I feel good and I’m hungry – always a good sign! We are done with breakfast well before 8 AM. Julio, Don and I are off on the trail by 8:30 AM. I haven’t seen Abdallah this morning – not sure what his duties entail, but he will undoubtedly catch up with us soon enough. We have been assured that although the trek today is long and with significant altitude gain along the way, it’s fairly gradual. But things get tough pretty soon. About two hours in it start to rain and also gets colder. We’re still on the Shira plateau but as we steadily gain altitude the vegetation starts to thin out even more. We start to crest a hill and all of a sudden things get busier. So far, we've been pretty much the only ones on the trail but we suddenly see a huge group of people in the distance to our right, walking along the ridge of the hill that we are climbing. We are now meeting the Machame trail (aka the Whiskey route), and from here on the two trails follow the same path to the summit.
 |
| Ready to leave for Barranco |
Julio
has already told us that things will start to get more crowded now. In fact, there’s a large group of British
climbers on the Machame trail who are being led by another team from Ahsante,
and that’s the crowd we run into at the top of the hill. We also see a smaller group of Japanese
climbers with another team. Don and I exchange pleasantries with some of the
English climbers, while Julio and Abdallah are getting caught up with the other
Ahsante team accompanying the group.
Julio keeps referring to one of the guides as Obama, and I’m curious –
is that really his name? Julio grins.
“No. His name is Baraku; so of course,
we call him Obama!”
For a
while we all trudge along together – probably about ten to fifteen climbers and
another five or six guides. But the
natural pace is different for all of us and we all take our water/snack breaks
at different times, so eventually the line thins out. We also see other people on the trail now - some
that we overtake, others that overtake us.
By now the rain is heavier and it’s also much colder. I wish I had pulled on my fleece jacket as
well before setting off. More to the point,
the running gloves turn out to be a really dumb idea. They’re soaked and my hands are absolutely
freezing. I pull the gloves off and
stick them into my pocket but that doesn’t help as my hands are still cold. Being a guy who only uses a single hiking
pole, I do have the advantage of changing hands to hold the pole while I stick
the other into my pocket in a futile attempt to keep it warm. We have been steadily – albeit, gradually –
gaining altitude and I notice suddenly that the only visible growth any more is
made up of a few clumps of grass, and an odd shrub or two. It is cold, wet and unpleasant; I figure we
must be pretty high up. We climb one
more steep hill and suddenly we emerge into a rocky clearing. There are large boulders everywhere around
and a small flat area in the middle where several tents are being dismantled in
the rain. We see about twenty five to
thirty people scattered around the clearing.
Well, the porters are in the clearing while the climbers are all mostly
huddled under various rocks! To our
right is a huge, rocky outgrowth rising into the mist – it’s the dreaded LavaTower. I look around and shiver; not
sure if it’s caused by the cold or the sheer, harsh desolation of the place.
At 4600
meters, we are now at a tad over 15,000 feet.
I suddenly realize that this is the highest altitude I have ever been
at. My previous high was Mt. Whitney in California (the highest point in the
lower 48 states) and that was well under 15,000 feet! But much to my amazement - unlike with
Whitney - I am having absolutely no problems with the altitude and breathing
quite easily despite my cold and sore throat.
On the other hand, I have not dressed appropriately; I’m cold as hell
and my hands are numb. Abdallah scouts
out the locale and corners a space for Don and me right under a large rocky
overhang where it’s relatively dry. He
pulls out a flask with steaming hot ginger tea and pours out a cup for both of
us. Boy, does that feel good. I can’t decide what’s better – the tea warming
my stomach or the hot cup warming my hands!
Once we’re slightly warmed up the lunch boxes are pulled out from
Abdallah’s backpack. It’s the same
chicken/muffin/sandwich/juice-box/Snickers thing. I eat some of it, but really have no
appetite; it’s too damn cold, and the rain water is dripping from the brim of
the ball-cap under the hood of my rain jacket.
Instead, I have another cup of the ginger tea. We've been there about twenty minutes or so
when Julio ambles up – neither he nor Abdallah seem particularly perturbed by
the cold. “Shall we go?” he inquires, “If
you sit around for too long, you’ll start to get more and more
uncomfortable.”
OK...
Don and
Julio go on ahead while Abdallah and I follow slightly behind. The descent from Lava Tower is rapid. The first stretch down is immediate; we walk
no more than twenty yards from where we were huddled and it’s a precipitous
drop over lots and lots of loose rock and stone and across a winding stream of
water that we cross several times on our way down. I pick my way down carefully – very carefully.
One misstep and it could be a disaster.
Luckily, despite the rain the rocks are not slick. There’s no moss or plant growth that covers
them and the soles of my Merrells grip the rocks pretty well. It takes about fifteen or twenty minutes to
get to relatively solid ground, and the steep descent continues. More plants and shrubs slowly start to
appear. The rain has let up and several
people are stopping to take pictures of the amazing scenery as they
descend. In the distance I can see smoke
and the silhouette of tents. “Cam-pee,” announces
Abdallah with a wide smile.
It takes
us another forty five minutes or so to get there. I check my watch and see that it’s around
2:30 PM as we walk into the hut and sign the register at Barranco camp. Ricky is there to fist-bump us, and Julio
offers us his congratulations. “That was
a long walk and we got up very high, but you had no trouble!” he says. “You know those two German climbers couldn't make it up to Lava Tower? They just gave up and turned round – they were too
tired.” Hmmm, not sure who he was
referring to, but I learn that Lava Tower is one of those locations that does
take its toll on many climbers. I’m
happy we made it here without any real problems.
Barranco
is - without any doubt - the most spectacular of all of the camp sites on our
route. I look around and take in the
scenery, which leaves me slightly breathless.
To get an idea of what it’s like, let’s start at 12 o’clock and go
counter-clockwise: from 12 to 10 is a sheer rock face, rising high and
disappearing into the mist – the famed Barranco wall that we will be scaling
tomorrow. I don’t know it yet, but
behind the wall, hidden in the mist is Mt. Kilimanjaro. Julio says: “It’s right there. You can’t see it now, but you will see it
very soon!”  |
| Barranco Wall |
To the
left from 10 to 8 is the hill down which we came from Lava Tower, with a
beautiful stream snaking its way down – I follow it to the top of the hill with
my eyes, where it also disappears into the mist.
 |
| View from Camp Barranco |
Go
further to the left and from 8 to 6 there’s another hill with a path that was
once used to get to Barranco, but that has since been abandoned; a wooden shack
still remains at the bottom of the hill. Moving on, between 6 and 4 there’s
about a twenty foot drop from the flat clearing where our tents are pitched,
and then there’s another flat area with more tents. At this level there’s not a huge amount of
vegetation – mostly cactus-like plants and succulents scattered among the
rock. I suddenly realize how crowded this place
is. Between the two camping zones there
must be at least forty to fifty tents.
This is where the Shira, Lemosho and Machame routes all come together
for a common camp site. Julio says that
during the peak season the site can accommodate up to 300 climbers per
day.
 |
| Barranco Camp |
But what
really takes my breath away is what there is between about 4 and 12. We are high up and as I peer down, the
mountains fade away rapidly. I can see
another stream running down a valley below us between two of the mountains, and
disappearing into a bunch of clouds.
Yes, clouds - we are well above the clouds! And in the distance, between
a break in the clouds I can see the plains. Moshi and Arusha are somewhere
there I guess. The sheer grandeur of the
scene is overwhelming. It’s not sunny or
clear, but at least it’s not raining, so I rush into the tent to pull out my
camera and my telephoto lens. Don is resting,
but despite being pretty tired I’m too pumped up to sleep, and I wander around
taking lots and lots of pictures. The clouds are floating by and it’s amazing
how the sights change. One moment you
see a mountain and the next moment you don’t.
A valley disappears into the mist even as you watch. Streams of water from melting glaciers high
above sparkle in the diffused sunlight.
 |
| Above the clouds, looking down at the plains |
At
around 4:30 or so, things start to clear a bit. Abdallah, who wanders by,
points behind and above the Barranco wall. And lo and behold, I get my first
close look at Mt. Kilimanjaro; or at least parts of it (the peak is still
hidden under the clouds). Patches of
snow cover the sides as they climb up to the clouds. It seems so close I can almost reach out and
touch it. In fact, it looks so close
that I wonder why we need another three days to get there! For the next fifteen
minutes or so I watch as the mountain disappears and reappears repeatedly while
the clouds float by, until finally it’s obscured fully once again.
By now,
pretty much everyone who’s camping at Barranco has reached the site. The place is packed. A teenager (I gather he’s German or Swiss) pukes
his guts out next to his tent as his mother rubs his back. Clearly, the altitude has gotten to him. Another middle-aged guy is seated on a rock
with his head in his hands – he doesn’t look too good either. One guy is on his cell phone; I can’t believe
it, but I’m told you can actually get a signal even this high up – wow! Don has also come out of our tent by now and
he and I pick up a conversation with a woman who’s about my age or perhaps slightly
younger, and looks to be Indian. Turns
out she lives in Minneapolis and she’s here along with her husband (who works
in Saudi Arabia) and daughter (who’s in Atlanta), and a group of other friends
from the Middle East (I think she said Bahrain). Hmmm, don’t know that I’d consider climbing
Kilimanjaro to be a pleasant family vacation!
It turns out that I kind of know one of her cousins (or perhaps it’s her
cousin’s son?) who works in the same building as me. I ponder the improbability
of running into some complete stranger in the middle of nowhere, on a mountain
in Africa, with whom I share a common acquaintance! Her husband comes out of a tent and she
introduces him to us – she definitely looks to be in much better shape than him
after today’s trek.
It’s getting
dark, and pretty soon I hear the “soo-poo” announcement from Emmanuel. We go
into the mess tent for dinner. Neither
of us is particularly hungry but we force ourselves to eat something – as
usual, I kind of enjoy the hot soup.
Julio comes in as usual at the end of the meal and admonishes us for not
eating enough: “I think I will take you down and not up, if you don’t eat
better. You need energy and strength to
climb!” He reviews the next day’s climb
and checks on the water situation.
Tomorrow will be relatively short compared to today and with virtually
no net altitude gain. However, he says
that the first two to two-and-a-half hours will be pretty tough because we will
be scaling the Barranco wall and getting up all the way to 4800 meters (about
15,750 feet). Quite a bit of it will
involve scrambling on all fours and pulling ourselves up the rock face. However, after we reach the top he says it
will be easy and all downhill, for another couple of hours at most, until we
reach the camp at Karanga, which is due east and slightly north of where we are
now. It’s also roughly the same altitude
as Barranco. From there we will head northwest towards the mountain to our base
camp at Barafu on the following day.
Today
has been a long, tiring day and I had resisted the urge to lie down in the
afternoon, so I’m pretty beat. Julio
says to get lots of sleep – there’s no rush tomorrow. The plan is to wait for most people to leave
and start off leisurely at 9 AM or so, since we’ll only be walking for four to
five hours at most. We’re getting closer to the big day when we will be
climbing to the summit, and Don and I have many questions about when we will
start off, and what clothes we should wear, and what we will do when we
descend. Julio is strangely reticent and
brushes off our questions. Hakuna Matata! “No probe-lames,” he says.
“We can talk about all of that when we get to Barafu and we see how everyone is
doing.” I’m not sure what to make of
it. Does he think we can’t do it? I mean, I think we’ve done pretty well so
far! I ask him how he thinks we are
doing in terms of what he’s seen with other climbers, and he smiles and says
we’re doing excellent. Hmmm.
I
figure I’ll sleep well tonight because I’m so tired. My head is feeling stuffed again, so I take another
NyQuil (and curse my cold) just before I change into my fleece stuff and zip
myself into my sleeping bag. I pass out
almost immediately.
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