Friday, 8/13/99, 5:15PM, Atlanta Airport, USA
I’m now sitting in a plane waiting to depart from Atlanta. It is raining like crazy outside with lots of thunder and lightning and we are waiting for the storm to let up before we take off. I began my journey this morning, departing from the San Francisco airport at 8:30am. When I was walking down the terminal toward the gate at SFO, I felt the first twinge of separation anxiety from Chris and the kids. It hit home with me that I was going to be away from the family for a full 15 days. Prior to this, all I could think about was that I was just glad to finally be on my way to Africa after all the preparations.
The last 2 weeks have been hell. I needed to make a job decision and I finally decided to take the risky/uncomfortable option, Internet Marketing. I have little or no background in this area except for my MBA, but it takes me out of my comfort zone and exposes me to a new and dynamic area with a bright future. This is a good thing, I think. But I keep asking myself if am I playing dice with my livelihood and family security. It will be hard for the first year, but I know I can do it. Three months ago, my company shut down the development wafer fabrication facility where I was working. I just barely missed getting laid off and most of my friends and co workers got the ax. However, I was fortunate to be reassigned to another project, and leaving it is proving difficult. This is because the people in the group are really nice and I feel I am really contributing to the project.  I sure hope I’m doing the right thing. In addition, during the last few weeks I have been making final preparations for this trip which reached a fever pitch this last week. Finally, I had softball playoffs going on for my team for the last 3 weeks. I’m happy to report that we won the championship with our final game on Wednesday, 8/11, 2 days ago.
After my flight left SFO, the plane crossed the Sierra Nevada mountains. I saw Big Sam Pass and Lake Leavitt which is exactly where my friend Geof and I backpacked last weekend to get some pre acclimatization for Mt. Kilimanjaro. We hiked and slept at 9,500 to 10,500 feet for 3 full days. Hopefully, this acclimatization will last the 5 days until I get onto Kili. Geof bailed out of the Africa trip at the last minute due to issues with his startup company. He is running low on cash and his burn rate is too high. In any case, I consider flying over the trail which we backpacked to be a very good omen for this trip!
I’m reading “Into Thin Air” by Jon Krakauer and I’m about a third of the way through. This is a great book to read before climbing Kili and so far it’s very interesting, giving the history of climbing Everest and the initial stages of his Everest expedition for non mountain climbers. I’m thinking about taking my entire load up Kili without porters. This would be more of an accomplishment than having others haul it up. I’m also taking my video camcorder up, which was Geof’s suggestion. Chris got me an extra battery with long life. Hopefully I’ll have enough battery power to shoot 2 or 3 rolls of video tape.

Saturday, 8/14, 8:49AM, Over the United Kingdom
I’m now in flight to Brussels. The plane out of Atlanta ended up being delayed by 2 hours due to the bad weather. We’re currently about 45 minutes late which should still allow me enough time to make my connecting flight to Nairobi. I slept a little last night but not much. “Into Thin Air” turned out to be a real gut wrencher. The tragedy was incredible.  Half the people on the trip succumbed to the great mountain!  Now I’m not at all enthusiastic about climbing Everest like I was during the first part of the book. High altitude is serious business and we will need to be very careful on Kili. But heck, both Oliver and I have been reading books on altitude sickness and know AMS, HAPE and HACE symptoms by heart. Since Oliver is a doctor, he has brought Nifepedrine for HAPE and Dexamethazone for HACE if anything gets serious. Also, we have Acetazolamide (Diamox) to help us acclimatize faster if we elect to utilize it. It’s also helpful even after AMS symptoms come on.
We’re flying over the English channel now. I saw tons of farmland in the U.K. Each plot was surrounded by a green line of bushes, hedgerows I guess. This flight is bringing back memories of my initial flight into Norway back in 1981 when I was an exchange student. I remember I flew into Amsterdam and then crashed asleep on the flight from Amsterdam to Oslo. This time I’ll try to stay awake until night so I can make the time change easier, perhaps. We will be driving out of Nairobi right after we arrive at 11:30PM and should arrive in Moshi around 7 or 8AM just in time to leave for the first day’s hike on Kili. We’ll try to grab some sleep in the car, but I’m not sure how comfortable it will be. The first day on Kili will be a tough one from a sleep deprivation standpoint.

Sunday, 8/15, 3:00AM, Nairobi Airport
I had met up with Franko at the Brussels airport. I saw him sitting in the waiting area and he looked pretty much the same as the last time I’d seen him 5 years ago on our Alaska trip, although I didn’t remember him wearing glasses. Franko is a great person, and good to have on a backpacking trip. He is a very strong hiker, and he is calm and collected out in the wilderness, although sometimes he’s a bit crazy. He was the one who ended up walking out on the Cantwell glacier in Alaska without crampons or other aids. He could have slipped and been killed, or fallen into a crevasse, but of course he didn’t. He’s knows his limits and he’s not afraid to exercise them.  I changed seats to sit by Franko on the flight to Nairobi.
We flew over the vast Sahara desert, then it became mostly cloudy so we couldn’t see the ground. At one point toward the end of the flight, there was a break in the clouds and we saw a huge river winding below us, possibly the Congo river. It was amazing to think about what might be going on down there. The drama of the African jungle was being carried out below us and we were sitting comfortably insulated above it in the plane. We had a stop in Kigali, Rwanda, which took me aback somewhat as I thought the flight was a non stop to Nairobi. I was not the least bit interested in going to Rwanda, with all the unrest there and people getting killed, but the stop was uneventful. The airport was very small, and we appeared to be the only jet there. We offloaded some passengers and acquired some more, and I observed that most of the people on the plane were African at this point. I began to feel that I was getting far from home. I noticed that the top of the terminal building, which was set up like an observation balcony, was filled with Africans looking out over the runway at our plane. Maybe they were waiting for another plane to come in, or possibly watching our jet was their Saturday night entertainment.
We finally landed in the Nairobi airport. I had been traveling for over 24 hours but I still felt like I had some energy left. Our first task was to clear passport control. After waiting in line for about 10 minutes, we were told that since we were traveling on to Tanzania, we needed a visa which could be obtained at another desk. Franko and I filled out a form and had to pay $20 each for a “transit” visa. There was a tattered piece of paper taped to the window surrounding the visa desk which said that Americans did not have to pay for a visa if they were staying in Kenya for their vacation, but if they were just traveling through, the $20 was required. Little did I know that there would be many more fees of this nature through the trip, when entering and leaving different countries and areas. I wondered what would have happened if I told the passport officer that I was staying in Kenya for my vacation. I had visions of being discovered as a visa violator and being thrown into some horrific jail...better just to pay the $20.
We went down to the baggage claim area and waited for our luggage. We saw Oliver through the doorway past customs and he waved to us. Behind him there was a waist high barrier which was holding back a large group of African men. They were excitedly waving and generally making a ruckus trying to get people’s attention. I assumed they were cab drivers trying to solicit business, even though the inbound passengers were still in the customs area. I had heard that one should be very careful in Nairobi of unlicensed drivers who turned out to be thieves and this was certainly an interesting introduction to that. In any case, my duffel bag which contained the backpacking food arrived, but after waiting for about a half an hour, no more new bags appeared, and my backpack was not there! I could not believe that it was not there and I walked around and around the delivery area looking for it. Finally an airport employee said there were no more bags coming.
There was a group of about 10 people crowded around a small lectern with an airport employee methodically writing things down on a form. This turned out to be the lost baggage desk. The employee was filling out a long form by hand for each person; there was no computer terminal. After about an hour of waiting, only 3 people had been served. Franko went through customs to meet Oliver. At this point another employee showed up to assist in the filling out of forms, but it took almost 2 hours to finally get to the front of the line, then another 20 minutes to fill out the paper work. A nice gentleman, with a shaved head and glasses filled out my forms. He was very polite and I kept my cool despite my high anxiety level. After all, this trip was an adventure, and my enjoyment would depend on how I was able to deal with setbacks. Finally, the employee said the information would be telexed back to Sabena in the morning and they might have an answer the next day. I had given him the name and phone number of our outfitter in Moshi, Zara Tours, to send the luggage to when Sabena found it.
At this point, it was about 2:00AM and I went through customs with no problems. This was truly a disaster since my sleeping bag, clothing, down jacket, water filter and other backpacking supplies were all in my backpack. I knew I would need very warm clothes for Kili, and I didn’t have any, just my cotton T-shirt and jeans. Fortunately, I had my Norwegian sweater and boots! When I came out of customs, I went with the airline employee to get a convenience pack with toothbrush and other toiletries, which I didn’t see any of the other people get who had lost their bags, so I felt at least a bit lucky. Then I met up with Oliver and Franko. Thoughts were racing through my mind at this point as I sorted through our options. The most logical option was to delay the Kilimanjaro climb and go on our 2 day safari first. At that point my bags would have arrived and I could proceed on the climb. One the other hand, Oliver and Franko had talked with our driver and they were convinced that I could rent equipment from Zara before the climb. The driver said Zara had everything that I would need. I was personally not enthusiastic about renting the gear. I could only imagine what condition it was in and I envisioned it having some sort of contagious cooties. Oliver said that in his medical opinion anything I could get from contaminated clothing, like lice, was curable and that I shouldn’t worry. Needless to say, this didn’t make me feel much better. The real irony was that I had just purchased several hundred dollars worth of the latest high tech gear just for this trip and I was possibly going to have to get by with old fashioned stuff!

Sunday, 8/15, 3:00AM-11:00AM, Nairobi-Arusha Road, Kenya-Tanzania
My adventure at the airport continued as follows: We decided to go to the Carnivore restaurant to get something to eat while we figured out what to do. There was a Swiss Air flight which came in at 6:00am and the baggage person said my luggage might be on that flight. So we walked out to the car, which turned out to be a 4 wheel drive Subaru station wagon. As we approached the car with our load of gear, the driver mentioned that he had brought his sister in law along and asked us if it would be OK if she drove with us. She was in the passenger seat up in front and there was barely room for Oliver, Franko and I to cram into the back seat after we had jammed our gear in. As I squeezed into the car, I immediately noticed the strong smell of gasoline. The driver said he had overfilled the tank and this is why it was leaking. I figured at least he had been good enough to top off in advance of our drive. We set out on the road, with American style soul music playing on the radio, and the driver and his sister in law conversing in English. I thought that was interesting given that the local language is Swahili, but maybe they were just being considerate to us. We pulled out onto the road of Nairobi, and drove for about 15 minutes. The road got quite a bit rougher and there appeared to be no street lights. In addition, the road was so narrow that whenever we passed a car going in the opposite direction, I was afraid we would be hit. The driver would have to weave almost off the road in order to avoid the oncoming traffic. To top it off, the smell of gasoline was as strong as ever, and I began to wonder if there was a leak somewhere. The driver had his window down and it was chilly outside (probably about 50 F). I had everything on which I owned which was a tshirt, sweater and jeans and I was feeling the cold. It looked like a long night ahead of us.
We drove (on the left side of the road) out from the airport headed toward the Carnivore. It was a harrowing drive because the road had no centerline marked and, as I mentioned before, it was barely wide enough to let 2 cars pass each other. On the side was a sharp 3 foot drop off, which appeared to be due to construction on the road. To top it off, it was very dark. Whenever a car would approach us, our driver would flash his high beams and the oncoming driver would flash his. This appeared to make it easier to locate the other vehicle’s exact position. After driving for about 20 minutes we finally reached the Carnivore restaurant. We drove past a large field with some bonfires burning and after passing by some ominous looking gate guards, we were allowed to park in the inner parking lot. There was a line of young Indian men at the entrance and an African bouncer was selectively letting some of them pass and making others wait. Some of the Indians were making a ruckus and yelling, and I thought there might be a fight. But we passed by the group without incident and went to the entrance booth. There was loud music playing and they were charging to enter. An attendant said they were not serving dinner or food, so we decided to leave. It was too loud to discuss our situation anyway, so we got back in the car and began to drive. I decided to try to phone Chris to ask her to follow up on my baggage, so we drove to the Norfolk hotel where the driver said they would have a phone. The hotel looked pretty fancy in the dark and the large outer doors were being guarded by an attendant. He let us in and the desk clerk set us up with a phone to use. The people at this hotel were very accommodating and even said it would be OK if Chris called me back. Unfortunately, the minimum charge on a phone call was 900 Kenyan shillings which is about $13. In any case I called Chris and explained the situation. She said she would call the airlines and find out what was going on. About an hour later I called her back and she said Delta had told her it was not their responsibility and she had not been able to get a hold of Sabena in Belgium since it was still night there. She promised to keep tracking the situation. Well, at this point it was about 3:30 am, and we needed to make a decision. After strong convincing by Oliver and Franko, I agreed to drive on to Tanzania and check out the rental equipment. They were both anxious to get going on the mountain and felt that we had to leave immediately in order to make it to the trailhead by noon which was the latest we could start.
The drive from Nairobi to Moshi turned out to be quite a trip. The driver did finally admit that there was a leak in the gas tank and the strong gasoline smell never did go away. So we were continually battling to roll the windows down against the protests of the driver’s sister. There also turned out to be a problem with the car’s radiator which required the driver to stop periodically and add water, which he carried in several plastic containers. The road was surrounded by brush on either side and we could not see any farther than the headlights illuminated. Occasionally we saw Thompson’s Gazelles bounding along the side of the road and the driver said they were a cause of accidents at night. At one point someone had to go to the bathroom, but the driver said it was not safe to stop. I asked him why and he said there might be bandits. About every hour or two there was a small town with a military checkpoint manned by 2 or 3 soldiers with guns. There was usually a small fire which the soldiers were huddled around. At these checkpoints, the road was usually blocked by a dilapidated stop sign followed by a very nasty piece of metal with spikes pointed up designed to blow out a car’s tires. The soldiers, armed with automatic rifles, would approach the car in a menacing fashion and shine a flashlight into the windows to check us out with their guns prominently displayed. I figured they would give us a break since we were tourists, but this was not the case, and they still would hassle the driver for about 5 minutes speaking in Swahili. I definitely didn’t feel real safe at these checkpoints, although the driver apparently did. It was at these places that he would get out of the car and refill the radiator.  Again I got the feeling that I was far from home and outside the protection of my country. 
At around 5:00 AM or so, the driver began to get sleepy. I offered to drive for a while and he accepted. I tried to go as fast as possible, but often a group of very large potholes would appear in the road, and I had to slow down to weave around them. The road was paved with one lane in each direction, and was generally in good condition, but the potholes made the going tricky at night, and I couldn’t really exceed about 50 miles per hour. I was also not exactly well rested, and at one point I found myself driving on the right side of the road, American style with a car heading for me. Oliver alertly reminded me that I should be on the left side of the road, East African style. After about an hour, the driver changed with me again since we were nearing the Tanzanian border. When we arrived there, we had to go through 2 checkpoints on the Kenyan side (first immigration, then customs, I think) which took about 20 minutes. Then we had to go through 2 more on the Tanzanian side. At the Tanzanian immigration station, there was a one room building with a gas lamp on a table providing the only light. Franko passed through without much fuss since he had already gotten a visa in Croatia. However Oliver and I had to fill out forms (it seemed like the same one I had filled out in Kenya) and give our passports up along with $50 each to the attendant. He took them into another room and we waited for about 15 minutes. Finally another official came out, who seemed to be in charge, and gave us our passports. They had been stamped and text had been hand written in each explaining the purpose and length of our stay, etc. On our way out of the building, the first attendant said to me “you are Christian, right?” I said yes and he said “that is good.” I wondered what that was all about and hoped I wasn’t getting into some kind of religious conflict. At this point the driver negotiated with some of the locals to get some more water for the radiator and about 10 minutes later a guy came back with the water containers filled up.
It was getting light out now and as we began driving again, we could see that we were surrounded by plains containing low scrub bushes with some mountains on either side in the distance The land reminded me a lot of the chaparral terrain around Los Angeles. At one point we saw several Ostrich along the road and we stopped. But they immediately took off in the opposite direction and we did not get a good look at them. At another point we saw a herd of about 5 giraffe about ¼ of a mile off the road, but again, they were really too far away to see very well. Franko appeared to be dozing off a bit, but Oliver and I remained awake. The combination of the occasionally very bumpy road and the gas fumes was not conducive to sleep for me, and Oliver has trouble sleeping on backpacking trips anyway. All of a sudden a loud bang came from the front of the car and something bounced off the windshield. The driver stopped and we could see some steam coming out of the hood. Apparently the radiator cap had blown off. I figured that we definitely needed the cap or the car would boil over for sure if we continued driving. Oliver, Franko and I fanned out on the sides of the road looking for the cap but the bushes were fairly dense. I went back about 25 yards but couldn’t find any sign of the cap. I now had visions of us being stranded out in the middle of nowhere for several hours (or who knows how long), waiting for help. Fortunately, Oliver found the cap! After refilling the radiator with water and somehow getting the cap back on (it had been bent after it blew off), we got back on the road. Within about an hour we began to see signs of civilization. People were walking along the road carrying any number of things on their heads including jugs (of water, I assume), wood and bundles tied up with cloth. There were a few bikes, but mostly people were walking. In general we saw few cars until we got into Arusha, but there were always a large number of people walking along the side of the road from this point on. The houses were either concrete cinder blocks, a stucco like masonry, or a dense collection of sticks stuffed with mud (or cow dung as we later found out), with thatch or corrugated steel roofs. The window openings did not seem to have any glass, but were covered with bars and the floors seemed to be dirt. The houses did not have planted yards, but were randomly spaced and surrounded by red muddy clay that seems to be prevalent in this area. Often, there was an abandoned house with no roof and bare window and door openings, which gave the appearance of being bombed out. But this was not the case since there was no such activity in either Kenya or Tanzania. Finally we got to Moshi and pulled up to the Zara office.
At the entrance to Zara, there was a large group of African men milling about and we made our way through them to the narrow door and into a driveway which lead to the rear of the property. We came to a small covered patio which had a table set up. We were introduced to Fatma, who had been Oliver’s contact for setting the trip up. After formalities, I explained my situation regarding my lost backpack and we were taken inside the building, through the kitchen into a dark, smelly storage room which had the rental gear. The items were a motley collection of old things, which I assume had been found, donated, or otherwise acquired over the years. The items appeared to be clean and didn’t smell particularly bad, although the room in general did. Our guide, Tom, came in at this point and made some suggestions as to what to take, and after about 20 minutes, I had my gear stowed in a military duffel bag ready to go. I had selected 2 jackets, 3 pairs of sweatpants, a turtleneck sweater, mittens, 2 balaclavas (which I swore I would never wear due to the “cootie” factor), 3 pairs of socks (which had numerous holes which had been repaired), rain jacket and pants, gaiters and a thin summer sleeping bag which was the warmest I could find. I asked Tom if I should bring two sleeping bags and he said it wasn’t necessary.
Finally, we got underway to the trailhead. The town of Moshi had no paved roads and it was incredibly bumpy driving. We were continually swerving from one side of the road to the other to avoid potholes. We stopped to pick up bottled water, the containers of which would become my canteens, and we proceeded on out of Moshi.

8/15, 11:00AM, Machame Trail Road, Mt. Kilimanjaro (5,500 feet)
We’re now heading for the Machame Trailhead and the beginning of our Kilimanjaro ascent. The road has gotten worse and is completely rutted and muddy. It’s bordered by picturesque plots of coffee, banana, corn and beans all densely planted right on top of each other. We’re bouncing along in a Toyota 4 wheel drive van with our luggage, 5 porters, our guide and a driver on board along with Oliver, Franko and me. There are people walking along the sides of the road almost continuously. I’m not sure where they’re going. Kids seem to want to run along side the van for a while to see if they can keep up, but they fall back after a hundred feet or so.
The van just got stuck in a particularly muddy and rutted section. Everyone got out and the driver backed it down a bit. Then, he gunned it up through the slippery clay mud with several locals, who happened to be walking along side the road, helping to push it up. After the driver got the van above the bad section, we all piled back into the truck and it proceeded onward again. Then we stopped in a small village of maybe 50 people. Our guide, Tom, wanted to do some business here, I think to pick up some last minute supplies. I noticed a boy by the van, about 9 years old, eating a tomato. He was sucking the soft inside part out while leaving the skin. The buildings are tan masonry fronts, generally stained with mud since all the pathways and ground between the buildings is unpaved ground and it seems pretty wet and muddy up here. The roofs are made of corrugated metal. There are no paved roads or sidewalks of any kind. The houses again do not have any window glass, just holes cut for windows with some sort of bars over them. Here even more people are walking and milling about on the main road. A boy tried to balance a long stick in the palm of his hand but it kept falling down. Oliver encouraged him to try again, but he wouldn’t do it for him. A few minutes later I saw him try it again when Oliver wasn’t looking.

Sunday, 8/15, Machame Village to Machame Hut Camp, Mt. Kilimanjaro (6,000-10,000 feet)
We got going again in the van a few minutes later and made it the rest of the way up to the Machame Trailhead, which is at about 6,000 feet elevation, without a problem. The trailhead was a bustle of local people walking around in all directions with sacks, jugs, duffles, boxes, bags and all manner of containers on their heads and backs. Supplies were being spread out on the ground for distribution to containers. The containers were then weighed and given to the porters. I assume there is a maximum weight limit. Tom told us to go to the ranger station to sign in while he paid the fees. It was very exciting to watch all the commotion, and although we had not slept in quite a while, we were anxious to get started.
I put on my daypack, and camera case which had my still camera and video recorder, and we began our climb. The trail started out as a firm dirt road and began cutting up into the rainforest. As we climbed we became surrounded by a dense growth of large trees with moss hanging down. The forest floor was covered with ferns and moss and everything had a coating of dew on it. The trail gradually began to get muddy and I noticed that the porters were starting to have footing problems which was not surprising considering their heavy loads. I was wearing gaiters, which Tom had suggested, to keep the mud out of my boots, and I also had my trekking poles for stability. Even so, the hike got a pretty hairy and I slipped in the mud a few times. My gaiters started coming undone and I got my hands covered with mud trying to fix them. Eventually, the mud became all encompassing, and I gave in to the idea of being coated in mud from the crotch down. At one point I was trying to take some pictures, and something fell out of my camera bag into the mud. It turned out it was the spare battery for the video recorder. At least it was not the camera itself! I began hiking more rapidly as I was not enjoying the mud, and it was getting late. We were continually passing groups of other hikers and were getting passed by porters who were hiking faster than us. We seemed to be at the end of the line since we had started out so late.

Sunday, 8/15, Machame Hut Camp, Mt. Kilimanjaro (10,000 feet)
About half an hour before dark we reached the Machame campsite at 10,000 feet. It was very crowded with climbers and porters. I had not seen Tom all afternoon and wasn’t sure where we were going to set up camp. At this point the “subguide” showed up and directed us to an unoccupied spot where there was room for a tent. It was foggy and the campsite was very wet with dew. There was waist high grass and sparse trees surrounding the campsite and we seemed to be out of the rainforest. The porters set up 3 tents for us, one for sleeping, one for our gear and the other for dining. These tents were Coleman dome tents with inadequate rain flys, which seemed more for family camping than serious mountaineering. I had rented a tent from REI co-op which had been in the luggage which made it to Nairobi, and I actually had it with us on the mountain, but I elected not to set it up since the porters had already set up the other tents. One feature at this camp site was the armed soldier who was wandering around. He seemed a bit friendlier that most of the military we had seen on the roads. He was there to protect us from bandits who come up from Machame village in the night. Bandits were not a problem at the higher campsites, but they apparently were an issue here and and Mweka campsite at the end of our trip. I overheard one camper asking the soldier if he had ever shot anyone and the soldier said he had indeed killed several people over the course of a few years. This was yet another indication that we were definitely not in the Sierra Nevada Mountains of my friendly home state of California.
Tom finally showed up after dark and said that he had been attending to one of the porters who had hurt his leg. After Tom took charge, things became more organized among our porters and we were served dinner in our dining tent and afterward we gathered around our fire. The scene we observed was almost surreal. Groups of campers were gathered around their fires in the foggy night. The light of the fires streamed out from between the people and lit up the fog with beams which seemed to dance back and forth as the people moved. There must have been at least one hundred people at the campsite interspersed among 10 or 15 fires and the mixing of shadow and light was very eerie. At about 9:00PM a group of about 8 or 10 New Zealanders moved in on our fire and kind of took over. At this point, I hadn’t gotten significant sleep for about 48 hours and God only knows what time zone I was in, so I decided to turn in. My tiredness mixed in with the hard day’s hike allowed me to get a reasonable night’s sleep.

Tuesday, 8/17, 7:00AM, Shira Hut Camp, Mt. Kilimanjaro (12,000 feet)
I’m sitting in my sleeping bag in our tent after just waking up. The conditions are pretty gross here. The tent is on the small side for three people. Last night I slept in the middle between Franko and Oliver. At around 2:00AM my feet started getting cold and I couldn’t stop it. I had an extra jacket around my feet, but they were still cold. I now find that the bottom of the tent flap was left open slightly which allowed wind to cut through to my feet. The other problem with sleeping in the center position is that whenever anyone gets up to relieve himself, he has to crawl over you which wakes you up.
The bottom of the tent is covered with wet dirt. Also, any gear or clothing is also covered with wet dirt. This is because Oliver and Franko have been wearing their shoes inside the tent. These are certainly the most filthy conditions I can remember from any backpacking trips I’ve been on. My hands have dirt embedded in all the lines and under the fingernails. Yesterday, I tried washing up, but couldn’t get all the residue out. I will need to use a scrub brush to get clean.
Last night Oliver came down with an intestinal ailment. He was passing sulfur smelling gas and belching sulfur, which I had never observed before. He had two episodes of diarrhea. He was very worried that it was something serious and he felt like he would have to bail out on the trip come morning. He finally took his “cipro” antibiotic pill for severe traveler’s diarrhea and he seemed to be doing better at 1:00-2:00AM. I also had some minor sulfur belching, so I wonder if it had something to do with the cabbage we ate last night. In any case, he feels better this morning and will likely continue on with the trip.
The base of Kili just appeared for about 3 minutes out of the fog! It has been very foggy since we have gotten out of the rainforest at 10,000 feet and we have not been able to see more than several hundred yards or so. So it is great to get a look at the mountain. There was a rock face, shiny with water or ice, directly up from us, then, off to the right, I can see two glacier fields. It did not look like it was 7,000 feet above us! Of course, we still didn’t see the top. It is remaining enveloped with clouds.

8/17, Shira Hut Camp to Barranco Camp via the Lava Tower, Mt. Kilimanjaro (12,000-15,000 feet)
Oliver felt better this morning and has been hiking well today. We ascended steadily from Shira Hut camp until about noon and reached an outcropping called the Lava Tower at about 14,000 feet where we ate lunch. Earlier in the morning at about 13,000 feet, the fog had lifted considerably so the visibility at our level was good. We could see out over the cloud covered plains below. It felt like being in an airplane. Looking up we also got occasional glimpses of the Arrow Glacier and rock outcroppings on the western side of the Kibo volcano cone area and once we saw Uhuru Peak. Geographically, Mt. Kilimanjaro actually consists of three areas. If one faces the south side of the mountain, on the left is the Lava Tower region with the large outcropping where we ate lunch. This area does not appear to be a peak or mountain itself, but at one time this was an active volcano, apparently. In the middle is the large volcano cone called Kibo. On Kibo is the summit of Kilimanjaro called Uhuru Peak where we will be climbing to. On the right side of Kilimanjaro is Maweka Peak which is about 14,000 feet and much smaller than the Kibo area although certainly more prominent than the Lava Tower.
It was quite cold at lunch, so I broke out my heavy rubber raincoat, mittens and balaclava (yes, it was kind of gross, but being cold makes one forget about sanitary conditions). I had to take my mittens off to peel my orange and I had a heck of a time doing it because it was so cold. Tom had said earlier that we should eat the Tanznian food or our food, but not mix them as this would increase the chances of getting diarrhea. I didn’t know what the logic was behind this, but I decided to eat the provided lunch today. It consisted of a carrot slice (peeled), 2 sugar crackers, a tomato/cucumber (peeled) sandwich, hard boiled egg and the orange. I was most worried about the sliced tomato in the sandwich since it wasn’t peeled, but I ate it anyway. My foot fell asleep while I was eating and I had to walk around for 10 minutes before the feeling came back. I left my cold weather gear on and did not start sweating even though the raincoat was unbreathable rubber. After lunch, we hiked up above the lava tower (15,000 feet) which was higher than Mt. Whitney, the tallest point in the continguous United States! The fog was already covering Arrow Glacier above us, but we got occasional glimpses. After a 10 minute stop, we began descending back down to Barranco Hut. Up until now, Tom had set an extremely slow, steady pace which he said would allow us to avoid altitude sickness and make it to the top. So far it has worked beautifully, and none of us had any symptoms. However, as the trail descended, Tom sped things up considerably. I stopped to take some video footage and the battery ran out. This was the lithium ion battery Chris had purchased that was supposed to have a four hour lifetime, but it had lasted no longer than 10 minutes I would guess. The film meter was still registering full. Well, I still have the good old NiCad battery which should get me through the rest of the film roll barring any altitude or low temperature factors. Unfortunately, the NiCad battery had dropped out of the camera case on the first day and had fallen contact side down into the mud. I had cleaned it out the best I could and I hope it still works.
On the way down to Barranco hut we saw several exotic plants. One was a 10-15’ tall plant that resembled a Yucca, but had wider leaves. There were also smaller versions that were 3’ tall and had narrower leaves. Tom said these were always situated around water and if you dug down you would find it. Here the water must have come from the glacier melt.

8/17, 5:00PM, Barranco Hut Camp, Mt. Kilimanjaro (12,000 feet)
I’m sitting on a rock next to our campsite at Barranco hut camp. Oliver and Franko are reading. We have finished our afternoon “tea” which consists of a plate of popcorn, a plate of nuts and a thermos of hot water. So far we have just filled up our plastic mugs (supplied by the cook) with hot water and sugar which satisfies our cravings after the day’s hike. I don’t think I will ever forget the smell and taste associated with this concoction which is a combination of smoke from the open fire boiled water, sugar and plastic from the mug. The campsite today, unlike yesterday at Shira, is cramped. We have our sleeping tent (still filthy), our dining tent and our gear tent all set up within a few feet of each other, all pretty jammed together. The other Zara party is a German couple whose tent is pitched not more that 10 feet away from ours. They also have a dining tent but no gear tent. I noticed that they were in our campsite last night and they may have been with us on prior nights but I didn’t recall seeing them before. The couple appears to be in their 40’s with the man being pretty big and heavy and the woman on the small side, almost frail. They have all their gear in immaculately clean condition, even their boots. I’m not sure how they accomplished that after the incredible mud of the first day. I’ll bet they’d be appalled if they saw the inside of our tent. My pants still have a substantial residue of mud on the legs which I don’t know how I’d get off without a good washing, but I’m not about to do that! The couple seems quite nice and polite to us although they don’t speak much English and no one in our group speaks German. The other group in our site was from India, a grandfather, father and daughter, I think. They are set up with a full blown picnic table and chairs, but it’s pretty cold to be eating outside.
The porters, guides and cooks are up above us in the shelter of a rock. Their conversation is being projected right down on us unlike yesterday where it was directed away from us. All in all, this is not a great campsite, but at least it’s dry. And it’s certainly better than the first night at Machame. Unfortunately, we are fogged in again with only about 100 yards of visibility.

8/18, 11:00AM, Last Water Point, Mt. Kilimanjaro (13,000 feet)
We are now stopped for lunch at the last water point before Barafu Hut Camp. We started a little early this morning, at 8:00AM. There was ice coating our tent from the condensation of the previous evening’s fog. I had gone to the bathroom twice, as is usual for me on this trip, the last time at 1:30AM. I don’t think I slept much after that, but since we went to bed at 7:30, I still got a good night’s sleep. Oliver had awoken at 1:30 and declared he was too hot and he removed some clothing and then seemed to go back to sleep. We started out this morning by climbing the Barranco Wall which is a fairly steep trail, with closely spaced switchbacks going about 1,000 feet up. There were a few places where we had to hold on with our hands, but nothing where I felt I was in danger.
Right now, the last water point is hustling and bustling with about 50 porters, cooks and guides and about 11 hikers. It is cold here, in the low 40’s I would guess, and the wind is blowing making it feel even colder. The porters are chatting in swahili, carrying on vigorous discussions. High voices and low are heard through the general din. Pots and pans are clanking over two separate fires. One porter is chopping wood. The porters are dressed in a motley collection of gear. Most have some sort of balaclava covering their head and ears. These are of all colors and striped patterns. Jackets range from black or brown to bright orange and some have logos on them, for example “alpine” over a picture of a mountain. For pants many have some sort of leggings under shorts, and the rest just have long pants. All have full cover footwear over socks but about half have only tennis shoes and no boots.
There is an almost continuous stream of porters coming in and out of this spot. These people are responsible for hauling all the supplies for the various groups of climbers and their preferred method of carrying things is on the head. You often see a porter carrying a deluxe western style backpack with a high tech shoulder and hip suspension system on his head. The porters are able to negotiate the steep rocky climbs, like the Barranco Wall, with their heavy loads on their heads, and I have yet to see one drop something.

8/18, 2:30PM, Trail to Barafu Hut Camp, Mt. Kilimanjaro (14,000 feet)
Well, we just had a somewhat disturbing incident. It is quite foggy this afternoon, with visibility about 200 feet. Franko decided to go ahead of us, I guess because we were going so slow due to Tom’s high altitude pace. We hiked up a steep incline out of the last water point at about 12:15. After hiking about an hour, with Oliver telling us World War II stories, we came across a message written in the dirt beside the trail which said “Franko” with an arrow pointing ahead. Well, at least he was still up ahead of us, hopefully not too far. About 10 minutes later, we came to a junction in the trail. Tom stopped and said he saw fresh footprints on the trail to the right which went down and that they might be Franko’s footprints. Unfortunately, that trail was a shortcut down to Mweka Hut Camp which was the wrong way. We called out to Franko about 20 or 30 times but got no reply. So we returned to the correct trail and began hiking. After about 100 yards we stopped and discussed the matter and Tom said it was still another 2 hours to Barafu Hut Camp. He said if Franko did not turn out to be ahead of us, that he would come back down and get him. This did not sound like a very good idea to me since we would be leaving for the summit at 12 midnight and there was not a lot of extra time to go back for Franko. We called out for Franko one last time before we took off and this time we heard an answer! We called down, “Franko, come up,” but we just heard indistinct yells coming back. Then we yelled some more and heard nothing. Tom yelled in Swahili and something was yelled back. I started wondering whether it was really Franko down there or whether it was a porter. At this point, Tom started down into the fog after Franko, calling out but getting no distinct answers. After several minutes of this, we heard Franko calling out of the fog again in English and he said he was coming up. After about 15 minutes, Tom reappeared with Franko. We asked Franko why he wasn’t calling back up to us after he initially heard us and he said he thought we were joking. He said he had been waiting down there for us and if we had not come along he would have come back up on the trail looking for us. Tom said he still might have gotten lost because there were several other trails which branched off which were used by porters to gather wood. In any case, Franko was back and we all felt much better. I thanked Tom for his actions in finding Franko.
The rest of the afternoon was spent climbing steeply in the fog for another 3 hours. I started feeling some pain in my right rib area. I’m not sure whether this was from leaning forward too much or breathing so hard. In any case it seemed to go away after a while. My breathing rate got up to 40 breaths per minute whereas it had been about 20 breaths per minute while hiking at lower elevations. This was difficult hiking and my legs and shoulders were feeling fatigued even though I only had a daypack and camera case. Tom was keeping the pace slow and I’m convinced that this is very important at higher elevations. I usually tend to hike fast and get ahead of every body. Then I get completely exhausted. The slow pace enables you to deal with the rarified air better. I tried hiking fast for one stretch after I had gotten behind the group while taking a picture. I found my lungs screaming for breath and my heart racing and pounding.

8/18, 4:30PM, Barafu Hut Camp, Mt. Kilimanjaro (15,000 feet)
We stumbled into camp at 4:00PM having hiked since 8:00AM. I’m feeling a bit lightheaded and got a real sense of vertigo when I looked off a cliff beside our camp and saw the ground disappear into the fog. We appear to be on an exposed ridge, but the wind is not blowing hard and we are still enveloped by fog. It is cold, even without the wind, and the fog is making the cold get into my bones. For one fleeting moment the fog partially lifted and we got a look at a the top of the mountain. My stomach is really gurgling right now; I hope it’s not altitude sickness.

8/18, 6:00PM, Barafu Hut Camp, Mt. Kilimanjaro (15,000 feet)
Our guide, Tom, is an efficient and professional person. He is always happy to answer our questions no matter how many times we ask them. He has a very gentle laugh and speaks quietly. However, he is stern with the porters and is able to orchestrate and make sense of their seemingly endless comings and goings. Unless something comes up, like the injury on the first night, the tents and food are always ready for us on time. Tom always visits us in the dining tent after we eat dinner and chats about the day’s activities.
This evening, Tom briefed us on the plan to climb the summit. We were to eat dinner, go to sleep and awaken at 11:00PM. We would then have tea and leave at midnight, climbing in the dark with our flashlights up to Stella point which was on the rim of the crater at 19,000 feet. From there it was another half mile and 200 feet up to the true summit which was called Uhuru Peak (like the officer in Star Trek?). Tom said we could only stay at the summit for 10 minutes and would then have to come down. I had envisioned a leisurely 2 hour stay at the top with lunch and plenty of viewing time, but he said we had to get down quickly or the altitude would really affect us. During dinner, the fog lifted and the summit (or so we thought) came into view. We all jumped out and got some photos. The sun was setting over the clouds which had been covering the surrounding plains for the entire trip. It was a beautiful sight. As we turned around, Oliver noticed that someone was being helped down the mountain by two porters. This person was evidently unable to walk and had his arms around the porters’ shoulders for support and was basically being dragged down the mountain. This was certainly an ominous sight. Where were they taking him at this hour? And how could it be that he couldn’t even walk?
Since I’ve got some extra time, I’ll describe our meals. The dinners are served in a dining tent, which is a small dome tent with enough room for all three of us to sit on our sides around the meal. Breakfast consists of hot water for tea which we consume in our usual manner with sugar and no tea. The main breakfast course is a scrambled egg, sausage, cut up and peeled cucumbers and a tomato slice. We cut the middle of the tomato out and discard the skin to avoid disease. Overall, the breakfast is very tasty.
Lunches are hot if we are near a site where fires can be built, or cold if we are on an isolated trail. Hot lunches included hot water for tea, a smooth soup, which was generally a base of potato, chicken or beef, but with no chunks of vegetables or meat. The afternoon tea was already described.
Dinners consist of soup (similar to lunch) for the first course. The main course is a starch item such as macaroni, mashed potatoes, spaghetti or fried potatoes. These are served with a stew of cut up vegetables and very thin strips of tough meat. Dessert is usually bananas. Overall, the food is pretty good although I am tending to be hungry toward the end of the trip and feel like I could have used a bit more food. On the night of our ascent, we had spaghetti and baked beans.

8/18-8/19, Summit Hike from Barafu Hut, Mt. Kilimanjaro (15,000-19,000 feet)
We went to bed around 7:30PM after arranging our warm clothes for the summit climb. I slept fitfully for maybe an hour and woke up with a full bladder, but I decided to stay in the warmth of the tent and see if I could get back to sleep. My intestines were churning and I was getting cramps. I finally got up after the cook announced our wake up at 11:00PM. I had mild diarrhea, and I was feeling some anxiety about the climb. It was already quite cold and I was forced to be thankful that I had my collection of rental gear to keep me warm. For pants I wore sweatpants, insulated pants and then another pair of sweatpants. I put two pairs of thin green wool socks over my cotton ones. For my upper body I had a thin turtleneck sweater, my Norwegian sweater, and two jackets. I had the balaclava and mittens also. In reserve I took a scarf, hood, rain jacket and rain pants in my day pack.
The cook had prepared hot water and sugar biscuits of which we all three partook. We were anxious about the climb. Oliver had not slept at all. Franko said the climb was like having sex with a new girlfriend. You were anxious, but excited about the outcome. After the snack, we packed up our daypacks and got ready to go.
The half moon was just setting when we left at 12:15AM. The stars were absolutely tremendous. I was amazed to see the constellation Orion, which I thought was only visible in the Northern Hemisphere. But Tanzania is not as far south as I had anticipated. The big dipper was not visible, though. We started hiking at a very slow pace, even slower that in the past few days. Tom kept saying “polle, polle”, which sounded like bullay bullay to me, and I kept singing the damn party song from the Animal House  movie whenever he would say it (bullay bullay...bullay bullay...bullay bullay). Polle, polle meant slow, slow in Swahili. The trail was incredibly steep, basically 4000 feet straight up, with no switchbacks to speak of. Although the temperature was below freezing, we got very hot at the start and had to stop to take off clothes. I took off one of my jackets and hung it clumsily on the camera case around my neck. This made the case somewhat heavy and it could really feel it around my neck. Tom wanted us to get going fast so we wouldn’t get cold, and he was right. After stopping for just a few minutes, the cold wold creep in on us. Within an hour, Franko’s flashlight went dead, so he stopped to change the batteries. Tom suggested we use only one flashlight since we would be hiking for 5 more hours in the dark. So Franko used his first and Oliver and I turned ours off. This made things a bit more difficult since I couldn’t see in front of my own feet as I was behind Franko, Oliver and Tom. I had to look ahead a bit to see where Franko’s light was shining and then plan my steps. Behind me was the subguide who also didn’t have a light. At one point I looked back down the mountain and noticed we were part of a snaking stream of lights from the 75 or so people hiking. Tears came to my eyes and I began to cry. I’m not sure why such emotion seized me at this point, but maybe it was the culmination of the months of preparation and worrying about the trip and the realization that we were in the final stage of the summit ascent. Also, the altitude may have been affecting me.
The climbing got progressively more difficult. We would pass another group of hikers taking a break, and they would later pass us. We took very few breaks, which was good from the cold standpoint, but bad from a water consumption standpoint. Between the three of us, we only drank about a liter, which was not enough. It would have been nice to have a bottle hanging off my belt, but that rig was with my other lost gear. In any case, the water in my bottle began freezing even though it was buried deep in my backpack. I guess having something easily accessible under the front of my jacket would have been the best. After another hour, Franko’s flashlight burned out and I began using mine. Unfortunately, it lasted for only about an hour. At this point we stopped to allow Oliver to get his out, but I couldn’t find it in his pack. It was cold and dark, and I didn’t feel like I had all my wits about me when I was looking for it. Finally, Tom said we had to go, so we continued hiking with no flashlights at all, with only stars for light. I don’t know exactly how we did it, but I could see enough of the steep, rocky trail and Franko’s legs to make my way. I don’t know how Tom found his way in the front without any artificial light, but he did. Oliver said that Tom had to backtrack several times to find the trail but I didn’t really even notice. Things are definitely much simpler when you are being led by a guide. I guess the lesson here is to bring plenty of extra batteries. I don’t know if the cold, or altitude had any affect on the batteries, but they seemed to die out much faster than in my previous experience backpacking.
Occasionally I would look up at the stars, but when I did that, I would lose my balance and nearly fall over. This was one affect which the altitude was having on me at this point. I wished I could stop for about a half hour to really absorb the stars. I hadn’t really gotten a chance to do that so far since there had been so much fog, but up here it was crystal clear. But I knew we could not afford the luxury of stopping even five minutes due to the cold and altitude.
At about 18,000 feet, Oliver started complaining of dizziness. It got so bad that he had to stop. His dizziness was compounded by the fact that it was so difficult to see the steep, rocky trail. To cheer Oliver up, I started telling World War II stories (of which I know only a few). This seemed to work for a while, but at about 18,500 feet, Oliver stopped and said he couldn’t go on. He said he had a slight headache, dizziness, and was feeling very fatigued, but he did not have any symptoms of acute mountain sickness. Franko and I tried to get him to continue on, but he said he couldn’t. I grabbed him by the shoulders and gave him a hug and tears came to my eyes again. I wanted desperately to make it to the top, and this feeling had only been increasing as I hiked, so I really felt bad that Oliver wouldn’t get the opportunity. Oliver said we should go on and Tom said he would stay with him while the subguide, Yousef, continued on with Franko and I. I was actually feeling pretty good at this point. My feet were cold, and some unusual fatigue had started affecting my muscles, but I really felt like I could make it.
The trail got very sandy here and the hiking got especially difficult. Each step required more effort than before when we were hiking in the rocks. Unquestionably, I began to feel the altitude. My breathing rate was about 40 breaths per minute, and each breath did not satisfy my lungs as it should have. I tried to suck the freezing cold night air as deep into my lungs as I could, but this was made difficult by the 5 pound camera case/jacket around my neck and the 15 pound pack I was carrying (very light under normal circumstances). Nevertheless, I once again had tears come to my eyes because I began to realize I could make it to the top. Yousef picked up the pace somewhat which was OK with Franko and I. We crossed onto the edge of a snowfield which provided surprisingly good footing. Although the surface was exposed to the sun during the day, it wasn’t icy. It had enough give that we could get solid footsteps, but our feet didn’t sink in appreciably.
Within a half hour, we reached Stella Point which is the junction between the Barafu and Marangu trails. We had reached 19,000 feet and we were on top! The excitement was tremendous and I broke down and cried again. The sky was now starting to lighten as dawn was about a half hour away. At the point on the horizon where the sun would later appear it was a very deep blue blending into the inky black sky with the stars still clearly visible. It seemed like we were in space. We stopped for five minutes to take pictures and some video footage. Then we packed up and prepared to leave for the summit, Uhuru Peak, which was another half mile and 200 feet higher. We figured this would be fairly easy since it didn’t involve much elevation gain. We were about to leave when Oliver showed up with Tom! Franko and I were very surprised and we congratulated him. Oliver said this was as high as he was going and told us to go on. At this point we had been at Stella point for about 15 minutes and when Franko and I got started, we immediately felt the altitude. I had been fairly comfortable while resting at Stella Point, but I now had a feeling of extreme fatigue all over my body. I was amazed at the effort required to walk! It was as if my brain was commanding my legs to move, but my legs were not responding. It took more concentration to make each step than normal, and I was always gasping for more air, trying to get a full breath. I followed Franko up the trail to Uhuru Peak and we made fairly good progress. We did not stop until what I thought was the summit. This turned out to be people taking pictures of the sunrise. So I took out my video camera and took some footage also. Franko yelled from up ahead to “come on.”
I wasn’t sure, but the summit appeared to be another 200 yards and 25 feet up, at least that’s where another group of about 15 people had congregated. When I started walking again, the effect was incredible. The previous fatigue I had felt was multiplied several times. Each step was now a special effort, and my body was telling me to stop and rest. I knew if I stopped I would not want to get going again and I forced myself to continue. I was so close, I couldn’t stop now. But my body did not want to go on. I was feeling something new at this point, which is hard to describe. It involved fear and uncertainty. This feeling diminished my previous confident attitude.
In any case, I managed to walk the last 200 yards up the the summit. I had made it! Franko and I hugged and congratulated each other and now it was his turn to start crying. There was a light wind, maybe 15 miles per hour, and it was very cold. I got out my still camera to take pictures for the first time on the summit hike, but it would not start up. The battery was reading dead. I figured the cold/altitude must have affected it so I put it under my jacket to heat up. Fortunately, Franko’s camera was working and we took pictures of each other. Remarkably, the battery in my video camera still worked and I got some footage. Toward the north and east was the Kibo crater, which dropped about 1000 feet down from the rim on which we were standing. I noticed we had just climbed up a rocky ridge with patches of snow interspersed among the rocks. To the south were several glaciers and I could see the sheer top faces which were pulling away from the mountain. Snow was all around us. At this point, I could tell that I did not have all my faculties about me. I was finding it difficult to really absorb that I was on top of Kilimanjaro. In some ways, it was like I was watching a movie of myself.
Each party of people was taking turns having their pictures taken beside a sign which said “Mt. Kilimanjaro, Highest Freestanding Mountain in Africa, 59xx meters, etc”. We knew we had to be quick as Tom had said we should stay no more that 10 minutes on the peak as the altitude would continue to wreak havoc on us. After we were done with pictures and taking in the amazing view, we turned to go. Franko said he saw Oliver, but I looked and could not see him. There were at least 40 or 50 people still coming up. But sure enough, it became clear that it was indeed Oliver and Tom making their way up toward the summit. After another 5 minutes Oliver made it to the top. He seemed to be in good shape and was not stumbling or otherwise dizzy looking. We took more pictures and were on the top for about 30 minutes total. Then we all started down together.
Now the going was really tough. All the feelings of fatigue were multiplied even further making every step difficult. I had to focus on new goals other than making it to the summit, like making it home to Chris, Amanda and Kent. As we hiked back to Stella Point, we passed many people going up. Some were moving along well and others were really dragging and in pain. The people were men and women of all ages, I’d say from 20-70, all sizes ranging from small to tall and all builds from frail to strong to overweight. It is amazing what humans can accomplish if they are determined. This hike was so difficult, yet so many people were making it, and all just for the sake of saying they had done it.
We made it down to Stella Point and rested briefly. It was 7:30 and the sun was now well clear of the horizon. There were about 50 people at Stella Point, and I believe most were still going up. Unbelievably, Tom smoked a cigarette. He must be so well acclimated that he can handle it. He probably also did it for the shock value. By this time I was getting a slight headache and my body felt completely wasted. Yet we had to drop from 19,000 to 15,000 feet in about 2 miles (?) to make it to Barafu Hut Camp. The trail we took down was different that the one we took up. It was sandy, so you could take giant strides down and not get hurt. This made the going easier, but I was feeling so bad that I didn’t appreciate this feature at the time. It probably saved me from twisting an ankle. My feeling of fatigue was so complete, that I wished I could just lay down and sleep. My head and stomach were feeling worse and worse. We could see Mawenzi peak and the large plain that stretched between us and it. It was completely clear above 14,000 feet, but fog appeared below that level. Each step down in the sand was a trial, and my thighs gave out several times and I fell down. I was sweating profusely, and I had taken off my other jacket.  I had both jackets hanging on my camera case and I was really feeling the strap digging into my neck. Tom offered to carry a jacket for me, but I said no. He had on a full pack and he had to be feeling something. Eventually, I gave up and let him take one of the jackets, which made my neck feel better. The sun was really beating down and I tried to use my borrowed hat to block it out from my face. My unprotected lips felt chapped and sunburned; of course my lip balm was in my lost luggage.
Finally, at 9:00AM we stumbled into Barafu Hut Camp, the first party to return. We drank some sort of strong fruit juice concentrate which the cook offered us which tasted fantastic. Then we crawled into our tent to rest. I drifted off to sleep and was awakened at 11AM. Oliver said he wasn’t able to sleep, as usual, which meant he had been up for 30 hours, which was pretty amazing considering the trial we had just undergone. We had a lunch of beef broth and we all felt bad, I believe due to mild mountain sickness. We all said Kili was the hardest thing we had ever done, and would never do it again, except with our kids if they were interested. I had finally set my gaiters out to dry in the sun, since it had been foggy for the 3 days since I had originally gotten them muddy, and I had to beat them against the rocks to get all the mud off. At about 12:00 noon, we packed up our daypacks and prepared to continue down to Mweka Hut Camp.

8/19, 8:00PM, Mweka Hut Camp, Mt. Kilimanjaro (12,000 feet)
The hike to Mweka was through low brush and the trail got progressively wetter as we descended. Oliver and Franko ended up slipping in the mud a few times and got quite a bit on themselves. We ended up in Mweka Hut Camp an 3:30PM. This campsite is situated in an area of wet clay with a few low bushes scattered about in the camp area. It is surrounded by taller bushes, about 8 feet tall. The campsite was already very crowded with porters and quite a few tents were set up. We’re camped right next to the metal hut structures where the porters are staying and it’s pretty loud. The huts look like burned out shells and I wouldn’t want to be staying in them. One hut is stocked with supplies around the perimeter including a basket of warm beer which I assume is for sale. The other is serving as a cooking area right now. I walked into the smoky structure and saw two wood fires going surrounded by porters. They didn’t seem to happy that I was intruding.
Yesterday my rental tent, which we have not yet used, got soaked in kerosene, apparently from a container which broke when it was being hauled. I also had my freeze dried food stashed in the same duffel bag and a lot of that got soaked too. I asked one of the guides to clean the kerosene off the tent, and he did a good job with soapy water. Over dinner tonight we had a lively discussion about tips. Oliver didn’t trust Tom with the money, but I do. It’s now 8:18PM and I’m signing off after a long and very eventful day.

8/20, 8:00AM, Mweka Hut Camp, Mt. Kilimanjaro (12,000 feet)
Today starting at about 6:00AM, activity could be heard around the camp including voices, clanking of pots, singing and general commotion. This grew in volume and I decided to get up. I felt relatively good, although I still wasn’t completely recovered from yesterday’s climb. It was foggy and misting when I poked my head out of the tent flap at 7:00. The clay ground was very slippery from the dew, and we had to make sure we didn’t fall as we walked. Breakfast consisted of a Spanish scrambled egg with vegetables in it, which was a special treat. We packed up and got ready for the upcoming muddy hike back down through the wet forest. Given my experience on the first day, when my rental gaiters unzipped, I paid special attention to getting them set up properly this time because I knew it would be muddy. Unfortunately, the zipper didn’t work on either one. I guess I must have damaged them when I hit them on the rocks at Barafu Hut Camp. Franko tied some rope around them to keep them around my legs, but I knew there would be problems later.

8/20, Mweka Hut Camp to Trailhead and Moshi (12,000-5,000 feet)
As we hiked down from Mweka Hut Camp, the trail got progressively more muddy. I figured I could do best without my trekking poles, keeping my arms out for balance, which had worked yesterday on the slippery trails above Mweka Hut Camp. None of the porters or guides used trekking poles, and even with their heavy loads, I didn’t see any of them fall. Well, it finally got so muddy that it was impossible for me to get good footing and I fell down in the mud a few times. These were fairly spectacular falls and after involuntarily stretching my groin beyond its limits by doing the splits, I gave in and started using my poles. My gaiters started coming off, and I couldn’t see a way to fix them. They ended up hanging by a string and trailing behind my boots in the mud. I eventually had mud all the way up the legs of my pants and I looked like a child who’d lost his diapers. We came into Mweka Trailhead at about 11:00AM and were greeted by a large crowd of African children, porters and a few other groups of hikers who were finishing their climbs. Tom led us over to a ranger station and we had to perform a very formal signing ceremony on the original documents which had been prepared for us when we started.
We then gave some chocolate to some of the African children, who we thought were quaint. As we started walking to our vehicle, which was down the road about a mile, more children came up to us and asked for candy, but we didn’t have any more to give out. Soon, a contingent of young men accosted us and began trying to sell us souvenirs such as spears and swords. We said we weren’t interested, but they were very persistent and followed us for at least 15 minutes. Finally, Tom said something to them in Swahili, and they begrudgingly left. On the way down, Franko saw a chameleon by the side of the road next to a farm plot. This had the independently rotating, conical eyes and curly tail which I had seen in pet stores and zoos. He picked it up by the tail and put it on his hand. Meanwhile, it was snapping at him, but it wasn’t able to bite him. We continued to be asked for candy the whole way down to the van. When we reached the van, we stopped and had lunch and Oliver got out some sweet rice milk in small box containers with straws which could be poked through a hole in the top. Oliver gave some of these to the children who were hanging around the van, but they did not know what to do with them. An adult came along and put the straws in so the kids could drink, but they apparently had never used a straw before. They tried to drink by tipping the container upside down with the straw in the hole but nothing much came out. They never did really figure out how the straw worked and they apparently didn’t like the rice milk either because they made faces when they got a little in their mouths.
We gave the tips to Tom to distribute which he had told us was the way it was done. For the six day trip, the total tips ended up being $30 for each of the 8 guides, $50 for the sub guide and $75 for Tom. This was divided up 3 ways which came to $125 each. I ended up giving Tom an extra $75 since I thought he was so efficient and professional. These tips were at the high end versus what Zara had told us, but we had decided it was worth it, even if the normal monthly wage in Tanzania was only $40.
We drove back into Moshi in the van with Tom and a few of the porters. When we got to town, the full impact of how poor and run down it was really hit me. When we had left, I was pretty tired and jet lagged, and had not really noticed the conditions. But now I did: the roads in town were all dirt and filled with huge pot holes, up to 6 feet deep. It was necessary to drive from one side of the road to the other to avoid them, so we spent about 50% of the time driving on the wrong side avoiding oncoming traffic. The buildings seemed broken down and in ill repair. There were bars across all the window openings, which had no glass. All in all, it was pretty shocking to me.
We drove to Zara to ask about my lost luggage, and they said that it had finally arrived. After doing as they said, and driving to their “warehouse” facility and looking in their storage room, I still couldn’t find it. Could it be that it was still not there? We finally drove to our hotel, which was called the Springlands. It was completely surrounded by an iron fence and masonry walls with glass pieces imbedded in the top, a cheap form of barbed wire, I guess. A crew of about four people opened the massive metal front gate and welcomed us. After we pulled in, they immediately shut the gate. I began to wonder if we were in some sort of high crime area.

8/20, 5:30PM, Springlands Hotel, Moshi (5,000 feet)
All three of us are looking north from the balcony at the hotel where we will spend the night. The clouds have lifted from Kili and it is a glorious sight. There is a very gradual incline starting from far away on either side which builds into a steep slope as it nears the top of the mountain. On the left, the lava tower is visible looking very small and minor, unlike the towering structure we saw when we were up close. The rounded peak of the Kibo summit area is thrust upward in the middle and is covered with snow. Three large glacier fields can be seen coming down from the top. A deep valley centered below Kibo, which must contain Barranco Hut Camp and the Barranco Wall, is also visible. On the right side of the top of Kibo, a notch is visible, which I believe is Stella Point. On the right, quite a ways from this standpoint, is Mawenzi, which looks fairly large and rugged. This is truly an awesome sight. I can’t believe we just climbed it.
I had a Kibo beer, which tasted darn good. Then we filmed some video footage of our thoughts about the climb. Oliver said he still wouldn’t want to do it again unless his kids wanted to. Franko said he would do it again if there was good company, but he would prefer something else like Aconcagua! I said that after a beer, it didn’t seem quite as bad any more and that I would be willing try it again some day. I guess time, even a few hours, really does heal all wounds. We had all taken showers and given our muddy clothes, boots and gear to a gentleman to wash up for us. I was of course still wearing the rental gear. The neck of the turtleneck sweater I was wearing had been stretched out and I realized it was probably a woman’s sweater since the arms were so short and the turtleneck hung down so far. Geeze, was I going to have to go around Africa in women’s clothes for the rest of the trip?
Dinner started out with a brothy soup, then a buffet of starches, such as potatoes and spaghetti, and meat stews, much like what we had eaten on the hike. After dinner I went to the front desk and made a 30 second phone call to Chris and asked her to call me back. This cost $30. She immediately called back, and told me the last she’d heard was that the Davano shuttle company had picked up my luggage in Nairobi and taken it to Moshi on about 8/19. She had not followed up after that since Zara and Sabena had assured her that everything would be taken care of from then on. I was worried that someone had taken it and I figured there was about a 50% chance that I would get it back. I slept well that night under mosquito netting, which was a new experience for me. I really made the place seem exotic. The next morning we paid our bill, which was surprisingly high, since I thought the room and board were paid for, but it turned out the dinner was not included and the wash and beer was also added in. Still, it only came to about $15 each.

8/21, Lake Manyara Safari
This day was to be the first day of our safari and we had planned on visiting Lake Manyara first. We drove to the Davano office first, and to my surprise, my backpack was there. The plastic cover had been taken off and my stuff bags had been taken to another room. But everything was accounted for! I was finally whole again. I immediately felt better about myself, although I did have a small amount of remorse because of the added responsibility of having to care for my expensive goods. At least with the rental gear I didn’t really care what happened to it.
We drove all afternoon through progressively bumper, dustier roads to get to our campsite which was about 10 miles outside of Lake Manyara. We dropped off the cook, who was a somewhat petite, quiet lady, and our gear, then we set out for the first leg of our safari. Our driver, Mohammed (as in Mohammed Ali, he said), was a nice, outgoing person. We entered the park around 4:00 and Mohammed stopped and raised the roof up on our 4 wheel drive Toyota van. The way this works is that you can stand up in the middle of the van and look out on all sides for animals and sights. The first animals we saw were a troupe of baboons. One female was in heat, and a male casually came up and copulated with her for about 10 seconds. Then another male ran by and the first male took off after it screaming loudly. After quite a ruckus, the second baboon had been defeated and he ran off and chased a third baboon, screaming all the way. This commotion continued for several minutes until they all settled down again.
During the remainder of the afternoon we saw elephants, a pride of lions, including 2 cubs, giraffes, antelopes of various types, zebras and quite a few smaller animals. Mohammed said he had only seen lions about once a year in the time he had been visiting Lake Manyara. He said we were very lucky that day. There were a number of other vehicles traveling the same road we were on and it was common to have 2 or 3 vans parked next to each group of animals.
For dinner we had a potato stew with meat sauce. I had 3 servings and I finally felt full for the first time on the trip! After dinner, I decided to copy Mohammed and have some hot chocolate and powdered milk. I woke up at about 2 in the morning with stomach cramps and feeling like I had diarrhea. I tossed and turned until about 5:30 at which point I had a major episode of diarrhea. I could not get back to sleep. Oliver got up early and I told him of my ailment. He suggested we take a walk. I ended up running to the restroom, which was basically a porcelain lined hole on the floor, and I got violently ill. Somehow, I had caught some sort of intestinal bug, which stayed with me for the rest of the trip.

8/22, Ngorongoro Crater Safari
I felt quite bad but after quite a bit of convincing by Oliver and Franko, I decided that I should go to Ngorongoro Crater anyway, given I might not return for a while. The drive turned out to be several hours over progressively worse roads. I just held on to the handholds in the car and tried to keep my stomach intact. By the time we got to the crater, I was feeling pretty lifeless. The animals in the crater were really tremendous. We saw a wide variety of species including hyena, pink flamingo, ostrich, cape buffalo, hippopotamus, 2 rhinos, wildebeest, hartebeest, and other antelopes. It was truly an amazing place. Due to my stomach, I kind of felt like I was behind glass observing everything, but it was still fantastic. The drive back to the campground was rough, but I was able to tolerate it a little better. We stopped at a souvenir shop for Oliver and Franko. By the time they got done negotiating, which seemed like an eternity, it was after dark. We stopped at a hotel and I called Chris to tell her I had received my bags. That night I had toast and tea for dinner and was able to get some sleep.

8/22, Parting Ways
This morning we went to another game reserve for about 2 hours since we had to get back to Arusha by noon to drop off Oliver and Franko to catch a shuttle back to Nairobi. It was overcast and somewhat chilly and there were not many other vehicles out. We got very close to a large elephant and observed his eating habits. He would pull a clump of grass out of the ground with his trunk and then shake it in the air to remove the dirt from the roots. Then he bit off the roots and threw the grass part away. It was amazing to see this kind of "smart" behavior.
After driving to Arusha, I said goodbye to Oliver and Franko. They were dropped off at a large bus depot which was packed with cars letting people off. There were both tourists and locals galore. After driving away, I realized that now I was alone and this did lead me to have some amount of anxiety. I had lunch with Mohammed and the cook at a roadside picnic area. Again, I had my usual toast and water since I was still feeling bad. Mohammed shuttled me around between the downtown and field office of Zara so I could arrange for the rest of my trip. I decided to take a bus to Dar Es Salaam and then take a hydrofoil to Zanzibar where I would stay for the remainder of the trip. Then I would take a jet from Zanzibar to Nairobi to avoid a very long bus trip. Mohammed dropped me off at the Springlands hotel. He said he would pick me up at 6:00AM to take me to the bus station the next morning.

Conclusion
The remainder of my trip was spent traveling solo for several days in Zanzibar and one day in Nairobi.  I flew back to the US having been deeply affected by my experience.  The contrast of the extreme beauty of nature and dire poverty of the local community is overwhelming and there remains a desire to go back again and experience life in the remarkable world of Africa.  I was told by another traveler in Zanzabar that once the 3rd world gets it’s hooks into you, you can’t escape the attraction and you will forever feel the pull to return.  I now know what he means.