Two Years Prior

Two years prior, I had flown up to Kenya from Durban, South Africa. During my stay in Durban, traveling around the coast and Mozambique had inspired me to explore more of Africa. I had been lucky enough to see game in the local parks, but I wanted more. The pictures of Masai men in their traditional bright red attire and knives intrigued me. Where was this land? I learned that most Masai men and women lived in East Africa. The area where Masai's and animals co-habitated was the Masai Mara in Kenya, as well as the Serengeti.
After some deliberation, Seth and I decided to take a trip up to Kenya on safari. Since time was of the essence, we thought it would be best if we flew in. It would in turn give us an extra day of game viewing. We flew into Nairobi and then caught a charter flight into the bush. These planes are fun, but if you have flying anxiety, then they are nerve-racking. On our way out, I remember the pilot pulled back full throttle right as we were about to land, only to say he apologized, 'there were elephants on the runway that had just come out from behind some trees.' Our tented camp was incredible, two beds, a bathroom, and a shower. Game drives every morning at dawn and dusk, feeding times. Our mess hall tent served us five-course meals breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
Our drives were plentiful, cheetahs roaming on the plains, herds of elephants, and prides of lions. Up to this point, lions were a rare sight. Here, the lions were seen every game drive. Our bush experience had reached a whole new level, something people who live in these areas, take for granted. One morning we pulled up to two male lions sleeping next to a huge buffalo. We had missed the take-down by half an hour. Their breaths were deep and they were wiped out from taking down the huge animal. They would lie there all day, and only move if another predator threatened to take their meal away. When we returned later that afternoon, one of the males was eating the buffalo. The other lion had been eating already and laid to the side, full and tired. The sight during the dusk hours was spectacular. A lone male lion next to a watering hole, eating a buffalo. I was thrilled and flabbergasted. For me in that moment, this was life at its most simplest form. That afternoon was powerful and the sound was enormous coming from that lion and his kill. For some people this is disgusting, to me, the bush reveals life.
A week seemed like months in the bush. Every game drive had different pleasures and ultimately, I did not want to leave. Seth had to get back to South Africa to attend to his restaurant, "Taco Zulu". Later that day, we caught a flight out of the Mara and back into Nairobi. Seth would head down south and I would continue on to Tanzania. I spent the night at the Impala Hotel in Nairobi. Under normal circumstances, I was planning on hydrating and eating, because I was going to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro in a couple of days. My body had other plans.
That night in Nairobi, I got awfully ill and began uncontrollable and freguent trips to the toilet. I began to worry when blood appeared in my stool and I was throwing up. Every ounce of my body was exploding. Lying on the bathroom floor was exhausting and seemed like an eternity. I never even made it out of my room until the next morning. I had already booked a shuttle into Moshi that day. My concern was making it out of the hotel and into the shuttle without a trace of total embarrassment. I quickly devised a plan from the bathroom towel- 'a diaper'. My solution was a make-shift diaper in order to protect myself from releasing onto myself. I luckily made it to a pharmacy/clinic that happened to be in front of the shuttle. The clinician said I must of gotten some bad food poisoning and blood just meant the lining in my stomach was tearing. He handed me five days worth of medicine and told me to take some right then and there. The pills would kill whatever bacteria was living in my body.
The shuttle ride was long, but I made it to my hotel. The following day I was supposed to start climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro. I was able to put down some soup. After some needed rest, I met my guide who already knew I had been feeling a bit ill. He asked me if I wanted to go through with the climb, and I responded that I definitely did. Even if I had to stop every five minutes. So, we set off on our journey up the tallest free- standing mountain in the world.
The first day was a bit rough, moving the body was new and required a lot of energy. The first day was hiking through the rain forests up to Machame Camp at 9,000 ft. That day's lunch was the first bit of solid food a had eaten in two days. My porters stopped and ate with me, asking if I was doing alright. My spirits were up and I tried to teach them some English for some Swahili. My guide would repeat, 'Pole, Pole'- slowly, slowly. I knew that as long as I put one foot in front of the other, I would eventually make it to the top. My dinner that night was a thick beef stew with vegetables, I needed the energy. I went to sleep early for the next day.
Day two, I awoke a new man. Solid stool, no body aches, and a new vigor for life. Perhaps, the mountain air or my food was spiked, but I felt better. Hiking that day was fun, and my attitude about the mountain changed. We would ascent to Shira Camp at 13,700 ft. The morning brought us to the heath region and out of the mist and fog that clings to the rain forest below. We kept walking up and out to my left side was Mt. Meru above the clouds. I could feel we were gaining altitude, not really in my body, but in the landscapes and vistas. I remember seeing the last bright colored plant. I starred at it for a moment and took a picture, and continued on. This day we got to camp faster and we actually hung out a bit longer. I met some counter parts who were doing lone ascents as well. At Shira Camp, we saw a magnificent sunset. At that altitude, the colors were deeper and the shadows from Mt. Meru juxtaposed the sky's canvas. That evening was Zen, starring out into the distance, the air getting cooler, I thought of nothing but those peaceful moments. As soon as the sun dropped, I got into my tent, only to come out for dinner and then to sleep.

Day three, we would hike to Boronco Camp at 12,800 ft. Yes, we would descend almost a thousand feet. This was our acclimatizing day. We would make progress in length, but not in altitude. Our day was spent crossing the moorland region, volcanic rocks and senecios over our heads. These plants looked like palm trees, but are only native to this region on earth. In the distance were waterfalls that came out of holes in volcanic walls. The landscape was desolate, but unique nonetheless. A counter part began to feel the altitude and was getting headaches. I chose to take altitude sickness pills and made sure I kept hydrated. Another amazing sunset and as soon as the sun dropped, it was a bit chillier than previously, and I went into my tent promptly.
Day four, we would continue on to the Boronco wall and do switchbacks. This lead us through the alpine desert and to Barufu Camp at 15,000 ft. The desert was dry and during the day, the temperature was hot. I remember getting a bloody nose this day towards the end of the day. My nose had become runny and dry, eventually just wanting to bleed. Nothing serious and we continued on. This was the last camp before the summit, and we would wake up at 11:30pm to begin our final ascent. After a couple of hours rest, I awoke to drink some tea and eat some bisquits. I grabbed some power bars and water. The air was cold and I layered myself accordingly as the day's temperatures would change as soon as the sun came up. I wore gloves around my hands for the first time. My headlamp would guide me in the dark and I could hear the voices of my fellow counter parts up ahead. Their lamps cast beams on the dark face above. Through the night we trecked, one foot in front of the other, 'pole, pole'. Occassional stops for a power bar and water. The sky was getting lighter, a faint blue. We finally reached what appeared to be a summit, but it was only Gilman's Peak. However, this meant the summit was near. As I came over Gilman's, the sun was beginning to come up and the dawn was yellow. On my left I could see the enormous glaciers of Kilimanjaro. The sun felt so strong and penetrated the unprotected glaciers, its ice just evaporating into the air. I saw the sign, the highest point on Mt. Kilimanjaro. Even still I told myself, one foot in front of the other and you will get there, its too close now. I gave a high-five to a counter part and cheered for myself. This was an accomplishment that has no words, just joy of reaching the goal- Uhuru Peak at 19,340 ft. I took off my gloves and filmed a 360 degree of the summit and took some pictures at the sign. Something changed, my journey had taken my thoughts into so many levels of inspiration. The feeling only hiking can do, thoughts, a goal, survival, and natural beauty. I would be humbled forever on the roof of Africa...

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