Blogging the Kili Bowl: The Climb

You can see video and photos of the climb here.
Read the game story from the Kilimanjaro Bowl.

The climb has started. "Polle polle" is the theme "slower slower" the guides will say. Our team of 16 climbers, one of five teams attempting the climb, has taken the message to heart. Hearing the horror stories of the failures of all the kids our age. The staggering statistic that the group that fails most often on the climb of Kilimanjaro is men between the ages of 18-25. Though it is a little disappointing to leave for the summit without some of our teammates it is still exciting to move closer and closer to the daunting peaks in the sky. 

The amazing things about this mountain are not limited to its great size. The mountain is a home to nearly every ecosystem. It is home to many families that came out to walk with us a bit on our climb. Some of the children who walk each day down the path that took us hours to climb, carried there back packs and slowed down to talk to us.

The scenery going up the mountain was also a great distraction from the endearing step-pause-breathe-step pattern we were employing. The needles on the pine trees we passed were so fine they looked like the bristles of a brush. When we passed into the rainforest area on the first day the greenery was so lush and diverse that I found myself tripping over rocks while I was distracted.

The feet and backs of many of us are sore at camp but the world around us keeps our minds and imaginations occupied between the games and stories that we share with our teammates. All in all, a great start to the end of our journey.

Day two of the climb, when we awake at around 6:30 the cold waiting for us outside the tent is bitter and biting. We make our ways slowly to the tent, wiping a rough night’s sleep, for most of us, from our eyes. The air is already a little thin and it is tough for many of us to breathe too easily in the few short steps to the mess tent.

We enjoy a breakfast of toast, pancakes (more like crepes), and fruit before packing up our day packs to move. Today's walk would be the first real test. Four hours uphill, short break for lunch and then another 4 hours to camp. By the time we finish the day two of our group members are sick, from the water that was not treated appropriately, one of our other group mates is feeling sick from the altitude and at the rate that we are going and the amount we are struggling right now is starting to put into perspective the task we have undertaken.

When we finally reach the camp we hear that the oldest of our coaches attempting the hike, and one of the players had been sick before the climb.  Feverish, they both couldn't eat and lay in bed just hoping to get through the night and maybe feel well enough to reach the next camp. One day at a time seems to be becoming more and more important.

Day three, the first of us is sent down with what I can only imagine is a lot more close behind. One of our group members and another of our teammates from another climbing party were getting heavily affected by the altitude and were forced to go back down. 

Somehow the people who are sick make it to camp. I hear that the feverish coach and player make it to the next camp but it takes them almost twice as long as the rest of us.

It feels as though we have been on this mountain for a week already. We are sleeping just off the water in a crater; it is the coldest I have ever been. 

10 o’ clock at night the tent is shaken by the porters who remember all of us by name. A small breakfast and then we begin the hike to Gillman's Point. We cannot see further than the headlamps allow. The mountain is pitched black and the only things we see are the feet of the people in front of us. We can make out the distant groups making their way up to the summit by the slow steady sway of floating lights.

Slow, deep breaths seem hard for many of us to manage. One of our group members, my tent-mate falls behind but the group insists on pressing forward. After about three hours of climbing in the pitch black I see another member of the group fall off. I hold back with him. I encourage him, but the conviction in his voice tells me that he is going to make it to the top. After about an hour of slow paced walking, when no other groups were in sight the porter and I convinced him to shed his pack and climb using my taller walking stick. The porter assures me to go on, that his conversing with me will make it harder for him. I give him the last of my water and start running up the mountain. It is still dark, I cannot make out the path, I am climbing boulders and rock faces toward a group of lights that looks familiar.

At one point I see my headlamp flicker and am terrified at the prospect of being stuck in the dark, pinned down on the mountain until day light. But the batteries get me close enough to the group that I am able to join another section of our party. There are only a few more folds in the path before the group I am walking in reaches Gilman's point. The sun is breaking across the clouds to our back; the prismatic glow in the sky keeps our minds at ease with the struggle of what is to come ahead. 

The summit is another hour of hard-to-breath-air away. As we get higher we see the Mexican team groups also closing in on the summit. By the time my group makes it to the sign atop Ahuru Peak the sun is lighting the entire mountain and the sign is a frenzy of excitement and emotion. The shadow cast by the morning sun was filled with hugs, hard breaths, and tears. It was something amazing to be apart of; to see the flags of three countries on the roof of Africa surveying the world, exhausted.

And while the hike was far from over, I could not imagine a better feeling than all those, 64 of 70 who set out to climb the strenuous mountain, together.

Gathered together and overcoming ailments, altitude, adversity, at every turn a new challenge to reach a goal that united all of us. 

There is much more story to tell, but only a few short moments to possibly explain a lifetime's worth of memories is impossible, but I look forward to trying.

Thanks for reading, 
Eugene "EJ" Walter 97