Kilimanjaro – Summit Night

Kilimanjaro Summit Night
Barafu Camp (15,331′) to Stella Point Summit (18,885′)
Zone: Arctic
Quoted Distance: 4km/2.5 miles
Guide Service: Everlasting Tanzania

Well this is not good. I have what feels like a pinched nerve in my shoulder. Ugh. But why you ask? By 4pm we were all in our tents to try to sleep for tonight’s summit push. The sun was still pretty high in the sky and with the yellowy orange tents it was so bright. I’m not an eye mask wearer, it’s so uncomfortable to me but I tried to wrap a headband around my eyes to help shield the light. It was so uncomfortable; I pulled it off and instead tried to tuck my face like a little birdie hiding under its wing, which resulted in my sleeping at all sorts of an odd contorted angle and this, I think a pinched nerve, in my neck/shoulder. There is no way I can carry a pack like this.

Not wanting to be startled awake by our “wake up call” I set my alarm for 9:46pm so I had a few minutes to wake up before Essau or Kasimu appeared at my tent with tea offering. Even though I got enough sleep to hurt myself it still wasn’t much sleep. I found myself not just awake but actually pulling on all my layers and getting ready for summit push. I guess I am doing this. I still feel like garbage, worse than garbage actually. I’ve had bronchitis enough in my lifetime to know that’s what’s going on, I absolutely have bronchitis and I’ll bet good money that Katie and Shane do as well. I loaded up my pockets with throat lozenges and met everyone in the dining tent.

Kyra was the only one with any real appetite. Katie, Shane, and I all struggled to eat. I explained my neck/shoulder situation to Saidi and Chaz and it didn’t phase them one bit, “Hakuna matata,” they assured me; Saidi would carry my pack. I feel terrible to impose on him to have to carry it but there’s just no way I can at this point. Nonetheless, I think I can safely speak for my entire crew and say that all four of us were a bundle of anxiety, excitement, and nerves. I still question whether I should be summiting but its me so of course I’m forging forward and doing the damn thing.

For summit night, the guides select a summit porter or two to climb with us. The summit porter is there to support us and carry extra gear. As Saidi explained it, those who are summit porters are experienced porters who are on their way to eventually becoming guides themselves; they have the interest and the skill needed to make the climb. We had all been a bit surprised when he told us that GodBless would be our summit porter. Since he’s also our toilet porter we had all kind of assumed that meant he was lower on the seniority of porters but we were wrong!

At 11:30pm, we’ve been late for every planned start time on this trek and this was no exception, everyone was doing their final gear adjustments and we were getting ready to begin our push to summit. When Katie organized this trip she had specifically selected the dates so that we would summit within a night or two of the full moon. The sky was clear and the moon was full but we could still barely see a foot in front of us without a head lamp. Kyra, the healthy one of the bunch, was the only one who was full of energy.

While camp was about 30F and not as bad as I thought it would be the temperatures will decline sharply as night sets in and we gain elevation. I wore two merino wool shirts, two fleece jackets, and my mountain hardware jacket on the top; two layers of regular merino base layers, my heavier merino leggings, fleece lined hiking pants, and wind/rain pants on the bottom; a fleece buff on my neck, a fleece balaclava, and a fleece beanie; thick merino socks on my feet and glove liners with mittens.

Mittens suck, they were suggested for summit night because they are warmer than gloves but they are so annoying; I couldn’t do ANYTHING with my hands. As a precaution I had put my knee brace on before leaving camp, over my three layers of merino and under my other two layers of pants. But as we started to hike out of camp I realized it wasn’t going to work. On the Baranco Wall I had smashed my knee into the wall and cut my knee; the brace was rubbing the cut in an awful way. It needed to come off. But ugh, so many layers and I didn’t want to take my mittens off because my hands were just starting to warm up again. Swallowing my pride, not that I had much left at that point anyways, I had to ask for help and have Chaz undo my two outer layers of pants and stick his hands down my pants to remove my knee brace.

As crappy as I felt, Katie and Shane self-reported having the least amount of energy. I was shocked when Shane asked to stop because he didn’t feel great and needed a minute, saying he could fall back asleep any time he was so tired. It caught me off guard because I’m pretty sure it’s the first time this entire trek that he has been the one to ask for a break, every other requested break has come from one of us ladies. Shane has already had the worst go of out of all of us I think. He has struggled with his appetite and sleep most of the trip. He is also the only one of us not taking the diamox altitude medication because he has an allergy that conflicts with it. Saidi turned to GodBless and instructed him to run back down to camp and get Kasimu to join us as well so we’d have another summit porters with us.

We kept moving again, pole pole, which translates to slow slow and is the motto of the mountain. I haven’t written about it but every day on the trail the words “pole pole” and “maji maji” were peppered out throughout the day by all of us. “Maji” means water in Swahili so it was constant reminders from each of us throughout each day to take it slow and drink our water. Dehydration is one of the biggest concerns on the mountain. Speaking of water, it is typical for hydration bladders to freeze on summit night and be useless but I have my tubing wrapped in insulated tube sleeves and my bladder in a full bladder insulation sleeve so fingers crossed it works because it’s so annoying drinking from the wide mouth Nalgene, which is with me and in its own insulated pouch.

At our next break I was beyond annoyed enough by the damn mittens that I decided to strip them off and just go with my other gloves, warm but not nearly as warm. Not only are mittens annoying to wear but they were also causing my hands to cramp from being bound funny. My body was properly layered and felt fine but my toes were so frozen I couldn’t tell if they were numb or in terrible pain and now my hands were again frozen as well, despite the ski gloves I had changed into.

GodBless caught back up to us with Kasimu and Saidi immediately had one of them take Katie’s pack since she was also on the struggle bus. We had just passed through Kosovo Camp, a higher base camp, close to the 16,000′ mark when Shane asked to stop again. He didn’t feel right. Not only did he not have any energy, Katie could see that his lips were turning blue, and he felt like his lungs were burning. He gestured his lung burn to Kyra, a trained paramedic, for subtle acknowledgement that he wasn’t over-reacting by worrying that he could be starting to get pulmonary edema. “I think I should go back.” I was equal parts stunned, saddened, and proud, so so proud, when I heard those words come out of Shane’s mouth. Katie’s entire reasoning for planning this trip was for Shane’s 50th birthday year adventure and here he is unable to continue. More than anything I was proud. It takes A LOT to make that call and here he was, making it for himself, knowing and doing what is right for his health and safety. I know how hard it is to take the ego out of the equation on this trek, I’ve had to do it, but even this would be a struggle for me.

I struggled not to let too many tears shed so Shane didn’t feel worse, I think Katie and Kyra were doing the same. Saidi beckoned to us ladies with his finger and said, “here, here” pulling us off to the side. One of his most endearing qualities is how not sly he is. Circled around Saidi, he was solemn, telling us that Mr Shane needs to go back and he needs to be the one to go back with him in case he needs to do a rescue. Just hearing Saidi mention the possibility of having to do a rescue took my breath away. He and Chaz each have a radio and will stay in touch with us.

Katie asked Shane if he wanted her to go back with him and he told her no, she should continue on. Not sure I wouldn’t have been super jealous if she did turn back too! We all told Shane we’d miss him the rest of the night and we’d be thinking about him. And just like that, at exactly 2:00am and 16,055′ altitude, Shane and Saidi walked away from us back toward Barafu Camp.

None of us had much to say, we were all pretty silent for the the first couple minutes continuing on but that didn’t last long before we discussed how we were worried about Zambwela and how damn proud we all were of him. The mood was down and I asked Katie if she wanted me to put on the music. She had already mentioned earlier in the evening that she thought it was helpful and wanted it on for summit but we hadn’t started it up yet. Yes, yes it was time for music.

My fingers and toes were frozen as we took monotonous steps in the dark. Katie would make it about 10-20 steps and need to stop for a break, slacking her body and hanging over her trekking poles like she was the Scarecrow needing support to remain upright. She kept telling us she could fall asleep right then and there. None of us were drinking enough water. It is hard to drink when it’s so cold and we didn’t want to have to pee. Do you know how hard it is to pee in the freezing cold when you have to unzip multiples and pull down FIVE layers of pants?! Plus your underroos?!

Pain from my neck and shoulder was now radiating all the way down my back to my sciatic. Well this is fun. I counted my steps in sets of 20 to keep my mind occupied and my breath even. Kyra and I stopped to pee once, as annoying as we imagined. At least we have hit the jackpot with the weather though. No rain, no snow, no wind. Every now and then there’d be some wind but for the most part, none. Just bright and clear night skies.

We’d take brief stops for maji maji, maybe a snacky snacky and to catch our breath. GodBless, Kasimu, and Chaz would rub around shoulders, our calves, our hands to help keep us warm. Without needing to be asked they anticipated what we needed. The girls and I decided that whenever we stopped and weren’t sitting we needed to form a shoulder-to-shoulder cuddle puddle to stay warm. The next time we puddled, GodBless, Kasimu, and Chaz cuddle-puddled right in with us. When we cried, which more than one of us definitely did, they’d hug us. When they could tell we were struggling, they’d encourage and sing for us. You could tell that they sincerely believe that our success on this mountain is their success on this mountain. One team, one dream. Only now we were missing part of our team.

Poor Katie kept saying that she just wanted the sun to come up. It will get so much better when the sun comes up. She has no gas in her tank. Which is a rarity in multiple ways for Katie (haha – sorry, Katie, couldn’t help myself there)! She wasn’t even lifting her feet to take steps, just shuffling. Finally, at 6:30am, 7 hours after we left base camp, the sun started to rise. We were all mesmerized by the delicate morning hues the rising sun cast upon the sky. Oh sweet sun, all I could hope was that my fingers and toes would finally thaw.

Our spirits all rose exponentially as the sky grew light. I even felt like I could muster the energy to pee again. Kyra clipped me on camera peeing as she videoed our surroundings. My sudden burst of energy from the sun was enough for me to turn around and shake my booty, mooning her before pulling my five layers of pants back up. Thankfully, I don’t see that in any of her pictures or videos. Whew.

I still was in pain and sick but the sun made it so much easier. At our next snack break I let Chaz know that I had a little bit of a headache. Honestly, I think I’m dehydrated but the headache is coming on. I don’t get headaches often so when I do get them its pretty bad. Chaz suggested that it was time I take some dexamethasone to help with the headache. I understand that’s an altitude medication and I’m already on diamox so I questioned if I should take both. He assured me it would be fine. I don’t like not understanding what I’m taking but I also don’t like how I feel so I took the pills.

Leaving our rest spot, I only took a handful of steps before I felt winded. And then really winded. And then like I couldn’t catch my breath. What the hell is going on. Everyone stopped so I could breathe but it became apparent that I couldn’t get my breath under control. There were some boulders a few feet ahead. Using my trek poles, I dragged myself to one so I could sit. It got even worse and I realized I was full on hyperventilating. This is a first for me. I have never had a panic attack hyperventilating dealio like this before. Kyra sat down next to me and tried to coax me, “Look at me. Look at me. Breathe with me. Look at me. Take a deep breath with me.” It wasn’t helping, I was gasping for air. GodBless got out the emergency oxygen and was getting it prepared for use. Chaz took my glove off and was calling to Saidi on the radio while he slipped the pulse oximeter on my finger. Kasimu removed my now-off headlamp and beanie from my head so my head wasn’t confined. And I sat there staring out in the distance over the side of the mountain, trying to figure out how I was going to catch my breath, calculating that the nearest helicopter rescue pad was probably 3,000′ below us, and wondering if I was going to die on the side of Kilimanjaro.

Yes, that sounds dramatic and I didn’t think I was being rational but I was scared. I was at exactly, 17,972′ altitude, with no realistic choice but to continue up, and I was hyperventilating in a way I’ve never experienced before. My oxygen level was fine, actually quite high at 90, the highest it’s been in a few days, so GodBless put the emergency oxygen away, I didn’t need that. Chaz and Kasimu fed me mango juice and chocolate while Kyra kept coaching me to breathe. And my rapid breathing started to slow and finally returned to normal. Ok, I’m NOT going to die on this mountain.

Once I had my breathing restored we were back to climbing. Pole pole. My music was playing but none of us had the breath or energy to talk too much about it. But we were getting closer. Redmond Glacier loomed over us from the peak above. It’s so sad to think that in about ten years all these glaciers could be gone.

The mountain hasn’t been busy our entire trek and though it certainly got busier a couple camps ago it has remained pretty much our own private terrain whenever we’re on the move. Tonight is no different. We only saw a small handful of climbers, maybe two groups, earlier. As we approached summit, climbers who had left before or us from Kosovo Camp had already summited and were passing us on the way down, we were so so close. We had to be so so close because the descent is a different path down scree for much of it so only a portion of it is the same route as the ascent. The returning climbers encouraged us, “You’re so close!” “You’ve got this!” “Congratulations, you’re almost there!” We also passed climbers who were stopped, feeling sick and unable to continue at that moment, saying what little encouraging words we could find.

Then it appeared, a speck at the top, the sign. The sign for Stella Point, the sign for summit, 18,885′. Slowly and quietly we each put one step in front of the other and ascended the final steep slope of the mountain side until we made it, at 9:50am we summited Mount Kilimanjaro, we were on the crater rim.

Katie was overwhelmed with emotion and exhaustion. The moment we reached the top she sat at the base of the sign and began to cry. I was looking the opposite direction and didn’t realize it at first until I heard Kyra comforting her. And then we were all crying. Of the 30 or so outtakes of pictures that our team took of us at the sign, there is only one where not one of us is crying. The emotions were overwhelming for all of us. And we all felt terrible that Shane wasn’t there with us. I sent him a satellite message, from my Garmin to his, to let him know we had made it.

I was a mess of exhaustion, feeling sick from the bronchitis and the pain that now snaked from my neck and shoulder all the way down my sciatic to my lower back and hip, pride that I accomplished this, and utter disappointment in myself that I was turning around at this point. Stella Point is higher than the next highest mountain in Africa by 1,830′. Though we had summited and Stella Point is almost 2,000′ higher than the next tallest mountain in Africa, it is Uhuru Point that is the highest point here on Kilimanjaro at 19,340′. From our approach side of the mountain everyone summits at Stella Point first and then it is another 60-90 minutes around the crater rim to Uhuru Point. The distance is only another 600 feet, only 0.11 miles, from Stella Point to Uhuru Peak with an elevation gain of 455′. I really wanted to do it but I was being smart. My body is so sick, I am so tired, it has already taken us so much longer than it should to reach summit, and I know that Katie cannot make it and is going to need to turn back at this point.

Kyra, the only one of us not sick, she can make it. I knew she had the grit that come hell or high water she would get to Uhuru Peak. She cried as she told us that she wished we were going to continue with her and both Katie and I cried with her, wishing that we were and telling her that we were excited for her to make it. I had to be smart, I had to do what is right for my body. I have already put my ego aside on this mountain but nonetheless I was flooded with overwhelming disappointment in myself for not making it to Uhuru Peak. But holy crap, I, we, just summited Mount Kilimanjaro.