Wonderlust

The Summit Attempt

Around the camp, our climbers wash up, eat breakfast, get medical checks, and prepare Camelbaks and daypacks.  The only differences between this day and those immediately preceding it, in fact, are the slightly earlier start and the more tangible sense of excitement.

It bears mentioning that some mountaineers don’t think especially highly of Kili.  To the extent which the necessity of technical climbing accords a mountain greater respect in these hardcore circles, they have a well-founded point.  Kili doesn’t require use of ropes, etc.  In our group, however, you would not find one among us who does not see this as an eminently worthy challenge.  The success rate for summitting Kilimanjaro, the highest point in Africa and the highest free-standing mountain in the world, is 40%.

POLE! POLE! (PO-lay, PO-lay) is a frequent battle cry as we begin this final ascent.  Meaning slowly, slowly in Swahili, it is a reminder, essentially, that history better remembers the tortoise.  Liberati, the guide setting the pace for today, surely believes the victory would have been even more pronounced had the race taken place on Kili. 

At various points, disoriented stumbling climbers flanked and supported by porters make their way down past us.  Some have reached the summit and are worse for the wear.  Others have turned back before reaching their goal.  Elia Kim had warned that we would see this.  He had advised us to ignore it.  My mental toughness softens a little each time I witness it though.  In my mind I question, the altitude does that?!

I pit myself against the altitude periodically by recalling the 14 names in our group without looking.  As mental prowess goes, it won’t earn me Mensa admission.  It also can’t be mistaken for the NY Times crossword, or even for two pictures across which kids find 8 differences, but it is reassuring nevertheless every time I get to the 13th and 14th names.

Besides this feat of sheer mental dexterity, I focus entirely on my breath and my steps.  The pointedness of my focus is meditative.  My mind’s diminished capacity to wander is therefore at least convenient in this respect.  In harmony with my breath, I have taken to rest-stepping, extending the just placed leg completely with each step, to place weight on my skeleton rather than my muscles.

Slowly, slowly our team’s summit attempt takes shape.The glaciers are no longer off in the distance but nearby us.  Conversation is limited to short exchanges of encouragement or requests for sun cream, Gatorade powder and the like.  We are grateful for Tusker’s strength today as our four guides frequently check on each of us.  The “Kili coke” that they “push” proves an effective aid.  Unless powdered sugar shows up on drug tests, I have no qualms in being a prolific user the likes of Tony Montana.

After a lunch break in which our team members have varied levels of success in consuming calories, we undertake the remaining, not insignificant steps towards Stella’s Point.  Stella’s Point marks a major milestone at the end of a particularly steep stretch, only one hour from the summit.  I sense the group’s resolve steel as we make way.  The guides and porters buoy our spirits by bursting into catchy Swahili call and response songs.  This gives the group the boost we need.

14 of 14 of us make it to Stella’s point.  We celebrate our achievement with hugs and back slaps all around.  We take time to recognize the long way we have come.  It is a special moment.  To our laughter, Eric P. comments to Ilia R. and me that this is a beautiful place; perhaps we would like to take some pictures?  This thinly veiled reference reminds the three of us of the many pictures we encouraged Eric to take so that we could both lazily leave our cameras in our bags.  I am surprised that Eric, dynamic and well-versed across a remarkable range of topics, is even at this altitude able to exercise wit.

I take another hit of Kili coke and “dance” (a nonrhythmic mild bobbing at best) to the porter’s songs.  Within a brief period we shift our focus to the short distance which remains rather than the long way we have come.   Sadly, however, one teammate has bravely come as far as his body and infected lungs will allow.  As he turns back, the remaining 13 make our way to the summit.

The celebration is more matter of fact at the summit than at Stella’s Point.  There is picture taking and congratulations and some emotion.  There is also a proposal!  Eric and his great girlfriend, Victoria B., are engaged.  They make a fantastic couple.  I am happy for them. 

As much of the group turns around to begin the descent, I remain at the summit with Ilia and a few others.  Ilia, the youngest and only non-American in the group, joined the climb only after somewhat randomly discovering it on our fundraising website Fred’s Team.  He then proceeded to lead the fundraising effort, in part by offering summit pictures of company flags to various businesses.  This is representative of the creative, interesting, and easy way Ilia has about him. He consistently denied the porters requests to help carry his bag of flags to the summit. I am honored to help him take summit pictures with the flags.

With only a short passage of time thereafter, we found ourselves saying goodbye with a farewell dinner.   Having faced and conquered this challenge together, united against cancer, a natural bond emerged among us.  I fully expect that the individuals I met in this solid group will continue to ascend to ever greater heights.  I thank all the many people who supported us.

PS-I drank 11 liters of water on summit day.  Big Mike now calls me lucky 96 for a closely related reason.  Think Diamox side effects, nighttime, and (non-metric) Nalgene bottles.