Safari time

February 23, 2010

Because we were able to climb the mountain in only 6 days, we had an extra day that we weren’t expecting, and we decided to make the most of it. The same company that took us up the mountain also ran safari tours, and we asked if they would put together a two-day tour for us.

We saw lions and monkeys and elephants, impala, and many other wild animals. We didn’t know that lions slept in trees, but they sure do! We saw about 9 lions in trees, just sleeping away. They looked as docile as could be. The elephants and monkeys came right up to our truck. It was surreal and beautiful.

The most taxing part of the safari was the 5 hour drive it took to get there and back. Looking back, as wonderful as the safari was, after spending 7 days on the mountain, we probably should have just taken those days to rest. 5 hours in a truck there, and 5 hours back really took it’s toll.

Not much more to say about the safari….except….

During our lunch break, James and Kelly got out of the truck to eat their sandwiches, and just as James pulled his out, a giant hawk swooped down and snatched it out of his hand. James didn’t know what had happened for about 10 seconds, except that he was sandwichless. We all got a huge kick out of it. Afterward, James got back into the truck and Dave joined Kelly on the grass. James then proceeded to throw bits of food next to Kelly and Dave, daring the hawks to swoop down and have their lunch. Needless to say, Kelly and Dave were not amused, and held a grudge for the rest of the trip (ok, not really).

I have it all on tape if you want to see.

Day 6, the climb down with Dave

February 22, 2010

…we were finished. Mountain climbed. Summit reached. Goal accomplished. The Heavens seen, and nearly touched. I had bonded with my brothers, and exhausted my endurance. My body smiled with relief, ever-grateful that there were no more inclines, no more hurdles, no more “more”. The day seemed to just be dawning, and I could look down on the face of the earth, and stare in awe.

The only thing left was the climb down. Surely it would be a breeze, filled with laughter, speed and joy, and no more pain.

It didn’t exactly go that way.

The mountain stared me in the eye, and invited me down it’s narrow face. James and Kelly swiftly moved ahead, at almost double the speed of Dave and me. Though my body had much relief to be finally on a decline, I still was recovering from the gruelling climb up, and moreso from the emotional rollercoaster that had befalled me on this last day.

I took my time, enjoying the view, snapping pictures, and reveling in the glow of the sun. Dave and I stopped every 100 yards or so to soak in the scene. As we headed down toward the crest of Stella Point, the decline became steep. The terrain was snow and mud, yet the warm sun gave us a sense of security that belied reality.

We “skiied” down the mountain, skating and sliding down from side to side in the deep powder. Other climbers watched us in wonder, perhaps questioning our sanity. As the snow faded, we reached the mud, and continued the same skating motion. We fell frequently, but it was always a soft landing, so we forged ahead. We could no longer see James and Kelly, though we knew they were eager to get to the tent for some shut eye, and we gave their absense no thought. Emmanuel stayed with us though, careful to make sure we did not progress too quickly.

On the trek down, Dave and I connected in a way that I never would have guessed we would. We started talking about exercise and nutrition, and I learned that he used to be a trainer, and had many great tips about healthy living.

Dave was an Army Reserve veteran, and even more amazingly, a cancer survivor. His battle with cancer had challenged him in ways that I could not understand, though the inner strength he had shown all week suddenly made sense.

Dave was adopted as a young boy, and was raised by two loving and compassionate parents. Sadly, he lost both his parents prematurely over the last 15 years. He was Colombian by descent, and after his adoptive parents passed away, he had searched for and found his birth mother, and reconnected with her and his entire extended family. He seemed to have a good relationship now with her, and she was able to explain the circumstances of her choice to put him up for adoption. The layers of this man kept peeling away, and “strength through trial” seemed to be the theme at each level. I’m sure his family knew far more than I of this fortitude that was ever present within this new friend of mine.

Dave loved the Lord, and appreciated all that God had given him, despite the deep pain that he had endured in his short 44 years. He also loved his wife. He often spoke of her as “very beautiful”, always over-emphasizing the “very” part. He seemed to love her more than he could often explain. I could only imagine the trials that they had endured together over the last 16 years.

His children meant the world to him as well. When he spoke of them, his face lit up with a joy that only a parent would understand. Each of his children seemed to excite him in a different way, and he relished talking about them and showing off their pictures.

As we discussed food and health, we transitioned into talking about our food vices, and we both began to laugh more and more. Dave loved Snickers, and his daughter Lauren would often buy one for him on special occasions. I couldn’t help but smile when he told me that story.

I told Dave about my weakness for Double-Stuf Oreos, and popcorn at the movies. We laughed at how many more food vices we had than we thought (well, it was really me who had the endless vices, I think for Dave it was just his beloved Snickers).

Dave and I grew up in completely different worlds, politically, socially, and historically, and we really had no business connecting like we did. But we laughed and laughed and laughed anyway. We both loved movies, and even moreso we loved quoting movie lines. We had gotten stuck on A Few Good Men, and every time one of us would recite a line, the other one would get a smirk and smile, and end up in stiches. James would join us occasionally, but for the most part, this was how Dave and I would bond, and we would revert back to it whenever we needed a laugh again. We’d often slip back into a tense moment when politics or social issues arose, but inevitably, Jack Nicholson or Tom Cruise would snap us out of it with one of those classic zingers.

“Colonel? Why the two orders?”.

I guess you had to be there.

I think of Dave’s wife and his children often, and I wonder if they know what a wonderful man they have in him. His desire to love and protect them is as strong as I’ve ever seen, and I pray that I will be able to have those same qualities one day for my family.

We continued down the mountain, and stopped as we saw a fallen climber. There were 8 or 9 people huddled around him, attending to what looked like a hurt leg. We found out later that he had broken his leg on the climb down, perhaps trying to skate as Dave and I had done earlier. We wondered how he would traverse down the rest of the 18,000 feet.

We stopped at our tent after about a 2 hour trek down, and we rested.

After more tea, we continued down the mountain again, and the terrain turned from snow to rock. Kelly moved ahead of us, and James, Dave and I moved carefully down the unsteady rocks together. About 30 minutes in, we came across another fallen climber. This time it was a porter who was down. He was on the ground, writhing in pain, with apparently part of his bone sticking out of his leg, though it was covered by his pants leg. He was in bad shape. The other porters already had him on a stretcher and were preparing to carry him down the mountain. We stopped and asked if we could pray for him, and James and Dave led us all in a quick prayer. The porter seemed grateful, though maybe surprised. We then continued down the rocks on our way down to the next resting spot, hoping and praying that those two fallen climbers would get to safety quickly.

The rocks were about as trecherous as you could imagine. Though I doubt anything could compare to the struggle of climbing up the mountain, these rocks seemed determined to take that crown away from the memory in my worn body.

Suddenly, for the first time in 6 days, my legs started to hurt. Then my knees started to hurt. And finally my feet. The climb up really only challenged my lungs, but this climb down would reveal my againg bones, and would force me to stop far more than I wanted to. Each step was careful, and one false move would have put us in the same situation as those other two fallen men. Our boots were put to the ultimate test.

About half way down, we all ran out of water, and though we knew we’d get some at the next stop, we suddenly realized how reliant our bodies are on this one substance.

We made it down safely, but it was about as physically difficult as any of the days on the way up. Our bodies hurt, especially our legs. We were ready for our time on the mountain to be over.

I was the youngest of the climbers by 4 years, yet I felt that I was hurting the most. Well, I guess I’ll have to go back to the gym once I’m back in NYC. I was the slowest on this trek, but I won’t let that happen again.

Day 6, The Summit Summons (by Kelly)

This was written by Kelly, describing his ascent toward the summit on the last day. Make sure to look at the other “summit” blogs by Dave, James and Ryan.

February 22, 2010

Kelly Boyle:

After several days in the rain, my hopes for a clear summit day were low. But low and behold, upon our awaking at 11:45pm, Dave exclaimed, “I see stars!”. We all shook the cobwebs out of our head, exited our sleeping bags and put on the needed gear. To my delight, the temperatures were relatively warm and comfortable (especially as compared to the NW peaks of the USA). We clicked on our headlamps, grabbed our poles, and assembled to follow our trusty guide Emmanuel.

Throughout the trip, we enjoyed many laughs. But at this time of night, it’s no laughing matter. We had heard stories of altitude sickness and pulmonary edema. In my mind, I was as susceptible to these as anybody. I wasn’t sure what to expect. So we did what we knew best, and that is to put one foot in front of the other and start up the hill.

Because of the Polé Polé philosophy (slow, slow) my heart rate and breathing rate was within a comfortable level. My mind wandered from my family to my faith to the challenge ahead. Soon dawn began to break, and the next thing I knew, we were kickin’ the rock at Stella Point. A cup of hot tea prepared us for the final stretch. Now began my favorite part of the climb. As the sun began to rise so my spirit was lifted. I was praising the Lord for the beauty all around me. It’s hard to describe how magnificent it reallly is at the top of this mountain. It seemed like every tongue, tribe and nation was gathered at the summit. We high-fived and hugged and shot the obligatory photos.

I wondered at that point where Ryan and Emmanuel were. To my great surprise, we met up with them about a half mile from the summit. I will never forget the joy I felt to see Ryan, and then turn around and walk side by side with him back to the summit at Uhuru Peak. This adventure has got to be the most exhilarating of my life (that is until James comes up with something better).

Day 6, The Summit Summons (by Dave)

This was written by Dave, describing his ascent toward the summit on the last day. Make sure to look at the other “summit” blogs by Kelly, James and Ryan.

February 22, 2010

Dave Solomon:

We had just climbed and hiked 6 1/2 hours, mostly in the rain, after scaling the great Barranco wall. My legs were weary of going up and down seemingly neverending ridgelines and valleys, but after 5 days of doing the same, it really didn’t matter at this point.

After arriving at Barrafu Camp, eating a quick dinner, we were able to get about 3 1/2 hours of sleep before being awakened to the familiar voice of “Good morning, hello. Tea?”. Our final leg to the summit was at hand.

I was pleased I had not encountered altitude sickness up to this point, and felt like the training I had done in preparation for the climb had paid off so far. I was able to keep pace with the seasoned Kelly and James mountaineering duo, although they seemed to be breathing with less effort than me. As we started up the summit from 4600 meters, as I looked up into darkness, I could see a long line of headlamps weaving their way up the mountain from groups that had departed before us. They seemed to go on forever and ever like an ant trail. The stars sparkled brighter than I had ever seen, I’m sure due to the high altitude and being on the equator. The heavens seemed closer.

Emmanuel would lead us from the start. About 2 hours in we encountered snow. At 3 hours, my feet began to get cold. The terrain was like walking up endless steep flights of stairs, with switchbacks every 20 feet or so. I thank God for climbing poles. Just using my legs I believe would have been impossible, and more than likely would have added 2 hours to the climb.

I kept on thinking I’ve never done anything close to this type of physical endurance and mental stamina over a 7 day period, even recalling the past training I had in the Army.

My calves were burning and my heart was racing, and all I could think about was not quitting, and not letting the guys down. The verse “The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak” came to life on this morning.. Two years ago I had gone through major bladder cancer surgery, followed by 4 months of chemo, and was not sure what my physical limitations would be. But after 5 days into our climb, it became apparent that I wouldn’t be held back by the cancer battle.

It was rough when Ryan had to stay back with Emmanuel, as Elias, James, Kelly and I pushed ahead. I wanted to stay back with him, but had to rely on the advice of our guides, and their experience.

As the horizon began to lighten behind us, I would take a few steps forward, and then look behind me not wanting to miss a single frame of the approaching sunrise. It was an amazing sight. Periodically, Elias would say, “Short rest right here”, and then after a minute or two, “Ok guys, Pole Pole, Hakuna Matata, let’s go”.

As we reached Stella Point, I was thrilled to hear Elias say, “Conrats gents, the hard part is over.” We all hugged with excitement and relief. After 5 hours, we still had 1 more hour to reach Uhuru Peak.

The sun was now illuminating the mountain and glaciers around us. I snapped picture after picture. I could hardly tell where heaven and earth met. It really can’t be put into words. It must been seen and experienced with your own eyes, and the physical exhaustion made it even more gratifying. God’s full majesty in creation was on display.

As we approached the sign wearing our World Vision shirts, displayed proudly, the thought occurred to me that only downhill steps would happen from here. After taking some quick photos, we headed back down, surprisingly to encounter Ryan coming up with Emmanuel, and did the only right thing, we all four headed back to the sign as a team. Again we took photos of all 4 of us, which delighted us all.

Heading back down to the camp again, would take longer than I anticipated. Kelly and James had gone ahead with Elias, and Ryan and I took our time and got to know each other and share some common food vices (Snickers!) and cravings that we looked forward to upon returning to the civilized world.

It was sobering to see some porters splinting the broken leg of a climber just off the trail on the way down. We weren’t safe yet. After we made it back to Barrafu Camp, all I could think about was victory and my sleeping bag.

What an experience!

Day 6, The Summit Summons (by James)

This was written by James, describing his ascent toward the summit on the last day. Make sure to look at the other “summit” blogs by Kelly, Dave and Ryan.

February 22, 2010

James Leonard:

While we have all been tested both physically and emotionally, we have passed through 5 different Eco-climates, ranging from rain forests, moor lands, the shira plateau, to the alpine desert and over steep hills and vast plateaus.

We logged more than 35 hours of hiking in 5 days when we arrived at the Barrafu basecamp. We saved a day by pushing on past the camp at Karanga Valley, cutting our overall ascent from 7 days to 6. We were all very tired, but the thought of sparing ourselves from another sleepless night in a wet tent filled with sounds and smells that some would consider torture, was more than enough to drive us on. I must confess that I was a significant contributor when it came to the sounds of snoring, etc. I told the guys that my wife Elizabeth often wakes me up out of my deep slumber accompanied by my wilderbeast-like bellowing with the loving yet direct command, “Turn, hub!” Apparently I only snore when I am sleeping on my back. At one point Dave told me that he had considered giving the command a try, but didn’t. His restraint may have been due to the fact that we first met a few days earlier, or perhaps because I’m not his “hub”. I will not take responsibility for the unusual smells, however. Kelly is in the clear on that front as well. One morning I observed as Kelly was washing his entire upper body with Wet Wipes. I thought this was a stroke of genius and took the Wet Wipes cleansing to the next level. Ryan and Dave thought this was strange and probably thought that the altitude was getting to me, but I felt baby fresh, and Kelly backed me up on my creative hygiene techniques.

So once we arrived at Barrafu Camp, (15,419 ft.), after hiking 6 hours through the rain, we were feeling the ache in our muscles and the lack of oxygen. Ryan and I both had headaches and we were all very happy to have Diamox and Advil. We then had about 3.5 hours of rest in our tents before our night ascent. We awoke to hot tea, put on our headlamps, checked our gear, and headed for the summit. I felt a keen sense of pride to be sharing this experience with 3 truly great men of God. Being on a mountain like this is an incredible catalyst for regaining a true sense of perspective (how insignificant we are and how great God is). With each step toward the summit the air grew thinner and our pace was so slow I was getting cold. The hand warmers in my gloves helped, but it wasn’t enough. Seeing guides bringing people down who had failed to reach the summit was also concerning. At first our two guides wanted to keep us together, but soon realized that the best course of action was to separate us. Emmanuel would stay with Ryan and progress at a slower pace, while Kelly, Dave and I would pick up the pace with our other guide Elias. We were torn about leaving Ryan behind, but trusted the experiece of our guides who had both summited more than 40 times. I was still feeling cold and my calves were burning. The ascent had become more of a mental challenge than a physical one at this point. We were all taking it one step at a time as we closed in on Stella Point. It was at this point that Elias told us to sit and rest for awhile. He then surprised us by taking out a thermos of hot tea. We each had a quick drink and then continued on. Once we made it to Stella Point, we were convinced that we would summit.

It was just a half hour before dawn and we could see the sky beginning to turn from clear and dark, to grey with shades of pink and red. We dropped our packs, hugged, and then pulled out our World Vision shirts from our packs and put them on. We then began the last part of our trek toward the summit as the sun was rising behind us. The view was magnificent and it seemed especially beautiful since we had seemingly met the sun half way. Never had I climbed so high that my ears popped. This last hour to the peak would prove to be a significant challenge, but the warm sun, the majestic views, and the sense of accomplishment that awaited us at the summit seemed to cancel out my fatigue. When Kelly, Dave and I possed for our pictures with our World Vision shirts, it was so sweet, but my heart was heavy that Ryan was not with us.

After waiting about an hour and a half, there was still no sign of Ryan, so we assumed that he must have turned back. By now we were feeling rested and warmed by the sun so we asked our guide Elias if he would be willing to hike with us to the crater. By doing so, we would climb down by a different route to our camp. At first Elias said “yes”, but then realized that he did not have his goggles or protective eyewear with him and was afraid that his eyes would be burned by the glare. Several years back I had been skiing on a bright sunny day without sunglasses or goggles and had burned by eyes. It was one of the most painful 3 days I can remember. I couldn’t open my eyes, and any light at all was simply unbearable, so I completely understood his decision, and we decided to go down the mountain the same way we had come up. As we neared Stella Point, I was in disbelief when I saw Ryan in the distance continuing his ascent with the help of Emmanuel, our other guide. Ryan was taking one baby step at a time, and he had a lifeless expression on his face and was unresponsive to our screams of joy. It reminded me of watching one of those marathons where a few stragglers drag their bodies past the breaking point, refusing to be conquered, and insisting on finishing the race. When we got closer, we could see that Ryan had nothing left, but we insisted that he would summit, even if we had to carry him. Arm in arm, we made our way toward the summit. Soon the summit was within sight, and we counted down the last 100 steps. Tears were rolling down Ryan’s face, and Kelly was 2 steps behind reciting Scripture verses. When we reached the summit togeter, and Ryan pulled out his World Vision shirt for our victory shot, we realized that we had accompished something greater than summiting the highest walkable mountain in the world, at 19,340 feet. We had found the strength to test the limits of our natural ability. God had given us the strength and He had gven us the joy of accomplishing this feat together, nevermind the matter of getting down.

We had reached the summit.

Day 6, The Summit Summons (by Ryan)

Here is my own description of the ascent toward the summit on the last day. Make sure to look at the other “summit” blogs by Kelly, Dave and James.

February 22, 2010

Ryan Bailer:

I woke today with pain, fear, dissapointment, nausea, and a great desire to be back in my bed in Brooklyn.

Somehow, however, I was not as exhausted as I thought I’d be. I had a healthy excitement brewing inside me, while all the time knowing that I most likely would not be able to make it to the top. After barely being able to move more than 10 feet at a time the day before, I could not imagine attempting an even harder and colder climb today, with only a headlamp and the sounds of footsteps ahead of me leading the way.

We all awoke around 11:30pm, which gave us only about 3 hours sleep after finishing our dinner around 7:30pm, only hours earlier. We were scheduled to head to the summit around midnight, in 30 minutes. I didn’t dare suggest that I couldn’t make it, and I had a rebellious spirit rising inside me, which didn’t want to admit to what I couldn’t do. I was going on only 6 hours sleep total for the last 5 days, and at some point, I knew my body would take control away from me, turn itself off, and force sleep.

We dressed quickly, were offered our usual tea, coffee & hot chocolate, and then waited outside for each other to finish individual preparations.

Emmanuel was waiting for us, though he was not his usual chipper self. He seemed tired, or maybe even a bit annoyed. I could have been reading into him a little, but something seemed off. I never considered for even a moment that he may have been feeling the effects of the mountain too, since he had made this trip more than 40 times before.

The mountain to Emmanuel was like a resting place. He was connected to it, and relished talking about it’s features and many moods. He dreamed of being married at the summit, and James (a pastor) even offered to marry him and his bride, if Emmanuel would like. His slow and steady steps over the last 6 days were a comfort to us all, and his imprint on this adventure had been profound beyond measure. Emmanuel was a character who colored each day. You need only look at his David Lee Roth spandex tights to know that he was unique.

Everyone was ready.

But I did not see Elias.

Elias was my rock. He did not start out with us 6 days ago, because he stayed back to pick up Dave, and then joined us on day two. Once he came though, he was a steady presence on my hikes, always watching out for the last man standing.

“Pole, Pole, Ryan, take it slow. One step at a time. You can do it”, Elias would say in that distinct African accent that had become less difficult to understand as each day passed. Where he was today, I did not know.

We all were dressed, water bottles full, headlamps on, extra batteries packed, extra layers put on, and were ready to begin. It was pitch black, so our headlamps would be our only visual guide for the next 5 hours. Emmanuel had Dave directly behind him, and asked that I follow second, and then James and Kelly would support the rear. This was odd, since I usually stayed in the back, but I suppose Emmanuel wanted to make sure I didn’t fall behind. A new assistant guide, Geoffrey, joined us for this last trek, and he brought up the rear.

The only missing piece was my friend Elias. I wondered where he was, but was too tired to inquire.

Emmanuel started us off slowly, slower than in past days. Almost immediately my breathing became heavy, panting, heavier perhaps than previously, though to me it had become normal. After 2 minutes, Emmanuel turned and asked if I was ok, and I defianty said that I was.

We moved on.

Another 2 minutes, and Emmanuel asked again, and this time asked why I was breathing so heavily (I wondered where he had been all week!). I did not understand why this was news to him, as it had been consistent since day 1. However, perhaps my time with Elias was so extensive that Emmanuel no longer realized what a struggle each step had been for me. I assured him that I was ok, and that this breathing was normal.

He seemed concerned.

We trudged ahead, the goal being to make it to the summit before 6:30am, where we would be able to see the sunrise at the “Roof of Africa”. I had very little care for the sunrise, and only wanted to reach the top. Also, deep down, I knew that I would not be there in time to see that beauty. I suspected that I would not be there at all.

We continued to move upward, and the mountain became as steep as ever. Snow was the regular terrain for the first time all week. Our gear had served us loyally, and would be put to the test today, and most of us were using our last clean pieces of shirts, shocks and sweaters.

As we looked ahead, we could see small dots of light slowly climbing the mountain ahead of us. Other groups, maybe 10 or 20 in total, were all joining us for this final effort. My climbing mates wondered if we had begun too late, and if we might therefore miss the sunrise. I did not share their concern, though I still did not want to let them down.

The boys had been full of grace and understanding all week. They supported me as I struggled, had grace for me as I lashed out, and encouraged me when I was weak. They were good men, strong and sure, always willing to help with whatever was put in front of them. I wondered what they thought of me, this younger brash Detroiter/New Yorker who seemed to switch moods with the weather. I wondered if they secretly wanted to move ahead without me. James was one of my best friends, though even that friendship seemed strained at this point. Though good intentioned, I felt pressured with his desire to push us forward, and I often did not tell him when I wanted to go in a different direction. Why I struggled so much to speak up, I do not know. Kelly and Dave were new in my life, and Kelly’s first impression of me was watching me argue with a flight attendant over a metal box at my feet. What do they say about first impressions again?

Dave and I got along well, except when talking politics, which I think we secretly decided to cease doing somehwere in the middle of the week. Since then, we got along well, though I knew we really hadn’t yet connected. That would come later, though.

At this point, Dave was feeling anxious about missing the sunrise. He urged Emmanuel to move faster, perhaps not realizing that I could barely keep up with the current pace. It was hard to believe that he couldn’t know how I felt, though I suspect that we always think that our own perspective is the one that others have too. My arrogance and self-centeredness was never more apparent.

We kept moving upward, never seeming to cover much ground. We had only been told an estimate of 5-6 hours to get to the summit, and without any visual through the black night sky, time was our only way to know how far away we were.

Surely with the snail’s pace we were taking, we would not meet that goal.

We rested once, each eating some supplements, and drinking our water. Kelly shed a layer, as our sweat was heating our bodies at an uncomfortable rate, despite the bitter cold. Tunzo, the owner of the company, warned us against wearing too much clothing on the last day, as your sweat may freeze, and then you’d be in a dire situation.

We finished our break.

We moved on.

An hour and half into the climb, Emmanuel could see that I was not going to be able to keep up, so he stopped us all, and told Elias, who had joined us about 30 minutes earlier, to take Kelly, James and Dave separately, and he would stay with me. He said that we’d try to keep up, but not to wait for us.

I knew what that meant. His careful phrasing did not mask the fact that I was not going to be able to finish this climb.

What he didn’t know was that I needed Elias by my side. I had come to trust him so much at this point, I did not think that anyone else could help me, not even the flamboyant and ever cheerful Emmanuel, who was also as experienced as anyone. But he sent Elias on with the others, perhaps feeling a responsibility to make sure I was safe, and perhaps still feeling the affects of weariness himself. His stomach had been bothering him that morning as well.

As the guys moved ahead, my spirits dropped. I didn’t realize it until now, but always seeing them ahead of me each day had been comforting. As we climbed, they slowly became smaller and smaller and smaller, and soon their headlamps got lost amongst the other climbers, and I was now left to my own will power. My friends could no longer support me. Emmanuel would be my guide alone, and the mountain suddenly became more intimidating than I had ever imagined.

I moved on.

Emmanuel was not as understanding to my struggles as Elias, often wanting me to go faster than I thought I could. I asked him to rest often, and wanted to close my eyes for just a moment. He did not want to stop, nor rest for long when we did stop. I suppose he knew better than I what was needed.

As slow as we were going, we amazingly passed a couple of slower groups ahead of us. After what seemed like an eternity, I looked down at my watch, and it was almost 5am.

The night began to fade, and daylight slowly threatened to fill the sky. I wondered where the guys were, and if they’d make it in time. I looked up, but could only see more mountain. Surely they were close. They looked strong when I left them, and I know their adrenaline was at an all time high. I was hopeful that they would make it, and that they would be fulfilled.

My fingers began to freeze, and I was suddenly aware of my toes for the first time all week. I stopped Emmanuel and opened up a package of glove warmers, which I had always used when skiing. They didn’t help as much as I wanted, but anything was better than freezing. I had shed my fleece about 3 hours previous, but now I wanted it back on. I was too tired though to shed all my gear just to add a fleece, so I just trudged on without it.

As the darknesss began to fade, my body slowed down. I had trouble standing straight, and often would wobble from side to side. My coordination was no longer sharp, and each small step I took was earned only after great concentration. My mind began to tell me that I could not continue, and that turning around was the only option. I had this conversation in my head maybe a dozen times, and after each one, I started to form the words, “Emmanuel, I need to stop. I’m done.” But even speaking did not come easily, as if my mouth was too cold to obey my commands.

As my lungs began to heave, and as my legs refused to lift, I reached a point where my body simply would not continue. Moving one foot in front of another would no longer happen by my own accord, and I began to weep. Emmanuel was far ahead of me, and it felt as if I was alone on top of this massive massive mountain.

I cried out to the God, amidst my tears, and told Him that I could not go on.

“Lord, I can’t do it anymore. I am not strong enough. My body is weak, and I just want it to be over. If you want me to go up this mountain, then You will have to do it for me. It can’t happen any other way.”

My tears were overwhelming. The metaphor of climbing a mountain was not foreign to me, but never had it meant so much, and for so many reasons. Suddenly all my failures came rushing back to my mind, and all of my regrets. I knew that this would be one more added to the list. Perhaps I was not “special”, like all of our parents tell us we are. Perhaps I was just normal, or maybe I was insignificant, and of little reknown. I had made it up 5/6th of this mountain, but the last 6th would only be for those who were blessed.

An hour earlier, Emmanuel had taken my daypack from me, an offer which I refused the day before when Elias made the same request, and one which I refused also when Emmanuel requested it on the start of this trek. However, this time he did not ask. He simply took it from me, knowing that he would need to make great sacrifices if he was going to get me to the top. I did not refuse, and the weight lifted was appreciated. He now had one backpack on his back, and one on his front.

My daypack had my water though, and I needed that more than ever. Emmanuel often would stop me and force me to drink, making sure each time that I had enough.

It was now nearly 7am. The sun was beginning to peak itself over the horizon, and as I turned around, I realized that I was looking down on the clouds. It was not something I was used to, though we had already experieced it earlier in the week. This time was different though. It was as if I was on top of the world, where the jumbo jets live, and closer to the heavens. An awesome fear overtook me, and drew me in. I could not turn away from the beauty, yet I was overwhelmed by the power below and above. The Lord had surrounded me with His presence.

The sun began to climb closer and closer to the horizon, and I slowly made a grab for my camera. I only hoped that the pictures would do justice to the scene. Emmanuel, who had been urging me on whenever I stopped, seemed to recognize the significance of the moment, and let me take as many shots as I needed.

“Then the Lord answered Job out of the storm. He said:
Have you ever given orders to the morning, or shown the dawn its place, that it might take the earth by the edges…”
Job 38:1, 12-13

I took picture after picture, glorying in the beauty that was being painted on the horizon. The sun had yet to officially show itself, yet it’s glow was overpowering the sky, spreading itself from corner to corner. All of the land was being touched, and it was almost impossible to look away for even a second. You simply didn’t want to miss a stroke of this creation.

As I put my camera away, Emmanuel pointed ahead to the top of the mountain to Stella Point and said that that was our goal. I could see other climbers already there, taking pictures, posing, mingling. They seemed almost close enough to touch, but I knew we has at least another hour to go.

The pace of the climb is not something you can really grasp until you do it. It’s like you are walking in slow motion. One step, pause, pause, pause… another step, pause, pause, pause, and then another… The story of the Tortoise and the Hare suddenly came to my mind, and I smiled, knowing definitely which role I would be cast in.

I moved on.

Now the sun had arrived. The heat was a welcome addition, and the light gave us hope. As we inched closer and closer to Stella Point, I could feel a last rush of energy flow inside of me. Emmanuel, my steady partner, asked how I felt, and I told him I was ok. I knew the end was near, and I wondered if the guys had already been here, and had gone back down. Surely they would have seen me by now on their way down, yet there was no sign of them. I would not doubt if they were 2 hours ahead of me, or maybe even 3. I knew I had missed my moment to celebrate with them, or even to congratulate them.

My legs moved forward, and I came to the crest, and I wondered if there would be a sign, or a plackard, or other set “place” that was the official summit, but I saw nothing. Other climbers passed by, and could see my anguish, and they kindly offered their congratulations and encouragement. A few of them said, “You’re almost there” and “Keep going, you’re gonna make it”, but I did not know where I was going. I turned to Emmanuel and asked, “Where is the end?”

What he told me next almost broke my heart. He pointed off to the distance, upward again, and said that we had another hour to go. Stella Point was just goal #1.

My legs softened, and I didn’t know what to say. All this time I thought that Stella Point was the goal, but it was only a waypoint. The summit was still an hour away, and I felt too tired to even pray for God’s help. I thought of Him anyway, and wondered why He had me here.

“My soul is in anguish.
How long, O Lord, how long?
Turn, O Lord, and deliver me;
Save me because of your unfailing love.
I am worn out from the groaning;
My eyes grow weak with sorrow”
Psalm 6:3-4, 6, 7

One foot was placed in front of the other.

I moved on.

Each climber we passed who was heading down, offered encouragement. They had just been where I was, and they knew that the difference between coming and going was profound.

Some of the land was flat, and it was a welcome change to the uphill battle that had been the norm for the last 7 hours. But most of it was slightly inclined, and even the smallest incline seemed to be too much.

I moved on.

Emmanuel went slowly ahead of me, continuing to hold my bag and his own, amazingly.

After 15 minutes of the crawl, something changed. I felt something, but I did not know what it was. It was a small tug, like from a child wanting your attention, yet there was no one around. Did I hear something? Was it Emmanuel? No, it was too far away, and he had his back to me.

Slowly, but surely, the tug revealed itself, and the screams became clear. I was hearing something, like when you hear your name on a crowded subway. The screams grew louder with each step, and as I lifted my head, I saw a tall figure waving his arms wildly, yelling…

“RYAN!!”

“RYAN!!”

“RYAN!!”

“YEAH, IT’S RYAN!”

It was James, my loyal friend and leader, and the guys were right beside him. They were on their way down from the summit, assuming that I was not going to make it, sure that they would just see me at the tent. They waited as long as they were able, and they swore that if they saw me, they would turn back around and summit with me again.

And that’s exactly what they did.

At this point I could barely stay straight. I often would lose my balance and fall off to the side. Emmanuel was concerned that I not stand too close to the edge for fear that I would stumble down off the mountain. The guys could see that I was hurting, and they began to help. James offered to put my arm around his shoulders, but I first refused. Kelly began to offer encouragement to me from behind, saying, “Ryan, you’re doing great, man. Keep going.”, and “You’re almost there brother, you’re gonna make it.”. He then began to recite Scripture to me, which brought on more tears. I thought of his boys, and what a strong and sure figure they had in their dad. I began to weep openly, and bowed my head, and my legs buckled. Dave began to sing praise songs on my right, and James’ presence in the rear was like a firm foundation. I wish their wives could have been their to see their husbands, as I’m sure the women would have felt that rush of joy that reminds us of why we create unions at all.

The guys had surrounded me, and would will me to the top. As I slumped, James took my left arm and swung it over his shoulder, Dave did the same with my right. I began to rest my head on James’ shoulder, and the tears came more frequently.

I could see the end.

I moved on.

When you reach the summit of Mount Kilimanjaro, you don’t have to ask if you’ve made it. You know you’re there. Not only are there other climbers taking photos in front of the very basic sign, but it feels like “the top”. The view of the rest of the sky suddenly becomes focused, and it’s as if everything has been made right for just a moment.

As they all celebrated, all I could do was rest. I could not speak. My celebration was just to be there. I could not believe that only a few hours earlier, I had cried out to God, telling Him that I could not go on on my own.

But He had gotten me here, to the top, when I could move no longer. He reminded me Who’s world this is, and that I will always be in need of Him, though it may not always be on top of a mountain. It is His mountain, and I am His.

The other guys were as excited as I’ve ever seen them, and they were eager to get a photo of us all at the top. They were dissapointed that they could only take the photo of the 3 of them 2 hours earlier. Now, our journey was complete.

Emmanuel and I connected on the ascent in a way that I can not describe. When I saw him at the bottom, I embraced him and said, “Thank you”. He does not know how helpful he was to me, and I am glad that he was there.

My trek to the top of the mountain was not what I expected it to be, but I’m finding that life is almost never what I expect it to be.

“I will praise you, O Lord, with all my heart;
I will tell of all your wonders.
I will be glad and rejoice in you;
I will sing praise to your name, O Most High.”
Psalm 9:1-2

Summits abound

Over the next two days, I will be uploading a “final ascent” post from each of us, describing our final ascents toward the summit. Hopefully it will give you a different taste of what it was like for each of us individually, since we all had such different experiences. Some of the posts will be quite long, so make sure to scroll down to have a chance to see them all (you may miss a post because the latest one may be so long…James is such a talker!)

I apologize for the lack of photos, even though I said I’d post more. Whoops. The cell signals come and go, and it’s often hard to know that’ll be. Thanks for your patience, and I’ll try to get those photos up soon!

Photos coming!

Hey all. So sorry that I haven’t been able to post photos lately. However, today I’ll be posting photos for previous posts, so make sure to go back to older posts and take a look.

These are just photos I’ve taken with my iPhone, not with my/our good camera (those we won’t have until we return).

Enjoy!

Day 5, hike to Barafu, part 2

What began for me today as a fun climb, including the rock wall, bouncy clouds, and trekking through the rain (ok, that last one wasn’t exactly “fun”), ended as one of the hardest physical days of my life. After the hike this morning, we stopped for lunch, where I swapped out my wet clothes for dry ones, and then we had a discussion with our lead guide Emmanuel about whether or not we should continue hiking through the rain to Barafu, sleep for a few hours and then continue to the summit at midnight….OR….stay at our lunch spot and for the night, rest, dry out, and recover mentally from all the rain, and then go to Barafu and then summit the next day. After much deliberation, we decided to continue to Barafu immediately, through the rain and messiness, and basically just trudge through.

Unfortunately, my body had other plans.

For the most part, although I’ve been the weakest climber of the group, I’ve been able to keep up enough so that the other guys aren’t waiting too long for me at each rest stop. This day was different. I got to a point where I couldn’t walk more than 10 feet without stopping to rest. I think it was the combination of not getting any sleep for 2 days straight, hiking at 15,000+ feet altitudes, always trying to keep up with these crazy monkey-spider-climbing friends of mine , and just plain exhaustion. My body just didn’t want to do it anymore. Luckily, I had a great 2nd guide, Elias, who stayed back with me to encourage me along the way. His mantra was always “Pole, Pole” (pronounced “Poe-lee”), which means “Slowly, slowly”, and he never pushed me harder.

I don’t think I mentioned before that I’ve had trouble breathing the whole trip, mainly because I can’t breath through my nose. I’ve had two deviated septum surgeries in the last 5 years, and neither have really helped much. Regardless, because I have to always breathe through my mouth, it sounds like I’m panting and breathing really hard and heavy, and frankly, I am. I think the guys just got used to it on previous days, but this day was different. Even I was surprised at how often I needed to stop to catch my breath.

Amazingly, James and Kelly just kept going like Energizer bunnies. Those guys are serious machines. I think they are slipping some ‘roids in their pooridge each morning or something, because nothing stops them. They actually seem to be getting stronger each day. James in particular. A couple days, he was 50 feet ahead of the GUIDES! I think he worked out so much before the trip, he really should have been climbing Everest. The guy is a freak. Mark McGuire ain’t go nothin’ on this guy.

Kelly is right behind him too. He doesn’t climb up as quickly as James, but he is as steady as a Volvo 98S70…he just keeps going and going and going, as strong as an oak. Amazing. I bet his kids love jumping all over him like a jungle gym.

Dave has been strong too, but on this day, I FINALLY had a partner in the back of the pack. As I was struggling up that molehill, he turned to me and said he was hurting just as much. I can’t tell you how great it felt to have someone to struggle alongside with, even if it was just for a day.

Well, we got to the tent, wet, tired, and worn out, excited to summit, but also needing sleep desperately. We were scheduled to sleep for only a few hours and then start our ascent at midnight, but we considered putting it off for a day just to rest. But we wanted that goal, and we didn’t want to wait. I can’t say I really knew what I wanted, as I was hurting so much, it felt like I should just stop. I’m not sure any of the other guys really knew how much I was struggling, and to their defense, I didn’t exactly speak up. I asked the guides about the summit climb, and they assured me that I shouldn’t worry.

I wish I could say that that was comforting.

I truly did not think I was going to be able to make it, and I considered telling the guys that I would just wait in the tent, and I’d be there waiting for them when they returned.

I didn’t say anything though. Instead, I just tried to sleep, so many things in my life just swirling around in my head.

Zzzzzzz…..

(P.S. No photos for this post…I was so wiped, and the rain was so heavy, I didn’t get a chance to pull out my camera/iPhone)

Day 5, hike to Barafu, part 1 (by Ryan)

February 21, 2010

Last night was colder than usual, and I had to stay covered the entire night. The day started off beautifully, with the sun shining, and no rain in sight. We had to climb a giant wall today, which did not require our poles. When we got to the top of the wall, the clouds started to come in, and I realized that I forgot to pack my raincoat. Whoops! That’s just about the last thing you want to forget, but, it’s par for the course for me. It’ll be ok though. Our guides are pros, and they are used to people forgetting things.

Climbing the wall was not as hard as I thought it would be, and it was cool to do a little rock climbing for a change. There were a few trecherous places where we had to cling to the rock with arms sterched wide, but otherwise, as long as we went slowly, we were good.

We are literally…that’s right, I said it, literally, above the clouds. We are looking down on the clouds, and it’s freaky. It’s like walking through a thin mist, even though they look so full and white from afar, as if you could jump on them like a small child would jump up and down on mom and dad’s bed.

We will continue to climb today to Karangu where we will have lunch, and then we will head to Barafu where we will sleep for just a few hours, and then head to the summit at about 12:30am. Wow! I can’t believe that we are only 13 hours away from heading to the summit (it’ll take about 6 hours to get there). We should summit around 6am or 7am Tanzania time (8 hrs ahead of EST).