Photos: Lyle Such
Writing: Thu Buu
Camera: Canon 60d
The idea of climbing Kilimanjaro first arose at our family summer camping trip. As we stood around the picnic table watching Anh Bi stab his knife into the tough, prickly skin of a giant jackfruit, Anh Vu asked Cu Chi if he was interested in the climb. Thi said, “Hon would go.” And so without really thinking, I chimed in that I wanted to go too. The thought scared me at first. I haven’t done any type of backpacking or high altitude hikes before, but the opportunity to travel with my brothers (and Lyle of course) to such an amazing place was too hard to pass over.
Day 1
Machame Gate, 5,718ft. to Machame Camp 9,927ft.
Lyle and I had a year to train…and we took full advantage of that time. Along with weekday routines at the gym and jogs around the neighborhood, Saturday mornings were dedicated to climbing the Sand Dune. On Sunday mornings, we looked forward to day-hikes around the area. On our South America trip in December, we hiked up Machu Picchu testing our adaptation to higher altitude. Luckily neither of us experienced much altitude sickness. Then in Patagonia, we tried our endurance with a six-day backpacking trip. After that trip, we were more confident in our ability to succeed at climbing Kilimanjaro. It was then time to combine high-altitude hiking and camping with a weekend trip to Zion and Bryce National Parks in Utah and to Mammoth, where we summited White Mountain, one of California’s 14ers. It was the highest we’ve ever been but still 5000 ft. lower than the peak of Kilimanjaro. We departed for Kilimanjaro. Ready and in the best physical condition I had ever been in my whole life.
We bagan our six day ascent of Mt. Kilimanjaro on a cold, gray, misty morning. Preparing for the worst, everyone dressed in their warmest and most waterproof layers. Fifteen minutes into the hike we realized the weather was going to cooperate and quickly shed the gaitors and jackets.
“Pole, Pole,” as our guide Nuru would say, was the magic word for the climb. Sandy, the outstanding student that she is, did an amazing job sticking to this concept. She set the slow pace, forcing our group to take our time so our bodies could get acclimated as we made our ascent. Only later would we fully realize how important this slow pace was to our success. Thanks Sandy.
Our first view of Kilimanjaro's peak.
We trekked through a tropical rainforest filled with tall ancient trees that grew long beards of moss and lichen, much like the Ents in Lord of the Rings. Everywhere we looked, different shades of green stared back at us. The jungle floor was dotted with little specks of colorful blossoms timidly wishing us a safe adventure.
We were required to sign in each day at the next campsite.
By the time we got to bed, there was already a thin layer of frost coating the outside of our tents. However with our new goose down sleeping bags on top of two layers of sleeping pads, we were warm and slept comfortably. At breakfast the next morning, we come to find out that most of our group had the opposite experience throughout the night.
Day 2
Machame Camp, 9,927ft. to Shira Camp 12,355ft.
The view back to camp after an early morning start.
Sandy started the day with a queasy stomach, perhaps from dinner the night before. Within half an hour, she was pale and in pain. Besides the stomach problem, which not only prevented her from taking in foods or liquid, she was starting to feel the effects of high altitude. By the time Sandy trudged into the second camp some seven hours later, she had suffered through many bouts of vomiting and needless to say, was in pretty bad shape. The next morning, Sandy had to be evacuated; unfortunately she had to walk about an hour down the mountain before being picked up by a vehicle. She spent the rest of the trip at the hotel in Moshi reading Game of Thrones and trying to regain her appetite.
The terrain we crossed on Day 2 was by far my favorite. The scenery kept changing. After a steep climb on rocky boulders and through giant heather of the savannah heath land, we found ourselves on flat, dirt paths and surrounded by scrubs of the lower alpine moorland.
The first day the port-a-potty tent went up, we all made an agreement to use it only to go #1. #2 required the use of the public hole in the ground. Funny thing about the public restrooms, as we went up higher, they became fancier as if someone in the Parks and Recreations Department decided that renovating the restrooms should start at the third campsite…like it was a reward for reaching this point in the climb. And believe me, the sight of a clean restroom sure makes the heart happy.
The second campsite was on an exposed side of the mountain. The wind howled all night long, rustling the fabric of our tent. It seemed not many of us had a good night’s rest as we lay awake listening to the unzipping and zipping of the tent doors as we took turns heading for the restroom. Luckily we had a portable latrine only for the private use of our group. If we had to use the public restroom on the edge of the cliff, I’m afraid the wind could have easily taken a couple of us hostage that night.
