Then, my youngest daughter Kimberly called and said, "Mom, I'm going to take the summer off between graduate school and the next job, and I'm thinking about going on safari and climbing Kilimanjaro. Do you want to go with me?"
"Sure, I'll go," I say, "Is Kilimanjaro in Africa?"
We were starting early, as it was six months before Kimberly would be graduating from the University of Texas in Austin. Interestingly, just
Kimberly and I chose WT because their trip went to the summit via the Shira Plateau Route, taking seven days to aclimate and attain the summit and then two days back down for a total of nine days on the trail. Wilderness Travel's brochure said: "You must be in excellent shape--both physically and mentally--to attempt the climb of Kilimanjaro by any route."
Then, the doubt began. Although I have administered thousands of injections to both humans and animals in my career in the National Guard and as a veterinary practitioner, I have a phobia about receiving them. The required and recommended list of vaccinations for going to Tanzania would make a porcupine quake. And, there's the antimalarial drugs and the drugs for high altitude. So, I made one of several mistakes--I ordered the book, Medicine for Mountaineering.
Did you know that you can get high altitude sickness, including the dreaded HACE and HAPE, the former which causing your brain to swell and the latter, your lungs, from climbing mountains as low as 13,000 and 14,000 feet (many of my innocent trips in NM and Colorado had reached those levels)? Medicine mentioned one other book, The Breach, by Rob Taylor. I ordered that book through my bookmobile because our route to the top of Africa crossed the Western Breach. If you don't intend to get anywhere near the Western Breach yourself, I highly recommend this book. If you are thinking about seeing this part of Africa, don't read the book. It's a true story of mountain-climber Rob Taylor's accident on the Breach, his near-death experiences there and in Africa's medical facilities.
Then, my own accidents began. I fell on a sidewalk playing hopscotch with the grandkids and injured my hip. I overtrained and pulled muscles. I was a walking wreck of injured cartilage and tendons, as well as being overweight and middle-aged. The final straw was a myterious swelling in my jaw which occurred just days before our departure for Africa. Although I was wavering at this point, I was not going to let Kimberly down, and the swelling diappeared just as quickly as it had appeared. Kimberly and I left for Africa on schedule.
The day after we arrived in Arusha, Tanazania, we departed with our fellow trekkers and an entourage of porters and guides. We passed through amazingly varied terrain, from jungle to glaciers. The climb was supposed to be nontechnical, but we climbed over tough boulders and crossed ice fields on footholds chopped by axes. If one of us had slipped, he or she would have taken several of us along to a sure end. Several suffered the symptoms of high altitude sickness, but none gave up the climb. The rule was that if you were sick enough to require oxygen, you had to immediately descend with a guide.. The last night we camped at 18,500 feet by a glacier. Kimberly and I had been cold nearly the entire week; it was pure agony to go outside into the ice and snow to do one's business.
Before 5 a.m. on day seven, we put on headlamps and headed up the last 840 feet to the summit. The elation at arriving at Kili's Uhuru Peak, 19,340 feet, was short lived and somewhat anticlimatic. We immediately started down because we were to descend in two days what it had taken seven to climb. This route down was extremely steep and difficult. By midafternoon my legs were mush. I had to have help from one of the guides to make it into camp three hours later. I was the last one to arrive and the one in the worst shape. My quadriceps muscles refused to work. Kimberly had to help me get in and out of the tent.
Early the next morning I was somewhat recovered but not enough to follow such a rapid pace through what was now jungle--mud, roots, vines, streams. Alex, the head guide, assigned a porter to help me. And so I finished the adventure of a lifetime, propelled down the mountain clutching a young African man with one hand and stabbing with my walking stick at the sides of muddy ravines with my other hand. The experience was both embarressing and humbling.
Kimberly and I went to Africa, climbed Kilimanjaro, and the experience changed our lives. I am grateful that my daughter asked me to accompany her; the memories of what we shared together there will last a lifetime. I wouldn't have done it without her, and I couldn't have done it without her.
Kili has taught me something about challenge. It's not about finishing first, or in the best form, or even about finishing. Challenge is all about giving something your best effort. Before Kili, my world was fairly small. Now, my horizons reach to the far corners of the globe. In October, 2001, I visited and trekked in Nepal. I was afraid to fly after 9/11/01, but I went to Nepal anyway. I want to trek the Inca Trail in Peru, and I have to learn about ice crampons so I can prepare for Ranier. So many mountains...
