Gone are the days of tough, solo climbers tackling Kilimanjaro with nothing but a pair of crampons and a local kid to carry extra gear. Now, anyone with enough spare cash who has seen the right TikTok video can and will take a stab at Africa’s tallest mountain. It is known to be the easiest of the Seven Summits (highest peaks on each continent), requiring no technical climbing skills and being a mere 19,300 feet tall.
Today we arrived at the Lemosho trailhead, a three-hour drive from Arusha, and discovered just how many other soft, financially comfortable westerners had been dreaming mountain dreams. Hundreds of people and bags and busses jammed the parking lot and picnic shelter.
“Get comfortable,” Gideon told us. “We’ll be here about an hour.”
Because of measures taken to protect the people who work on the mountain, all our gear had to be weighed before departure. Each porter is limited to carrying 20kg (44 pounds) of weight in addition to their personal gear.
The line at the weigh station was very, very long, so we sat on the grassy hillside to wait.
Groups all around us were breaking into their boxed lunches. Gideon had promised lunch during our wait, but I suspected lunch was among the items being weighed, so I tried to be patient.
I hate boxed lunches. They consist, inevitably, of a yucky sandwich, an unpleasant apple, a pointless granola bar, and a flavorless cookie (if you’re lucky). Indeed, this seemed to be the fare coming out of most boxes, but then I spotted a couple people chowing down on fried chicken. I began praying to the god of boxed lunches that we’d be on Team Fried Chicken.
“Let’s go get lunch,” Gideon finally said. He did not hand us boxes. Instead, he led us down the hill and past the shelter full of other waiting tourists to a shady nook under some eucalyptus trees where a table complete with checkered tablecloth and dishes awaited us.
“Just a small lunch today, before we start,” Gideon explained, and then introduced us to our cook, Emanuel.
Sliced avocados, fresh chapati (flatbread), cut veggies and mangoes, and – wonder of wonders! – fried chicken.
Just a small lunch??
We thanked Emanuel profusely and tucked in.
The moment we finished, Nyla pulled on her backpack and got out her hiking poles.
“Where are you going?” Dustin asked.
“I’m ready to go!” Nyla said.
“I think we have a few minutes…” I said. We hadn’t seen Gideon for awhile, and our feast setup was still being deconstructed.
Fifteen minutes passed before we convinced her to take off her bag.
“You have heard the phrase ‘hakuna matata’?” asked Niko, our assistant guide. We agreed that we had. “We will leave when we leave. No worries. Hakuna matata!”
It’s not just Timon and Pumba. Swahili-speakers here say this ALL the time.
Nyla, whose pants remained full of ants, could be heard occasionally humming snatches of the Disney song as we waited for another hour. The crowd today really was exceptional. “Because of the full moon,” Gideon later speculated. Do we know how to time it, or what?
“Okay, let’s go!” Niko finally announced.
Before we start up the trail, let’s meet the entire cast and crew, shall we?
- Clients: Laura, Dustin, Nyla, and Alfayo (half-client, half-employee, setting out to reach the summit after a previous failed attempt)
- Head Guide: Gideon (responsible for coddling, cheering, and cajoling his clients to the summit, and overseeing all the expedition’s moving parts.)
- Assistant Guide: Niko (trail-finder and pace-setter)
- Cook: Emanuel (actual food wizard)
- Assistant Cook/Porter: Mmari
- Camp Manager/Server/Porter: Mandela
- Sanitation Engineer/Porter: Omari
- Dishwasher/Porter: Mzamo
- Porters’ Cook/Porter: Charles
- Lead Musician/Porter: Chaji
- Downhill Assistant Guide/Porter: Yona
- Additional Porters: Bariki, John, Rasta, Shemeji, Peter, Simon, Beni
Initially, the huge size of our crew overwhelmed me a bit. In the Himalayas, four clients would have required one guide and two porters. On this mountain, though, we had to carry all our own shelter and food. Now consider the 20kg-per-porter limit, and suddenly the porter algebra gets a little wild.
By the time Niko summoned us to the trailhead, most of our porters had already disappeared up the path.
“Pole, pole,” Niko instructed (rhymes with “roly-poly”). Slowly, slowly. It is the chant of Kilimanjaro’s guides.
Turns out they are very serious about keeping a slow pace around here. For the next three hours, Nyla displayed exceptional restraint as she obeyed the command to Never Pass Niko. Having hiked with Nyla before, I know how challenging this was for her. Even I, slowest of all regular hikers, was a bit surprised by the pace. If I’d been set free as the pace-maker, as I usually am, even I would have gone at a slightly faster clip.
And yet… we marched steadily up to 9,150 feet and my little hummingbird heart never raced. For most of the afternoon I trucked along at a very comfortable 115-120bpm. Did you know it’s possible to have a conversation while you hike? I had NO idea until today!
All trails up Kilimanjaro begin in the rainforest, and so we spent the afternoon surrounded by giant palms, strangler figs, and array of flowers sold at my local greenhouses as summer annuals, but here they’re growing wild. The scent on the breeze was luscious and green.
We walked into Mti Mkumbwa Camp (Big Tree Camp) and I suddenly understood what Everest Basecamp must look like in April. Those hundreds of people we’d seen at the trailhead? Here they all were, now with tents!
“How many people do you think are here?” I asked Gideon after we had signed in at the National Park building.
He thoughtfully considered the array of tents stretching into the trees all around us. “Four hundred? Maybe five?”
I’d been ready to guess a thousand, but I bow to his experience.
“This way, this way,” Niko said, leading us back, back, back through the maze of tents, farther and farther away from the National Park buildings, including the bathrooms. Having already launched my quest to drench myself in AMS-preventing water, I began to worry about how I would find my way back when the bladder came calling at 3am.
“Karibu!” said Mandela, our camp manager. “Welcome to your camp!” He had staked out a beautiful corner of the forest for us, a little apart from the rampaging hordes. Our camp included so many tents, we required a tour.
One tent for me and Dustin to sleep in, one of tent for Nyla to sleep in, two more small tents for the guides. A kitchen tent, and a dining tent, where the beautiful table setup from lunch already held a tray of popcorn and cookies. And then, and then! Oh, the best tent of all:
“This is your washroom,” Mandela said, indicating a tall, skinny tent set to the side. “And this is Omari. His job is to keep this tent ready for you. Let me show you how it works.” He unzipped the tall tent revealing a portable toilet. My heart swelled with real joy.
I know it doesn’t look like much, but have you ever shared a pit toilet with 500 of your closest friends? This awkward little potty is the figurative pinnacle of backcountry luxury.
Mandela explained how to work the various levers and buttons that would keep everything sanitary and keep the smells at bay, then explained that Omari would take it to the public toilet to empty it as needed.
Omari, y’all, is the most important person on this excursion.
“Asante sana,” I gushed to Omari, hoping to convey to him in advance my extreme gratitude for the lowly but terribly appreciated job he had been assigned.
“Karibu,” he said, ducking his head in what I imagined to be slightly embarrassed recognition.
Bowls of water were brought out for us to wash up before dinner.
“That looks cold,” Nyla said, then plunged her hands into a bowl of steamy warm water. “Ohhh!” she sighed. I splashed happily around in mine for a few minutes before making use of the tiny bar of soap to get my hands really, truly clean.
“Dinner is ready!” Gideon announced. We trooped into the dining tent and settled in front of our tin plates, bowls, and cups.
Mandela, also in charge of serving meals, arrived with a silver dish full of soup. “Vegetable soup,” he announced as he ladeled portions into our bowls. It was so, so good.
“Yes please,” I said when Mandela offered seconds. “Even though I know I should save room, it’s just so good.”
“What are you saving room for?” Nyla asked, also accepting seconds.
“Dinner,” I said, realizing that Nyla had thought the soup was dinner. Uh oh.
“There’s no more food coming,” she said. “There can’t be.”
Cue Mandela and another helper bearing two new giant silver dishes. They scooped steaming piles of rice onto our plates, followed by vegetables and fried chicken, all topped with a coconut pea gravy.
I wish I had taken a picture of the expression on Nyla’s face as she tried to talk them into giving her smaller portions. “I can’t eat that much!” she cried in despair. I tried to remind her of how many calories we would be burning on this hike, but her concerns had nothing to do with permission. “My stomach isn’t that big!”
I then attempted to demonstrate the expandability of stomachs by stuffing myself silly. I could not finish everything on my plate, but I made a noble effort. It was so delicious.
They brought out banana fritters for dessert. We all groaned, then ate them anyway. So good.
“I’m feeling a little like a white bastard colonialist,” I muttered as we wobbled our way back to our sleeping tent for the night. “Out in the great wilderness having an adventure, but I’ve brought my entire staff along to provide all the comforts of home. I should have brought an evening gown so I could dress for dinner. I hope we’re paying them enough.”
We rolled out our sleeping bags for our first night on the mountain, cozy and coddled.
- Starting Elevation: 7,815 feet (2,380m)
- Ending Elevation: 9,158 feet (2,780m)
- Cumulative Gain: 1,537 feet
- Approximate Miles: 3.4
- Average Pace: 52’54”/mile
- Swahili phrases learned: “Asante sana” (thank you very much), “karibu” (you’re welcome), “pole, pole” (slowly, slowly), “hakuna matata” (it really does mean “no worries”)
Thither & Yon 