half, we departed for Barufu, knowing we would make a pit stop there and continue down to 10,000′ for the night. We had already been on the move for almost nine hours. The downclimb was easy but still challenging (or annoying), with much of the trail over loose scree. It reminded me of several Colorado 14ers. We had excellent time getting back to camp in about two hours.

We packed our sleeping bags, changed from climbing to trekking clothes and enjoyed another good lunch before starting down. I was expecting a long day, maybe 4 hours, to reach the camp for the night, but what happened next never entered my imagination.

The Injury

We left Barufu as a group but soon spread out with Mosha, one of our local guides, in the lead, setting a fast pace. I was second behind him, chatting away with one of my teammates, Ray, when he commented that the porters were coming quickly behind us. I turned my head to the right to look and immediately felt my right ankle fold over itself to the outside. The pain was searing.

I cried out that I had twisted my ankle and hobbled a few steps to a large rock. I caught my breath and told my now-surrounded teammates I needed to walk this off. I knew where I was—about 14,500′ on the exposed slopes of Kilimanjaro, with clouds moving back in quickly. I stood up to take a step and felt the pain increase as my ankle refused to support my weight.

I sat back down, and my breathing increased. I thought about my next climb to the Carstensz Pyramid in only four weeks but quickly became focused on the present. Brook, a fireman with EMT training, suggested I remove my boot to see the damage. We all were amazed as we watched a lump, the size of a tennis ball, grow out of my ankle near the bone. I had sprains before, but never like this. The torn internal tissue was leaking blood and creating a massive hematoma.

Docs on Call

Our team had four individuals with medical training. I glanced at their faces, and their expressions verified that this was a serious situation. We put my boot back on, and with no elastic bandages nearby, we used duct tape to make an extremely tight compression to try to stop the swelling. At about this time, Eben, our IMG guide, joined us as he finalized our departure from the Barufu camp. All the porters and guides were there, so I had 47 pairs of eyes staring at me.

Once again, I considered trying to hobble down, but calmer heads prevailed. I noted that it would take 4 hours with two good ankles, and if I tried, I would do more harm than good—even if I could make it.

They were right. I placed the pain level at 3.5, and I was now lying down with my foot elevated. I accepted the reality of my situation and participated in creating the plan: the rescue plan. Never in my wildest dreams …

An Important Rescue

Helicopter rescue is available on Kilimanjaro, but like most high mountains, it is weather-dependent and reserved for critical events. My situation was essential but not life-threatening. The clouds had now moved in. Eben called IMG headquarters in Seattle to keep them informed. It was the middle of the night in the US.

We decided that I needed to get to the hospital in Moshi as soon as possible for an X-ray to determine if I had broken bones. The size and aggressive nature of the swelling had everyone concerned. As the swelling increased, the pain level did as well, according to my estimate of around 5.

It was clear that I would be carried down the mountain, but I had no idea how they would do it. In a few minutes, I found myself in a fireman’s carry in the arms of four of our porters. These guys are big and strong, and I was being manhandled down the rocky high-altitude trail.

After a few hundred feet, some porters carried up a strange stretcher contraption. It was a metal frame balanced on one fat bicycle tire on two springs. I called it a uni-gurney, aka uni-cycle, or simply the uni.

They placed a sleeping pad on it along with my sleeping bag. I was picked back up and placed in my bag on the gurney while six porters took their positions: Andrew in front, Mosha in the back, and two on each side. The Swahili was fast, loud and determined. I adjusted my position in my cradle and looked up at the faces above me. What was happening?

The Run

Eben was now at my side, telling me he was going with me to the hospital. I found this comforting. The porters placed a tight strap around my legs and stomach as they pushed the uni-gurney down the rough trail. The ride was rough. I felt each rock bump and drop. When we reached a section of the trail where a trekker would typically step down, they had to lift the uni and move it down by brute force.

The porters seemed to have a sense of urgency that I never entirely understood. They ran down the trail, yelling in loud Swahili to anyone in the way. As I looked up, all I could see were sweating faces, heavy breathing, and an occasional tree limb flying by. Amazingly, Eben ran behind them, sometimes beside them, competing with his pack. Later, he told me that they outran him occasionally, all while pushing, pulling, lifting and steadying me in the uni.

The mist turned into rain, and my sleeping bag was getting wet. I simply rested on my back, face to the sky and watched the trees go by, occasionally wiping the rain from my face. With each bump, I tried to steady myself with my good foot at the end of the uni while having a death grip on the straps. My head snapped back in a whiplash move when we dropped over a steep step. The pain level was now at 5. I wiggled my toes repeatedly to ensure the bandage was not too tight. But my foot was getting cold and wet, which worried me. I accepted the situation, ignored the pain in my ankle and looked at my friends with admiration and appreciation.

The last Stretch

We reached the trees and soon the camp at 10,000′, Camp Mweka. After a short break, another consultation with IMG headquarters in the States, and a short but focused conversation between Eben and I; we agreed to continue with the plan to get me to the hospital that night. This now required moving me in the uni along mud trails as the sun set through the rain forest.

We added another layer on me and zipped the bag up a bit. The porters picked up the uni, and the pace seemed to get even faster as we entered the rainforest. It had been two hours already, and I had another two to reach the gate, which generally took seven or eight hours.

The porters stopped a few times to rest and coordinate their grips. They checked with me each time and ensured I had some water. I felt a bit sheepish because it was a sprained ankle, not HAPE or a heart attack. But they were on a mission and were taking it very seriously. I relaxed in my gurney as much as I could despite being dumped on my side as a porter would hit a tree and drop his side of the university. Eben never left my side.

The Hospital

We met a Park Service vehicle that took us to the hospital in Moshi. The ride took less than 30 minutes, and the driver showed an equal sense of urgency, even though I was convinced he had no idea what was happening.  I was transferred to a wheelchair and pushed into their version of an emergency room, along with several people with various forms of trauma. Eben checked me in and loaned me the $50 “consultation” fee to be paid in advance and cash.

A few minutes later, a well-dressed man speaking perfect English approached me and asked how I was doing. I had taken my boot off and was pleased that the swollen tissue had gone from tennis to golf ball size. I told him what had happened, and he glanced at my ankle and said an X-ray would show us the next steps. For the next three hours, Eben, Mosha and I waited for that process to materialize. It seemed the x-ray technician was having dinner, so we had to wait for him to return.

Eventually, I got my x-ray (US $15), and the results were negative – no broken bones. It had now been 26 hours since I had gotten up to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro. I was tired. Eben was tired. Mosha was exhausted.

Safari

A few days later, I went on a safari in the Serengeti, elevating my foot and wrapping it tightly in an ace bandage. It was still swollen a week later. The safari was simply amazing. I finally saw many animals I admired on television or in magazines. We went to the Ngorongoro Crater, the world’s largest – a previously collapsed volcano- and saw many more animals, including the rare Black Rhino, of which only 3,000 are in the wild.

As I sat in the Land Cruiser, foot propped up, I thought about my Kilimanjaro climb and the rescue. The porters did a fantastic job, and Eben never left my side. I felt well cared for.

Epilog

Kilimanjaro was assumed to be the easiest climb of my 7 Summits for Alzheimer’s project. In some ways, it was. The climb was good for me, and I thoroughly enjoyed the summit experience, perhaps one of the best of the six thus far. Seeing the glaciers so sparse, receding, and vulnerable struck me profoundly.

I wanted to experience the culture of Africa, and I did to a tiny degree. The guides and porters were friendly, well educated and generous with their knowledge. The people in the cities of Moshi and Arusha were what I expected—places of emerging commerce and poverty but still with an open and honest style.

The injury was a test for everyone. Mine was the first for IMG in over 400 clients over three decades. The porters told me later they had not evacuated someone like this in a few years. Eben had never run from 15,000 to 9,000 feet in one push!

And I had never watched the stars come up, looking like meteors, trees fly by with the rain in my face, and we rush down like Olympic sprinters.

I want to express my deep thanks to Eben for his leadership, the porters led by Andrew and Mosha for their strength and dedication and my teammates for their support.

Kilimanjaro will always be a mountain of memories for me.

Summary

Kilimanjaro is a fun cultural experience, but I enjoyed the safari more afterward. I would return for both the climb and the safari.

Climb On!
Alan
Memories Are Everything®


Kilimanjaro Resources

I summited Kilimanjaro on September 2011. You can read about my climb on these links:

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