Day 7: Mweka Camp to Mweka Gate

3.7 miles

5,400 feet

We always knew something was fishy.

Fresh from interviews with our amazing porters, here we are with the entire team.

The morning of our final descent, Simon had us up at 0-dark-thirty with a promise that we would be in Arusha by noon. 

The walk down was unremarkable, save for some drama from my knee stressed by the descent. Simon didn’t have an ACE, but Doug did a superb job wrapping it with athletic tape we brought which did the trick.

Then--success! 

The bottom!  

At 10:30am outside of Mweka gate, we shared a round of Kilimanjaro Lager with the team. Then another. 

After sitting for a peculiar hour or two more, a mysterious truck arrived with a surprise hot lunch. Simon explained: we needed to wait for another group of descending Climb Kili hikers.  

He blamed the wait on Climb Kili's poor communication and attempted to play it off with lunch and more lager. 

Doug and I switched to soda; the guides did not.

Jackson had perhaps had one lager too many and it was with this dose of truth serum that we received a reality check.

With Simon already in receipt of the team's tip and AWOL, Jackson nearly inaudibly inquired about the porters' share. His expression unveiled anger, frustration, dejection--it was clear Simon did not intend to divvy the tip money we issued the night before as instructed. 

Doug made the situation right by giving Jackson and Michael a signed breakdown of the distribution.

Our loose-lipped assistant guide quietly clarified his frustration: 

the gushy fodder Simon constantly fed us about his amazing, long-standing team was a twist of reality. The team was not Simon’s; it was Jackson’s. And Jackson was usually its lead guide. 

Regarding our present situation, Jackson had urged Simon to call Climb Kili to confirm our morning pick-up. 

Guess who never called?

Compared to the logo-clad descending Climb Kili team that arrived around 3:00, our team’s unofficial status was salient. Hushed conversations with their lead guide, Damian (who, coincidentally, was Climb Kili’s all-star guide), revealed that this was Simon’s first trip with Climb Kili.  Further, he wasn't NOLS certified (the reason we picked this outfitter).  For one reason or another, Climb Kili had contacted Simon to run our trip…who contacted his uncle Jackson to staff it.   

So affable, so accommodating, so notorious on the mountain, Climb Kili’s decision to employ Simon was unsurprising.

Yet, suddenly, the sordid details fell into place. The excessive tip Simon pushed for on Day 1 and every day thereafter. The “yes-man” approach to all inquiries.  The fact that he charged us double the price to rent gators--that Jackson divulged were his. Doug’s headlamp and Swiss Army knife Simon asked to borrow. The agreed-upon Thermarest and toilet, missing in action. The guaranteed oxygen we never saw. The ACE bandage Simon didn’t have. 

To be clear: Jackson and his team get a categorical A+.

After acquiring this knowledge, we gave them a little special something.

  

Per the usual, the car broke down on the way home, allowing us an hour to play pool with some locals.

It also allowed Simon a logistic disturbance during which he made a sincere effort to steal Doug’s headlamp and trekking poles. 

(After speaking with Climb Kili's Tanzanian manager, they were returned to us--not by Simon.)

Simon gets an A for hospitality and an F for integrity. 

Lessons learned:

1) Everybody’s hustling.

2) Don’t tip until the very, very end.

3) Trust nothing but your intuition (and each other).

But, hey, we made it to the top!  

And the service was exquisite...  

We had an experience, and like most experiences, I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Doug agrees.  

Perhaps we’re a bit more jaded but I’d like to frame it this way: 

we’re wiser for the wear.

Lexi & Dougie Love from Kilimanjaro.