I have no pictures of the hike to the summit because it was way too cold to stop and take my camera out but that hike was the most beautiful thing I have ever experienced. I hiked with my headlamp off, trusting the guide and the light from others’ lamps. The hike to Gilman’s was spooky. Every so often we came upon Tanzanian men whose job it was to assist along the trail. They lay along the side of the path, half frozen, looming out of the darkness like fallen soldiers. I managed to breathe a greeting to a few but only one ever responded. It was too cold and there was no air. We passed climbers on the side of the trail, out of breath or on their hands and knees, vomiting. Young, fit climbers were being carried to the peak; their eyes blank, a dead weight on the shoulders of the men who carried them. Things got emotionally and psychologically difficult but there’s not enough air up there to take that initial gasp you need to cry so I looked at the stars and followed Orion to the peak; one foot in front of the other, deliberately climbing over and around boulders, ignoring the precipitous drop into the darkness of the crater to my right. From our height I could see glimmering cities on the Kenyan and Tanzanian feet of the mountain. Looking back the way we came, tiny bobbing lights snaked down at an impossible angle – many people were attempting to peak that clear night and we were in front. We kept going, listening to our guide, Josef, softly chanting tunes to pass the time and lift the spirits. As we circled the crater, reaching peak after peak that wasn’t Uhuru, dawn came and Orion set behind the elusive Uhuru ahead. Behind me the world was soaked in the widest sunrise I have ever seen. 270 degrees of light silhouetting Mawenzi and drenching the glaciers in pink and orange. It got colder and steps got harder. Time stretched to eternity but it was beautiful. The glowing ice was magical and the moment was mine. No cameras could have captured it and no words described. There was no air or energy to exclaim so I rejoiced in silence. I’ll remember that dawn forever.
The peak finally did arrive and I was so befuddled by cold that I didn’t do it justice despite the huge effort it took to bring my camera that far. I guess some experiences live best in memory.
- written 14 June 2009 -
