Team Alchemist Blog

Horombo camp sits at 12,000′.  This was perhaps the most beautiful camp yet.  The campground sits on top of a peninsula of rock, jutting out from the mountain.

In the morning, the porters and guides gathered for a farewell celebration for the climbers, singing songs, including my favorite tune, Akunamata (not the Elton John version).  The event was meaningful and moving, both groups, coming together from a world apart, having much to be thankful for from the other.  We were all choked up, and unable to hide the emotion behind our sunglasses.  These were folks who busted their asses day and night for us.  And now they were honoring us.  They ended with a song that loosely translates as ” You Shine.”

We rode down the Marangu route (known as the Coca Cola route), to the gate.  The route drops about 6,000′ over 12 miles. The terrain was very technical most of the way, with tricky rock gardens, big drop offs and 18′ water bars that traversed the trail all along the way.  The water bars often had a smoother path on the sides, but sometimes did not.  So you either dismounted and carried your bike over, or you committed to hop it.  Given the circumstance, Doug had instructed us to ride our ability, minus one.  But with yahoos like Stuart and Steve riding, it was hard to not try to clean all of it.   Following either of those guys on a line can be hazardous to your health.  Several of us went over the handlebars, but fortunately, we made it to the gate without significant (at least not permanent) injury.

 Mad props to Esther, who had only been on a mountain bike three times before coming on the trip. She went from being a novice trail rider on the first day to riding over drop offs and rock gardens by the last.  Also,  Natalie, who became the first teenager to ever ride Kilimajaro when she joined us or the ride from Kibo to Horombo.

Strava descent from Uhuru Summit to Kibo.

Lots of great folks on the trip.  It was an honor and a pleasure to make this journey with them all.   We raised almost half a million dollars to help bring clean water to this wonderful country and its beautiful people.

The ascent to the summit started at midnight.  We had our briefing earlier in the evening with Ake.  Keep food and water accessible and near your body to keep from freezing. He also recommended 3 layers on the bottom, and 5 layers on the top.  Plus, layers in your backpack. Sounded a little overboard, but as it turned out later, those layers would be appreciated.

We slowly made our way out of Kibo camp.  The pace was unfathomably slow.  This was intentional, since we had to climb 3500′, and we were trying to stay together as a group.  Countless switchbacks line the mountainside, and the false summit looks impossibly far.  It’s hard to make that kind of effort and not have some issues.  The altitude was affecting our group early on.   I was doing the climb without Diamox, which can help with altitude acclimatization.  But I was feeling strong despite that, as I had the previous days.  I made rounds up and down the line, making sure people were doing okay.  Even though I encouraged them to let me know about even the slightest ailment, this group was tough, and people rarely spoke up about anything unless I asked them about it.   At 17,000′, Natalie began vomiting and had a raging headache.  I gave her some Zofran and Compazine, hoping that a part of this was a migraine headache.  I went ahead to check on Brian, who was having a rough time himself.  He was dehydrated, shivering and cramping badly.  I asked the line leader to slow the pace down, but Brian wouldn’t have it.  He wanted to keep pushing on.  When I looked back down the line, I could only barely make out the lights from Natalie’s headlamp.  She was way back, and not moving up the trail.  I backtracked down, and found her surrounded by Ake, Joe (her father), and two other guides.  She was still vomiting, and her headache was no better.  Ake felt like it was time to pull the plug, her Acute Mountain Sickness was too severe.  I agreed, and we decided to have her go down with Gabriel, one of the senior guides.  Joe wanted to go back with her, but she was insistant that he continue on.  They had an emotional goodbye before Joe and I headed back up toward the rest of the group, which was well ahead on the mountain. By the time we started back up, the group was about 40 minutes ahead.  We walked in step with the remaining guide, Urubu, and tried to make up the distance.  After about 20 minutes, I looked up and realized we were almost caught up, which was great except for the fact that that meant we had been going faster than I meant to.  I asked Urubu to slow it down.  Joe and I had burned a lot of matches in those 20 minutes.  Hopefully, not too many.

As we got up to around 18,000′, I began to feel sleepy.  We hadn’t slept that night, and it was 4am, so it seemed reasonable that I should want to take a nap. But the sleepiness kept getting worse as we ascended. I remember Ryn having the same problem the time we tried to climb Mount Shasta years ago.   Now I know how she was feeling that day.  At Kibo Camp, which sits at 16,000′, my O2 Saturation was 82%.  My hypoxic brain at 18,000′ was begging to take a break.

The slow pace would often grind to a halt if a tricky section came up.  I found myself closing my eyes, and actually sleeping briefly while standing.  Soon, any burst of exertion was accompanied by a wave of nausea.  On top of that, the temperatures dropped and the wind picked up.  By the time we got into Gilman’s Point, many in the group were nearly hypothermic.  It was hard to generate internal heat after the night’s long effort.  Standing around was not an option, so many went ahead to, if nothing else, keep warm.  I gathered myself to push on, but Jenn was worried about Larry, the other doc on the trip.  She said he was having a tough time.  So I went back to Gilman’s to check on him.  Went I got there, I didn’t find Larry, but instead, Brian was there, sitting on a rock.  Ake was with him, and they were both silent when I approached. Brian was dehydrated and very weak.  He was pale and had a blank stare on his face.  He had miraculously made it to 19,000′, but couldn’t go on.  I stood with him for a while, trying to encourage him to at least come to Stella point to “ring that f*cking bell”, but he was done.  He made it 90% of the way, through the hardest part of the climb, but had nothing left for the last push.  I choked up a bit as we all stood there motionless.  We had to arrange to send him down the mountain.  I watched him slowly make his way back down the mountain with two of our guides, then turned, and again found myself well off the back. I hustled to catch up, but I couldn’t move very fast.

Later on, back at Kibo,  Stuart and Steve mimicked my wide-based, stumbling gait at the top.   Above Gilman’s, I was thankful no one had asked me to dress their blisters or do anything that required a brain. At the time, it was all I could do to put one foot in front of the other.  Stuart was waiting for me at Stella point, the last meeting point before the Uhuru summit.  He took my frozen water bottle from me, and stuck it in his jacket to try to thaw it.  I was too cold to care about eating, but Stuart made me force down a couple of Clif blocks, which I was too tired to chew.  So I tucked them into my cheek for a few minutes before finally spitting them out near the summit.

The bike porters, who left camp after us, had passed us on the trail before Gilman’s and deposited our bikes just before the summit, so we could ride the last bit to Uhuru.  Joseph, along with the other porters, were waiting for us in 20 degree weather, and that doesn’t account for wind chill, which was plenty.  The fortitude of these guys is unbelievable.  They wore suboptimal clothing, and carried our bikes on their backs to the summit, only to freeze their butts off as we struggled to catch up.  Joseph was waiting for me just before the summit with a big, toothy smile on his face.  He had my extra layers for me, which he helped me put on since my cold fingers couldn’t operate the zippers. The absurdity of someone carrying my bike to the top, so that I could ride it down, was eminent at lower altitude, but at 19,000+’, I was thankful to not have had to carry it myself.  Some of the other porters were clearly in rough shape.  They were not prepared for the extreme cold.  One of them was using an old pair of cotton socks as mittens. Matt O. searched through his pack and offered his balaclava, extra gloves and jacket to them.  Big ups to Matt for his generosity and being able to recognize that those guys were in need of help.

The top of Kilimanjaro is breathtaking.  What looks like a dusting of snow from the base, is actually a series of massive glaciers.  I rode the last 300 yards to the summit on the Bonty, which was coated in a layer of frost.  The last bit pitches upward.  I didn’t care how I felt, I wanted to ride to the top.   By the time I stepped off the bike at Uhuru, I was gasping for air and seeing stars.  At the top, I took the requisite photos, and soaked in the views as much as my dizzy, hypoxic brain could consume.  Some of our group, Steve, Esther, Austin, and I, mounted up, and began the historic descent down Mount Kilimanjaro.  We passed a number of other climbers, who looked curiously at our bikes, no doubt wondering if they were really watching people descend Kili on bicycle, or they were just hallucinating.  We left our bikes at Stella and glissaded half way down the mountain to a point where it was rideable again.  Joseph hiked my bike down, and was waiting for me when I arrived.  Did I mention what badasses these guys are?

We descended the loose scree to Kibo, drifting our bikes around the switchbacks. There was a welcoming party at camp, and we toasted the successful summit and the guides and porters who got us there.

We napped in our tents at Kibo, then rode down to Horombo camp at 12,000′.  Ema bought a couple of 6 packs of Kilimanjaro Beer, and we celebrated the historic ride on Kilimanjaro.

Today, we headed toward Kibo, the last camp before summit. We hiked out as a group, then the bikers mounted their steeds for the approach through the saddle to Kibo, which sits at 16,000”.  The giddiness from being back on our bikes was tempered by the climb out of the saddle, gaining about 1700′.  Ake mandated all of us to dismount and hike the last mile.  It wasn’t a necessary directive, since all of us had burned through more than enough matches already by that point.

I hung out with the back of the group for a while on the hike to Kibo.  Then I went ahead to check on Brian, who was suffering from a nasty GI bug.  He persevered through the hike and limped into camp.  But he was drained.  We started him on antibiotics, and Imodium.  But even after 3 liters of fluids, he was still feeling pretty bad and hadn’t yet had the urge to pee.  Fortunately, he took a nap, and started to turn the corner. He was able to eat some solids for dinner, and I’m hopeful he will continue to rally.

Truth is, lots of folks are feeling rough.  After getting into camp, I attended to several folks before finally having a chance to sit down.  At that point, I realized I was feeling pretty tired.  After lunch, I took a much needed nap.  Feeling a good bit better now.  At the evening vitals check, I was surprised to see myself at 82% oxygen saturation. In fact, many of the group is in the 80’s.  I’d be curious to see what we are at the summit, but then again, I may not want to know.

The entire saddle sits under the massiveness of Kilimanjaro.  The exposed terrain allowed for a superb view of the summit.  The hardest leg is next.  We head out from camp at midnight tonight.  We have around 3550′ of climbing ahead of us. The plan is to stick together until around 4am, at which point we will likely be at the bottom of the switchbacks to the false summit of Gilman’s.  Some of the stronger hikers and climbers will be given the green light to go ahead at that point. We hope to scatter the staff and guides among the group.  Ake and I discussed logistics, and we will try to have a doc in each group if we get separated.  He prefers that I stay behind with the slower group, since I will likely be strong enough to make a push for a quick summit if the turnaround time is near.  Truth is, even the best laid plans don’t hold up to the unknown that lies ahead.

Go time in 4 hours.  Time to rest.

Thanks to Matt, Austin, and Dr. Larry for some of these photos

 

 

Today was an acclimatization day.  We slept at Mawenzi camp, at 14,100′, and went out for a morning hike, which was virtually straight up the mountain.  In previous days, we did a lot of starting and stopping, but today, the idea was to keep a slow, steady march up the mountain.  This was practice for the final summit push.  If we did a lot of stopping, we would get too cold.  So if you had to potty or get something from your pack, or whatever, you step off trail and let the rest of the group by.  We climbed over 1000′ feet in less than a mile.

There was an optional hike beyond that, taking us to around 16,000′.  The group

was about evenly split on who went, and who went back to camp.

 For the folks who went on, Ake took us to a keyhole that was only accessible via a trailess scree field.  The final approach was loose and steep.  Everyone but Ake chickened out.  The descent was entertaining as a we made a controlled glissade (reckless semi-freefall) straight down the scree field.

Today, the cumulative exertion and altitude appears to be catching up to a couple of the climbers.  But overall, the group is doing well.  I’ve been busy treating the various ailments you would come to expect with an adventure like this.  Headache, cough, & diarrhea are the big three.  If you have one or more of those, you are in good company.  At this point in the game, it is par for the course.

The evening hike was a dress rehearsal for summit day.  We were all given instructions from Ake on clothing and gear.  Three layers on bottom, 5 on top, extra warm layers, easily accessible water and food.  Most of the climbers are using a hydration bladder.  You need to use an insulating sleeve on the hose, or it will freeze.  I am using water bottles, so have to keep them near my body to keep them from freezing.

Today was the first day we had nasty weather.  Thick sleet came pouring down on our tents, which needed to be shaken off, otherwise, they would break from the weight.  Our evening dry run turned out be a wet one, but a nice test of our gear.

In the morning, we head for Kibo, which sits at 16,000′.  Last camp before our summit push.  Here’s video of my favorite Camp song, Jambo Bwana (Hakuna Matata):

Tomorrow, we ride.

Not unexpectedly, The night was certainly colder than previous nights.  At one point, I woke up and thought it was daylight.  I stepped outside only to realize that the nearly full moon was high in the sky, and casting enough light down to make my way around camp without my headlamp.  I slept about 7 hard hours.  At this altitude, I’ll take it.

Today was a relatively short day.  We climbed from Kikelewa to Mawenzi, gaining approximately 2000′.  Our camp is at 14,100′.  We climbed very slowly, and took frequent breaks.  It was an easier day than yesterday.  Like yesterday, we were greeted by song and dance.  The porters and guides have amazing spirits.  They treat us like royalty.

After settling in, I brought out the mini football that I’ve been schlepping up the mountain this whole time.  We invited the porters to join in the toss and throw.  Soon, there were quite a number of porters and climbers chucking the ball all over the campsite.  The thin air made for some serious distance throws.

We rested in the afternoon, but sleep was not allowed since it would inhibit acclimatization.  We went on a short hike up to about 14,700′ in the evening.  It was odd being higher than any mountain in Colorado, and still feeling good.  I am not taking Diamox to help acclimate.  How very Boulder, going au naturale. Turns out I’m the only climber not taking it this trip.

Matt O., came up with a rap dedicated to me. Pretty hilarious.

An excerpt:

You get the point.  Headache, cough, and yes, diarrhea are the ailments du jour.

Acclimatization day tomorrow, so we stay in Mawenzi Camp for another day. More to come.

Aaah! sleep!  I finally got a proper night’s sleep last night. Almost 8 hours. It was a Christmas miracle.  A synthetic sleeping bag and musty tent somehow procured a better night’s rest than white linens and climate controlled A/C.

We had foot clinic this morning, and got everyone patched up.  Folks were in good spirits again.  Except for stepping out of my tent funny, and tweaking my back, I felt strong and energetic.

Day 2 is quite rocky and challenging terrain.  Ake made the decision to have everyone stay off the bikes, instead of trying to ride any of it. We all stayed together as a group, hiking through the loose and narrow goat paths up to Kikelewa Camp. The trail was up and down (mostly up).  It would have been a tough bike, and I think it would have beaten up a lot of the riders, so hiking was definitely a good decision. Most of the first half of the hike was warm and sunny. But today, we finally started to see and feel the type of weather you would expect at altitude. the last few hours of the hike was shrouded in fog and a surreal mist blew across the mountainside.  The mist was both beautiful, and eerie.

About midway through, I could see signs of fatigue in some people’s faces and in their gait. The pace was quite slow, but being on our feet for 6-7 hours was taxing.  Many of the group had never done anything like this before, and most of them live at altitudes not far above sea level.  Steve and I have been suffering from a monstrous case of HAFE.  High Altitude Flatulence Expulsion.  And when I say suffering, I mean, I’ve been suffering from his, and he’s been suffering from mine. We alternate who walks behind, but sometimes the wind blows the wrong way . . . .

Kikelewa Camp is at 12,100′.  As we made our final approach toward the camp, we could here singing.  The porters and camp workers had all gathered together to sing traditional African songs.  They serenaded us as we straggled into camp, and lifted our spirits.  These were folks who humped all our gear up the mountain, including bikes, several hours ahead of us.  They had camp all set up, and a hot meal on the stove before we were even within eyesight of camp.  And then they had the energy to sing for us and cheer us on into our last push into camp.  The camp was shrouded in fog, and a cool breeze blew through.  Collectively,  it  was beautiful and inspirational.

The group is starting to get a few more ailments. Coughs, colds, headaches.  Nothing unexpected, but the exertion and altitude are beginning to take their toll.  everyone’s oxygen saturation is still 90 or above, and it seems that everyone is still eating and drinking.  it only gets harder from here, so I’m trying to be vigilant about checking on everyone’s health. Some are doing great, some less so.  Still, not a single complainer among them.  This is a good crew on all counts.  Feeling really glad to be a part of it all.

Tomorrow, we climb to over 14,000′, and stay there for an extra day to acclimatize.

More to come.

Tanzania day 3

445a departure sounds early, but when you wake up at 2a, it’s not too bad.  This morning it seemed that a number of folks were starting to break down. Mostly manageable things, but it was the first time people’s health started to waiver.

The crew headed to the wide open plains of the Serengeti for a hot air balloon ride.  The van ride over was quiet, partly because it was 5am, but also because there was some nervous tension in the air. Most of us were newbies to the hot air balloon experience, and the unknown can often be anxiety provoking.  Our pilot, Mohammed, was the first and only native Tanzanian hot air balloon pilot.

As we received our instructions from the him, a cold wind blew.  Last year, the balloon ride was cancelled due to wind. This year, the wind had blown through most of the morning, but was starting to settle down, and things looked to be a go.  This particular balloon is the third largest in the world.  It can carry 16 passengers.  The basket starts out on its side, so you have to enter and then lie down, astronaut style, facing toward the sky.  As the balloon heats up, the balloon rises and pulls the basket right side up.

Lift off was soft and gentle.  We skimmed a few feet above the ground, silent and smooth.  Even as we gained altitude, the ride was so stable and peaceful, there really was no hint of danger.  Watching balloons from afar, you don’t realize that they are constantly gaining and losing altitude. We slowly bobbed up and down through the air, Mohammed hitting the gas when we would drop, and easing off as we rose higher.  He managed speed and steered the balloon by finding different elevations to ride the various wind currents.  He was very skilled, deftly finding a current to take us leftward, and then dropping us down right next to a pair of female lions and her cubs. We finished off the ride with a champagne breakfast in hippo country.

Afterward, we hopped on a 12 passenger Cessna, and flew back to Arusha.  I’m used to being the calmest person in the room, at least outwardly.  Being able to control my emotions and get work done in a room full of chaos is what I do.  And I know the tossing and turning in a little plane is perfectly normal. But I have to admit that that ride back was . . . tense.  The irrational anxiety of flying in a little plane irks me to no end.  Nevertheless, we touched down safely, and I didn’t throw a complete hissy fit before we did, though I was a bit lathered and wobbly kneed.

Back in Arusha , we ate lunch in town and shopped at a local craft shop called Shanga.  There are approximately 40 employees, most of whom are blind, deaf, or disabled in some way. They take old glass bottles, melt them down, and create beautiful glassware from it.  They also manufacture beads and jewelry by hand.  Good place to pick up gifts for the fam.

We had a relaxing afternoon by the hotel pool before gathering to prep for the Kili climb.  The local outfitter had thankfully assembled our bikes, which was a great relief considering that last year Stuart and Jenn were putting them together in the wee hours with a little multi-tool and a hand pump.  We made sure all the riders were fit properly to their bikes, and that everything was in working order.  I’m on the trip as staff, medical as well as mechanical, so there is a lot to keep on top of.

Took an Ambien for the first time ever last night.  I’ve averaged about 3 hours of sleep each of the  last 4 days. Got about 6 hours before waking up at 5a, ready to roll.

Today we climb. More to come.