The day is not over yet
I look at my smartphone. It is 11 pm of day 4 of our expedition. We are in Barafu camp at 4673 m (15331 ft) on Kilimanjaro. A name that I first heard in the 1980s when Gerard Deman had just returned from Kenya and was giving a speech at our star camp about his eclipse tour. A word that had yet to be invented. In my memory, there is much more snow visible on those slides than the meager white streaks that emerged from behind the dissolving clouds two evenings ago. We then strolled through a lower camp and our destination presented itself to us cloudless for the first time. So we are really here and it is still difficult to grasp.
An appropriate midnight breakfast
The day is not over yet and Stefano comes walking to our tent to wake us up with his coffee and tea. The scramble on the Barranco Wall, where I received confirmation this morning that fear of heights does not exist, flashes back through my mind. I leave our sleeping tent and stumble to the mess tent where rectangular Azam cookies on a bed of popcorn represent our light midnight breakfast. Chef Shedy has spoiled us with his local specialties during the entire trip, but he knows that now is not the time to overload our stomachs. The tent canvas flutters firmly between and against the boulders and rocks.
We are now ready for the so-called attempt to reach Uhuru peak which lies at 5895 m (19341 ft), the highest point in Africa, the idea alone excites me. I check my four layers of thermic wear again and put on my two hats. When we open the meager mess tent with its worn zippers, the procession upwards has already begun. Rows of white lights creep up the steep mountain and soon we are part of them.
“Haraka haraka haina baraka”
Lead Guide Epa
The four of us, together with our four guides. The constellation Orion is just rising, he is lying on his back. I see the red star Betelgeuse, which I still hope will explode as a supernova in this lifetime. I now concentrate on the climb and look at the gray dusty ground just in front of me as I shuffle along, step by step.
A procession next level
It usually goes in zigzags to be able to digest the high slope. But there are also passages with larger obstacles and boulders to tackle where it is a bit of a gasp to continue. After all those days of climbing, I start to trust the grip of my shoes on sloping rock edges too, where it wouldn’t do any good if you fell off. Every now and then I dare to look up and see a never-ending stream of lights that apparently stretches all the way to the sky. I see this image for hours on end. We think that the sun will rise soon for hours on end.
The guides start singing to keep our spirits up
Other groups crack
Fragments of the wall of Geraardsbergen where we trained all this for months come to mind. Glad that we have prepared ourselves for the combination of physically steep climbing and being mentally stronger than the monotony. The large group in front of us, which has now been broken into three pieces by some weaker links, is holding us up. While this slows me down, I feel more and more cold. The guides find an alternative way to pass them. I focus on my breath and start the silent chanting of the mantra “har har mukanday”. I’m using all the mental tricks I’ve learned over the years to keep this up. Going from considering the next boulder as the finish line, à la Wout Van Aert, to meditating on breathing while walking. For a few days now my airways have been showing how hard it is for them. That is no different now.
Guided as top athletes
In addition, my drinking water is now frozen in my camel bag. I thought I had correctly applied the procedure well to blow into the straw after drinking so that it empties instead of freezing. However, the guides have a solution for everything. They bring out a thermos with hot ginger tea. Where the hell did they stored it ? That tastes. They start singing to keep our spirits up. I don’t understand their singing, but they sing about us, we hear them chanting our names in their songs. That helps. We are guided here as top athletes. When I look up I still see the same image of endless lights. It is wiser to look at your feet. We catch up with some more zombies.
A momentary lapse of reason
A dark red band that you normally only see from a high-flying aircraft, such as that time when I didn’t saw Comet Ison, delineates on the horizon. The band becomes brighter and wider. Everywhere on the steep slope, scattered large boulders slowly light up. Stones start to smile at me, an auspicious sign. I feel like walking on the moon’s terminator and suddenly appear to have an infinite amount of energy.
At this height there is no mercy
I am super enthusiastic and realize that I will reach the top. How is it possible that forty years ago I scored very poorly on the Cooper test and that I now reach the summit of the Kilimanjaro ? All my learned limitations disappear here. It is no longer possible to keep my eyes dry. When I realize about where I’ve come from physically and mentally, and what I’ll soon accomplish here, I become even more emotional.
Then a formless yellow light breaks through the lower clouds that completely surround us. Not much later I clearly see the upper part of the sun globe, but the light quickly becomes too bright to continue looking at it. Also surrealism on my other side. A large old powerful filled volcano crater with some icebergs behind it astonishes me, like in the wilderness of Greenland. We are now at Stella Point and have been walking for about 6 hours. The steepest part is behind us and the summit is barely 139 m (450 ft) higher. It lies behind the corner blinking and waving. In my euphoria I start walking faster than the guides. But at this height there is no mercy. It doesn’t last long before I get another hammer knock. I have to take a break to regain my strength for the very last part.
We reach the summit
Unbelievable, it starts to go a bit downhill and I walk past the panel that marks the top. I fall to my knees on the ground like a pope. Gratefully, I connect with the mountain with my hands and try to hold on to this moment as best as possible. I do a short meditation in child pose. I later learn that our lead guide thinks I am fainting. I feel however like I’ve won an Olympic medal. I think of images I have seen on television of people achieving their goals after many sacrifices and great efforts. Winning a mountain stage in the Tour, for example. Only now do I understand what is going on in their minds at such a moment.
The guides shout that we cannot stay too long. I would almost forget that after having sojourned in higher spheres, we also have to descend. We quickly take a few obligatory photos in front of the famous sign on the top and then we start our way back. We almost immediately cross an older Asian lady who stands completely still just before the top. I encourage her but she barely responds. I wonder if she’ll make it. Where are her guides by the way? I soon descend like an antilope from a giant dune in record speed together with our assistant guide Aloyce. The Israeli Ifat still gallops past us. When we sit much lower the next day and have long conversations with her, I immediately collapse after a loud shout. A sudden, strange and unexpected sensation that helps me realize to what limits my body has gone and that I have not yet recovered.
“Pole pole”
Assistant Guide Aloyce
Still it feels like the day after a successful exam. During the descent I took with me things that have value for life on the ground and that will also be used in the basement of everyday reality. I have improved in laughing away my limits and limitations. I also had a great lesson in being patiently persistent. My self-control has matured, I better understand my breathing and I even learned climbing and descending techniques. I realize for the first time that my journey of self-reflection and inner growth over the last few years essentially has to do with removing fears.
Live life
First my fear of losing my succesful image, then my fear of being able to live without alcohol, my egg phobia, then something that one dares to call fear of heights or depths, in short, I am freeing myself from the fear of living. My children say that I think too much. For me it feels more like achieving a nice balance between thinking and feeling, one of my four pillars of a good life. I’m sure I’ll remember these moments on my deathbed. I don’t wait that long and reread this text again today. I live and relive. I also realize that this description doesn’t even come close to the feelings and memories I got from it. But it does help keep them alive. Thank you very much “Wild Tanzania”.
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