Pole, pole

Mount Kilimanjaro is a long-extinct volcano, for the most part its slopes are relatively gentle. The most coveted point for tourists is Uhuru Peak – a place on the southern side of the volcanic crater which has eroded the least over time. According to the precise measurements taken by the geologists this is the highest point of both Kilimanjaro and the entire continent of Africa, and its altitude is 5895 m above sea level. Uhuru Peak can be reached from four different camps by four different routes, all of which can be traversed without mountaineering equipment, but the climb on any of these trails is very steep. Our guides went for a relatively gentle and therefore longer option. It was estimated that the climb from the last camp to the edge of the crater would take about five hours, and then about another hour along the very edge of the crater, with a steep slope on the outer side and an equally steep slope towards the centre of the extinct crater on the other side.

I don’t really know why, but the climbs are mainly scheduled for night hours, when it is dark. The view of the sunrise is certainly very beautiful at around five in the morning as it can be enjoyed from a considerable height when the sun rises over the adjacent 5149 m high Mavenzi Peak, but, in my opinion, the aesthetic considerations are not the main reason for choosing the night hours. Whatever the reason, there are some benefits to climbing at night. In the light of a headlamp it is only possible to see the feet of the person ahead of you and the anxiety about how far it still is to the edge of the crater or about how steep the slope below us is literally disappears into the darkness of ignorance. And, to be honest, you don’t have to see much, what you need is to slowly, step by step, tread exactly in the footsteps of the person ahead, as the guides repeatedly call: pole, pole – slowly, slowly. Haste or speed do not matter, what is important is just the result, what is important is to climb to the end.

View from above of the 5149-metre high Mavenzi Peak.

The day before, we had gone on a fairly long hike to the last camp – Kibo Hut. The lack of oxygen and almost six hours of hiking had us all exhausted, and when we were served another warm and hearty lunch at around two, no one could think about anything other than crawling into a tent and sleeping. Elia asked us if we wanted a good dinner just before the climb, which was scheduled to start at midnight, but we decided to arrange another proper meal at around seven in the evening and just snack on pancakes and sweets directly before the climb. I slept happily the entire time but Brigita was tormented by pre-climb anxiety and had a hard time falling asleep, so she wasn’t fully rested.

At around nine in the evening I heard strange sounds through my sleep – something kept hitting the roof of the tent. This time it was not rain but hail carried by a fairly strong wind. The snowstorm didn’t let up for a moment and even at midnight, when we, thoroughly bundled up as warmly as possible, lined up, the wind was throwing hard snow right in our faces, that is, in the small patch of skin that was left uncovered under all the hats, hoods and scarves. I think the temperature was no lower than minus five degrees, but it certainly felt much colder. The advice of experienced climbers was to not overdo it with warm clothes, because during the climb we would soon become hot, the clothes would get sweaty and then everything would be much worse. Good thing we didn’t listen to them! I only warmed up a bit during the second hour and then I started to feel sweat gathering between my shoulder blades, meanwhile Brigita, although she had put on all her thick and warm clothes, did not warm up at all and, on the edge of the crater, trembled so terribly that it was difficult to watch.

The snowstorm we named Greta (Greta Thunberg, a strange Swedish girl who frightens everyone with global warming) left in its wake a substantial blanket of snow. As the guides explained, these conditions were significantly, at least by a third, increasing energy consumption and prolonging the climb. Instead of the planned five hours to the edge of the crater the journey took more than seven hours. Elia walked in front followed by our group of five, two porters and Stanford were bringing up the rear. Elia made every step in the thick snow with deliberation, so that it would be as comfortable as possible for the next climber to put their foot down. It’s worth mentioning that the trail is always sloping, so the angle of the ankle when stepping is less than ninety degrees. Using any suitable bump or rock it is possible to place at least a part of the foot in such a way that the heel would be a little higher, so that the angle of the ankle would approach the ergonomically comfortable ninety degrees. We made our way following the serpentine – bend after bend.

Any sense of time abandoned us completely, even my sports watch was discharged, I left it in the tent but it wouldn’t be of much use anyway because my hands were packed in two layers, mittens on top of gloves, and it would also be impossible to slide the jacket sleeve up to see the time. The guides promised that we would rest and drink tea every hour but it seemed to me that the breaks were less frequent. The porters indeed brought tea in large thermoses in their backpacks, and it was very helpful because the tube of my sports drinking system froze soon after midnight. It was then I remembered the recommendations of our instructor Anna related to special thermally insulated drinking systems like the ones our guides used. I tried to squeeze sports gel out of a tube, usually it flows easily like syrup. Now it turned into a chewy mass, which I, through a lot of effort, melted in my mouth with the help of hot tea. That being said, this gel is still better than a chocolate bar, which I could not chew or melt in my mouth at all.

Tea break on the edge of the crater. The snowfall is over but the sun has not risen yet.

 

In conditions of increased oxygen starvation climbers can have different reactions, including dizziness, nausea, drowsiness. To test for this, both Elia and Stanford occasionally shouted, “Papa, how are you doing?” or “Maxim, are you OK?” After about four hours of climbing, I began to feel dizzy and nauseated; I complained to Elia about it, and, to my surprise, he asked what my last name was. Strange that he suddenly had to know this when climbing the mountain. Only later did I realize that it was a test for clarity of consciousness. They sat me down in the snow, poured powdered glucose into my mouth and gave me warm tea to wash it down. Things were even crazier with Brigita – in addition to glucose therapy, she was also hooked up to an oxygen cylinder. In practice, it looks like this: pure oxygen from the cylinder is supplied through two small tubes that are attached to the nostrils. After five minutes of breathing deeply, the body is once again saturated with oxygen and, at least temporarily, is able to function somewhat adequately.

Step by step, one trail bend after another – slowly, slowly.

 Interestingly, the guides would refuse to give specific answers to questions such as, “How far?” or “How long?” They would usually respond with something like: well, no less than half an hour or so. I noticed this peculiarity back during the hikes, and Elia justified it to me with his philosophy – why worry about what will happen? Try to focus on the challenges you currently face! However, the vague answers are probably somehow related to the motivation and psychology of the climbers. If a specific promise is not kept then a feeling of frustration and powerlessness may arise, it is better to learn about deviations from the plans when the mind is overwhelmed by excitement.

For example, when we climbed up to Gilman’s Point, where the trail reaches the edge of the crater, we learned that instead of the planned five hours, we spent seven, but no one was disappointed because the first challenge was completed successfully. We were at an altitude of 5685 m, and we still had 200 vertical metres and about a kilometre and a half through fresh snow ahead of us. The climb to Gilman’s Point exhausted all of Brigita’s strength, she even developed a fever from the cold or nerves, and it was decided that she would not continue on her way up. I dressed her in my spare jacket, and she, accompanied by Stanford and another guide, began her journey downhill, which was not much easier than uphill as the snow became very slippery under the rising sun. After a short tea break, the rest of the group, led by Elia, continued their journey along the upper edge of the crater to the highest point.

Guides Stanford and Aron led Brigita from Gilman’s Point to the camp.

This stage of the climb was the most difficult for me. Elia even tried to trample down the snow before me, but I was a few dozen kilos heavier. And so with almost every step I dropped into the loose snow up to my knee. Each time it was taking a lot of effort to pull the leg out, and the small amount of oxygen in the body would immediately run out, my head would begin to spin from weakness and the feeling of nausea would appear. Such was my struggle for every step. Fortunately, the snowdrifts soon ended and the movement regained its “Pole, pole!” character.

The trail went along the edge of the crater and the depth of the fallen snow reached half a metre in certain places.

I could only admire the guides because they were showing no evidence of physical or mental fatigue. On the contrary, not only were they paving the way and carrying heavy backpacks but also constantly monitoring our physical and mental condition. But then again, it was their everyday job. I asked Elia how many times he had been to the top, to which he honestly responded that he stopped keeping track a long time ago, but that he had certainly climbed to the top well over three hundred times.

The crater edge trail intersects with other trails so it is possible to meet other tourists and guides. At one point, Elia cried happily, “Look, there’s my classmate, we were roommates when we were students!” The two schoolmates met happily, remembering an umbrella one had borrowed from the other, in a word, the situation was reminiscent of a very ordinary scene on a street of the old town. Elia was even trying to introduce us but I was already in such a state that I couldn’t even manage a polite smile. I was just concentrating on staying on my feet and thinking how long the torture would last. I could no longer believe the happy shouts of the returning tourists: “You are almost there!”, nor Elia’s claims that the trek will take “no less than half an hour”.

The white snows of Kilimanjaro. The picture shows both the fresh snow and the glacier.

 

And then, finally, after another turn of the trail, the coveted goal came into view – the summit point, which is marked with an iconic sign with boards hung askew. Only about two hundred metres remained between us and the goal and it was already visible so one would think that now I would be able to pull myself together and get to the finish line quickly. My team members started to walk livelier but I felt like the last of my strength was leaving me. Every thirty metres I was leaning on my climbing sticks and pleading to Elia, “Let me rest for forty seconds, please!”

I have already mentioned various aspects related to the physical functioning of the body. Here it would be appropriate to talk about metal power required to overcome such extreme trials. No matter in how good a shape the body is, if the person decides that the challenge is too difficult, the intended goal will not be achieved. Conversely, even somebody with a less well-trained body can be driven to their limit and beyond by sheer willpower. Just as the guides were able to squeeze the last bit of physical strength out of us with the help of glucose and, if necessary, oxygen, so too they revitalised our mental energy using various clever tricks. There was encouragement, praise, and also little lies about how we were almost there. After the climb Svetlana admitted that she felt very motivated by our example. She would often think that she had no more strength left, but then, looking at us, she decided – if they, people of my parents’ generation, had not given up, then neither will I!

I am aware that I have the capacity to drive myself to the very limit, with my willpower I can force the body to move even when objectively every last drop of strength has already been spent. I have experienced this feeling more than once in sports competitions, for example, during the 24-hour World Orienteering Championship of 2017, I have driven myself so hard that I could not climb on the podium without assistance to receive a medal. Now, at the top of the crater, I was acutely aware that the only thing keeping me on my feet was mental power and not physical ability. I gathered the last of my willpower and yes, here I was – at the highest peak in Africa!

One of the highpoints of my life – the highest peak in Africa.

While my team members danced a victory dance with the guides, Elia sat me down in the snow and attached oxygen tubes to my nostrils. I tried to turn away awkwardly to avoid ruining the shots of the victory dance at the summit with my sad appearance. After just a few minutes of breathing deeply I could feel my mind clearing up and I was able to start thinking about taking photos by the iconic sign – whether it would be better to do it with or without sunglasses and how to arrange clothes so that a photograph that would capture one of the greatest experiences in my life looked decent. The moment the photo was snapped is when I finally felt pride and satisfaction – yes, I’m here, I did it!

Our group at the top of Kilimanjaro.

It had taken us nine hours to climb to the top, it was nine o’clock in the morning and the sun was already starting to warm up. We lingered at the top for a while, enjoying the feeling of euphoria, and then started our descent. Although the downhill trek is also very difficult physically, it was becoming a little easier to breathe every two hundred vertical metres we descended. The downward climb itself was difficult – the sun had melted the snow turning it into slippery sludge, every step had to be measured to avoid falling and getting hurt. The guides mentioned that 90 percent of all climbing injuries actually occur on the way down. Around ten we returned to Gilman’s Point and for the first time ate something other than just gel or glucose powder. I ate one biscuit and one muffin, washed them down with what was left of the tea and was ready for the long descent.

On the way down from the top, I was finally able to appreciate just how beautiful and majestic it was all around. The clouds dispersed and there was a great view from the very top of Kilimanjaro – the snow-capped peaks and slopes, the glistening of a small glacier that hasn’t melted, and the panorama of Africa – tens of kilometres around us, at our feet. The bright sun at the top is very dangerous – it can damage the eyesight, even if the climber only removes sunglasses for a short time, and it is easy to get sunburnt. Every exposed square inch of my body was smeared with a thick layer of sunscreen, of course, but I hadn’t covered my lips and the bottom of my nose properly. It turns out that the sun can burn you not only by shining straight at you, but also when reflected by the snow, so I got a burn in such a strange place as the bottom of my nose. Unfortunately, my lips were burned badly enough to form blisters and I could not fully enjoy my meals for the rest of the trip – the food had to be placed in my mouth very carefully and drinking red wine was really uncomfortable.