The Call of Kilimanjaro

A bit over a year ago, my heart sank to my knees when I read the news about three Colorado trekkers killed and five people injured (three tourists, two Tanzanians) on Mt. Kilimanjaro. Among those injured was Jessica Post, a student at the University of Colorado. They were victims of a rock slide that hurtled down to their camp from the Western Breach, the upper route that my then almost-14-year-old son, a friend and I climbed in August 1996. (My husband, the most experienced climber among us, got nipped by the altitude at about 15,000 feet and did not attempt the summit.)

Jessica's femur was broken in the accident, and guide Sharif Bakari carried her down the mountain. A feature in today's Boulder Daily Camera reported on Jessica's recent return to summit Kilimanjaro with her father, who had also been with the 2006 party. The tragedy was underscored for me because I mentally and emotionally connected the 2006 father-daughter experience with our 1996 mother-son one. Bakari, who had not ascended Kili either since the accident, returned with Jessica and her father.

We hiked the Machame Route up the the south side of the mountain, starting at the Machame Gate into Kilimanjaro National Park. We slogged through the deep and muddy rainforest, camped at about 10,000 feet and continued through the magical "heather zone" to the Shira Plateau at about 12,500 feet, where we camped for two nights to acculimatize. We day-hiked along the stark and desolate plateau, where sturdy plants grew out of cracks in the lava, and marveled at the summits bracketing the vast plateau (Kibo Summit shown above). On the second to the last day, we ascended to Lava Tower at about 15,000 feet. There, we camped amid volcanic rocks and sand, where not even rugged high-altitude plants grow and where it gets really cold as soon as the sun sets, even though Kilimanjaro lies close to the equator.

The final pull up a rough trail threaded through the harrowing Western Breach was an arduous climb that began shortly after midnight. It is not a technical climb with ropes but very challenging nonetheless. We were fortunate to ascend under a full or nearly full moon. The scene was eerie and beautiful, as silver rays played on rock and small snowfields. We only needed our headlamps shortly before daybreak. "It's always darkest before the dawn" is an old saying that was true that evening. From our camp at Lava Tower to the summit to the Great West Notch, which we reached at daybreak, is some 3,000 vertical feet, give or take, and from there, it is another 400 or 500 feet to the Uhuru summit -- the roof of Africa at 19,340 feet above sea level.

Having scrambled up the Western Breach route, I was not surprised that there was a rockslide. Of course, I was shocked at the tragedy because a party happened to be camping below, but not really surprised that something slid, especially in view of the precipitous global warming over the last decade. When we were there, we stepped gingerly as we climbed the steep Western Breach route, mindful of loose rocks underfoot that we did not want to kick away and cautious that someone above might dislodge some. In fact, so dicey did we find the footing that I convinced our head guide, Daniel Fundi, to return via the Marangu Route -- the smoother "tourist route" -- and my son opted to come with me.

Climbing Kilimanjaro is one of the physically hardest things I have ever done and also one of the most satisfying. It was thrilling to share the experience with my son, and I was delighted to read that Jessica, her father and Sharif Bakari were able to return and triumph. While I vicariously celebrate their achievement, I also rue recent report that four bandits armed with AK-47 assault rifles recently held up five tourists in Ngorongoro Wildlife Park. The bandits, thought to be Somali, for a time kept the visitors captive and robbed them of cash, photographic equipment and other valuables. We visited Ngorongoro (also Serengeti National Park, Lake Manyara and Taranjire National Park) after our Kili climb. So did Jessica Post and her dad.