57. Tanzania: Kilimanjaro

This blog describes a few of our more memorable days of our year across Africa.  Since we were born in La Paz, Bolivia and spent many years there or near Lake Titicaca (both around 12500 ft or 3650 m) on paper we had an advantage over other visitors.  However, we insisted on carrying our own tent, food and water so the walking times evened out to a considerable degree.  Considering that we did not meet another foreign traveller in our months crossing Cameroon, Gabon, Congo Brazaville and Zaire we made up for it climbing the mountain.  Given that our visit was only a three-day sample, the number of visitors we did see would suggest that this climb is far from unique.  If you assume 10 visitors a day, over thirty years at least 100,000 foreigners would have climbed the peak, and likely many more.  Still lugging our gear gave a sense of accomplishment mildly comparable to climbers who succeed at much higher elevations without oxygen.

 In fact it is now possible to download a Google Street View of the climb…  We could not even get a good map at the time. Now we can choose from hundreds with a Google search…

It would be interesting to see if there is some comparison with the street view today with the extent of glaciers 30 years ago.  In Bolivia, at least, this is a very sad undertaking as many glaciers have completely disappeared in that same time period.

 

A detail of the mountain.  Fortunately the names are the same 30 years later.

Moshi - Mandara Hut, Kilimanjaro, Tanzania Sunday, 12 June, 1983

(DAN) After breakfast we put our two trash bags of non-essentials in storage and headed for the bus park with Chris. We were to take a bus to Marangu Center, about 40 kms., and then walk 5 kms. (3 miles) to the park gate. We arrived at the bus park to find our bus already loading with a big crush of people crowding the door. In view of the high demand we had to pay to put our packs on top, and then we were the last people they allowed on. The bus was completely packed with four persons for every three places and about fifteen of us standing in the aisle.

The road was paved all the way to our stop and all the way to the park gate. We are coming to realize what a tourist mecca Kilimanjaro is. The walk of 5 kms. is all up­hill, so it took us almost two hours, and we arrived during the noon hour.

“Marangu Gate” to Kilimanjaro National Park is as fancy as any park facilities I have seen in the U.S. There are two youth hostels, a campsite, a restaurant, an outfitters’ store, and an equipment rental storeroom. Not to mention the fancy, very woodsy ad­ministration building where we checked in. We hired a guide (obligatory) and Chris hired a porter. There were various hut fees, rescue fees, park fees, etc., but all told it cost the two of us 613 shillings or much less than half what the YMCA was charging. Part of the difference is that Helena and I will carry our own packs and sleep in our tent, but it appears that the YMCA makes a 40% profit for organizing the affair.

Next we went to the rental store to complete our equipment. We found they had fairly new down vests, ski mittens, long underwear, and among other things, walking sticks. We figured that the vests would complement our heavy rain jackets, and the other things appeared useful as well. There were no balaclavas (pasa montañas) as re­ported, which I am sure we shall regret. The authorities more or less insisted that we not camp at the last hut but use the “facilities”. It is at 15,400 feet, and they said that you never can tell about snow and ice.

Once the guide, Peter, and the porter knew they were hired, they set off looking for food for themselves and told us to start on up to the first hut. They did not catch up with us until an hour after we had already arrived at the hut; so much for the com­pulsory guide!

The first day’s stretch is only 5.5 miles, and it took us 3 1/2 hours to walk. The altitude at the gate is 6,000 feet (1829 m) and at Mandara Hut 8,980 feet (2737 m). The bus stop was around 4,000 feet, so all told we climbed 5,000 feet. It was foggy all day, so we did not get much of a view but had a good look at the vegetation. Before the gate the land is all in cultivation, mostly coffee and bananas. Within the park the vegetation starts as rain forest with some breaks into savanah at higher elevations. The forest right around Mandara, however, reminds me of the fog forest between Unduavi and Yolosa (Bolivian Yungas) that always makes one think of dinosaurs --big tree ferns, primitive plants and a lot of moss hanging from all available branches.

The “hut” is actually a small colony of huts. There are “Tourist Quarters” con­sisting of about 8 small huts of two rooms sleeping 3 persons each, and a big hut with tables to seat perhaps sixty persons with a loft above that could sleep another 20 persons. The huts are of wood with dark aluminum roofs that slope steeply to the ground. The “Porters’ Quarters” consist of another group of similar huts but farther down the hill.

We were resting on the veranda of the big hut when we heard the unmistakable sounds of U.S. voices rising from the forest. Soon two young gringos and a Britisher came into view. They were joined over a period of time by six more members of their party. So much for our peaceful trek. They were one half of a large overland ve­hicle that is traveling from Kenya to South Africa. They have already “done” Ngorongoro and Serengeti, and now they are going to “do Kili”. Do we feel original! Actually I am sure they will afford much cause for speculation over the next few days. Aside from the aforementioned, there is an older U.S. woman (50?) who is from Berkeley, has a PhD in psychology, goes by some name which means “flower” in Hindi, and is “dead serious” about her guru in India. There is also a young woman from Sri Lanka, two men and a woman from Australia, a man from New Zealand, and one from Scotland.

The U. S. woman who arrived first soon peeled down to jogging shorts and reportedly ran an additional 10 miles. She has rather bandy legs and is also from California.

The three of us cooked on our little gas stoves and did our best to keep warm. The other group’s porters heated water, cooked their food, and brought them wood for a fire. It turned very cold, mostly due to the mist, so we were thankful for the fire as well.

Our tent fly was wet before we even went to bed, and by morning our sleeping bags were partially wet as well. To say the least, we passed a cold night. Our sleeping bags were chosen for their suitability for the tropics, so we may get even colder.

Mandara Hut - Horombo Hut, Kilimanjaro, Tanzania, Monday, 13 June, 1983

(HELENA) We tried our best to dry out our tent and ground cloths while we had our breakfast

 (we had gotten so chilled during the night that Dan had the idea of making a hot mush out of our granola), but we finally had to pack it all up, half wet. Since we are the only ones who have to pack up completely and carry our things, we were the last ones out of Mandara at about 8:30.

For that first half hour we climbed pretty steeply up a damp, jungly path with Peter, Chris, and Chris’s porter. I was trying to keep up their fast pace (Dan did well) but I soon found that the only way I could possibly keep going was to go up the hills VERY SLOWLY and, as Dan always says, really “step into those laderas” (flat parts). Dan and I did that today and held our own in comparison with the other people who carried nothing but a canteen of water.

The group of 9 overlanders has every variety of treker. Karen, the California marathoner, got way ahead of everyone and even came back a ways to join everyone for lunch. Several of them went more or less at our rate although they would walk faster and rest more often. A couple of them, especially the Berkleyan, straggled way behind. Chris was always in the forefront in spite of  hiking in flip-flops (or as he called them “Japanese safety boots”). We all had lunch at 11:30 at the top of a rocky, scrubby hill. The overlanders’ porters put down their wooden boxes for them to make sandwiches, Christ got out his corned beef, and Dan and I got out --yes, our granola.

Our first view of Kili, Helena and California Marathoner

We made Horombo in good time --six miles, 9,000 to 12,040 feet (3670 m) -- in five hours. It is the biggest camp, I suppose because people spend a night there both on the way up and on the way down. It is also my favorite because it has an excellent view of the plain at the foot of the mountain when it is not a sea of clouds. The bathroom has to be the most scenic in the world because one has to walk down a long, rocky path to arrive at a small building perched at the edge of the cliff. They even provided balconies from which one can view from one side the plain and from the other side the snow-capped Uhuru peak.

Our tent and Horombo camp

It was nice and sunny and dry when we arrived, so we got to dry out our tent before sleeping in it again. Having learned our lesson on how cold our sleeping bags are, we decided to zip them together.  I put on my rented long johns, and Dan wrapped his rented down vest around his feet, and things went much better.

We saw yet another type of Kilimanjaro-climbing tourists. A man of about 50 and his son were on their way back down. The father is a missionary in Dar es Salaam, and they not only have porters, they arranged their trek through a fancy hotel and are pro­vided with catered food. We all sat in the common dining room and watched them being served their three-course meal, complete with table cloth. You should have seen the way those two porter-waiters hovered over them.

Meanwhile Chris made a meal of boiled cabbage, spaghetti and tomato sauce. Dan and I ate our frugal meal. After all his efforts to cook his meal on one burner in a couple of cans, Chris decided he did not like the results. “Would YOU eat this if your mother set it before you?” In the end Dan ate a good part of it.

We hear stories that tomorrow is one of the tougher days, so we got to bed fairly early.

 

Sunset from Horombo camp, beyond our tent.

Horombo Hut - Kibo Hut, Tuesday, 14 June, 1983

(DAN) We were up preparing breakfast well before the group, but by the time we had our tent down and things sorted, we all kind of left together. Since we shall be staying in the hut at Kibo, we left our tent and a lot of our gear in storage --including a cache of all the food we would not be using. The wind really blew all night, and though the tent was dry, it was extremely brittle to pack.

With once again lighter packs we set out at a good pace. Two hours out we came to the last water and had to load up for the next 30 hours or so. Our two water bladders hold 6 3/4 liters and our canteen 1, so we were fairly well set. Chris only had a canteen, so we lent him the smaller bladder. The water for the large group was carried in two 20 liter jerry cans carried by two porters who could not have been older than 14.

By this time we were in tundra with a softer version of paja brava predominating. By lunch time we were in the part they call the desert. About 14,500 feet up, it is in the saddle between the two main cones of Kilimanjaro, and it WAS very arid.

By 1400 we panted into Kibo hut, which at 15,450 feet is at the bottom of the last, extremely steep slope leading to the summit. Here there are only two large huts, tour­ist and caretaker-porter. They are made of cut stone and tin roofs and must predate the other huts as they do not keep out the cold so well. The wind was blowing, and it turned out that the only warm places around were protected areas among the rocks where you could take advantage of the sun and the heat radiating from the rocks. It is getting high enough that one has to take it slowly going out to the outhouse and back.

Helena and I pre-warmed ourselves with another pot of hot lemonade and then later with a pot of delicious chicken and noodle soup (with granola).

We went to bed early as the “final ascent” will begin tomorrow at 0130 hours in the morning.  Peter came by at about 1800 hrs, and we made final arrangements. He asked if we had a lamp or flashlight; I thought he meant for getting ready. Yes, we have a small flashlight with precious, unattainable (in Tanzania), new batteries.

We prepared ourselves well for the cold night. The room we shared with Chris had six bunk beds.  We pushed two together and then piled mattresses crossways, three deep for 14 inches of insulation. Just before we went to sleep, we had a cup of hot milk with a little coffee in it. We put in so much milk powder that it was positively creamy --­ahhh. We went right to sleep at 1900 hrs.

Kibo Hut - Uhuru Point - Kibo Hut -Horombo Hut, Kilimanjaro,  Wednesday, l5 June, 1983

(HELENA) That list of places illustrates how terribly long the day was for us. We heard the overlanders being called by their guides, so we were up at 1:00 before Peter came to awaken us. Last night Dan had re-adjusted my pack to fit him, and we had pretty well packed it, but still it took us till 1:45 to be all ready. Dan was the only one carrying any sort of a pack, and even though it carried only 2 liters of water, a bit of granola (the little we have been saving from our Kolwezi Golden Granola batch), the camera bag, and our rain jackets, he could really feel it. I felt guilty about going empty-handed, but tried to console myself with the thought that my carrying anything would only slow us down more.

We got ready to go just as the big group did, but Peter soon had us ahead of them. Peter led the way with our flashlight. From the very first Chris was not feeling well, so he came next, then I, then Dan with the pack.  Peter’s SLOW pace was just right for me because, even though it was a constant steep uphill, I felt I could keep on trudging for a long time. It was a good pace for Dan too, but Chris’s style was very different. He would follow Peter for a few minutes, then he would put on a spurt of energy, forge ahead, and sink down for a rest.  So, we ended up resting a lot on the way up.

After some 2 1/2 hours, or halfway up to Gillman’s Point, our new flashlight bat­teries gave out, so we had to continue in the near darkness. Because of the darkness we were forced to take the path straight (and I mean STRAIGHT) up instead of the slightly easier zig-zag route.  At times we felt as though we were not advancing at all because we were walking on loose dirt that would slide down with every step we took.

At the start the night was still (the stars were as clear as could be) and we were more or less warm enough with the clothes we had started with. (Dan had his pajamas, a tee shirt, his long-sleeved khaki shirt and the rented down vest, I had on two tee shirts, my long-sleeved khaki shirt, my Indiana sweatshirt with hood, a down vest, and under my khaki pants I wore the rented long johns. Dan also wore a towel around his head and neck, and both of us wore rented mittens.) At about the time the torch went, the wind started to blow, and we were forced to get out the rain jackets. They were perfect for cutting the wind, and after that the only cold parts were Dan’s feet and my right hand which held my walking stick. All the way up we could see the lanterns of the other party wending their way slowly up the zig-zags. Occasionally they would dis­appear.

Chris eventually began to feel better, so we were able to watch a beautiful sunrise from not far below Gillman’s point. We regret that it was so cold and we felt so pressured for time because we could only give the sunrise a few hurried glances. We reached Gillman’s Point shortly after 6:00. All of this uphill climbing took almost 5 hours, but to show how steep it was, we could still see Kibo Hut from Gillman’s Point. I wonder if they have us climb at night so we shall be less discouraged with our SLOW progress. Gillman’s Point is at about 18,500 feet.

Kilimanjaro is a snow-capped blown-off volcano. Gillman’s Point is at the top of the incline we climbed, but it is the lowest point of the rim of the broken cup. Once you are there, it feels as if you have gotten to the top, but you still have to walk around the edge of the crater for a couple of hours before reaching THE TIP --Uhuru. Peter asked if we wanted to go all the way, and the three of us decided we did. Uhuru is 19,340 feet (5895 m).

There were a few uphills and downhills, but mainly we were dealing with flat walks over glaciers. And what glaciers! In some places they were as much as 300 feet thick, simply massive. After some 20 minutes Dan saw that he would not be able to continue because his boots have no grips. (Chris rented boots for this last uphill climb.) Peter suggested that Dan use both of our walking sticks, and I could link arms with Peter to cross the glaciers. It was exhilarating because he made me almost run across and down parts I would otherwise have crept across.

 

View of rim glaciers on our way to Uhuru Point.

The highest point, Uhuru, was a rather unimpressive bare spot, but from there we could see part of the edge of the crater that is to one side of the cone and several of the huge glaciers. It was too cold and windy to take much time with the picture-taking, and Peter seemed anxious to go back down, so we took a couple of photos and Dan left his key ring with the Bolivian flag that Price had given him years ago.   

Helena, Peter and a tiny Bolivian flag, Uhuru Point.

How we wished we had brought our stickers that Hugo Montes gave us --”Solidaridad con el pueblo boliviano!” because there were several stick­ers on a box there. Then we started back around the cone.  About halfway back around we met the hardier portion of the other group. Naturally, Karen, the marathoner, was in front. They were all so wrapped up that I could not see who made it, but we decided that 5 of the 8 went on to Uhuru while the other 3 returned from Gillman’s Point.

Dan (right), Peter and Chris at the back.  Uhuru Point.

Then started what was for me the worst part, the descent. Now that it was light, we could see all the way down to Kibo Hut. From the top the first part looked very, very steep and the bottom part looked almost flat. Chris felt pretty sick, so he would go a ways fairly rapidly and sit for a while. Peter finally left us and ran all the way down. Dan and I stepped and slid and stepped and slid, and that loose, steep part never seemed to end. We rested a bit at the halfway cave (the only place on the way up that we had rested out of the wind). In the daylight we could see it was very trashy. Then we went the rest of the way, leaving Chris to sleep a bit. That last part was far from flat, and both of us felt a bit funny in the stomach, so it seemed like an endless, loose descent. We were the first of the two groups back at the hut of those who went all the way, but we did not get there till after 11:00. Almost 10 hours to go up and down that last part. We had a cup of something hot (was it lemonade?) and hit the sack.

We did not really sleep because Peter definitely thought we should leave by 13:00, but we got up feeling refreshed. The walk back down across the desert was nice because it was a gentle slope, but eventually we got back into steeper, rockier, even boggy places that really taxed my already dulled senses. Dan, Chris and I took a slightly different route and I was pretty slow, so we got back to our favorite camp (Horombo) at 16:00. Nice to warm up in the sun again. We pitched our tent and went inside the dining hut for our tomato soup and hot lemonade. This time there was a group of 5 Japanese and another group of 4 Germans being served chicken stew, etc., complete with table­cloths. By now Dan and I are experts on dressing warmly for sleeping in cool sleeping bags and tent. This time we even coordinated when we turned over during the night so we would most effectively share our body heat.

(DAN) For me the climb to Gillman’s Point was about the hardest thing I have done physically. For one thing even though we had readjusted Helena’s pack, I found that the hip belt was constricting my diaphragm. I let the belt hang loose. Next, after about 3 hours I seemed to run completely out of energy. Helena was doing really well, staying in Peter’s immediate footsteps, but both Chris and I were struggling with our pace, resting more and going shorter distances between rests. The final factor was that ex­cept for the last few feet of the ascent, there was no protection at all from the wind, so even when we sat down, it would blow and we could not rest long before we could feel the body heat leaving. Once we were up, it was all worth it because you cannot imagine till you are up there the massive groups of glaciers that from the ground appear to be a rim of snow.

Horombo Hut, Kilimanjaro - Moshi, Tanzania, Thursday, June 16^th, 1983

 (DAN) We were up well before the crowd, but due to our double infusion of warm liquid and packing the tent, we were actually 45 minutes behind the group when we finally got going. Despite our fears of overcrowding, it has been fun to do the climb in a large, rambling group, talking for a while with this individual, resting a while with the other. I cannot, however, avoid the gossip. When we first met the marathoner and heard her speak, I maliciously told Helena to see how long it was before she said, “Oh my God!” To be precise, it was at lunch the second day, and following a few seconds “Bizarre!” To our disappointment, nothing was “unreal”.

Our schedule for the day was a 14.5 mile walk, all downhill from 12,500 feet to the bus stop at 4,000 feet. The first stretch to hut # 1 only took three hours, but Helena and I were already beginning to feel the effects. The walk from there to the gate was a gradual, steady descent, but by the time we had arrived, we were truly hobbling and wondering how many blisters we were cultivating. As usual, Peter and the porter walked a good ways ahead while Chris rambled about in his flip-flops. We said goodbye to the two of them, and after checking in our equipment, we started the last 5 km. descent to the bus stop. Chris had his pack now, so he began to feel it as well. Those last two hours were really something --one step after the other constantly stuffing your feet into the toes of the boots. We could not really afford to stop as the buses reputedly quit returning to Moshi at an early hour, and we could not afford the expensive hotels up on the mountain. Most importantly Helena and I wanted to get back to the YMCA, get a good night’s sleep, rearrange our stored things, and head on to Arusha to­morrow.

When we finally stumbled into view of the bus stop, we could not believe that a bus was just arriving --but--it was not turning around. Same story with three more buses, and the last one told us we had better give up and try again in the morning. The three of us started to haul on our packs for a few more kms. of downhill in the hope that one of the hotels would allow us to camp, when a fifth bus appeared, this one going to Moshi. We piled on, and after a couple of minutes even had seats.

Our long day was not over yet. We turned out to be on the last milk run of the day, and stopped every 3 or 400 meters. Instead of milk, however, the product being transported from the mountain to the plain was over ripe bananas, 5-gallon bucket after bucket of the peeled, fermenting bananas with a folded banana leaf on top. This is the raw material for the ubiquitous banana beer, and some of the women were transporting 10-15 open buckets each on the roof.  Each time they stopped and unloaded there would be a heated argument over the “fee” for this luggage. The fight usually included an attempt by one of the 4 ayudantes to confiscate a bucket in exchange. This dragged the 40 km. ride out over more than 2 hours.

After our long period of sitting, we almost could not step off the bus. Our calves especially were almost useless. We hobbled to the hotel, checked in, hobbled upstairs, hobbled to the cold shower (it was so cold it gave me the same type of headache I get when I eat ice cream too fast). We managed to make it to supper and splurged on the 3 course dinner to celebrate our feat if not our feet.

We were joined at supper by an interesting pair, two U.S. students from George Washington University who are here on some kind of a program with the Washington D.C. YMCA to teach English in YMCAs here in Tanzania for the summer. We really liked Mark; he seemed really enthusiastic and wanted to know about climbing Kilimanjaro as his father and little brother are going to come out in August to do it with him.

Ms. Eastern Establishment was another thing.  She was planning to climb “the moun­tain” as well, but she was “worried about starving”. “I always worry about starving when I travel.” This, it turns out, is because she is a vegetarian. We asked her what she eats here instead of meat. “What do you mean?” We explained that in restaurants we try to get a bean-grain combination for complimentary protein or, in our room, bread and peanuts, but that bread is extremely scarce in Tanzania and there are no peanuts in Moshi. She did not seem too aware of the grain-legume idea, and then later it surfaced that she is “going to med school in another year”.

She also mentioned a friend of hers at Harvard from Iowa City who after a couple of years dropped out of school to go “help organize poor people in Bolivia”.  After a couple of years he returned to Harvard and was responsible for bringing the president of Bolivia to speak there. She could not remember the president’s name, but that he was an outlaw at the time --Siles Zuazo?

We lost no time going to bed and were soon asleep.

 

View of Kili from the Moshi YMCA.