Facing Mount Kilimanjaro

Four friends, rather on the wrong side of fifty, set out to climb Africa’s highest mountain recently. They flew by different routes to the attractively named Kilimanjaro International airport, Moshi, a picturesque small town near the famous mountain. They agreed to rendezvous at the Aishi Machame (Protea) hotel, a quiet, thatched-roofed establishment in Moshi, very […]

Four friends, rather on the wrong side of fifty, set out to climb Africa’s highest mountain recently. They flew by different routes to the attractively named Kilimanjaro International airport, Moshi, a picturesque small town near the famous mountain. They agreed to rendezvous at the Aishi Machame (Protea) hotel, a quiet, thatched-roofed establishment in Moshi, very close to the many routes for the climb. Everything went according to plan up to that point.
Some 20,000 climbers a year attempt Kibo, the highest of the three volcanic cones in Kilimanjaro(a much smaller number try the lesser known Mount Meru, which towers over the near by city of Arusha). Given that what we do for leisure is determined by the level of our well being, very few of such climbers are from Africa, including Tanzania itself. I asked many Tanzanians I met in Arusha and Dar Es Salaam, if they have thought of exploring this magnificent gift of nature in their backyard. A woman born in the vicinity of the mountain, who now lives with her husband and children in America, told me it has always been on her mind, but she is now too old to try.
A former minister I met in Dar es Salaam said in his circle only his son has climbed the Kilimanjaro, during an expedition organised by one of the elite schools in the country. It seems that most of those making the epic trek are tour guides and porters working in travel companies owned by both locals and foreigners. Wilderness First Travel, run by a bunch of young but competent Tanzanians, took charge of our own trip. 
 European and white South African ex-adventurers and business types own most of the more established tour companies, catering to international clientele and visitors from their own countries. At the hotel in Moshi, I quizzed a Norwegian tour guide, who has just come down from the mountain with a group of climbers from Norway. They were a mixed bunch of men and women, honeymooners, families with teenage children and sprightly grandfathers. But they have all made it to Uhuru peak, the highest point. They were enjoying a leisurely breakfast,  before embarking on the second leg of their adventure, game viewing at the Ngorongoro and Serengeti national parks.
The Norwegian guide told me the secret of their success, why all of 30 of them, young and old, the fat and the fit, completed this gruelling trek. For several months every weekend, they prepared by climbing snow-covered mountains in Norway, to get used to high altitude and the extreme cold. They were also kitted with the most comfortable and up- to-date mountain climbing gear and accessories. Make no mistake about it, climbing to the very top of Africa’s most fabled mountain is not a stroll in the garden.
At 5895 meters (or 19,340 feet) above sea level, the Uhuru peak is not only the highest point in Africa, it is the apex of the world’s highest free-standing mountain. With preparation and determination it is within human capacity to reach its summit. But you also have to treat it with respect, grill and psyche yourself physically and mentally, get the right clothes and equipment and hire a small army of porters (to carry food, water, camping gear etc) and an experienced guide. Otherwise, like many, you may begin the climb, but not make it to the very top, or worse, fall sick or become disoriented, and have to be evacuated by stretcher!
After weighing all these imponderables, and using the excuse of a poorly mended leg fracture, one of the four musketeers chickened out from the climb. Having come so far, he ventured to Marangu gate, one of the many entrances to the mountain to have an intimate look. At several points along the twisting road to its base, one is rewarded with a gorgeous sight of the mountain covered in snow with white clouds drifting sometimes below, other times above it. This is the Kilimanjaro you see in the tourist postcards, but up close it looks so near, yet so far away!
Tanzania is one of the world’s most varied and beautiful countries and, if like me you don’t have the heart or the limbs to ascend the Kilimanjaro, there are dozens must-see places close by. Within two to  three hours driving distance from the mountains there are several game reserves, some of them so unique, there is nowhere like them elsewhere. The biggest, but furthest is the Serengeti, a vast open grassland teeming with millions of animals. Here the gazelles, the bush bucks, the buffaloes and the elephants eat all the grass and trees they want, while the jackals, hyenas, tigers and lions, lurking in the shadows, decide which of them is primed for dinner.
I did not make it to the Serengeti, as it needs more time than I had. But I spent some lovely time at the Serena hotel perched on an escarpment overlooking Lake Manyara, which is at the base of the Great Rift Valley. The lake attracts flocks of colorful flamingo birds. It has other wild life, including, hippos, water buffaloes and tree-climbing lions.
In my book, the one place you must see if you find yourself in northern Tanzania is the Ngorongoro Crater. Thousands of years ago, a volcanic eruption created a huge bowl or crater, which is so lush and well-watered it has become a natural animal sanctuary catering to a huge variety of wild life. The walls of the crater are up to 600 metres, effectively trapping the animals in a kind of natural zoo of about 265 square kilometres. Sturdy Land Rovers are used by tour operators to ferry open-mouthed tourists in and out of the Ngorongoro. On the ridge above the crater are well-appointed hotels, where in the absolute stillness of the  African bush you can sit on your balcony and look down into this paradise.
You must by now be wondering what happened to my friends climbing the Kilimanjaro. Well, I continued to monitor their progress from a comfortable hotel by the sea. There was mobile phone connection up to a point. The evening of the first day they were upbeat as they reached the first camp for the night, such that I felt a tinge of regret at not being part of their high altitude party! By the second evening they admitted the climb was getting more difficult, but this was to be expected and they were still able to joke that I should prepare  for a helicopter to rescue them.
I lost touch with them on day 3 and it took another anxious two days for me to hear the full account of their adventure. The stress and strain began to take its toll by the time they reached Kibo hut, where, according to the tried and tested method used by the tour guides, they were to rest for a few hours before attempting the final summit of mount Kibo and the Uhuru peak. One of the three, who is a natural leader, disputed the logic of this plan, which required three very tired, middle-aged men, who have already made the trek of their lives, to push on at midnight to the very top.
He argued that it was best to rest until morning before moving on. Unable to persuade the others, he wrapped himself in a warm blanket and went to bed. He said at that point pictures of children began to pop into his head and he was concerned about the consequence to his family if something unexpected happened. Accepting the advice of the lead tour guide, Adam Nkinde, that the ascent to mount Kibo is best attempted when the perilous steps are taken under the cover of darkness, the other two trudged on.
Covered from head to toe, in the extreme cold and howling wind of an alpine desert, they made it to mount Kibo, which is 4,703 metres above sea level. But just barely, as one of the two had begun to show signs of serious distress. Ahead of them, in the dark and freezing mountain is Gilmans point, which is at 5,685 metres and the slippery ice cap of Uhuru peak at 5,895 metres. At that point, with one of them limping along and the other needing a stretcher, they called off the expedition. Hours later, the companion they left at Kibo hut, now alarmed at their delayed descend, saw them stagger in with the help of porters. The one worse for wear was shaking his head as vigorously as he can manage and saying with feeling “ useless”, “ useless”!
After a good night rest and a hearty breakfast at the cushy Mount Meru hotel in Arusha, where I learnt these details, all of them were happy they had pushed themselves to the limit. They joked and relived the adventure again and again, with pictures to prove it. It will not surprise me that after a few months of not wanting to hear the word “ mountain”, all of them might try climbing once again. But probably not the Kilimanjaro!