Day 6: Barafu Base Camp to Summit…to Mweka Camp

13 miles

19,340 feet

Lucky for us, Tuesday was a full moon, so the Thursday night/Friday morning climb was bright. After working our way past the early crowd, we switched off the headlamps and walked by the moonlight. 

When we peered behind us, the trail of hikers snaked up the mountain, a strand of white twinkle lights. Ahead, every once in a while, a headlamp glowed for a moment to serve a purpose then faded, reminding me of fireflies.

Pole, Pole. Slowly, Slowly. There was no way around the philosophy for the summit.  

Deep breath in, deeper breath out. Right foot,left foot.

For the first quarter of the 7-hour climb, temperature waves hit us—the flush of too much heat, the bitter bite of too much cold. Then only the bite remained and sunk in its teeth—an icy wind that penetrated all our layers to the bone.

Pole, Pole.  

To stave off the wind, we mostly trained our gazes on the next step.  

The frozen ground beneath our boots cracked and popped like a good Garber fire, a most intangible dream. In this reality, I later noticed that the breath my covered nose and mouth expelled into my rain jacket coated the inside with a carbon dioxide frost.   

When we did allow ourselves a glance around, we were alternately enthused and dismayed by our progress. I once happily spotted Cassiopeia and Orion perched in the sky. 

There’s only so much time you can focus on taking your next step and remembering to breathe.  Thus, my thoughts drifted to my next cup of hot chocolate.  Then, with each step I conjured positive phrases that may or may not have been a far cry from reality: 

“I have endless energy!” 

“My toes have impressive circulation!” 

“I am completely comfortable!” 

When the hours became long, I silently sang Lion King songs.  

Doug, analytical brain that he is, counted steps. He kept tabs on our progress, calculated the percentage completed and our ETA.  

He thought, “this isn’t so bad.”  

But he’s lived on a glacier!  Meanwhile, I gave up my poles because my fingers refused to circulate blood unless wrapped in a tight fist around my hand warmers.

Truly, it wasn’t so bad. Still, looking back, I can’t imagine how we walked that way for 7 hours!  But we never once doubted we would make it.  We were confident, steady and positive 100% of the way.  

Thank you, Diamox!

After Stella Point, the grade of the trail flattened but turned to packed snow. Our poles creaked in it like an old rocking chair in need of some oil. Uhuru peak was just one easy hour further. The bite of the wind softened and we reached the summit still shrouded in the blackness of pre-dawn.  

At 6:00am, exhausted, relieved and proud, we were the first to reach the summit from Barafu Base camp.  

We took the requisite 20 victory pictures at the summit sign. 

 

Soon, along the ridge of the volcanic crater, the sun traced the horizon in thick red crayon. 

 

But it was when we started the trek down the mountain  and the morning light illuminated the landscape around us that the real awe began.   

On the right of the rim were menacing glaciers, on the left, a bottomless crater and straight ahead were Kilimanjaro’s peaks aglow in the sunrise.

Mother Nature stamped our souls with a memory of incomprehensible beauty.

WE DID IT!

:)

Lexi & Dougie Love from Kilimanjaro.