Kilimanjaro Days 1 - 3
The next morning we took a short flight to Tanzania from the Nairobi airport. This experience was much smoother than the one coming into Nairobi, though we still had multiple lines of defense it felt between our hostel and Tanzania. The first was an Uber driver who swore that we needed to go to Terminal 1C, not Terminal 1A, for our flight. Giving us the chance to take a nice stroll across the largest airport in Kenya with our bags. Who doesn't love a good workout before a morning of travel?? The next was a minor security check immediately inside of the airport doors, followed by passport control with no sign at all this time for foreigners. We opted for the diplomat line, which seemed to be moving quickly until a passenger in a wheelchair with a party of five with them cut in front of us. Then there was another, more intensive security check, and some tarmac boarding onto the smallest plane I've been on to date. It had propellers!
The hour-long flight was fine, and then took a turn for the remarkable when I looked across the row I was in and saw we were flying directly next to Kilimanjaro. I tapped on Sam's shoulder and together we did excited, happy dances in our seats; We were going to be on top of that mountain in just a few days and it was so high that our little airplane wasn't even above it!
We landed, got our visas, and as we exited the tiny airport were met with your typical group of individuals with signs indicating the travelers they were meeting for pickup. I figured that at some point in my life I'd be bougie enough to have my name on one of those signs, and it turns out that June 13th, 2024 was that day; One of the men standing in front of us had "Ally Shoemaker" on his sign! He whisked us off to our hotel, which was about 45 minutes from the airport, stopping a few times along the way because each time we had an even remotely good view of Kilimanjaro Sam and I were pretty vocal in our excitement. He seemed to get a lot of joy from our joy and really wanted us to have time to enjoy the mountain and get some photos.
We eventually arrived at a hotel tucked away in the jungle at the base of the mountain; it was gated, as every other hotel we'd stayed in so far had been, and had a large grounds complete with ponds, a pool, a gym, a river walk, a garden sitting area, a helicopter pad, and a rabbit feeding area. After checking in, we had a debrief and a gear check, where they went over what we'd brought and gave us what we'd asked to rent. Then we had our lunch, went on the shorter-than-expected river walk, and enjoyed the tranquility of the hotel. That evening, we met the most vibrant couple, Justin and Tressa, who were there from Ohio. I sort of forced the meeting, as I heard Tressa from our room two floors up talking to someone about the volunteering she'd done that day. I rushed downstairs to get some information from her about where and how she volunteered, as I had decided that I was not going to do a 5-day safari in Tanzania after Kilimanjaro anymore, and instead wanted to try to volunteer. Turns out they had done fundraising beforehand and came over and bought a bunch of supplies and food for an orphanage and a daycare/school, so I didn't learn much about what I could do in my own time there, but we did end up becoming friends and enjoying each other's company a few other times while at the hotel and while on the mountain. Unfortunately, they were not in our group, as they had chosen to do the 7-day route and we were doing the 8-day route.
We spent the next day just lounging by the pool and relaxing before the trek began. We did a quick workout, watched by a family of geckos that seemed to live behind the mirror in the exercise room. Between relaxing activities we’d get a smoothie or enjoy the jungle lounge area - at least until during one smoothie break I heard a crash and then a large “thud” behind me. I looked and there was half of an avocado the size of my two fists sitting a few feet from me. I looked up and the group of monkeys above stared back. Not 5 minutes later there was another crash and loud “thud,” this time behind Sam, who I was facing. We started to fear for our safety a little bit - these little guys were really chucking these giant avocados down at us. That night at dinner we met another pair that was doing the 7 day trek. This was a father and daughter duo from the UK, Andy and Amy. Andy was jolly and vibrant, and Amy was sweet, a little sassy, and though you could tell she adored her dad, was also mildly embarrassed by him as any early 20-year-old young woman is.
The next morning, June 15th, we ate our breakfast, met in the lobby to meet and assess the rest of our group, and get last minute information and supplies. The guides were milling about, throwing our gear on top of the bus, filling our water for us, and chatting with each other. Right before boarding they had our group of 11, named Team Rhino, pose in front of the van for our “before” photo. We were an interesting bunch, two older gentleman with a teenage boy from the US, a woman about our age from Dubai, a man about our age from Russia, a young couple from Russia, and a middle aged couple from the UK/Singapore.
The entire bus ride everyone kept to the people they knew, with Sam and I sitting toward the back with the guides - Peter, the chief guide, and the assistant guides, Augrey, Khatib, Mongi, and Tomar. They were chatting and laughing away in Swahili, occasionally asking Sam and me a question, but then always returning to their own conversations. One thing that Peter did share with us is that they were all here to help make our dream come true, and that we were one team with one dream. The guides then taught us a call and response chant that went:
“One team”- “One dream” “Nonstop”-“To the top” “Hakuna”-“Matata” “More fire”-“More Water” and then all together “Ah-maaaaaa-zing.”
When we finally arrived at the Lemosho gate, we unloaded, were given a boxed lunch and unlimited tea from giant thermoses that were to become a constant in our lives for the next 7 days. Fueled up, we registered and set off!
I’d been told about “pole pole,” which in Swahili means “slow slow” but I didn’t think that “pole pole” was going to mean going as painfully slow as they made us walk. I was thinking maybe 2 miles an hour, as opposed to my normal 3+ miles per hour pace. I grossly underestimated; it took us 2 hours to walk 2.7 miles and I hated most seconds of it once the initial excitement of finally being on the trail wore off. I tried to tell myself that this was just the way it was going to be, and they were experts, but I’d also hiked at elevation before and knew that this was a little overkill. I realized if I chatted with people it kept my mind off of the slow pace, so I made friends with those around me knowing we’d be together a lot the next week. I also noticed that if I wasn’t chatting, that I would revert to a more natural stride and pace than what pole pole allowed, and that often resulted in me stabbing whoever was in front of me in the heel with my trekking pole. Poor Sam was my victim for most of the walk, and I think she stopped finding it humorous after the 5th or 6th time.
Toward the end of the hike I had to pee so badly. I tried to hold it and wait to see if we’d have a chance to relieve ourselves, but the opportunity never came and eventually thought I wouldn’t be able to hold it any longer. I said something to Khatib, the guide and he asked if I could just wait a little longer, as we were close. At the pace we were going, I figured even “close” meant it was going to take ages to get to camp. I was in a danger zone, but trying to listen to him, I held it as best I could. Five minutes later, I told him I really needed to stop. He asked me to wait just a few minutes, if possible. I said ok, knowing that there was no way I was going to let myself wet my pants in front of a bunch of people I didn’t know. Thank goodness, he was right and we were literally minutes from camp. Knowing how badly I needed to go, he pointed at a green roofed building and said to go. We’d take our group photo when I was done. Bless his heart.
So at our first camp, Mti Mkubwa Camp(8694’), I used my first Mt Kilimanjaro public camp toilet and I wish I could say it was also my last. I immediately decided any and all peeing would be done outside from there on out; I would not brave the mess covered hole in the ground and its stench again unless 100% necessary.
Mti Mkubwa Camp was packed, with barely any room between groups and tents of all colors and sizes smashed closely together. We had a group of bright yellow tents with “Altezza,” our company, plastered on each one. Among our tents was a massive yellow mess tent, three tiny and tall tents that housed the toilets people in our group had paid for, and three large green canvas tents for our crew. By then we’d bonded a bit with Hyland, the teenage boy, and he and his father and uncle let Sam and I know that we were welcome to share their toilet with them. After my experience earlier, I was overjoyed at this offer, which ended up being one of the nicest things anyone could have possibly done for us on this trip. Not only was it amazing to have a fresh and clean toilet, it was a luxury to not have to walk around and find the public toilet every time we needed to go to the bathroom, which was a LOT; Diamox, the altitude medication, really makes your fluids go through you and they were having us drink 4-5 liters of water a day.
After a superb dinner - how the heck they were making a delectable dinner of a starter soup, spiced rice with a vegetable and meat curry, avocado/cucumber/ onion/tomato salad, and fruit desserts up on the mountain still beats me - we did our first medical check. This consisted of Peter, our chief guide, and some guides in training putting a pulse oximeter on our fingers and then asking us to rate how we were on a scale of one to ten. This would become one of our favorite parts of the day, with all of us treating it a little like a competition or game of who would have the best numbers.
This was also when we learned that Ron is very hard of hearing. It became a constant source of silliness and laughter for the group, as he’d mishear things or mis-repeat things and they were just plain ridiculous. For example, that evening he asked about the potential for monkeys to steal our things when Peter said to leave our shoes outside our tent. Peter told us that that wasn’t a concern, and said just not to leave snacks out. Ron thought he said socks, and asked what on earth the monkey was going to do with socks that it couldn’t do with shoes. He had us in stitches quite frequently, and was a great sport about it.
Right before bed we had the best surprise! The waiters that had served us dinner came in with a bunch of hot water bottles and some sleeves shaped like bunnies. Everyone was very excited, not just for the warmth in case it got cold at night, but also because the bunny sleeves were so darn cute!
Morning wake up was at 6 am, and we were woken up by our waiter, Emmanuel, knocking on our tent and asking if we wanted coffee or tea. He then, right there, made our beverage of choice, politely asked to unzip the tent, and served it to us. This happened every morning, and was such a great way to be woken up every day.
We did what would become the normal routine of getting dressed, packing up, then having yet another wonderful meal - porridge (which soon became known as morning soup), sausage, eggs, and east African pancakes which are very crepe like, fruit, and unlimited hot beverages. My choice every morning was drinking chocolate, which I added Nutella to for extra chocolate goodness.
During med checks, Rich, the oldest person in the group, said that he had woken up sick with a cold. They noted it on his paper, and we set out for the day.
Day two of walking was the rest of the jungle, and out into the moorland zone. We pole-poled our way out of the jungle, being passed by many a porter with huge bundles on their heads. It was impressive, but also came with some guilt- Though they were employed because of our trekking, they also had a really hard job of lugging all of our belongings and all of the required equipment for camp up the same route we were doing. The privilege of what I was doing was very real. I will say, for the most part seemed jolly, saying “jambo” as they passed us and other trail chit chat. They also were impressively fast, beating us to camp every single time, even though they left after us, and having camp set up by the time we arrived.
After an hour of pole-pole, some of us became a little more vocal about the slow pace not being quite our speed. They listened, but said we’d need to wait until our second break, which was for tea and cookies, to split into a faster group and a slower group for the “elephant back.” To keep morale high, every once in a while they’d do the call and response chant they’d taught us yesterday, sometimes mixing up the order to throw us off, or saying our part and we’d respond with theirs. It became a good gauge I think for how the group was doing, either based on the number of voices that responded or the general enthusiasm when we answered.
In our debrief the night before about the day’s events, we were told that the “elephant back” is meant to be the most difficult part of the trek other than the summit. It apparently is the most sustained uphill and is quite sun exposed, so people can have a hard time. Our fast group had a fine time going up it at a much more comfortable pace than what we’d been subjected to prior, though it still wasn’t 100% comfortable for me and my normal stride apparently because I stabbed Mongi, the guide, in the heel just like I’d done to Sam the day before. Toward the end of the sustained uphill, we started to see pretty wildflowers, which we were actually going too fast for me to enjoy as much as I wanted to. I guess that’s what I get for wanting to go faster. Soon enough we rounded a corner and finally had a view of Kilimanjaro in all her glory.
We made it to Shira 1 Camp(11,810’), with plenty of time for lunch, relaxing at camp and enjoying our grand view of the mountain. Hyland and I, though we had had spent a lot of time talking that day, hung out some more. He was quickly becoming my favorite person on the trip, aside from Sam of course. He was funny and kind, and for an 18 year old, he was very worldly (having your father be a foreign diplomat will do that I guess), self aware, thoughtful, and wise.
Well before dinner, we got another surprise of a pre-dinner snack time complete with hot beverages and popcorn! They really were treating us right, and at altitude nonetheless.
Shortly after, all of the crew gathered and began the most vibrant chant and song, after which Peter introduced us to the group of people who were there to support our dream and make it happen. There were 53 individuals, from the camp masters to waiters, to dishwashers and cooks, guides in training, and porters. All of them carried gear every day regardless of their job, and all of them acknowledged how much they appreciated their time on the mountain with us. They each said their name, and we said ours, and afterward the barrier between the two parts of camp, their porter side, and our trekker side, was gone. The evening was spent with frisbees being tossed around together, and laughter filled the air as the sun went down. Sam and I chose to go hang by the river at one point, burn some palo santo, and journal and as we passed the porters tents, an assistant guide and some porters asked what we were doing. We tried to explain, but they got really caught up in the fact that I was going to go burn this little piece of wood. So began the process of trying to explain what palo santo was and what is was used for, trying to use my useless lighter to show them and have them smell, eventually running around to find the cook and asking him if I could use his giant propane flame, and then passing the palo santo around and getting very mixed reviews on its smell. Many said they have the same trees in Tanzania, but it sounds like it’s not widely used for the same things we do in North and South America.
Another amazing meal - a new soup, pasta with a vegetable and meat sauce, a new salad, and more fruit. Everything had so much flavor, but the soups were quickly becoming the thing everyone looked forward to - another medical check, and then the presentation of our bunnies and it was time to head to bed. But not before Peter debriefed us for the next day’s events and said that everyone had two options, go straight to Shira 2 camp with the slow group or go to Cathedral Peak and then Shira 2 with the fast group. Cathedral Peak required more walking and therefore that group needed to be quick in order to get to Shira 2 as closely to the same time as the slow group as possible. By this point, Rich was definitely sick, and Ron seemed to be coming down with something also, and so the two options seemed to be aimed a little at them being able to choose their own adventure and take care of themselves. I, of course, chose Cathedral and went to bed very happy knowing I was going to get in lots of walking and at a decent pace the next day.
Day 3, at 6 am again we got another friendly wake up from Emmanuel, did the same morning routine, and set off in our separate groups. We walked faster than some of the porters on our first leg, which made me very happy. Finally a pace where I wouldn’t stab anyone! The trail was a very mild incline, which made moving quickly easy, and at one point we had to stop and take a pretty long break in order to let the porters who were carrying the things for our tea break at Cathedral Peak catch up to us. Eventually we got to the base of the peak, dumped our bags, and did the hardest part of the day, scaling the side of the peak to get to the summit. It was only .25 miles but it was most of our elevation gain for the day it felt. At the top we had a 360 degree view, which was the cherry on top of an already wonderful day of fast movement and good company. I had taken to carrying bunny with me every day, instead of packing him in my duffel. I always put him in the side pocket of my backpack with his head peaking out so that he could enjoy the views too. Since Sam wasn’t with me at this sign, he stood in.
We came down, had our tea and cookies that Emmanuel had so wonderfully carried and set up for us on a table, complete with table cloth (they did this every time and it was so extra, but so sweet), and raced off to make sure our other group didn’t get to camp too long before us.
Shira 2 (12,664’), though 1,000 feet higher than Shira 1, had very similar views of Kilimanjaro and the exact same moorland brush. It was exposed and perfect for sunbathing like lizards after lunch. We spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing because the next day was meant to be a difficult one, enjoying our hot beverages and popcorn snacks, and an astounding sunset after dinner.
Unfortunately, Ron became pretty sick that evening. Peter moved Ron to Rich’s tent so that Hyland wouldn’t get sick, and got out the most intense medical kit I’ve ever seen (it would become an honorary member of our group) and gave them flu medication to help with symptoms and sleep. Everyone else seemed to be doing ok, but Hyland was anxious after spending two nights in a tent with Ron already, and I was anxious because every meal I was sitting next to Ron and/or Rich. Our med checks went swimmingly, as usual, with good oxygen levels and good heart rates, but Hyland and I both went to bed crossing our fingers that we’d stay healthy and that the next few days we’d stay in the clear.