Kilimanjaro

A Mountain in Africa

I love to travel.  I always have.  Although I did not board an airplane until I was twenty-six years old, I have made up for it ever since. Each year I look forward to my annual excursion with my good friend Pete. We typically use an adventure travel company called Backroads.

One day in late 2016 Pete called me and asked, “How would you like to climb Mount Kilimanjaro instead of taking a cycling trip?” At first, I thought he was kidding.  I had never climbed a mountain, and although I knew Mount Kilimanjaro was in Africa, I had no idea where in Africa. I would later learn that Mount Kilimanjaro, the highest free-standing mountain in the world, is located just south of the equator in northern Tanzania.

Pete explained.  He had a friend who lived in Nairobi who was a Kenyan national.  His name was Joseph.  When Joseph was attending college in the United States, he worked at Pete’s company and they became friends.  Occasionally, Joseph would ask Pete to join him to climb Mount Kilimanjaro, but Pete would always put him off, usually because he was just too busy.  Joseph had called Pete again with the idea and said he had already lined up two other hikers – an Italian, Michael, who now lived in Nairobi, and his sister Francesca, who still lived in Italy – so Pete told Joseph he would consider it, but first had to make a few phone calls.  One of those phone calls was to me.

When Pete called, he told me that he had heard that if you ever climb Mount K, you should do it with someone you are close to because it will change your lives forever. After he said that, how could I say no.  I said, “Well Pete, if you can do it, I can do it!” And that was how we decided to climb Mount Kilimanjaro in Tanzania instead cycling through a beautiful part of Europe, where we could have eaten amazing food and enjoyed fine wine.

I was informed that the trip to Africa would occur sometime in September of 2017.  I then promptly forgot about the trip until May when I received a short email from Joseph, introducing the six of us to our guide, Ibrahim.  Yes, there were now six of us.  Pete had also invited a friend from Taiwan.  After that email exchange, I promptly forgot about the trip again.  Work was very busy.  I was rebuilding our investment banking practice after several of my long time protégés had left to go to a competitor – so even though I knew about the trip, it was tucked away in the back of my mind.  Because it seemed so far off, it did not seem real. However, before I knew it, August arrived.

One day Elizabeth asked the following question – “Don’t you have to take certain vaccine shots before you go to places like Tanzania?” My response was “If you had to, the travel company people would have said so.”  I had neglected to understand that Joseph’s friend who would guide us up the mountain ran a “laid back” operation and some things were just understood.  I did need shots, and without them, there would be no trip to Africa – so I scrambled and got my shots done in time for the trip. 

As the travel date approached, people kept asking if there was some type of specific training regimen I should be following.  As I said before, I was busy with work and did not have time for such things.  I was running, swimming, and cycling, so I thought I was in good enough shape to climb.  Like I told Pete, if he could do it, I could do it.  He was my barometer.  And on every adventure trip we took, I would more than hold my own on hikes and on the bike. I did not know that my “barometer” would do some training before the trip.

Seven weeks before the date, Ibrahim, our guide sends us the list of things we need to bring for the hike. 

• hiking boot suited to terrain (Larger than your normal size)
• fleece jacket/warm jacket
• summit pant/fleece pant
• rain trouser 
• rain jacket/poncho
• sleeping bag 
• thermo top (at least 2)
• thermo bottom (at least 2)
• warm gloves 
• inner gloves if possible
• balaclava
• (warm hat)
• rucksack (big bag at least 75 ltrs)
• day pack (small bag 30 ltrs)
• warm socks at least 2 (synthetic or wool )
• head torch with spare battery
• sunglasses 
• wet wipes
• snacks, energy bar’s, gels, chews,
• camera with spare battery
• Vaseline, sunscreen, lip balm
• hiking poles
• water bottles or hydration system
• gaiters
• water purification tablets

When I looked at the list, I could not identify some of the items – what are gaiters? What’s a head torch? What are thermo tops? After staring at the list, I realized I needed help – so I took the list to my local REI store and had my friendly salesperson explain everything.  She then outfitted me with everything I would need. I would find out later during the trip why gaiters are so essential.

I am going to quote a Wall Street Journal article that I saw after my trip – “As we live our lives, we repeatedly make decisions that shape our future circumstances and affect the sort of person we will be.”  I would discover that my excursion up the barren, cold slope of Mount Kilimanjaro affected me deeply and became a life experience that continues to shape me.

The article went on to say, “If we make life choices in the way we naturally want to– we risk not finding out who we really are.  Choosing rationally, then, may require us to regard big life decisions as choices to make discoveries, small and large, about ourselves and to recognize that part of the value of living authentically is to experience one’s life in whatever way it may evolve in the wake of the choices one makes.” Translated to me meant 1) make decisions based on calculated risk, but do not let fear drive your decisions and 2) learn from an experience, but do not second guess yourself or live in the past. I share the above thoughts because each applied to me during my Mount Kilimanjaro trip.

I had chosen Ethiopian airlines to fly to Africa because it was the cheapest flight and I also wanted the experience of flying on a third world airline.  I wanted “to learn from the experience.”  I began to doubt the wisdom of my choice when I arrived at the airport outside of Washington D.C. and had to stand in a 75-yard line with mostly Ethiopian families traveling with all of their worldly possessions.   Some of the bundles of luggage literally reminded me of the Grinch’s sleigh after he stole all of the presents from the Whos down in Whoville. 

Not only was I afraid that I would miss my flight, but I was clearly a minority standing in this massive line.  Why didn’t I just fly KLM through Amsterdam? This was my first time to Africa, and I had treated it like I was flying to Chicago or Los Angeles. What an idiot. As I berated myself, I could feel my heart racing and my body getting warmer as my anxiety continued to build. As I shuffled forward, the one thing that gave me hope that I would not miss my flight were the number of people behind me in line for the same flight.  If I miss my flight, they would to.  The airline wouldn’t let that happen.  And I was right, sort of.  I did make my flight – just barely.  This meant that many of the people behind me missed it.   

Other than not allowing enough time to check-in and board, my experience flying 13 hours to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia and then on to Mt. Kilimanjaro airport in Tanzania was no different (although much longer) than the dozens of domestic flights I had taken recently and the bonus was that I had a very pleasant and very informative conversation with one of my fellow passengers, who, as an Ethiopian citizen, told me what life is like living in Ethiopia under an oppressive regime.  After that conversation, I was more thankful than ever that I lived in a country where we are able to take for granted many of our personal freedoms.

The airport, however, at Addis Ababa in Ethiopia was dirty.  People were sitting, standing, and sleeping all over the place. Imagine a third world airport and you probably have an accurate picture.  During my five hour lay-over, I hunkered down in a corner and read a book.  When I arrived at Mt. Kilimanjaro around noon the next day, I could not believe that our jumbo jet had actually landed.  The airport consisted of one runway and a one-story building that was no larger than some people’s houses. There was no jetway for our huge plane.  I looked out the window and saw the ground crew pushing a tall metal staircase towards the plane.  I felt like Indiana Jones as I deplaned down the steep staircase. 

Located in Tanzania just south of the Kenya-Tanzania border approximately 100 miles from Nairobi, the capital of Kenya, Mount Kilimanjaro attracts 30,000 climbers a year, who either fly into Mt. Kilimanjaro airport or Nairobi.  Of those climbers, approximately 65% are successful getting to the top.  The main reason that the other 35% are not successful is due to altitude sickness.

After I offered proof of vaccines, paid for a visa, and collected my bags through customs, I looked for my guide, Ibrahim. He was nowhere to be found, so I finally walked over to a few taxi drivers and asked if someone could drive me to my hotel in Moshi, Tanzania, about an hour away. Thankfully, a few spoke broken English.  Other than Addis Ababa airport in Ethiopia, the taxi ride through rural northeastern Tanzania was my first exposure to Africa. I was riveted. 

As many of us know, words or photos cannot effectively communicate the visceral and emotional response of actual experience. When you see the poverty of a third world country with your own eyes, you may feel curious, humbled, ashamed, lucky, blessed, charitable, and maybe all of the above at once.  Maybe it was the jetlag, but the car ride from the airport was surreal, like I was having an out of body experience.  My driver and I rode mostly in silence as I gazed at the ramshackle huts/bungalows, skinny kids playing on the side of the road, shepherds with their small herds of goats, and a few cows. 

I met Pete’s friend Joseph for dinner that night at our hotel, which was simple and clean. Joseph is Kenyan and is the person responsible for convincing Pete to do this trip. I learned so much about East Africa and Kenya from Joseph. The food was tasty, especially the flat bread!  After a much needed 9 hours of sleep, we met the rest of the group for breakfast the next day (September 9^th, 2017) and received a briefing from two of our guides, Ibrahim, who was from Kenya, and Nuru, who was from Tanzania.  I also met our two other hikers, Michael and his sister Francesca.  Pete was there, having gotten to the hotel the evening before after I had retired to bed.

After breakfast, fifteen of us piled into a van and drove to the Park Entrance, where we had to stop several times for cows crossing the road.  I learned that for five hikers, we would require four guides, a cook and nine porters. You may ask why so many? To keep the mountain clean, everything for the 6-day hike – food, cooking gear, and even water, must be carried up the mountain and back down. 

A few facts about this beautiful mountain that dominates the plains of East Africa. As the highest free-standing mountain in the world, Kilimanjaro has three volcanic cones, Kibo, the highest crater or cone, could erupt again. The most recent activity was about 200 years ago; the last major eruption was 360,000 years ago. The highest point on the Kibo crater rim is called Uhuru, the Swahili word for “freedom.”

The mountain is also known for its snow-capped peak; however, scientists warn that the snow might disappear within the next 20 years, having lost 82% of its icecap since 1912. Although global warming may be a contributing factor, scientists believe that the drying climate in East Africa is the main culprit, with deforestation as the primary driver. As a result, nearly 5 million indigenous trees were planted around the base of the mountain in 2008 to combat the issue.

Located 205 miles south of the equator, Kilimanjaro contains almost every kind of ecological system: bushland from 2,500 to 6,000 feet, rain forest from 6,000 to 9,000 feet, heath and moorland from 9,000 to 13,000 feet, alpine desert from 13,000 to 16,500 feet, and finally, an arctic summit zone from 16,500 feet to the summit.  We would traverse through all of it.

We began our hike at the Park Entrance at an elevation of 6,000 feet and hiked five miles in four hours through mostly rain forest from the Park Entrance Gate to Mandara Hut to an altitude of 8,900 feet.  It rained all day, which seemed appropriate while hiking through a rain forest! A stream crossed the trail in several places with small waterfalls cascading intermittently.  It was stunningly beautiful.  For dinner, we ate a simple meal of soup, fish and potatoes. Although I had no appetite, I ate a full meal because I knew I would need the nourishment and calories for what lay in front of us.  We then bedded down in small A-frame Huts. I was thankful that I loved soup because we would have either porridge or soup at every meal.

That night I did not feel well and slept very little.  I had a headache and I got a nosebleed. These are classic symptoms of the early onset of altitude sickness.  I realized then that I had not taken the needed precautions.  I would realize later that I should have also trained my quads.  Pete had done both.  I learned later that he had done leg work for weeks with his personal trainer before the trip.  Unlike me, he had prepared himself. 

Pete had also arrived in Kenya six days earlier and had done a safari on the Serengeti high plains.  Because it was September -migration season – he was able to see the great migration of the wilder beasts. The Serengeti is at an altitude of 6,000 feet.  Therefore, Pete had been acclimating for six days, unlike me, who literally went from sea level to 6,000 feet in one day, and I was also suffering from jet lag.  Michael and Joseph lived in Nairobi, which is at an altitude of just under 6,000 feet, so they were obviously acclimated.  Francesca, like me, had flown from Florence to Africa the day before.  However, she was twenty years younger and a triathlete. As I lay on my cot suffering from my headache and a queasy stomach, I realized for the first time that I might be the weak link.

As I lay there and contemplated the thought, I got a little pissed off at myself.  I am never the weak link. And I did not plan on being the weak link this time. All my life I have been able to persevere through just about anything. If nothing else, I could always count on my energy, determination, and sheer will power. However, like the inevitable rise of the sun and with it, the first signs of daylight, it dawned on me that sheer will power might not be quite enough this time. 

Several months earlier, we had traded emails discussing what route we would take and how many days we would take to do the climb.  Charlene, our sixth climber, was adamant that she could only do the hike if we did it in five days.  Evidently, she was trying to fit the hike between business trips she had in Africa. That 5-day requirement may not seem like a big deal, but it changed everything, including what trails we could take as evidenced by the following email exchange. 

Michael: “One question for you: kindly clarify why Marangu route is an attractive option. I’m not an expert at all, but a quick browsing of the internet seems to suggest that Marangu route is the least appealing while Rongai, Machame, Shira, etc. appear to have higher ratings.  Safety of the route would be a very good point, I suppose.”

Ibrahim: “It’s nice to get in touch with you. I suggested Marangu route because it’s commonly used and the only route you can do in 5 days. Machame also very popular and scenic but you need 6 days minimum.  Lemosho, Rongai and Umbwe are known to be challenging, so Michael I am ready to provide other packages depending on your option, looking forward to hearing from you.”

There is a reason that Marangu was the only route that you could do in five days.  Almost no one does it in five days!  During these exchanges Pete and I began reading about the specifics of climbing Mt. K and one thing the articles kept confirming – the longer you take to climb Mt. K, the greater your chances of reaching the summit, and more importantly, the less chance of getting altitude sickness. I also began reading about altitude sickness. People die from it.  I found the following information on Wikipedia:

“Twenty-five people died from January 1996 to October 2003 while climbing the mountain, ranging in age from 29 to 74. Fourteen died from advanced high-altitude illness, including one with high altitude cerebral edema (HACE), five with high-altitude pulmonary edema (HAPE), and six with both.  The remaining eleven deaths resulted from heart attacks, pneumonia or trauma.  The overall mortality rate was 13.6 per 100,000 climbers.”

That got my attention.  I also found this:

“Although the climb is not technically as challenging as the Himalayas or Andes, the high elevation, low temperature, and occasional high winds can make Kilimanjaro a difficult trek. Acclimatization is required, and even experienced and physically fit trekkers may suffer some degree of altitude sickness.  A study of people attempting to reach the summit of Kilimanjaro in the summer of 2005 found that 61.3 percent succeeded and 77 percent experienced acute mountain sickness, defined to be headache, nausea, diarrhea, vomiting, or loss of appetite.

Kilimanjaro’s summit is well above the altitude at which life-threatening HAPE or HACE, the most severe forms of AMS, can occur. These health risks are increased substantially by excessively fast climbing schedules motivated by high daily national park fees and the lack of permanent shelter on most routes. The six-day route, which involves one night of “sleeping low”, may delay the onset of AMS but does not ultimately prevent its occurrence.”

Pete and I quickly emailed Joseph with our concern that 5-days was too short.  In fact, most people take seven or eight days.  And we were going to take five!  As a result of our concerns. Joseph sent the following email:

Joseph: “There are some concerns about the 5 days being too short for some people. So, Ibrahim and I have discussed and if it turns out that we need more time once we are on the way, we can slow down and add an extra day so people can acclimatize. I don’t think the extra day is necessary and neither does Ibrahim. However, as one often doesn’t know how they will react to the altitude until they are actually climbing, it makes sense to have the flexibility.  I hope that helps address the concern. Please plan your flights accordingly. Do let me know if there are other questions/concerns.”

Charlene, the person who had demanded the five-day climb, ended up cancelling on us.  As a result, we ended up planning for everyone to take six days to make the climb.  As I lay on my cot at almost 9,000 feet altitude, I was so damn thankful that we decided to do the climb in six days instead of five, with one day set aside for an acclimation hike.  To this day, I believe that the acclimation hike on the third day, drinking large quantities of water, and taking Diamox tablets each day kept me keep going. However, I was to find out that not getting severe altitude sickness did not mean that I would not suffer.

Even the instructions that came with the Diamox prescription warned that “The best ways to prevent altitude sickness are to climb slowly, stopping 24 hours to let the body adjust, and taking it easy the first one or two days.  If you develop severe altitude sickness, it is important that you climb down as quickly as possible.  Acetazolamide will not protect you from the serious effects of severe altitude sickness.” I found out that the last sentence was definitely true.

The second day we left Mandara Hut Camp around 8:30 a.m. and hiked seven miles in 6.5 hours to Horombo Hut, situated at an altitude of 12,200 feet. We trekked briefly through rainforest, transitioned into the heath zone, which was beautiful, and then spent most of the hike in the alpine moorland zone, which was expansive and majestic. The moorland zone allowed us to get our first sighting of Kibo rim, our ultimate destination. When we reached camp, we had a snack, and tried to take a nap in our 6-bed concrete hut. 

We were literally above the clouds and it was stunning.  I realize that the best time to get a good visual of the snow-capped peak was in the morning because clouds and fog rolled in around mid-day.  And we could see the clouds rolling in below us as we peered over one of the deep drop offs.  We had also entered the area where the moorland zone transitions into alpine dessert, where vegetation becomes scarce.  The most prominent plant by far in this zone was something that looked like a tree out of a Dr. Seuss book.  Called Dendrosenecio Kilimanjari, it is one of the most striking trees or plants I have ever seen. I started calling them “Kilimanjaro Trees.”   They get their strange appearance due to the need to evolve and adapt to the unique and unpredictable weather on the mountain.  A photo of that tree, taken at the beginning of our fourth day, is on the banner of my blog website with Mount K in the background.

Although I was enjoying the scenery and the company of my fellow travelers, I was not feeling well physically.  My headache was getting worse and I got another nosebleed.  In addition, I had no appetite, even though we had just hiked six and a half hours.  At dinner, the others ate their soup, rice, beef and vegetable sauce with gusto as I moved my food around on my plate.  The others noticed and voiced their concerns. I then apologized for not preparing well enough for the trip and hoped that I would not slow them down, especially during the final ascent.  The funniest thing was that Francesca, who was the smallest person in our party, actually ate more than anyone else!  As we would find out later, she would ultimately be our strongest hiker.  As the guidebooks say, you cannot predict how high altitude will impact each person.  

After dinner we sat under a clear cold sky full of bright flickering stars.  Because the guides used the severity of your headache to determine the degree of your altitude sickness, I was not allowed to take medication for my headache. Therefore, I retired early with a throbbing head. However, the headache dulled eventually allowing me to fall asleep. Yet, another problem surfaced.  When one falls asleep, the breathing becomes shallower.  The problem with shallow breathing at over 12,000 feet when you are not acclimated is that your body is not getting enough oxygen.  Therefore, as soon as I fell asleep and my breathing became shallow, I would wake up gasping for air.  Needless to say, my anxiety level would shoot sky high.  Afterwards, due to the nice kick of adrenaline and the anxiety, I would lay awake until exhaustion overtook anxiety and I would slowly fall asleep and the cycle would repeat.  I imagine that the feeling of gasping for air and not getting enough oxygen might be what some COVID-19 patients experienced during the pandemic. It was unnerving.

When morning arrived, I was exhausted.  The good news was that this was acclimation day – ascending to a higher altitude (13,800 feet) and descending again. Thank God.  As I now knew, the odds of reaching the top increase significantly the more days you allow to reach the summit. We were trying to summit Mt. K in 6 days.  By comparison, to reach the base camps at Mt. Everest, most hikers take 8 days, and those camps are at lower altitudes than the summit of Mt. K.  

For me, the acclimation climb was the most enjoyable day on the mountain because as the day progressed, I felt better.  I fell in love with acclimation day!  By the time we were heading back down to camp, I felt great.  It was like a miracle had occurred.  So, that third day on the slope of Mount Kilimanjaro was a joyful day because it was the only day on the mountain that I did not feel the effects of altitude sickness.  As a bonus, the landscape was barrenly beautiful and included a variety of strange fauna, and plenty of Kilimanjaro trees.  Lots of crevices and rock formations created a plethora of places to explore.  “Zebra Rock,” a popular landmark on the Mirangu route, was a highlight. Over time, mineral rich rainwater flowing over the black lava formed white streaks on the wall resembling a zebra.  It was impressive and was the exclamation mark to a glorious and joyful day.

When we finally got back to Horombo Hut at 12,200 feet, I actually had my appetite again.  Unfortunately, it would be short lived. It would be the only time, other than breakfast the next day, that I would have an appetite while on the mountain. As a result, I did lose weight while in Africa.  No worries though – I gained it all back later on the trip when I met Elizabeth in Switzerland and gorged on Swiss chocolate and fondue.  On the same trip, we would later hike in Provence and enjoy our fair share of French Rose and cheese.  I tell people that hiking in Switzerland and France was my reward for climbing Mount Kilimanjaro.

The next morning, September 12, we departed from Horombo Hut early and began a 3,200-foot ascent to Kibo Hut, located at 15,400 feet.  It took us approximately 6 hours to cover a distance of approximately 6 miles.  We arrived at Kibo Hut, which were cold stone huts, around 2:30 pm, knowing we would leave this barren and inhospitable camp before midnight for the final ascent.  And my altitude sickness was back in full force. Luckily, I never experienced vomiting or diarrhea.  I cannot imagine what the latter on the side of this barren mountain.

When you climb Mount Kilimanjaro, you meet some interesting people along the way.  One such pair was a couple from Canada, who were celebrating their 30^th anniversary by climbing Mt. K together.  I am not sure Elizabeth would have gone for that, but this couple, about our age, were climbing together.  Because they were on the same schedule and had taken the same route, we saw them every day on our hikes.  They would leave before our group each morning, and we would overtake them at some point during the day, but we would all get to our next camp.  There were others whom we met along the trail, including Koo, who shared tea with us on that last day before the final ascent.  A Taiwanese National, Koo lives in Saudi Arabia, and had climbed to the base camp at Mt. Everest, which he described to us in his broken English.  Koo also joined us for our last meal, which we kept referring to as our “Last Supper.”  I found out later that Koo made it to Uhuru Peak, the very top of Mount Kilimanjaro!

I knew the final ascent was going to be difficult for me when I shuffled down the side of the mountain after tea to use the latrine, which was located 20 yards down the slope from the hut.  On the way back, it was taking tremendous effort to put one foot in front of the other.  After ten yards, I literally bent over to catch my breath. I felt like I had just run two lengths of a basketball court.  What caused me to really reassess my chances of making it to the top was the fact that the 20 yards from the latrine back to the hut was not as steep as our final ascent.  And I had to stop after ten yards!

After forcing some pasta down at dinner, I got into my sleeping bag, but sleep did not come.  To try to stay warm, I lay in my sleeping bag with three layers of clothing on my legs and 5 layers on my torso. Still, I was cold.  It was a fruitless five hours for sleep, but the extra time before climbing to acclimate was priceless.

At 11:00 pm, we anxiously made final preparations, including checking our head lamps and guzzling down hot tea. We then began our almost seven-hour ordeal up to Gilman’s Point, which is located at an altitude of 18,650 feet, and is one of the lower points of the crater rim.  I remember very little of that climb.  Three things did stand out. 

First, even though it was zero degrees with a lot of wind, I could not believe how much I was sweating.  Although I was sweating, my hands kept getting cold.  Second, I did not realize that the volcanic ash on the side of the mountain made is so much harder to climb. With each step, you had to dig your toe in to keep from sliding back down.  This is when my lack of leg work before the trip really hurt me.  My quads were burning with fatigue.  Each time I lifted my leg to jam my boot into the powdery ash, I would grit my teeth.  All the while, I was laboring to breath.

The one thing that I did do right was buy gaiters.  The gaiters kept the volcanic ash from getting into my boots.  Pete did not have gaiters and paid the price.  He boots started filling up with volcanic ash, but he could not take them off, so he pressed on, feeling more miserable with each step.

Third – the lights.  Even though the moon was high in the sky, you could not see the top of the mountain.  And one did have a tendency to look up, not to see, what I am sure was a gloriously beautiful night sky filled a million stars, but to gage how far you were from the top.  However, when you did look up, all you saw were other climbers’ head lamps, which seemed very far away up the mountain.  All this did was discourage me.  So, I stopped looking up and only focused on the boots of the climber in front of me, which, after a while, was all I had the energy to do anyway.

Our first goal was to reach Gilman’s Point at an altitude 18,885 feet.  Because it is on the rim, it is considered one of three official summit points on Mount Kilimanjaro.  If you actually reach the crater rim at Gilman’s Point, it counts as reaching the top.  Totally exhausted, Joseph and I stopped climbing once we reached Gilman’s point.  After a few minutes and a few photos, Pete, Michael and Francesca plowed on for another 2 hours to Uhuru Peak, located at 19,340 feet at the highest point on the crater and the highest point in Africa.

Getting to Gilman’s point was the most difficult physical ordeal I have been through. The three others waited for me to catch up on several occasions.  Doing so was a huge sacrifice on their part because when they stopped climbing to wait for me, they got very cold. And although they were not as physically spent, they were struggling. I will never forget leaning with all of my weight on my hiking poles and sometimes falling to my knees and looking up and seeing those four lamps shouting beautiful words of encouragement. And when daylight broke and I could actually see them above me at Gilman’s Point using their precious strength to encourage me, I broke down and cried. All the while, in my delirium, I could feel something rubbing my back in circular motions.  After a time, I realized it was Ibrahim, our lead guide, rubbing my back in circular motions, just like a mom would for her suffering child. I can say that one does not go through this without being changed at some level. It was a humbling and powerful experience. 

And THEN we had to descend down the mountain to Kibo Hut, change clothing and gear, and THEN descend to Horombo Hut, at 12,200 feet, an 8-mile descent after climbing the summit! Counting the ascent, we spent 15 straight hours either climbing or descending the mountain in cold weather and high altitude. I greatly respect each person who makes it to Uhuru Peak.  My friend Pete posted a very powerful version of his climb to Uhuru Peak on a social media page.  With his permission, I include it.

“Reaching the top of Mt. Kilimanjaro was at once the toughest physical and mental challenge of my life and a deeply spiritual experience.  We set out the final night at roughly midnight from our base camp, Kibo Hut. We hadn’t slept since the night before and had been hiking up the mountain for the previous four days.  We were tired, dirty, cold (roughly zero degrees) feeling the effects of the 15,000-foot altitude AND the real test was just beginning.

Conversation between our diverse, talkative group of friends had all but ceased.  So, with six layers of clothing and my hideous rented, red coat, we set out on a cloudless night, more stars adorning the heavens than I’ve ever been blessed to see.  Mining headlamps of a sort would light our way as we began what would be an eight-hour journey up and up and up.  With each step we took, breathing became increasingly challenged and, as a consequence, fatigue and a dull headache began to seep into our minds and bodies.  My eyes remained rooted on the boots of the hiker directly in front of me, my best friend, John Franklin.  I avoided looking up, for even in the dark one could see the lights of other groups up ahead. I looked up once and the startling steepness and, seemingly, endless length of the climb ahead worked on my psyche, so the head went down and stayed down. 

We were led and paced by a guide who had done this climb many times before.  At the rear of our group were three additional guides monitoring our progress.  I can’t overstate how grateful I am for both their professionalism and kindness.  As we continued, we each went deep inside our own heads.  I unconsciously began a silent conversation with family members I’ve lost, with God, but particularly with my late mom. I lost her precisely 40 years ago in August, but I’m convinced she walked with me that night.  For hours, at various points where fatigue and breathing became especially difficult, I spoke to my mom of going through labor eight times, of her losing a son, of three bouts with cancer.  She never gave up and hell if I would either.  Her resolve became my inspiration and with each milestone, I thanked my mom and drew on her strength to continue. 

Ultimately, with a surreal sunrise at our backs, a spectacular glacier to our right, we clawed our way to Gilman’s Point. At that point, four of us had reached this target.  John’s legs had given out 45 minutes earlier.  With the heart of a lion, John had pushed his body to its very limit and was sobbing as we had reluctantly continued on.  However, as we congratulated each other for reaching a milestone, John gradually emerged from the murky daybreak, each step a triumph of will.  Perhaps the altitude was working on me, but I’ve rarely been so moved. 

At Gilman’s Point, one has to decide whether to soldier on to Uhuru Peak (the very top) or declare victory and begin a long downhill hike home.  With great misgivings, I chose to join Michael and Francesca, roughly 20 years my junior and distance runners.  If one was at sea level, one might casually walk this last segment in 15 minutes.  It took me two hours and as I took my final steps, I couldn’t hold back the tears.  I’m told that 35,000 souls attempt to climb Mt Kilimanjaro each year and 44 percent make it (taking six days) though I would suggest that number seems low.  In some ways, this was hardly momentous.  However, for me and my friends, old and new, for the guides that willed us up the mountain, for the memory and very real presence of mom, dad, Paul, Mark, Dan and Judith, this will be a memory, an accomplishment I will treasure always.”

Pete’s comment back in 2016 that “if you ever climb Mount K, you should do it with someone you are close to because it will change your lives forever” could not have been truer.  A friend of mine passed away just before I decided to write this.  His name is Tom Valiquette.  He gave a talk a few years ago to our men’s breakfast group, which meets at our church once a month.  He said something that I am going to paraphrase.  You grow spiritually by doing, you build healthy relationships by nurturing each other, and you build trust by being vulnerable.

As Joseph and I slid, stumbled and leaned back down the mountain together without the other three, we had even more time to talk.  We opened up, became vulnerable with each other, and shared our stories. As I continue to process my trip to Africa, I realize the enormous amount of good that came from it.  One of those was meeting Joseph.

My friend Tom’s advice was about building relationships and you do so by meeting people where they are and by being vulnerable. Now let’s face it, men are not good at being vulnerable.  I read a New York Times article that discussed why so many men are emotionally disconnected.  The article theorizes that we as men are trained to show no vulnerability and to solve our own problems. Quote – “Men deal with their nature alone, and apart.”

When Tom gave that talk to our men’s breakfast group, he showed vulnerability, as he did when he announced to that same men’s breakfast group several years later that he had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.  I cried with Tom that Saturday morning after he told us.  He was not the one crying, I was.  Through his vulnerability, he showed amazing courage and strength.  The paradox is that those who can demonstrate vulnerability are the ones with courage. 

When I lay on my cot after the first day of climbing and realized that sheer determination and will power might not be enough to get me to the top, I was clairvoyant without knowing.   It took the encouragement and assistance of others.  And I had to be vulnerable to allow them to help me.  Sometimes it takes being stripped bare of all pretense and illusion, like the barren arctic summit of Mount Kilimanjaro, stripped bare by the elements of time, to realize that you rarely, if ever, accomplish things alone.  One might argue that everything accomplished in life is due to others around you or those who came before you. 

Another friend from that same men’s breakfast group, Steve Rogers, gave a talk about relationships, and how some of those relationships were instrumental to his own spiritual journey.  I am reminded of a William James quote, “There is but one cause of human failure. And that is man’s lack of faith in his true Self.”

Maybe the most important benefit we get from true friendship is a belief in ourselves, but more importantly, the permission and the ability to love ourselves.  Jesus tells us to love our neighbors as ourselves.  Implicit in that statement is that we do love ourselves.  Unfortunately, I believe there are many who do not love themselves and not loving themselves is where the real problem begins.  In his wonderful book “The Road Less Travelled”, Scott Peck wisely states “As we proceed in our exploration of the nature of love, I believe it will become clear that not only do self-love and love of others go hand in hand but that ultimately they are indistinguishable.”

My holiday did not end with my trip to Africa.  I left Tanzania and flew to Switzerland to meet Elizabeth to hike in the Swiss Alps with my old friend Rolf and his wife Ronda.  Rolf and I had attended business school at the University of North Carolina together, but had not seen each other for 15 years until the spring of 2017, when we saw each other for our 30^th MBA reunion in Chapel Hill.  It was at that point that we reconnected and decided on the spot that Elizabeth and I were going to visit he and Ronda at their house in Switzerland and that we were going to hike together in the Swiss Alps.

I have seen Rolf several times since then and we have had some very intimate discussions including learning things about each other that we never knew previously.  For example, although he grew up in Germany and I grew up in the United States, we both came from poor and uneducated families.  We both grew up as young men who were either angry or had something to prove with very large chips on our shoulders, but married women who helped knock those chips off.  Reconnecting with Rolf (and Ronda) was another good thing that came out my trip abroad that year.

After Switzerland, Elizabeth and I did continue our holiday in the Provence region of France and the Catalonia region of Spain. While there we enjoyed wonderful wine, amazing food, and met fascinating people.  In addition, I had the opportunity to sit down with one of our trip leaders and just talk.  He was a little older than our oldest son, Davis.  On our last day together he and I went for a run to one of the secluded beaches on the coast of Spain that we had passed during one of our hikes. 

After taking our shoes off and taking a dip in the beautiful Mediterranean, he shared part of his story with me.  The take-away from that one-hour talk is that he had met his perfect partner and they had lived together in Paris for five years.  Unfortunately, both of their jobs demanded that they travel a lot, so they did not take the time to nurture the relationship.  As a result, the relationship got stale and they decided to part ways.  To this day, he regrets not recognizing how important that relationship was and not investing in it.  It was yet another sign that we need to nurture our relationships.  As he said, even though they were perfect for each other, the relationship could not survive if it was not nurtured.  And nurturing takes real work.  It is intentional and it has to be a priority.

Marcus Aurelius, the Roman Emperor and philosopher, sums it up nicely when he wrote the following: “Accept the things to which fate binds you, and love the people with whom fate brings you together, but do so with all your heart.”  Becoming a better person and being happier are excellent reasons to develop friendships and to nurture those friendships. However, there is an even more practical reason.  A recent Boston Globe article mentions Dr. Richard S. Schwartz, a Cambridge psychiatrist, who wrote a book on the topic of social isolation titled “The Lonely American: Drifting Apart in the Twenty-First Century.”

Beginning in the 1980s, Schwartz says, study after study started showing that those who were more socially isolated were much more likely to die during a given period than their socially connected neighbors, even after you corrected for age, gender, and lifestyle choices like exercising and eating right. Loneliness has been linked to an increased risk of cardiovascular disease and stroke and the progression of Alzheimer’s. One study found that it can be as much of a long-term risk factor as smoking. So, making friends is a present you give yourself.

Another life lesson from Mt. Kilimanjaro that ties into investing in friends is to take your time before making decisions and taking that precious time to listen and to be more mindful.  Our guides would constantly tell us “Pole, pole,” which in Swahili, means slow, slow.  They were trying to remind us that success was not measured by how quickly you get to the summit, but just getting there was success, and the best way to get there was to take your time.

As technology and societal pressure continue to speed life up, we need to take the time to slow down, to cherish and reflect on what we have, on what we are experiencing, and finally, that the best way to get what we want is to be methodical and patient.  As a self-described type-A personality with little patience, this is a lesson I continue to have to relearn.

When I do slow down, and actually reflect and slow down my soul, I do become more mindful and become more present with others.   AND I realize that friends like Pete are priceless, and that new friends like Joseph are incredible opportunities, and recovering old friends like Rolf are presents you give yourself.

After I got off of that mountain in Africa, I spent two days at the hotel in Moshi recuperating.  Pete and I splurged and enjoyed massages and pedicures.  Our feet needed them!  I was also able to spend more time with Joseph, Michael and Francesca.  Francesca was a beast on the mountain. She was the strongest hiker by far and this was her first serious climb!  As a result, she decided to use her vacations in the future to climb mountains instead of skiing. Amazing stories are created on Mount Kilimanjaro.

I spent my last day in Africa walking around Moshi and purchased a painting on the street from a local artist. It is an acrylic on canvas pained with a knife. The painting depicts the two major tribes in the area, the Maasai and the Chagga, living side by side in harmony with the peaks of Kibo and Mawenzi of Kilimanjaro in the background.  A gorgeous painting, it now hangs in our library and symbolizes for me the importance of friendship and how travel can open our eyes to our similarities instead of our differences. 

After our last day on the mountain, I rode back to our hotel with our Tanzanian guide, Nuru.  I found out that he was a huge soccer fan, and especially loved Manchester United.  One of the stocking caps I had brought with me on the trip was a Manchester United cap.  I offered it to Nuru.  He did not want to take it, but I insisted.  Later that day, I realized that the hat I had given away was not mine!  Jack, our middle son, had lent it to me.  Jack did forgive me when I got back to the States without it, especially after I showed him the photograph of Nuru, wearing the hat, with the biggest smile you could imagine! I fell in love with the Tanzanian people.  On my way to the airport, I did not feel guilty or ashamed as I watched these Tanzanians going on with their daily lives. What I did feel was a sense of kinship.  Like me, they want to contribute and live full productive lives. And like me, they also want to be a good brother, a good father and most of all, a good friend.