Day 6

Thursday, March 1, 2007

Lisa wakes me up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom with her. She hears the monkeys chattering in the trees around camp and doesn’t want to go alone. I take her by the hand with our headlamps on and we walk out to the bathroom. There is a light mist falling and the monkeys really don’t like our headlights. They call out louder as our lights reflect off the trees. I check the stalls to make sure there are no animals taking shelter from the weather and stand guard to make sure none arrive. The drizzle lands on Lisa’s head while in the loosely roofed stall. She says it’s like trying to go potty while receiving the Chinese Water Torture.

An Eastern Black and White Colobus peers through the leaves near Mandara Camp on Mt. Kilimanjaro at Kilimanjaro National Park in Tanzania, Africa Thursday, March 1, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)

After breakfast we hike to Maundi Crater. The morning light breaking through the jungle growth is incredible. The views from the Crater’s rim are amazing. We can see Kibo and Mawenzi peaks in the clouds and the whole jungle below. Everywhere I turn looks like a painting. Teacher helps me climb one of the dead trees for a picture. Again I say, “Teacher, push”.

Lisa Hepinstall and Teacher walk on the trail near Mandara Camp on Mt. Kilimanjaro at Kilimanjaro National Park in Tanzania, Africa Thursday, March 1, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)

Mt Mawenzie rises from the landscape near Mandara Camp on Mt. Kilimanjaro at Kilimanjaro National Park in Tanzania, Africa Thursday, March 1, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)


The snows of Kilimanjaro emerge from the mist near Mandara Camp on Mt. Kilimanjaro at Kilimanjaro National Park in Tanzania, Africa Thursday, March 1, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)

A dead tree is covered in Spanish moss near Mandara Camp on Mt. Kilimanjaro at Kilimanjaro National Park in Tanzania, Africa Thursday, March 1, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)


A mist rises from the hills and valleys near Mandara Camp on Mt. Kilimanjaro at Kilimanjaro National Park in Tanzania, Africa Thursday, March 1, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)


On the way back from the hike we see more Colobus monkey’s having breakfast in the trees. Teacher takes us a little off trail to get closer. The monkeys watch us closely as they pluck the leaves from the tree to eat. Something dropped on Lisa’s white shirt and she ran back to the trail. We tease her and tell her it’s monkey poop.

An Eastern Black and White Colobus monkey reaches for his breakfast near Mandara Camp on Mt. Kilimanjaro at Kilimanjaro National Park in Tanzania, Africa Thursday, March 1, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)

Teacher holds one of the many flowers that are indegenous to the area near Mandara Camp on Mt. Kilimanjaro at Kilimanjaro National Park in Tanzania, Africa Thursday, March 1, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)

Back at camp we watch as new groups arrive from the base of the Park and groups that summated yesterday come down the mountain. We meet some really interesting people. We met a man from Hong Kong in his early forties on his way up who quit is job several years ago to travel the world. Bandits in the Serengeti National Park robbed him a few days ago. But he isn’t discouraged. Teacher says this is very rare. That it only happens once every 8-10 years. We see a young man from Canada that we recognize from Springland Hotel. He made the summit in three days on the Rongai route. I am surprised by how many middle aged women are climbing the mountain alone.
Lisa is excited about having the opportunity to wash her hair. The porters bring us a big bowl of hot water. We stand outside our hut and I lather up Lisa’s hair with liquid soap and use a water bottle to rinse it. We spend the rest of the afternoon just lounging around, chatting with other climbers and guides, feeding the white-necked ravens trail mix, taking photos and writing in our journals. I am fascinated by a white-necked raven on the dining hall porch railing and Teacher has to shoo it away a split second before it comes in to take a bite out of my camera.

A White Necked Raven sits on dining hall deck at Mandara Camp on Mt. Kilimanjaro at Kilimanjaro National Park in Tanzania, Africa Thursday, March 1, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)

Expedition cooks prepare the meals in one of the huts at Mandara Camp on Mt. Kilimanjaro at Kilimanjaro National Park in Tanzania, Africa Thursday, March 1, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)

At dinner, we get word that Joan and Ada made it to Uhuru Peak and that Laura made it to Gillman’s Point. Laura has to be taken down by stretcher from Kibo Camp to Horombo Camp. Teacher assures us that she is ok. She is exhausted and the altitude has made her a little sick, but she is recovering.
We stay up late tonight packing for the trek back to the gate. Although, I hate to leave the mountain, I am ready for a shower.

Day 5

Wednesday, February 28, 2007

My strategy today is to break up the hike to Kibo Camp in 2-hour increments. Teacher says that it’s a five-hour hike for most people, but at my pace it will be more like 7-8 hours.
Lisa surprises us all by announcing she isn’t going any further. She has had cerebral edema before and is starting to feel similar symptoms. I am worried about her. I know how much she wanted to get to the summit and she doesn’t like to leave a task unfinished. She says she is going to rest a little longer and then in a few hours begin the trip back down the mountain to Mandara Camp. Laura and I feel uncomfortable leaving her, but she assures us she will be fine once she gets to a lower altitude.

Joan McLoud, Ada Abalo, and Laura Garcia prepare to ascend to Kibo Camp on Mt. Kilimanjaro at Kilimanjaro National Park in Tanzania, Africa Wednesday, February 28, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)

The clouds roll in as we prepare to ascend to Kibo Camp from Horombo Camp on Mt. Kilimanjaro at Kilimanjaro National Park in Tanzania, Africa Wednesday, February 28, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)

Teacher directs one assistant guide to stay with her, two assistant guides to go on ahead with Laura, Ada and Joan, and Teacher stays with me. .
At about the two-hour mark, I see one of the porters coming up the mountain with my bright yellow duffle bag. All of a sudden it hits me. My magical moment on the mountain arrives with the porter. I have gone as far as I need to go. I stop dead in my tracks. I ask Teacher how long it will take me to reach Kibo Camp. He says about 6 hours. I ask how long to go to Mandara with Lisa. He says it will take us 5 hours. Although to get to Kibo Camp will only take me an hour longer, I feel like it would completely wrong of me to go any further. I firmly believe in not leaving a team member behind, much less my stepsister. Although I can’t fault the other women in my group for continuing on to the once in a lifetime opportunity to summit Mt. Kilimanjaro, I can’t leave her behind. It makes perfect sense that I should be the one to turn around and stay with her. The chances of me making the summit were less than the others and someone else needs me more than the summit does. I tell Teacher to turn the porter around. I am done.
As I descend to Horombo camp, the revelations keep coming. I realize, some people are summit people and some people are journey people. Summit people see a mountain top and say, “That’s where I want to be” and they make every effort to achieve their goal. Journey people see a mountain top and say, “I wonder what is on the way to that summit” and they savor the experience along the way. I am definitely a journey person.
Also, I realize that we create our own stress filled lives. Our culture so values the pursuit of material things, accolades, and competition that we sometimes lose sight of the important things in life. Family, health, sharing, and connecting with other people are important to me. And I also realize that where one may be weakest in one area, they can be the strongest in another. For example, I am physically the weakest in my group, but I have other strengths to offer in support. I realize that each and every team member has immense value in one or another area. I realize how important teamwork is whether it’s within a family, an office, or on the mountain. That everyone has strengths that they can bring to the whole unit and that their talents should be used accordingly.
I do not regret my decision to discontinue my climb up the mountain. I revel in it. It is likely the best decision I have ever made. I walk down the mountain feeling whole, complete, and strong. I found my summit halfway between Horombo Camp and Kibo Camp.
When I arrive at Horombo Camp, Lisa is sitting on the steps of the hut writing in her journal. She is ready to begin the descent to Mandara Camp. I take one last look at the peak from Horombo Camp and begin the hike down.
The trip down the mountain was good. I finally get an opportunity to see all the sights I missed while staring at my feet on the way up the mountain.

A red-hot poker rises from the landscape near Horombo Camp on Mt. Kilimanjaro at Kilimanjaro National Park in Tanzania, Africa Wednesday, February 28, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)
A protea flower grows near the trail from Horombo Camp to Mandara Camp on Mt. Kilimanjaro at Kilimanjaro National Park in Tanzania, Africa Wednesday, February 28, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)
A butterfly lights on a plant near the trail from Horombo Camp to Mandara Camp on Mt. Kilimanjaro at Kilimanjaro National Park in Tanzania, Africa Wednesday, February 28, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)
Flowers grow near the trail from Horombo Camp to Mandara Camp on Mt. Kilimanjaro at Kilimanjaro National Park in Tanzania, Africa Wednesday, February 28, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)

About the time we leave the moorlands the rain and hail starts up, this time with thunder. We are walking along the trail in the heather fields and the thunder and lighting are driving us faster to seek shelter. I think it’s the only time in the trip I walk as fast as everyone else. I ask Teacher if we should find shelter from the lightening. He says not to worry because the thunder is a friend to the people there. I tell him it may be a friend to the people of Kilimanjaro, but in America people are hit by lightening all the time. And here we are with metal walking sticks digging into the ground. We are walking lightening rods. But like most storms on Kilimanjaro, this one passes quickly and we make it safely to the tree line.

A storm moves in as Lisa Hepinstall walks the trail from Horombo Camp to Mandara Camp on Mt. Kilimanjaro at Kilimanjaro National Park in Tanzania, Africa Wednesday, February 28, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)

Oddly enough, as we approach the tropical rain forest and the rain begins to let up, Lisa notices a white-necked raven hopping down the trail in front of us. It seems to be leading us back to the safety and comfort of the Mandara Camp.

The jungle closes in on the trail near Mandara Camp on Mt. Kilimanjaro at Kilimanjaro National Park in Tanzania, Africa Wednesday, February 28, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)


As we walk back into the jungle, I can’t help but think about Teacher. I can tell he is disappointed that we didn’t summit. But his smile never wavers. “Hukana Matada”, he says. He is daunted by nothing. I know us giving up has lowered his success rate in the eyes of the expedition company we hired, but he never once mentions this. His only concern is to continue making sure we are strong, healthy and having a great time. I am amazed by his undying loyalty to us. He could have easily sent one of the assistant guides back down the mountain with us. But he followed us himself. He clearly understands that it is the role of the strongest to help the weakest. His strength and positive attitude has given Lisa and I the ability to continue when we think we are too broken to go any further. And his acceptance of our weaknesses is filled with compassion and good humor. He has certainly gone way above the call of duty for us. He has checked everyone’s vitals every night, including his own team. He briefs us twice a day as to what to expect, what to pack, where we will be going. He tells us the history of the mountain and about it’s geography. He knows the names of all the flora and fauna we ask about. He knows first aid and all the symptoms of the health dangers of climbing in high altitude. He has carried our daypacks, loaned us walking sticks and made sure everyone on the team is cared for. This man is deserves to admired and respected. He is a born leader.

Day 4

Tuesday, February 27, 2007

I wake up at the crack of dawn today. I feel a lot better than last night. Today is acclimatization day. We take a short hike up to Zebra Rocks. Ada goes so far ahead we lose sight of her. The assistant guide can barely keep up with her. We have dubbed her the mountain goat mama. Joan, Laura, Lisa and I take our time. Joan stays behind with Teacher and me. Between the two of them, I am feeling really motivated. We pass by several rock mounds along the way. Teacher explains that people add small rocks to the mounds to show that they were here. I add a small stone to one of the mounds. The mounds become taller and more numerous as we climb and the clouds move in to surround us. At one point we are literally walking through the lower mists of the clouds. But the mist moves on with only a little rain and a slight drop in temperature.

Clouds move in near the trail from Horombo Camp to Mandara Camp on Mt. Kilimanjaro at Kilimanjaro National Park in Tanzania, Africa Wednesday, February 28, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)

We reach the base of Zebra Rock and I see how steep the climb is. I ask Teacher if we are going to climb straight up. He says, “ Sure, whyyyy nooooot?” That will forever be Teacher’s quote, “Whyyy noooot?”. We begin the ascent to the top. Although it isn’t supposed to be technical, it certainly is tricky. The gravel is slippery and the way is steep with lots of switchbacks. The path is very narrow and almost imperceptible. I have to step and secure each foot before making the next step up. This part of the climb I don’t mind so much because going slowly is unavoidable. But it is a little dangerous. One misstep can send a climber sliding hundreds of feet over rocky terrain to the base of the hill.

Zebra Rocks is landmark on the way to the summit of Mt Kilimanjaro in the Kilimanjaro National Park, Tanzania Tuesday, February 27, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)

Once we reach the top we are at slightly over 14, 000 feet, which is about as high as Pike’s Peak in Colorado and only 5,000 feet to the summit of Kilimanjaro. We can almost see the next camp from our location. We are all feeling strong and confident. Joan says she can already see herself at the summit.

Lisa Hepinstall, Joan McLoud, and Laura Garcia take pictures after climbing Zebra Rocks near the summit of Mt Kilimanjaro in the Kilimanjaro National Park, Tanzania Tuesday, February 27, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)

The clouds clear briefly to reveal the summit of Mt. Kilimanjaro near Horombo Camp in the Kilimanjaro National Park, Tanzania Tuesday, February 27, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley

On the way back down Zebra Rock, I take the lead for the first time on our trip. Down I can do. Although, it is harder on the feet and toes.
Teacher assures me that yesterday was my hardest day until the summit and that today’s climb is very similar in steepness to the climb to the peak. This renews my hope of getting to the summit.

Lisa Hepinstall,(right), Laura Garcia, Joan McLoud and Teacher descend after climbing Zebra Rocks near the summit of Mt Kilimanjaro in the Kilimanjaro National Park, Tanzania Tuesday, February 27, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)

On the way back to Horombo Camp, we see a woman being carried from the higher elevations back down the mountain. Teacher says she has altitude sickness and must descend to a lower elevation quickly before she experiences cerebral or pulmonary edema, as those are fatal. I remember reading on the Internet that only 40 percent of the people that attempt Kilimanjaro actually summit and that the route we are taking has the highest casualty rate due to the inexperience of the climbers. I have no climbing experience.
Back at camp the winds move in. Our private toilet tent is blown down. The porters struggle to get it back up. Once it is back in place, the wind beats against the sides of the tent. Each of us has horrible visions of sitting on the pot with our pants around our knees and the wind blowing the tent away, leaving us exposed to the elements, the porters and other climbers.
I spend the rest of the afternoon taking photos near camp. I notice a White Necked Raven sitting on a sign that says, “Please do not go further than this point” written in English and Swahili. It’s to prevent campers and porters from contaminating the small stream coming down from the mountain that is our water supply. But to me, it seems more ominous.
Teacher records our vitals again at dinner. He gives us the ok for the hike to Kibo hut tomorrow.

A white necked raven sits on a sign on the slopes near Horombo Camp in the Kilimanjaro National Park, Tanzania Tuesday, February 27, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)

Day 3

We are up at dawn for washing and breakfast. We head out of the camp by 8:00 am. We are all feeling strong and refreshed. Surprisingly, none of us are sore from the previous day’s hike. It doesn’t take long for Ada, Joan and Laura to pull ahead of the pack. Lisa and I lag behind, taking pictures and basking in the sunny morning. We walk for about an hour and a half until the jungle begins to thin into tall grasses and heather.

Heather blows in the wind near the trail from Horombo Camp to Mandara Camp on Mt. Kilimanjaro at Kilimanjaro National Park in Tanzania, Africa Wednesday, February 28, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)

Four hours into the hike, I begin to show signs of exhaustion. The afternoon rains start up and then the hail. It’s on and off, but it takes its toll on my energy level. I start focusing on my feet. The idea is just to put one foot in front of the other. The landscape starts changing from prairie to moorland and the temperature drops.

The moorlands near Horombo Camp in the Kilimanjaro National Park, Tanzania Tuesday, February 27, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)

The trail begins get rocky with long climbs uphill punctuated by short drops with more rocks and gravel to maneuver around. Some of the steps are too much for my short legs and low energy level. I ask Teacher to give me push up from behind. “Push Teacher”, I say. I will never live that down. A porter with a wooden wheelbarrow-like contraption passes us going up the mountain. Teacher explains that it is the stretcher they use to help people down from the mountain that are sick or injured. Lisa jokingly offers to pay the porter to carry her up to the next camp. I think he considers it for a moment before continuing on his way.
I have to stop seven minutes from the lunch site for a break. I am feeling very nauseous and winded. The altitude is starting to get to me. Lisa is starting to feel tired, too. Every hour or so she says, “We camp here, Teacher?”

Tammy McKInley takes a short break from the seven hour hike from Horombo Camp to Mandara Camp on Mt. Kilimanjaro at Kilimanjaro National Park in Tanzania, Africa Wednesday, February 28, 2007. (photo by Lisa Hepinstall)

Mt. Mawenzie is shrouded in the clouds slopes near Horombo Camp in the Kilimanjaro National Park, Tanzania Tuesday, February 27, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)
Monday, February 26, 2007

By the time I arrive at the lunch site, Lisa has already eaten. The rain begins in earnest. Then the hailstorm moves in. I pack up my lunch and Lisa and I hunker down in the stinky latrine for protection from the storm. Teacher and the assistant guide, Abdi put rain gear over their heads and packs to wait out the storm between a couple of rocks. The storm lasts for a half an hour. As stinky and miserable as it is, it feels good to take a break from walking.
Once the weather lets up, we are off again to finish the hike. Abdi heads off to camp. Lisa takes the lead, I am in the middle, and Teacher brings up the rear. I am feeling cold and wet and exhausted. The trek is wearing on me. Every time we ask Teacher how much further, he responds “two hours, maybe two and a half”. He says this every two hours. We have dubbed it “Teacher Time”. It takes us a while, but we figure out the metric to standard conversion. Actual time is double “Teacher Time”.

A storm moves in as Lisa Hepinstall walks the trail from Horombo Camp to Mandara Camp on Mt. Kilimanjaro at Kilimanjaro National Park in Tanzania, Africa Wednesday, February 28, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)

By the time I arrive at Horombo camp, I am broken. I am the very last to arrive. Not just the last in my group, but the last of all the groups that left today. As I sign in the register book, my hands are shaking, my focus is gone, and my senses are dulled. I think I may even be a bit delirious. I have spent the last nine hours hiking through rain, hail, heat, up and down and back around again. Joan and Ada greet me at the registration hut. They congratulate me on getting to the camp. I break down in tears. I’m not really sure why. They help me into the hut where my sleeping bag is already laid out. I sit on the bottom bunk across from Lisa and we both start crying. First, she cries and then I cry and then she cries and on and on it goes for an hour. The porters bring in fresh water for washing, but it’s all I can do to sit up.
Laura is a huge help to both Lisa and me. She mothers both us of the best she can.
By 6:00pm I am crashed out asleep. The waiters try to wake me up to eat some soup, but I can’t eat. I choke down two swallows of soup and a few slices of orange. Teacher comes in to record my vitals to make sure I don’t have altitude sickness. Although, my oxygen level is a little low, I am still within the normal range. Teacher says I am just experiencing exhaustion. I sleep until dawn the next day.
I have never known that kind of fatigue in my life. I have heard Mt. Kilimanjaro is a blessed and magical place, but that it will break a person before it reveals a personal truth to them. I am expecting a BIG TRUTH.

Day 2

Sunday, February 25, 2007

Today we discover “Africa time”. Africa time is measured as a sequence of events, not necessarily by the hands of a clock. We don’t leave the hotel for Mt. Kilimanjaro until well after 9:30 am. The trip, which is only supposed to take 45 minutes to the mountain, takes an hour and a half. But the sights are amazing.
Along the way, I notice lots of homes built from sticks and mud. Some of the roofs are thatch and some are a tin secured with tires or rocks I also notice a lot of the buildings don’t have glass in the windows and have sheets covering the open doorways. I see lots of brick or concrete buildings that are merely the shell of a structure with no roofs or floors. I can see right into the buildings. There aren’t any internal framing, drywall, studs, plumbing, or electrical components. There are several building that look like someone started building the external frame and then just stopped for no apparent reason. Further out of town, we see small villages and markets that are little more than a collection of mud huts or woven stick structures. We watch as Maasai men and boys herd their cattle in the fields on the edge of the highway. There are no fences and they seem to be walking from nowhere to nowhere.

A woman does household chores near her home in the Kilimanjaro region of Tanzania, Africa, Friday March 2, 2007. Many homes in the area do not have doors, glass in their windows, electricity, or running water. (photo by Tammy McKinley)

A woman does household chores near her home in the Kilimanjaro region of Tanzania, Africa, Friday March 2, 2007. Many homes in the area do not have doors, glass in their windows, electricity, or running water. (photo by Tammy McKinley)

Families gather to do chores near thier home in the Kilimanjaro region of Tanzania, Africa, Friday March 2, 2007. Many homes in the area do not have doors, glass in their windows, electricity, or running water. This home is constructed of sticks from the jungle, held together with mud and a corrugated tin roof. (photo by Tammy McKinley)

A trio of Masai men herd their cattle on the open plain in Tanzania, Africa, Saturday, March 3, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)


We finally arrive at the Kilimanjaro National Park to register for the climb. We are taking the six-day Marangu route, also known as the coke a cola route, to the 19, 340 ft peak. We start our journey in the tropical rain forest. The assistant guide, Abdi Mdoe follows behind carrying supplies on top of his head. He doesn’t speak much English, but smiles all of the time. Teacher, the head guide, stays behind to clear up some registration paperwork. On the way we meet a few local children holding some of the native lizards and frogs on long sticks. We cross several wooden bridges over creeks and small waterfalls. The path is well marked and lined by giant ferns and tall trees.



The Margangu route to Mandara Camp in the Kilimanjaro National Park, Tanzania Sunday, Febraury 25, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)

A chameleon clings to a stick on the Margangu route to Mandara Camp in the Kilimanjaro National Park, Tanzania Sunday, Febraury 25, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)


We meet lots of trekkers on the way down from the climb. They are still wearing their winter clothes from the trek down the mountain.
Several porters pass us carrying huge loads of supplies on their heads and backs. Our own porters have gone on ahead. We have 10 porters, 3 cooks, 2 waiters, a potty porter, 3 assistant guides and one head guide. It is quite a large group of people to assist five women up the mountain. But most reputable climbing companies require the high number of porters and guides. We are torn about hiring so many porters, but also realize that hiring these men, we are contributing greatly to their families and to the local economy, which depends on the eco-tourism trade. And it really does make the climb a lot safer and more enjoyable.
After several hours of walking along the trail, we arrive at our lunch site. Teacher is already there, having come up a back route. We are tired and beginning to feel the altitude. I am starting to drag behind. I quit smoking about 6 months ago and the effects of twenty-five years of poor health and diet choices are taking their toll on my body. I’m a little nervous because today is supposed to be the easy day of hiking and I am having trouble catching my breath. But Teacher assures me that this is normal. Laura is concerned that we aren’t keeping up with the time. The hike to the Mandara hut is estimated at 3 hours and it has taken us 2 1/2 hours just to get to lunch. Teacher tells us not to worry about the time and just go “pole pole” which means slowly in Swahili. The slower we go, the better we will acclimate to the altitude.
At the lunch site, we have our first encounter with a long drop. A long drop is an outhouse with a hole in the ground instead of a toilet. It’s all about the squat in Tanzania.
We see a Ratel, or honey badger scavenging for leftovers at the site. It looks like a cross between a ferret and a raccoon.
After lunch, we continue our walk to Mandara Camp. The rest of the girls go on ahead and Teacher stays behind with me. The jungle charms me. I want to know what each plant is. I see Colobus monkeys jumping from tree to tree. And then it begins to rain. The trees provide a lot of cover for the rain so we don’t get too wet. But the sprinkles that do land on me feel refreshing after such a long uphill hike.

Our group begins the second day of hiking in the Kilimanjaro National Park, Tanzania Monday, February 26, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)


I arrive at Mandara Camp about fifteen minutes behind the other girls. Mandara Hut is at 1980 meters. The porters that arrived hours ago, cheer me on as I walk into the camp. The last one, but I made it. I am in good spirits despite the arduous 5-hour ascent.

Hikers make their way to thier huts at Mandara Camp in the Kilimanjaro National Park, Tanzania Sunday, Febraury 25, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)

Our room is above the dining hall. When we climb the ladder to the room, all of our bags are there. We proceed to hang our wet clothing in the aisle between our bunks. Only one overhead light works in the long room. The camp is solar powered. The porters bring up a large bowl of boiled water for washing. The order is always washing first, then tea, and then dinner.
After washing we go down the ladder to join the other groups for tea. They bring us boiled water, tea bags, hot chocolate, coffee, popcorn and peanuts. Soggy popcorn never tasted so good.
After tea, I return up the ladder to bandage my blisters and pack for the following day before the light gives out. Lisa and Ada take a nature hike to Maundi Crater.
For dinner, we are served soup, fresh fruit and vegetables, spaghetti noodles, and beef stew. We meet with other climbers heading up the mountain. We meet groups from South African, Germany, America, and Romania. There are people from all over the world. Group sizes range from 1 person to 20 people and cross all age groups over age 16. There are more people over 50 than I would have imagined.
After dinner, we all retire to our bunks, exhausted and full. It’s dark and raining. We each take turns going out into the night to use the toilet. We have a private toilet tent set up for our group just behind the dining hall. Ada goes outside and sees a monkey wandering through camp. Lisa gets lost on the way back and finds the porters’ quarters instead. She walks in and all the men turn around and say hello. Eventually, she finds the dining hall where we are staying and the door has been locked. She bangs on it until someone comes to open the door. It’s late and she is tired and scared and starts to cry. As she relates this to us, we can’t stop laughing. What a day of adventure. We are tired but ready to start our climb to Horumbo Hut.

Day 1

It’s pre-dawn and I can’t sleep from the excitement. I hear the Islamic prayers being broadcast over the public address system. It sounds like singing. The roosters wake up soon after and add their voices to the chorus. The hotel employees walk around on the gravel pathways outside my open window prepping for breakfast. A cool breeze comes through and blows against the mosquito netting around my bed. Lisa and Joan are still asleep. I can only assume Laura and Ada are doing the same in their room. I get up and go shoot some sunrise pictures.
I notice at the metal gate that we drove through the night before has a small doorway large enough only for pedestrians and bike traffic to get through. I watch an employee as he leaves through it with his bike. I follow him outside the gate and am greeted with my first vision on Africa at sunrise. The people are biking or walking up and down the dirt road. One man is herding about 10 goats. A woman with a brightly colored headdress and long fitted dress is hand hoeing what appears to be nothing more than a dirt and weed plot alongside the train tracks across the road. Several people ride double on one bike. On the left, Mt. Kilimanjaro rises from the flat dusty landscape as a woman walks by me carrying supplies on her head. I am overwhelmed.


A Springland Inn employee leaves the property at dawn in Moshi, Tanzania, Africa Saturday, February 24, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)

Mt. Kilimanjaro looms over the Springland Hotel in Tanzania, Africa Tuesday, March 6, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)

After the other girls wake up, we go to the open-air dining room for breakfast. It is served buffet style, however the eggs are individually ordered and served by Basil. Basil wears a white button down shirt and khaki pants, speaks fluent English, and is always smiling. Breakfast is coffee or tea, fresh fruit-bananas, mangos, and pineapple, tomatoes, fried potatoes, toast, beans, and porridge.
After breakfast we arrange for a guide to take us on a nature walk through a rice plantation across the street from the hotel. Aleeyah’s English is broken, but usually understandable. We discover that is from the Maasai tribe, despite his wearing Western style clothing. Although Tanzania has over 120 tribe, the Maasai tend to be the most colorful and recognizable. They are usually dressed in bright red or purple robes and capes. Traditionally, they are polygamist pastoral nomads that rely on cattle herding for food, milk and blood and have held on to that lifestyle for hundreds of years. However, more Maasai are moving into the towns and becoming porters, vendors, and artisans. While still trying to maintain their traditional belief systems and lifestyle, the Maasai are entering the modern world of cell phones, e-mail, and materialism.
Aleeyah chats on his cell phone as he leads us across the railroad tracks, through the dirt field and into the thicket that separates the rice plantation from the road. I’m not ashamed to admit that I am a little nervous. Here we are, five suburban girls in America being led into the dense underbrush of Africa by a man we don’t know and barely understand. He walks us down a well-marked path and we meet several locals along the way. Some are carrying sticks for firewood, others carry buckets of water, and some are just walking. Soon Aleeyah leads us off the trail into to a dense patch of bush to show us what we believe he says is irrigation well for the rice fields. It is a large pool of greenish water. Some children come in from the other side of the thicket, scantily dressed and proceed to play around the pool. Just as we are leaving we hear a large splash. Aleeyah says the children aren’t supposed to play there because there are cobras and vipers in the area, but they still swim there on hot summer days. He leads us back out onto the path.

A local woman walks down the road carrying a basket of bananas on her head in Moshi, Tanzania Saturday, February 24, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)

Young boys play around an irrigation well on a rice plantation in Moshi, Tanzania Saturday, February 24, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)

We soon come to where the rice patties begin. We watch as a women works the field while her two young children sit under a tree nearby. Nearby, a couple of young men are throwing sticks high into a Mango tree to knock down the fruit. Everyone carries a machete. We continue on the path, walking carefully along the irrigation ridges. We have to walk single file as the ridges narrow. It isn’t long before we have gathered quite a following of curious locals. Some of the men are anxious to talk to us about America and how proud they are of their own country. We walk by a man sitting in a dead tree and most of the young men stop to talk to him as we continue our walk. The children continue to follow us, seemingly just content the walk the path with us. At one point, we are walking with about twenty other people, in single file along the ridges.

A young man throws a stick into a Mango tree to knock down the fruit on a rice plantation in Moshi, Tanzania Saturday, February 24, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)

A woman works in the field on a rice plantation in Moshi, Tanzania Saturday, February 24, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)

We come out of the rice patties and cross a bridge into a woody area. I stop to take some pictures of women carrying loads of supplies on their head. Evidently, this is not culturally appropriate. One of the women started raising her voice and shaking her machete at me. It isn’t polite to take photos without asking or paying first. Aleeyah says something to her in Swahili and the tension is diffused.

A woman carries sticks on her head through a rice plantation in Moshi, Tanzania Saturday, February 24, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)

Women carry bundles of sticks through a rice plantation in Moshi, Tanzania Saturday, February 24, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)

We continue down the path and see Eastern Black and White Colobus monkeys jump from tree to tree while we walk by.
Aleeyah gives each of us Maasai names. I am called Nandito, or young girl, Aleeyah takes turns holding hands with each of us as we walk along the trail. I believe this is a sign of friendship.
Aleeyah says he is taking us to a waterfall. But, when we arrive, we discover the meaning is lost in translation. It is really a dam used to irrigate the fields. An old man is there to maintain the structure. Another stops by for a drink after loading the back of his bike with tall grasses.

An elderly man working around the irrigation dam near a rice plantation in Moshi, Tanzania Saturday, February 24, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)

A man transports his load of tall grass for a thatched roof on the back of his bike through a rice plantation in Moshi, Tanzania Saturday, February 24, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)


On the return walk to hotel, I start to feel a little dizzy and queezy. I figure it must be the heat and the medicine I am taking to prevent malaria.
The hotel shuttle takes us to a centralized tourist area in Moshi. Moshi is the town we staying in. Its population is approximately 100-150,000 people. We are warned by the hotel not to travel without a local guide, so Aleeyah walks us through town to see the sights. He takes us by a Hindu temple, an Islamic mosque, and a Christian church, up one street and down another. The local activity is brisk with trade and traffic. There are a couple of internet cafes, people sitting on the sidewalks selling their wares, men pulling carts loaded down with wood and long grass, pushing tires down the road.

The spires of an Islamic Mosque rise above the streets in Moshi, Tanzania Saturday, February 24, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)

There are no traffic lights or signals and crossing the street is at one’s own risk. Although, most people here walk everywhere or catch a ride on public transportation, the vehicular traffic is tricky to maneuver around.

People walk along the train tracks in Moshi, Tanzania Sunday, February 25, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)

We walk to the famous Salzburger Café for a coke. Afterwards, Aleeyah takes us to the local market. There is poultry for sale in various stages of life and food. Some are still in their pens. Some are wandering around. Some are in the process of being butchered for dinner. Fish is also being processed on site for consumption. Some of the women are selling grilled corn on a hibachi with cheese; Spices and coffees sit in huge baskets or canvas bags waiting to be measured. The market is mostly open aired. It is loosely subdivided into sections with a corrugated tin roof to provide shade for the shoppers. The activity is frenzied. People are actively trading, offering, bartering, butchering. The hum and buzz of the market stimulates the senses. The people here tend to talk on top of each other. Pauses are few until the deal is made and the parties separate to go to another vendor.

Bags of spices and beans are for sale in the open market in Moshi, Tanzania Saturday, February 24, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)

Women shop in the open market in Moshi, Tanzania Saturday, February 24, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)

Aleeyah brings us to side street to meet with some of his Maasai friends. He makes a deal with them to dance and sing for us for five dollars. About eight of the them line up. Most are in traditional Maasai dress. They begin their singing. It sounds like a forced air short breath hum, like a breathy Morse code song. They begin their dance with arms to their side bopping up and down, bending at the hip. At the height of the dance, one man steps forward and starts to do a high vertical jump with arms held at their side. These men can get some air. They continue doing this for several minutes. A crowd of about 50 local people has gathered to watch the men do this famous dance.

Young Masai warriors hang out in an alley in Moshi, Tanzania Saturday, February 24, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)

Young Masai warriors perform a traditional dance in an alley in Moshi, Tanzania Saturday, February 24, 2007. (photo by Tammy McKinley)


When the dance is completed, I give Aleeyah the five dollars to give to the dancers. Somehow, a conflict erupts. The deal is no longer good enough. Several of the men gather around Aleeyah and begin arguing. The crowd grows larger and we can feel the danger building. The other girls in my group want to just walk away and start heading down the street. I am confused. I’ve read that Maasai are fiercely patriarchal and that a woman interfering in business is culturally taboo, but I don’t want to start trying to find our way back to the hotel without our guide. The other girls get about halfway down the street. I grab Aleeyah by the hand and pull him out of the ruckus and drag him down the street. We get a about a block and he begins laughing. We don’t really understand why, but we start laughing as well. Truly, nearly starting a riot on the streets of Moshi is a day we will never forget.
When we got back to the hotel, we tipped Aleeyah for the day. Everyone here works of tips. That seems to be the mode of pay.
Before dinner, we meet with our Mt. Kilimanjaro climb guide. His name is Teacher. He comes highly recommended by some of Joan’s friends who had climbed Kilimanjaro the year before. He speaks very good English. His real name is Lazario Edward. Everyone calls him “Teacher” because he teaches kindergarten in the off-season. He gives us our itinerary for the following day and offers several packing tips.
We leave the hotel tomorrow at 8:30 am. We are very excited about the climb and are anxious to get started.