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

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Day 6, The Summit Summons (by James) »