![]() ![]() The usual destinations were shared before final goodbyes were made: Bali, OZ, UK, Europe, USA etc. Similar scenes from schools played out around the world – excitable teachers preparing for their 8-week summer holiday. ![]() ![]() And, eventually, the famous sign congratulating successful walkers became visible.Īfter profusely thanking our support team, without whom we would absolutely never have made it and who, by now, was also carrying many of our daypacks, we collapsed beneath it. Our singing guides encouraged us again and again. Headlamps illuminated the ankles of the person in front as we slowly trudged in a line one foot after another slowly upward, like a caravan of camels desperately seeking water. Yet, we were still 1300 metres short of the summit of 5895 metres when we slowly and wearily trudged into base camp at the end of the 6th day of walking. We needed no encouragement the altitude was inducing headaches, nosebleeds and even vomiting. ‘Pole pole,’ called out the guides whenever the route steepened, urging us to walk slowly in their native language, Swahili. By day, enthusiastic renditions of local songs by our guides, which included familiar chorus lyrics such as Hakuna Matata fueled our ascent. Dragging oneself from the relative warmth of a sleeping bag in the middle of the night on multiple occasions for altitude induced toilet visits was as much perilous as it was unbearable. The brutal reality of the task undertaken and the crushing impact on our collective morale was reflected in the silence that followed. All the early morning runs, late evening gym visits, and hours on the bike in preparation suddenly seemed to count for very little as the mighty summit loomed impossibly high. On the second day of walking, we left the rainforest behind and surrounded by scrub we glimpsed our first view of Kilimanjaro. These porters would scamper past us with huge sacks strapped to their powerful backs containing tents, chairs, kitchen equipment, food, our spare things as well as their own essential items required for scaling a mountain and staying alive at nearly 6000 metres. Our spare clothes, sleeping bags and mats were hauled up the mountain for us by our team. This brilliant team of ever-smiling men and women encouraged us, believed in us and drove us up the mountain – their songs uplifting our spirits when necessary, erecting tents, and feeding us in the evenings with an impressively varied menu of tasty food.ĭuring the days, we carried packs mostly consisting of waterproof clothing, water and snacks. Colobus monkeys appeared in the branches above the narrow, wet path indifferently observing our slow progress upward.Įmerging from our damp tents the following morning our climbing group of nine tourists was introduced to our support team of thirty-eight: cooks, porters, guides and the invaluable man who was tasked with bringing the portable loo all the way to Base Camp – as well as cleaning it each day. Our walk started at 2100 metres in a dense rainforest shrouded in mist. Having spied the snow-covered peak from the luxury of a safari jeep many years previously, we were back to scale the mountain that had so captivated us. Or, so our beaming smiles underneath the famous sign suggested. Our photo from the roof of Africa was a hit, at least in our limited social media circles. ![]()
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