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Exactly a week ago my fiance and I successfully climbed to Uhuru peak, the highest point in Africa located at the very top of Mt. Kilimanjaro, the highest free standing mountain in the world. This challenge was without a single doubt, the hardest thing mentally and physically we have ever done in our life (so far).
We knew this challenge would test us, but we had no idea the degree that we would be pushed to. I came down with multiple symptoms of AMS (loss of appetite, fatigue, rapid heart rate, shortness of breath, headache...basically everything except vomiting) and combined with the environmental factors (glacial winds, -30C temps, exhaustion from climbing up scree for 6hrs across the ridge to Uhuru for 2hrs and then down the summit for 6hrs) made this the most miserable experience of my life.
...and I would do it again in a heartbeat.
While the rest of my group made it to the peak, the AMS forced me to fight for every breath and every step I took. My journey was quite literally [10 half steps - catch my breath - 10 half steps - repeat for hours]. It's hard to describe the challenge and what made it so tough. Telling the story now that we're no longer fresh I get the feeling that I cannot properly convey what we experienced, but imagine the conditions I've already described above and then add to that, that you're
- Low on energy and weak, but can eat from nauseated and having lost your appetite
- Thirsty; but every sip of water is frozen so cold that it drops your core temperature immediately
- Your hands and feet are numb from the cold
- You start moving to warm up, but you get exhausted easily and have to stop to catch your breath before you're warm again
- stopping to rest allows the wind to cut through your "wind proof" clothing and chills the sweat that's collected on you within seconds
- Your muscles are tired and sore, and your hips and knees begin throbbing with pain each step you take
I began to wonder why I putting myself through this ordeal. I didn't care about the view or the bragging rights or the nice certificate they give you at the end if you made it to the summit. I just wanted to test myself, and I got exactly what I was looking for. It was literally 8 1/4 hours of questioning my own resolve and then fortifying it to move forward one more step.
By the time I reached Gilman's point, I was the last up the mountain. AMS and exhaustion were taking their toll on me. I forced myself to drink hot tea the guides were giving me and tried my best to force down some biscuits for energy. I was warned that if I wanted to be able to continue on, I shouldn't rest at that point too long or serious AMS would begin to develop, and so I pushed on. For another 45 mins I traveled, pole-pole (swahili for slowly-slowly, the mantra by which you will conquer Kilimanjaro) and each step of the way my mind told me to turn back. I had made it to the summit after all, but deep down the fighting side of me knew I'd never be happy with just that. I had to make it to the peak.
Upon reaching another checkpoint - Stella's Point, my guide looked and me and asked me if I wanted to turn back yet. I'd reached a farther point, and now my certificate would reflect that. I looked at him, and without a thought I said
"I want to go to Uhuru Peak"
The moment you begin to experience Pulminary or Cerebral Edema your trip is done. You turn back, no questions asked, not fighting it or you will die. My guide checked me out to see if I was sick, and when I got cleared as being ok we began moving again. 1 1/2hrs later I was almost crawling on my hands and knees but I had made it. I gave everything I had to get to the top and left nothing in the tank to get back down. Thank God for the guides.
It took 6 hours for me to get back down, half on my own, half leaning on the guides for support. During a particularly difficult section down the scree my guide turned to me and said
"You're very strong".
This was the last thing I expected to hear. Here I was- the last person up to the peak, hanging onto my guide for stability, last one down the mountain...weak, slow and pathetic. So I inquired why he said that, and his response shocked me. He replied "Most people who get [as] sick as you don't make it up [the mountain]". I stewed on that sentance the rest of the way down and as I limped into the dorm area to finally rest, I was met by the other members of my group. They had passed me on their way down, and saw the rough shape I was in. A few even admitted if they had gotten as sick as I did, they wouldn't even have continued the the summit, echoing the very sentiments my guide tried to convey to me.
I sat on my bed, trying to make sense of everything I had just been through when our chief guide came in and sat down directly in front of me. Fataeli, a 60 year old man who has been guiding the climbs for the past 35 years had a very knowing and satisfied look on his face.
"I made it...I made it to Uhuru" I said to him.
He nodded knowingly, he already knew. He said he knew as he had passed me on my way to Uhuru and saw that I wouldn't stop until I had made it.
This got me to thinking. Through all of the challenges I faced, it wasn't my body that was trying to make me give up. No, it was my mind. My own mind was what was trying to convince me to turn back. The fact that I made it in the end is proof of this.
My mind was the weak link, not my body. The only reason I made it to the peak, was because I was willing to drive my body into the ground to get there. Because every time I began to doubt if I would make it, I just pressed on.
I later found out that only about 41% of all people attempting the climb make it as far as Uhuru (source). I consider myself proud and extremely fortunate to be counted among them.
Mountains will humble you. They will take any sort of arrogance you have and strip it away until the only thing left is the true representation of your character. How you fair is entirely up to how you cope with the challenge.
