More great stories from Leigh Ann Polsgrove, a Registered Nurse working at Vanderbilt Children’s Hospital! In August 2008, Leigh Ann climbed Kilimanjaro and she’s going to share her adventure with us over several installments.
Friday, August 15
This morning we awake to catch the 8 am bus to Moshi from Nairobi. Already, Lex and I are excited to meet the first Americans we’ve seen since we arrived in East Africa less than three days ago. We quickly discover that they are climbing the mountain as well, but taking the Rongai route. They will be stopping in Arusha, five hours from Nairobi. We are jealous of their shorter trip. However, the time seems to go by quickly. We are packed shoulder to shoulder in a rickety bus for hours, but we are easily distracted by the company that is so closely surrounding us: Omar, the young infant whose playful smile entertained the whole lot of us, and his older sister whose beauty is striking. There is a Tanzanian woman beside me who has lived at the bottom of the mountain for years but would never dare to climb it. No breathe on top , she says in her broken English. And I nod and laugh a little nervously.
We arrive at the Tanzanian border around noon. I am excited to get another stamp in my passport. Our driver escorts us to a shorter line. He has a deadline to meet, we can see. We pay our dues, get our stamps, and head on. As we approached Moshi, the land was steadily becoming more green and lush. I no longer notice the desert like lands filled with Acacia trees, but I see fields of corn, banana trees, coffee plants, and hibiscus bushes.
We emerge from Arusha and suddenly the man on the bus with the surname Shah points out to us the peak! It is Kilimanjaro in all its glory! It is almost invisible at first, lost in the haze of the sky, with its snow-capped peak camouflaged against the clouds. But as we get closer and closer, the majesty of this lone standing mountain is undeniable, and I’m filled with excitement, fear, and anticipation. Even the sight of it humbles me. I keep my eyes on it until we turn south towards Moshi, where we will be spending our last night before our ascent, our adventure, begins.
Saturday, August 16
I spent most of the night unpacking and repacking, making sure I didn’t forget anything or didn’t pack too much. I wish I could email my friends and family one last time, but I decide it is to futile to even think about it in this remote part of Africa. I’m too lost in the surreal moment to be scared about what I’m about to attempt. In the morning, we meet our guide, Mackloud, after finishing our last real meal: a Spanish omelet with some toast and a strange drink I think is Mango juice, but I’m not sure. Mackloud is friendly and inviting, like most Africans I’ve met so far. He has a plump young looking face, but old grandfatherly eyes. He has been climbing the mountain since 1982, which I explain to him is the year I was born. He smiles a big cheery smile, and teaches me my first Chagga word, FINYA , which means strong. He says that it is good that I am young and healthy and he can tell that Lex and I are strong, and he knows we can make it to the top.
Kili Warning Signs
We are taking the Machame Route, starting at just above 5000 ft or 1800 meters. By the end of day one, we will have climbed 1200 meters. Our trek is through the rainforest. Tall trees and tons of flora and fauna surround us. We stop to take pictures of the impatiens Kilimanjaro. It is a flower native only to this mountain, lining the edges of our path with its bright yellow and red trumpets. They hang daintily, and I resist the urge I have to pluck one from its stem and place it behind my ear, but I leave it in its rightful place. Our climb is done pole-pole . Slowly. We hike this way to keep our heart rates down and to help with acclimatization. We stop to rest for lunch, where we meet Evan and David, two guys from New Jersey. We compare our cheese and butter sandwiches to their roasted chicken. But I don’t care that our lunch is less favorable. I’m thrilled to be eating my boiled egg at the bottom of this mountain.
We head on after lunch. Not quite to the clouds yet, but the land is changing and we are approaching the moorlands. The trees here seem to be wearing jewelry and scarves of yellow, green, silver, and white. And as the trees grow up, they also grow out, towards each other, as if they are reaching to kiss. Some of them do, and it is a bizarre and beautiful thing to see. The hike to our first camp seems easy because there is so much to see, and our bodies are fresh. When we arrive, our porters are waiting for us, as they have been for hours. They make us tea and biscuits and fresh popped popcorn, and we gratefully receive it all, devouring it quickly, and savoring it as the warm liquid enters our bodies which are steadily getting colder and colder. We pull our fleeces out of our bags and put them on hastily as the forty degree chill starts to hit us since we’ve finally stopped moving. I’m tired. Not the sleepy kind of tired, but I know I shall have no trouble sleeping tonight.
We receive a visit from Rhen, our new friend whom we discovered from Asheville, and we immediately connect, talking about the East Tennessee Mountains, and SEC football. She and her boyfriend are on a six-month world trip. Seriously. And they are in the middle of their trip now. Just left Egypt, and heading to Zanzibar, then South Africa after the climb. WE also meet Mark and Laura from the UK. They hiked in front of their guide and left him hours ago. Laura is obviously inadequately prepared for the trip, wearing all the clothes she brought for the trip already. Lex and I are automatically worried for them. I offer her my sleeping bag warmers and head back to our camp. After our meal of gingered goat meat (ugh) and fried potatoes (yum!), I wish I had told Mackloud I was a vegetarian. I eat until I am full, and then I head to the tent, get into my sleeping bag, and I keep telling myself, I am not cold yet. I am not cold yet. I am not cold yet .
