Climbing Kilimanjaro changes your viewpoint forever

Mount Kilimanjaro hid in the clouds during my first day in Tanzania, and when it finally emerged, framed by unknown species of trees, my eyes widened and my jaw dropped. The enormity of what I’d signed up for hit me: I was going to hike up this mountain for my 50^th birthday?

That was in 2009. However, succeeding at a challenge like that changes you and stays with you forever. When my church – Trinity United Church in Ottawa – began its second season of Zoom Around the World in fall 2021, I volunteered to share a PowerPoint presentation with my other like-minded travel enthusiasts and friends. We gather on Zoom every two weeks to travel vicariously, trying to beat the Covid travel blahs.  

After my presentation, I thought I’d share my photos and notes with my travel blog readers. That’s why this blog story is in a different format – mostly photos in carousels, with explanations below. I’ve broken my presentation into two parts: my 10-day trek on the mountain and then my sightseeing before and after, which will be posted later.

I flew to Tanzania and spent a few days in Moshi before climbing Kilimanjaro.

For about a year before my 50^th birthday, I thought about climbing Kilimanjaro. I wanted a challenge, to convince myself that I wasn’t getting old. Looking back on that now – 12 years later – I realize how young and fit I was! But at the time I didn’t think so. Many people tried to talk me out of this dream, but I couldn’t shake it. After much research, I signed up with Tusker Trail for a 10-day trek: 8 days up and 2 days down.

I flew to Kilimanjaro International Airport in northern Tanzania. A Tusker driver met me there and drove me to the town of Moshi, where I stayed for several nights at the lovely Keys Hotel to get over jet lag, see some local sights, and get ready for the trek.

I went on this trip all by myself. My husband, Bill, didn’t really want to go, although he said he’d go if I wanted him to. But it’s expensive and I trained for six months beforehand, so it’s not a trip you do unless you’re really committed to the idea. The year 2009 was also important because that’s when the North American economies tanked. No one else had signed up for my trek. I had booked with Tusker because they said they did not cancel trips if bookings were low; they’d go with only one person. And that’s what happened. Just me, my guide and the porters.

Kilimanjaro is in northern Tanzania, just south of Kenya and just south of the equator. The mountain is in a national park, with the Kenya border running along the north side. I stayed mainly in Moshi, but visited Marungu, the Londorosi Gate (where my trek began), Arusha National Park, and Longido.

My 10-day trek began with a long drive from Moshi to the Londorosi Gate – the western entrance into Mount Kilimanjaro National Park.

Soon, my trek began. This big white truck showed up, with all the men who were to be my porters. Just me, my guide Simon, and 11 porters – 12 men to cater to my needs for 10 days straight. What a dream come true!

We set off for the Londorosi Gate, on the west side of Kilimanjaro, stopping a few places to see things like zebras and wildebeests. At the Londorosi Gate, I began learning the names of all guys. They called me “Mama,” which is good since they honour elders there.

We trekked the Lemosho route, taking 8 days to go up, and 2 days to go down; about 70 km total. I opted for this route because the longer you take to go up, the better the chance you have of actually making it to the summit, due to the altitude. Many people opt for 5-day, or even 4-day treks, because they’re cheaper, but only about half make it to the summit. With the 10-day trek, 95 percent are successful.

Kilimanjaro is 19,341 feet, or 5,895 metres, making it the tallest peak in Africa and the highest free-standing mountain in the world. That means it’s not part of a mountain range – it stands on its own. The mountain is comprised of three volcanoes. Two dormant volcanoes: Kibo – the highest and the one I intended to climb – and Mawenzi, which involves technical climbing. There is also one extinct volcano – Shira, which is now a plateau since it collapsed in on itself.

As part of registering in the National Park for the trek, all packs must be weighed. This is a protection for the porters, to ensure they are not overburdened, as they used to be before this rule was introduced. Porters are notoriously badly treated. I did a lot of research before choosing my trekking company and found that Tusker Trail is among the best. In 2009, they paid porters $8 a day – double what the average porter made. (I was told the average annual income in Tanzania then was about $60 Cdn.) Tusker also made sure the porters have proper hiking equipment themselves, especially footwear. All my porters wore hiking boots, but I later saw other porters in smooth-leather dress shoes, or thin low-cut running shoes, some even in flip-flops.

We spent roughly five to seven hours a day on the trail.

Climbing Kilimanjaro takes you through five eco-zones – they say it’s like going from the equator to the arctic. We began in the rainforest and, true to form, it poured rain as we started. The next day, we were into the Heath zone, with giant heather shrubs. We saw a chameleon, just chilling out along a branch, and lots of weird and wonderful flowers, such as proteas. Clumps of grasses grew in mounds. I loved the bunches of white everlasting flowers (Helichrysum Meyeri Johannis); I imagined that someone had set out pots of flowers to decorate the way to the summit.

I spent each day on the trail with Simon and Felix, who made sure I stayed safe. Simon always led the way, so I mostly saw the bottom of his legs as we picked our way up the trail. He would indicate things to watch for and caution me “pole, pole” (pronounced ‘pole-ay pole-ay’), which means “slowly, slowly” in Swahili. You cannot walk fast because of the altitude. And the higher we went, the more that was true. It’s shocking how quickly you get winded if you try to hurry.

Behind me was Felix, who happened to be Simon’s brother. He carried a portable stretcher, crampons, an ice pick and a Gamow bag, which is an inflatable pressure bag to reduce the effects of altitude (a portable hyperbaric chamber). Simon carried oxygen tanks in his pack in case I, or anyone else, needed it. Altitude sickness can kill, and they took health and safety very seriously. Simon’s pack weighed 48 pounds, whereas my day pack was 15 pounds – mostly from the water.

Our small camp on the Shira Plateau – Shira is the extinct volcano that had fallen in on itself – shows what our camp typically looked like. I had a yellow tent all to myself, while the porters shared. The tall grey tent was my personal bathroom. One of the porters carried that the whole way up and down.

The porters made camp life quite comfortable.

One of the basic questions many people consider is what the bathroom facilities are. Most trekking companies do not carry bathroom tents, in which case trekkers must use the outhouses at the campsites: squat toilets, and they are nasty! It made me even more grateful for my clean bucket and seat in my grey tent. When we arrived at the campsite each afternoon, my tent would be all set up, and Buiyat, one of the porters, would bring me a pan of warm water, soap and a scrub brush, which clearly I needed. He would also wake me up each morning by knocking on my tent and handing me a mug of tea and my morning basin of water.

Simon gave me a medical check twice a day. He asked about the state of my urine and bowel movements, whether I had a headache, listened to my lungs with a stethoscope, and clipped an oximeter on my finger to take my pulse and blood oxygen levels. Fortunately, I never needed oxygen.

For the first two days, the porters set up the dining tent, where Simon and I ate together. Meals were quite the lavish spread. They didn’t skimp – carrying full-size bottles, jars and cans. But since it was just me, it felt rather weird. All the other porters ate and hung out in the kitchen tent.

One evening I asked if I could come into the kitchen tent and they welcomed me. Even though I couldn’t understand all the Swahili conversations, it was more fun, and much warmer. Simon translated when I needed it. Soon, I was eating all my meals in there with the rest of them, and they didn’t bother to set up the dining tent. Alex was the head cook and we spent a lot of time chatting since his English was pretty good. He even gave me a cooking lesson on macha lari, the banana-and-beef stew that is a typical dish for the Chagga people of that region.

One day, I went into the kitchen tent as Alex was preparing dinner. Buiyat was trying to chop an onion, very slowly. I asked if I could help. Alex and Buiyat looked disbelievingly at me, and I finally reached over and took the onion, knife and cutting board and began chopping the onion. I looked up to see all the porters staring at me. I laughed. I wasn’t sure if they thought I was so rich I had servants to chop onions for me at home, or if they’d just never seen a trekker help out. Felix took out his camera and took a photo of me, turning the tables on the usual trekker-porter relationship. Alex laughed and said, “You should ask him for money for your photo.” (Usually, it’s the locals asking tourists for money for photos.)

The porters ate ugali – a thick porridge made from corn flour – for every meal. They rolled a ball of it, then flattened it to use as a scoop for a vegetable stew. Simon wouldn’t let me try it until the last day – he said it was heavy and often upset trekkers’ stomachs, and he didn’t want me getting sick before summit day. When I tried it later, it tasted like popcorn.

Porters are the unsung heroes of any Kili trek, which takes you through a Dr. Seuss wonderland.

As the heather got smaller and then disappeared, we transitioned from the Heath to the Moorland zone, where vegetation was sparse. In the photo of me in the red shirt, you can see a little white triangle in the distance – that’s Moir Camp. Simon told me we’d be there in 30 minutes and I didn’t believe him. But he was right. We arrived 29 minutes later. At Moir Camp, I got a bad headache, which worried Simon a lot. He kept saying, “Safety first, summit second.” I get headaches a lot anyhow, but you do have to worry about them at altitude. Fortunately, it went away with Tylenol and sleep.

The porters are the unsung heroes of the trek, carrying everything on their heads or backs. Simon, Felix and I would leave camp before them each morning. They would pack up, then pass us on the trail, hiking way faster than I could. They’d set up somewhere for lunch, we’d arrive, eat and leave, and they’d pack up again, pass us on the trail and get to the campsite before us. When we arrived, everything would be set up. I’ve truly never been so pampered!

The trail wasn’t continuously up, up, up. We hiked up and down over ridges. In the photo of Simon resting on a rock, you can see the very thin line of the trail beyond him. When I was on the difficult steep parts, I sang to myself, in my head, to inspire myself to keep on going. One of my favourites was (ridiculous, I know) from Santa Claus is Coming to Town: “Put one foot in front of the other, and soon you’ll be walking cross the floor. Put one foot in front of the other, and soon you’ll be walking out the door.” Truly, the higher you went, the more you had to concentrate on taking each slow step.

The most fascinating part of the Moorland zone was the weird and wonderful trees that make you feel like you’re in a Dr. Seuss wonderland. Kind of like stubby palm trees, they are Giant Senecias (Dendrosenecio Kilimanjari), also called Giant Groundsel, and they’re found only on Kilimanjaro.

We had to climb the Barranco Wall – about 843 feet, pretty much straight up for two hours. It’s the only part of the trek that requires some scrambling on hands and knees. I had been dreading this, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as I’d thought. In one spot, there’s a gap of about two feet in the trail. Simon told me where to place my hands and feet and then you swing yourself across, keeping tight to the wall. That spot is called Kiss the Wall. At the top, we saw dazzling views of ancient lava flows and towering peaks. We were then in the Alpine Desert zone, with some grasses and a few small flowers, but mostly very dusty and dry.

Summit Day was our longest hiking day – 10 hours.

Summit Day finally arrived. Just four of us went to the top: me, Simon, Felix (blue jacket) and Urid (yellow jacket). They wouldn’t even let me carry my day pack; Urid carried it for me. We started at 6:30 a.m. Other treks take people up in the dark so they can see the sunrise from the top. However, I was happy to start early in daylight because it’s a very tough climb. Along the way, we saw many people descending and some of them looked very ill, which worried me.

From Barafu Camp, I looked waaaaaayy up to Stella Point, which is not the summit, but the rim of the crater. Once you reach Stella Point, you continue hiking around the rim and up to Uhuru Point, which is the highest point along the rim. Note the outhouse right on the edge of the cliff. People have died trying to find it in the night. Partway up to Stella Point, I looked back at Barafu Camp. You can see two outhouses perched on the very edge of the cliff.

After a slow, tough, steep climb, wending our way through boulder fields and loose shale, we finally reached Stella Point, on the rim of the crater. I was happy, but so tired. And there was still a long way to go. From Stella Point, I looked waaaaaay up to Uhuru Point, marked with what looked like a tiny sign.

We were in the final of the five zones: the Arctic Summit zone. The oxygen level is about half that at sea level. There’s very little wildlife apart from lichens. (However, in 1926, a frozen leopard was discovered near the summit crater.) We hiked past the Furtwängler Glacier, which is of course shrinking. In 2009, locals expected the glaciers to be gone in 20 years.

Simon took a video of me hiking slowly up to the sign at Uhuru Peak. You can hear that he’s always asking me how I’m feeling. When my hand touched the sign – at 2 p.m. on July 21, 2009 – I burst into tears. It was a very emotional moment. We arrived after 7.5 hours of trekking. But it took just 2.5 hours to get back down to Barafu Camp – our longest day yet – 10 hours instead of 5 to 7.

My 50^th birthday was complete.

As we were coming down from the summit, I said to Simon, “Now my 50^th birthday is complete.” He hadn’t known I was doing this for my birthday. Two nights later, our last night on the mountain, the porters presented me with a birthday cake and sang the Swahili equivalent of Happy Birthday to me. I was quite touched. Turns out, Simon had phoned down to the base, one of the porters’ moms baked the cake, and someone hiked it up to our last camp.

The porters all sang quite well, especially Urid. One day, he was humming “We are Marching in the Light of God,” which I recognized as a hymn from church, so I started singing along. He gave me the widest grin and a thumbs up! After that, I often sang along with them in the evenings in the kitchen tent: “Take it to the Lord in Prayer,” “Rock of Ages,” “Angels We Have Heard on High,” other old hymns and even parts of the “Hallelujah Chorus.” On our last day together, Simon recorded a video of me and my porters singing “We Are Marching in the Light of God” in English, Zulu and Swahili, which they taught me.

Back in Moshi, I shared my success with Charles, a waiter at the Keys Hotel who had helped me with my Swahili. I bought my “Just Done It” t-shirt in honour of climbing Kili.

How did this change me? I learned that:

• I could take on a physical challenge and succeed. Climbing Kilimanjaro was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and that includes childbirth. Mostly, it’s the altitude – higher than Everest Base Camp, and the highest mountain in the world that you can hike up. But also it’s the eight days of hiking up steep terrain. That’s tiring.
• I could take on a mental challenge and succeed. While the physical is hard, the mental part is probably harder – just convincing yourself you can make it to the next ridge, that big boulder, even the next step. Ever since then, when faced with a challenge, I tell myself I climbed Kili so I should be able to do what’s needed now. Recently, I did just that as I hiked up Ha Ling Peak in Canmore, Alberta.
• I need the help of others to succeed. Climbing Kilimanjaro is impossible without a guide and porters. Just like negotiating life.
• Music, specifically singing together, helps make connections with people from another culture and way of life. Not that I didn’t know that intellectually beforehand, but when Urid gave me that wide grin and thumbs up, it really cemented my understanding. If it’s not music, it’s something else; there’s always something you can find in common with others to make those cross-cultural connections.  
• Chopping an onion is an impressive skill, depending on your audience.
• “Pole, pole” is good advice for travel and many aspects of life.
• I could travel on my own to a developing nation, stay safe, and have a great time. However, my first night back in Moshi after my trek, I found myself lonely – quite an unfamiliar state for me. I wanted to share my jubilation with Bill, and an email didn’t suffice. I learned that I prefer to travel with Bill.

My treasured “Just Done It” t-shirt has faded, but none of the memories have.

I climbed Kilimanjaro in July 2009. Find out where we are right now by visiting our ‘Where’s Kathryn?’ page.

Next: Chagga and Masai families welcome visitors