Slow down, pole pole, words that many had said at the start of my journey came back to me. Pole pole, slowly, slowly in Swahili and dogom dogo, which roughly translates to one step at a time are said to be the success mantras for Kilimanjaro.

First View

Snow clad edges hidden behind a veil of clouds, standing alone and majestic. As the pilot announced that we were looking at the highest free standing mountain (not part of a mountain range) in the world, peeping from my small aircraft window, the idea of getting there captivated me. But was it even possible for me to be standing there, among those clouds touching the snows? Even the thought seemed unreal.

It was dusk when we landed at the Kilimanjaro airport and the clouds had completely hidden the magnificence that one had come to see and experience. The airport, a tiny seventies era building, where you just walk down the tarmac and into the terminal belied that it was an international airport; an entry point for thousands of visitors coming to witness the famed wildlife of the region, at Serengeti and Ngorangoro or take the more challenging option of scaling Mount Kilimanjaro. An hour and a half’s drive in the dark brought me to Moshi – the town chiefly used as a base by those attempting to climb Mt. Kilimanaro.

Next morning, it could be seen again in all its glory. I thought of it as a good omen and walked to the hotel terrace for a better view. But for an untrained climber, or rather not a climber at all, the task seemed daunting. With no regular physical regime part of my daily life, I was filled with doubts. Will I be able to make it? Was my body and mind up to the challenge? I thought about my last climb in Kashmir two decades ago. Was I fitter then? Maybe not, but younger, certainly. I decided not to think about it.

How did all this start?  Climbing, Mount Kilimanjaro? The thought had first occurred to me when we were moving to Africa. After all it is one of the defining features of this continent. But months after I moved to Mozambique, it remained just that- a thought – one which slowly slipped to the back of the mind as the daily routine and events took over.  There was much to learn, see and do in and around Maputo where I was living. And just when you least expected it, at a formal social gathering, I heard the K word mentioned and moved closer to the group where the discussion was underway. “We are going to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro” said a friend as soon as I joined them. I wanted to know everything -when, why, how….. Soon things fell into place and I was accepted as the only outsider in a Tanzanian group going to explore one of the most talked about destinations in their country. I was an Indian gatecrasher in their party. But one who was warmly welcomed and came back with unforgettable memories and a unique experience of having climbed with Tanzanians.

Excitement

Back in Moshi, we headed to the travel agency’s camp office for a briefing and to pick up our gear. A trip to Mt. Kilimanjaro has to be undertaken through one of the many certified tour operators in the country and climbers are to be accompanied by a guide at all times. No self-climbing and camping is allowed in the Mt. Kilimanjaro National Park – a big draw for the tourists and a great revenue earner for Tanzania.  It brings in 45 per cent of Tanzania’s tourism revenue.

Its uniqueness and beauty is certainly a draw but what attracts people in large numbers to Mount Kilimajaro is also its generosity. Standing tall at the height of 5895 m (19,341 ft) it allows for ordinary trekkers to ascend its slopes all the way to the summit and partake of its beauty. You don’t need to be a trained climber. No need for mountaineering gear- no pick axes, no crampons, no ropes or harnesses. This is unlike most other mountains of around this elevation, or even lower. Desire, determination and average levels of fitness can get you there.

For everything else you may need, there is the tour operator. Aware that often people plan this trip only after they have arrived in Tanzania and given the fact that non regular trekkers and climbers are unwilling to spend large sums of money buying sleeping bags, jackets etc. for a rare trek up the mountain, the travel agents offer them all. You can even rent climbing shoes! 

A dormant volcano, Kilimanjaro comprises of three cones –Kibo, Mawenze and Shira. The summit is on Kibo and is called Uhuru. It can be approached by five different routes and the trek can take anywhere between four to seven days depending upon the route and the pace chosen by the group. The fastest recorded climb, however, is 5 hours, 23 minutes and 50 seconds. But that’s an exception.

The route decided for us was – Marangu – the most widely used and one with the many more creature comforts along the way with log huts at camping sites and built up toilets. Marangu is also referred to as the ‘Coca Cola’ route and while some say it was labelled so due to its relatively easy initial approach others say it has come from packaged drinks that were earlier sold en route, a practice later discontinued due to environmental reasons. But giving credence to the former theory is the fact that some refer to the Machame route – a tougher and steeper climb – as the Whisky route. Our group, made entirely of amateurs, was not complaining about this pre-determined choice.. The dos and don’ts were spelt out over yummy chamusas.

Kick-off

A drive through cultivated slopes, coffee plantations and montane forest brought us to the Marangu gate (elevation:1840 m) where the climb was to begin and would take us through a different climatic and vegetation zone each day making it a walk through four seasons in four days.

If successful, we were to reach Uhuru peak, at the elevation of 5895m, the highest point on the rim of the crater of Kibo in four days (including one for acclimatization). Our backpacks loaded with essentials and a small snack, we were off. The heavy lugging of sleeping bags, additional jackets and gear etc. was left to the porters.

Within minutes we were in the midst of a deep green forest. The path was wide but covered with a canopy of trees. Only in some parts would the sunlight stream through the leaves and reach the ground. A beautiful bird with red under-wings flew past. A Turaco, identified the guide. While continued to hear her noisy calls, the elusive beauty could not be spotted again. The walk took us past rivulets with beautiful flowers popping up every now and then amidst the greens. After nearly a six hour walk which included a lunch break we arrived at Mandara Hut (elevation: 2720m).

The change was sudden. One minute we were in deep forest and the next in a beautiful grassy meadow dotted with huts for the campers. It was already dusk and the group was happy to have made it to the first destination. We spotted several blue monkeys  running around. But the most rewarding sight was the night sky from Mandara. Nestled in the forest with no city lights visible even far on the horizon we were treated to a moonless spectacle with millions of stars speckled all over the sky.

Going gets tough

Our next stop was to be Horombo Hut for getting to which we needed to walk a distance of 12 kilometres and gain another 1000 meters in altitude. As we set off the next morning, we were warned that we had to keep drinking water in order to avoid altitude sickness. But the cool weather and the need for frequent loo breaks made this a tall order.

The walk took us through heath and moorland, completely different from what we traversed through on day one. As the hours went by the strain was visible on most of us. Some of us slowed down and others wanted more breaks. But just as sprits were beginning to sag, the strain of Ewo silenang ewo mewoye – a Maasai song lifted our mood.

The journey to Horombo which should have ideally taken six hours, took our large group almost eight.  Two from our group were already struck by altitude sickness. Others like me were beginning to discover new muscles in our bodies.

Reaching Horombo was a relief. A much bigger camp than the first, it had a lot of activity.  Park guards, guides, porters could be seen milling around. It was a meeting point for climbers going up with those on their way down, discussing their highs and lows.

Hues of red were filling the sky as we marched towards our huts. Warm water brought to us in plastic basins was a welcome luxury. We all cleaned up after the day’s walk, put on warm clothes as the temperature dipped sharply and headed towards the dinner huts. Warm cooked meals are the real indulgence on this trek. Along with the guides and porters, come along cooks who prepare a fresh meal each night.

As our group sat down and started to enjoy the hot soup after a tiring day some disheartening news emerged. Four from our group had decided to abandon their journey. The altitude had got the better of them. The next day was thus reserved for acclimatization. We were all to do a three hour climb to the Zebra rocks – a formation resulting from mineral rich rain flowing down the rocks and streaking the almost black lava white in places.

Motivators

Sore muscles after climbing for two days meant Dr Kimolo was much in demand, especially among the older members of our group (at 42, I was among the youngest). Dr Kimolo was not a medical doctor, just one of our guides who though his interest and empathy had acquired skills to provide calm and relief to many a traveller. Jeffery Bakan Kimolo had been doing the “grueling work” taking tourists up and down the mountain for six years. But he told me that it was better than the dangers and the hardship he faced when he worked as a miner.  Plus meeting people from different parts of the world, he said “made him happy”. But Kimolo hopes that in a few years he will graduate to an office job and will not have to relentlessly scale the mountain for a living.

Our lead guide Chombo, 40, our key motivator had been walking the slopes of Kilimanjaro for almost 20 years. He had earned the designation of Head Guide, after first working as a porter then graduated to cook and assistant guide before training by the National Park authorities followed by an exam allowed him to attain this position.

For me the real inspiration was Angel Tegemea Mafuwe. A woman porter carrying our luggage and other requirements of the camp. At each stage of the climb when things got agonizing for me, the thought of her carrying 15 kilos up and down the camp humbled and inspired me to go on. Doing this for over two years, Angel harboured no romantic notions about the job. For her it was just a matter of livelihood.

The Final Challenge

The next milestone was Kibo hut, from where our final summit climb was to start. The distance was another 12 kilometers and as we had done on day-two and we were to go up another 1000m. But as we gained height the greens diminished and all that remained were some tufts of grass as we entered the Alpine desert.

And just as we headed off again after a quick lunch stop it started to snow. My thoughts went to a fellow trekker had mentioned that they got five hours of snow on their final summit climb, which we were to attempt the same evening. I desperately hoped the snow would stop.

After seven hours of walking amid intermittent snow we finally reached the third camp – Kibo Hut, 4,703m. It was from here that we were to attempt the final summit climb later the same night. A few in the group reached here totally exhausted. My friend Shamim, who had invited me to be part of this group, told me she did not think she could make the final climb. I told her not to give up at this stage.

We were given tea and a small snack and asked to get some rest for a couple of hours. At 9 pm we were woken up, given some porridge and soup and instructed to be ready for our final climb. Nothing had quite prepared us for what was to come. Dressed in our warmest, headlamps on our foreheads and mountain climbing sticks in hand, we lined up outside the hut. Chombo, asked us to be calm and slowly make our way. He assured us that we would get to the summit if we adhered to his instructions.

It was pitch dark and as we started the uphill climb. All we could see were the legs of the person ahead of us in the light of the headlamp. The incline was steeper than any we had done previously and beneath the feet was slippery gravel making the ascent even more challenging. We started with Hooho Hai, another Maasai song praising god. But soon, as the breathing got harder the chants began to fade. We had not even gone a couple of kilometers when differences in people’s fitness levels and approach to the climb led the Chief Guide to divide the group based on our pace. All the men went ahead and five of us women continued our walk behind Chombo.

But it was not long before our group felt the same strain. I felt that stopping too often was disrupting my rhythm. Chombo suggested that I branch off with my own guide – Attley Benson. What followed was a strenuous and solitary climb. I soon realised that I had made a wrong decision. Being with others would have been better for my morale. Panic grew inside me and I felt a pain in my chest, running into my arms. Attley calmed me down by checking my oxygen levels and blood pressure. All was good. He just asked me to take it slow.

Slow down, pole pole, words that many had said at the start of my journey came back to me. Pole pole, slowly, slowly in Swahili and dogom dogo, which roughly translates to one step at a time are said to be the success mantras for Kilimanjaro. With a steep and sudden rise in altitude and the incremental reduction in oxygen seen as the key challenges of the climb, it is the tortoise like attitude which is supposed to pay off for most ordinary climbers.

I took a breather, tried to put my fears and anxieties aside and slowly resumed the climb. Attley kept bribing me with a reward in the form of a cup of tea ‘just ahead’. I had walked through the night and as dawn was breaking and energy levels were diminishing the terrain got more complicated. At many places one had to put aside the walking sticks, manually grip the rocks and lunge ahead. But soon it was over. I was at the rim of the crater and as I looked up I saw –Gilman’s Point, 5681m- marked on the sign board. The sun was rising, colouring the eastern sky in shades of orange and grey. On the other side lay the spectacular moonscape- like crater and in the distance one could see the snow and the glaciers. The night was behind me and the gruelling climb suddenly seemed well worth it. As promised I was rewarded with honey tea by Attley.  I thanked him for not letting me abandon my mission. And in my mental list of what makes a successful climb, I added a good guide as indispensable.

And in my mental list of what makes a successful climb, I added a good guide as indispensable.

The Reward

The final destination – Uhuru Peak, 5895m; the highest point on the rim- was however, still 2km and almost another two hour walk away. But the view, tea and a few biscuits had rekindled my spirit and I set off again. The path was through undulating rocks and snow; lack of oxygen and sleep soon drained the energy-high of reaching Gliman’s Point. There was a feeling of extreme fatigue. All I wanted to do was to lie down and sleep. The prize was visible but the distance of another kilometer seemed insurmountable. It was Attley to the rescue again. He encouraged me, pushed and prodded me, and even tried to pull me by the walking stick! I was not to give up after coming so close, he exclaimed. And in the end, give up I did not. At 8.30 am I finally reached the peak and found some members of my group having their photographs taken with the signboard and the Tanzanian flag as the backdrop. We hugged and celebrated our successful effort. But there was not much time to savour the moment. Our guides were already reminding us of the journey back.

On the way back I had company. Some of our group members who had reached before me had either slowed down or spent more time at the peak so we started our descent together. The first crisis came as the need for a loo break. There are no facilities on the last summit climb and the arctic region meant no shrubs to hide behind either. Finally, an alcove in the rocks was found and I came back relieved. All I can say is that it is not a pleasant experience trying to pee wearing four layers of clothing while protecting yourself from the cold and hiding from fellow humans at a height of almost 6000m!

Back at Gilman’s we took a short break to eat a few biscuits and drink a little water. Most of us would have liked something more substantial. After all we were only on some porridge and soup since 10 pm the night before and it was now 10 am. The steep downward slope on gravel made the walk down from Gilman’s Point to Kibo Hut agonising for the knees and the thighs. For Attley, who had been on these slopes several times the answer was to just “ski down” the gravel. He demonstrated this, but the fear of unknown rocks did not allow me to follow his carefree style.

At Kibo, where night stay is not allowed, the drill was the same. We rested for a couple of hours, grabbed a quick lunch and got going again to try and get to Horombo before dark where we would finally get to sleep.

We walked back sharing our experiences, our highs and lows, our fears and joys. We were at Horombo by dusk. A hot water splash on the face had never felt better. At dinner more stories were exchanged and a proper meal was had after almost 36 hours.

As I left Horombo, tired and exhilarated, I thought of how many people say that they are going to or have conquered a mountain. I had heard it many times during my climb too. But for me, one climbs a mountain to appreciate its grandeur, enjoy its beauty, experience the joys, accept its challenges and, if lucky, understand its ways. 

A version of this article was first published in the Outlook Traveller.