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Mount Kilimanjaro: In Search of Rarified Air

February '01

Jeff Davis has been a very close personal friend for some 17 years. I first met Jeff when we began our business careers with IBM. I was from Boston, Jeff from San Francisco, and we met in Atlanta at IBM's training headquarters.

The year was 1984, some 3 years before I was to do my first triathlon. It was Jeff Davis who can attest to hearing me say "riding a bike sounds like a very boring thing." Later when I would discover that cycling was not so boring after all, Jeff would instruct me as to how to change a flat tire, so I would no longer have to summon a taxi cab for a ride home upon suffering a puncture.

Over the years Jeff has been a mentor, an inspiration, and a tremendous example of how one should aspire to live one's life. He is simply one of the most exemplary individuals that I have ever met.

Jeff is currently in Africa where he is beginning a 4 month tour which will take him from Africa to Bhutan, China, Vietnam, and Tibet. Jeff sent this report of his climb to the top of 19,000 foot Mt. Kilimanjaro. Like much of what Jeff does, his trek to the summit was over a route much less traveled.

I have edited Jeff's report to begin with his summary of the lessons he learned from his time on Mount Kilimanjaro. Jeff's observations are very powerful, and many of you might find yourself making a copy of his words as a guide in your own quest for betterment.

By Jeff Davis: In search of rare air, wonderful adventure, and vistas to remember - memories from my journey to Mount Kilimanjaro

 

February 15, 2001

In Swahili, one expresses a warm greeting with the expression: "Jambo"! And so, at this late hour, I extend a joyful hello from afar.

It is almost midnight. Our expedition group just finished our last dinner together. Early tomorrow morning each of us will depart for varied destinations across the globe.

My head is buzzing with reflections and memories from the many powerful experiences of the last ten days. I sit quietly at a small dark wooden desk, in a charming little hotel that was once a coffee plantation, just outside of Arusha, Tanzania.

If this note seems to be a bit of a ramble, please excuse me. My thoughts are a bit scattered. It has been a long, eventful, and wonderful day.

My legs are tired. My fingers are a scrapped and a bit torn up from rocks and natural, yet harsh landscape, we encountered in our journey. My lips are burned, blistered, and peeling from the high altitude sun. My hair looks like I just made several special trips to the Tanzanian barber training school. Most of my clothes have a new and special scent and an unusual glow (smile) from the sweat, snow, hail, rain, dust, and mud we discovered on the magical mountain the locals call "KILI". Late this afternoon, I had my first shower and drank my first bottle of cold spring water (not boiled,iodine treated, or filtered from a nearby stream!) since we left Arusha eight days ago ... and, yes, I sipped my way through an entire bottle of the native beer, the "Kilimanjaro Ale", with my new found friends to celebrate the conclusion of our adventure. Ah, the little joys in life!

I could not have expected such an emotional and incredible experience in Kenya or Tanzania. Eight of us set out on this adventure from Nairobi, Kenya, ten days ago. Although we had never met each other before, we shared a sense of opportunity, and a common dream - all of us wished, hoped, longed to climb the highest mountain in Africa. Each of us brought our own personal reasons to attempt this quest and our own personal fears and anxieties. It is strange how quickly one develops a bond and a shared sense of purpose with strangers when you travel together under intense, powerful, and stressful circumstances. This was such a journey.

Campi Ya Kanzi.

We began our trip with three days of exploration in Southern Kenya. We stayed at a small camp in a 400 square mile ranch that is owned by the Maasai. There is only one small guest property with seven basic, but charming cabins. We spent our days driving in dusty jeeps through the rolling "Chyuli Hills" and visiting the Maasai villages. Despite my lack of expectation, I was overwhelmed. There is something about watching giraffes, zebras, wild-o-beasts, gazelles, heart-o- beasts, baboons, and other animals roam the open, peaceful, countryside that defies words. The sunsets were magical.

Off in the distance, peeking above the clouds to beckon and startle us, stood a frighteningly high, snow covered mountain - Mount Kilimanjaro.

Editor's note: Jeff's Summary I am sure this will seem a bit philosophical and silly to many people, but the climb affected me in some powerful ways.

It is now almost 4 AM, but I will try to quickly reflect on some of the inspirations.

1. One foot at a time

It is incredible how much distance we can travel (or how much we can achieve when we are willing to begin the journey and continue on a path simply placing one foot in front of the other.

2. Clarity of focus can transform the likelihood of success in any journey

Everything that our guides did was focused on one goal - to get the whole group up to the summit safely. We went very, very slowly at the lower elevations ... much more slowly than it felt necessary to go. But the guides are very wise and experienced professionals. They believe that all of their effort should go into bringing the group to the hardest points of the climb in a rested, altitude adjusted state. As a result, many of the early climbs required patience and a trust on my part. I think there are some parallels in many other parts of our lives. So often, we lose sight of our central goals and put incredible levels of energy into portions of our life journey that do not hold the same importance or priority. Here are some incredible statistics ... apparently, only 15% of the climbers who start toward the summit reach the peak. Yet, over 90 % of Geographic Expeditions clients have successfully accomplished this goal. Most of the other groups move faster and attempt to cover the entire mountain in! five or six days. We took a longer route and used eight days. I suppose this notion of clarity of focus and the lack of pride and ego and the efficiency of all of the energy that was directed is what impressed me.

3. The human body is incredible - we should be in awe every day

It is amazing to watch your body adapt to altitude and to recognize your body's efforts to send clear signals. One of the most amazing experiences is to sense the difference between how you feel at say 16,000 feet when you are going up the mountain and then how you feel at 16,000 feet when you come down the mountain. Coming down you feel like you are swimming in oxygen ... it feels incredible. Going up you feel like you are sucking air through a straw. To me, this is a metaphor for life. The exact same external situation can create a totally different response (physically and/or emotionally) depending on the context and experience that comes before it. It very empowering to believe that you can change your body's function and your emotional response to the same stimulus. It is all about conditioning and perspective.

4. A sense of blessing and re-affirmation of our fragile nature

It is funny. I think we often gain a very inflated view of man's ability to control and manage nature. When we are traveling at high altitude in a wilderness area such as this, it becomes clear quickly, that we are not in control of our destiny. As the African's say when asked about almost any goal or possible achievement "God willing". It seems so easy to forget how fortunate we are. To breath normally and feel a sense of positive physical health and an opportunity to experience friendships, family, partnerships, community, and the passion and beauty of this world.. I am not sure how I can best remain sensitive to this great gift, but I wish to do so – every day. On a mountain like Kilimanjaro, you are not in control. You must be willing to flow with the mountain's energy and accept the power of this force. Sometimes, what we want is just not meant to be ... I have much to learn about allowing life to flow and yet experiencing the full richness of this opportunity. Our souls and hearts can be strong! , but our bodies are fragile and vulnerable. Sometimes a wilderness experience provides strong "shock" treatment to shake this into our heads and help us sense the great blessing in what we have before us each and every day.

5. The power of determination and perseverance

Ron the oldest member of our group and all of the other participants in this journey were challenged. Sometimes you have to want something badly enough to get through the bumps and dips in the road that will encourage you to quit. Ron will be in the hospital for a few days getting tests and therapy and, most likely, will have a cast placed on his ankle. Beth Anne (the woman who was hit by rock) will have vivid memories of a horrific moment that almost changed her life. Two of the other members of our group went through a brutal series of falls and physical challenges, but they were committed to reaching toward this goal. I certainly had my own hurdles to crawl over, push down, or wobble around.

For me, this is a powerful lesson - the sense of how much we can accomplish if we commit ourselves to a goal. We have to want it though ... the bigger and more challenging the goal, the more likely the strength and scale of the upcoming obstacles. The human spirit is amazing ... I was inspired by the commitment and effort I saw during this climb. It seems to me that passion, hope, and a belief that the goal can be reached are essential ingredients in this mix. Oh, yes, some partnership and support are also much valued.

6. The power of a helping hand, a sense of confidence, and some encouragement from someone you trust

I am fairly certain that I would not have successfully made this climb to the summit of Kilimanjaro without a group of people who chose to encourage and support me in my effort. There is something magical about feeling that you are not alone in any quest, something that makes you feel a sense of encouragement.

I think we all have doubts and uncertainties about our capabilities to accomplish powerful goals and commitments that exist in different parts of our life. We often have some level of fear and a caution about continuing the down a vulnerable path ... especially if the goals we are pursuing are big and require us to stretch out of our comfort zone.

To me, the lesson here is to consider how I can be a stronger and stronger support to others who are stretching and how I can better learn to accept support in the areas that I am trying to grow. Simon's words transformed my walk up the mountain. If he had not demonstrated a raw and unwavering confidence in my ability to achieve this goal, I doubt I would have continued. Everything in my body was telling me to quit. The same has been true in many other areas of my life.

A well-known inspirational speaker once wrote that the most Important and valued thing that any person can receive is complete non-judgmental acceptance from another person. If we can combine this acceptance with some encouragement and confidence in the abilities of others, great things can happen.

So many other thoughts ... this oxygen rich life at sea level is frightening! I must pause before you fall asleep with my continued rambling.

It is now almost 5 AM and I need to get packed before my wake up call at 6:00 AM.

La La Salam (sweet dreams in Swahili).

Jeff

Editor's note: the details of the climb: About five years ago, our hosts formed an inspirational partnership and training program with the Maasai Tribe. As a result, we had open and special access to these proud and spiritual people. They greeted us as friends.

I will never forget one special moment. One other member of our group was traveling with me on our way back from a visit we had arranged to a Maasai warier camp. The sun was setting over the grassy foothills. The shadows were long. The light was beautiful. Our jeep came over a small hill and a group of twelve giraffes, several dozen zebra, about twenty gazelle, and a large group of colorful and melodic birds were suddenly all around us. We turned off the engine and sat in silence as we watched the movement and grace of these animals. How do you describe what an incredible site this is?

After several days, we boarded a small bush plane and flew to a tiny airport near the Tanzania border. At the border, our mountain guide, Allan met us and drove us in a four wheel drive vehicle into Tanzania. He dropped us off at a small hotel in Arusha. After we arrived, we had a briefing to discuss our mountain expedition, a quick (nasty) dinner, a joint repacking effort, and then a bit of sleep before we departed for the base of Mount Kilimanjaro.

An overview of our planned ascent follows ...

Day 1 - Hike to from the trail head (7,000 feet) to Forest Camp (9,000 ft)

Day 2 - Hike to Shera Camp (11,000 ft)

Day 3 - Hike to Fisher Camp (12,500 ft)

Day 4 - Hike to Lava Tower (14,000 ft)

Day 5 - Hike to Arrow Glacier (16,000 ft)

Day 6 - Hike to the rim up the "Western Breach" (18,500 ft)

Day 7 - Hike to summit (19,300 ft) and then descend to (10,500 ft)

Day 8 - Hike back to trail head

There is so much to share and reflect on. Each day was filled with challenges, joys, and a series of unforgettable memories. The brutally cold nights, misty afternoons, snow, hail, and rain storms, spectacular sunsets and sunrises, bright, warm sunshine, "other worldly" landscapes, dark green and white glaciers, and immense vistas remain clear in my mind.

By far, the most startling moments of the trip came on days six and seven.

The climb on day six went up the "Western Breach". This required about a seven-hour climb up an icy, snow and rock covered, incline. I was inspired, frightened, and challenged by the experience.

Just before we started, one member of our group decided to quit. The cold nights and altitude and challenges of hiking in this terrain left her with a great deal of uncertainty about her desire to continue. She went around the mountain with several of our support crew to wait for us when we came down from the summit area.

There were many unstable and dangerous portions of the day six hike. On many occasions, our guides had to cut foot-steps (with an ice axe) into the snow banks that allowed us to walk forward up the side of the hill. It was clear that a misstep by any member of our party would result in a sudden several hundred foot slide down the face of a cliff. There were also many rocks to climb up and over and several long, dicey sections with shale and "scree" that moved under your feet.

Perhaps most frightening, was the potential for avalanches and loose rocks falling from above. At one point, I heard a shout from above and looked up just in time to see a large boulder tumbling down the mountainside. The rock was moving very fast- jumping twenty to thirty yards with each bounce. I jumped quickly to the right and watched as the rock flew by me and struck Beth Anne (another member of our party) directly in the back. Fortunately, it hit her directly in her back pack and crushed her water bottle, which cushioned the impact. If she had been a foot or two farther down the path, it might well have hit her in the head and been fatal. Unfortunately, she had panicked with the sound of screams from above and turned her face away from the mountain - she never saw the bouncing chunk of solid granite coming toward her. She had a sore shoulder and shaky step for a few days, but we were blessed. She was not seriously hurt. Apparently, a porter kicked the rock from a resting position and started this dangerous event. It all happened so fast.

At another moment, Mike (one of our other expedition party members) kicked a rock loose by accident. It went flying down the slope at a horrific speed and crushed into a rock bed below. Fortunately, no one was hurt.

The oldest member of our group, who had reached the summit of Kilimanjaro on a different route four years earlier, fell on the same incline and slid down a short, slippery slope into some rocks. Unfortunately, he twisted his ankle and did some serious internal damage to one of his feet and one of his knees. He did continue his journey. His story was inspirational. In the end, he reached the summit. He descended about two hundred yards after his summit effort and then his body gave out. He required emergency evacuation. He could not walk. First he was carried by hand. Then he was carried in a canvass tarp. Next, eight porters carried him through 5,000 feet of descent to our camp on a stretcher. Finally, this morning he was rolled out of the Kilimanjaro National Park on a special cart on a five hour muddy, root filled, horrifically slippery trail. He will need to seek hospital/medical care immediately when he arrives back in the USA. His foot is black, blue, green, and puffy. His body is exhausted! But, hey, his heart is happy!

My journey was filled with emotion and colorful experience. The landscape and light of the mountain are magical. The first five days were not difficult physically, but the impact of the increased altitude reminded me of my fragile and oxygen dependent existence. Our guides constantly warned us "Pole, Pole" (in Swahili) or "Slowly, Slowly" (in English).

Oh, the nights were cold! On the last two nights, I was shivering in my tent. My water bottles and clothes froze in the night if I did not put them in my sleeping bag. On the night that we slept in the crater (at 18,500 feet), my tent was only about ten feet from a fifty foot high dark green and white glacier. Rarely have my hands and feet been so numb or so impacted by bone-chilling drops in temperature.

Wow, the weather can change fast!

The snow storms, misty fog, and hail were incredible - fortunately, on most days, we arrived in camp in time to miss most of the iscomfort of this weather exposure. I spent many hours rolling around my tent in my sleeping bag waiting for the call to tea or dinner.

At these types of altitudes, one needs to drink at least five to six quarts of water a day. Unfortunately, Diomox, the high altitude medication all of us were taking, is a diuretic. You can imagine the joy of getting out of a warm sleeping bag in the middle of the night and trudging out into the snow and crusty ice to relieve yourself. Oh, this is the part of camping that you come to love. The unexpected benefit is the opportunity to view some SPECTACULAR stars and moonlight.

One morning, at about 14,000 ft, one member of our group measured the temperature at five degrees below freezing without a wind chill factor - Brrrrrrr. When we were near the top, I think it must have been fifteen to twenty degrees below freezing.

On the morning of our final ascent, I felt cold, but ready. During the night, my headache had gone away and my body seemed to be adjusting to the altitude quite positively. I inhaled several bowls of oatmeal and some boiling water (which, by the way, is much cooler at 18,500 feet since water boils at a lower temperature with less atmospheric pressure). Mostly, I just valued the chance to hold the warm bowl and cup in my hands before I returned to my tent to pack my gear and begin our final climbing effort.

Allan, our guide, yelled out the call to the group - it was time to launch our last upward effort. Our group headed out, single file, across the snowy, frozen crater at about 7 AM on the 14th of February. The sun was already up, but the breeze was brutally cold. Did I say that already? My feet and hands started feeling colder and colder and then went numb. I could hear my breathing through the cold weather gear that seemed to be wrapped all about my face and body. I had three layers on the top and two layers on the bottom. I felt happy. 18,500 feet, the highest altitude I had ever been. I seemed to adjusting well ... other than the cold!

They say that air has about 50% of the normal oxygen at this altitude and the pace of our group demonstrated this to be true. We were moving very slowly.

We crossed the crater and headed up a slope toward the summit.

We were hiking in about a foot of loose snow. Nothing grows at this altitude. All around us there was nothing but snow, glaciers, and black rock.

I think we were about two hundred feet into the climb when IT happened.

Suddenly, I felt dizzy. My stomach felt terrible. My breathing became labored and heavy. My sensitivity to semi crisp, rapid movement and my acuity seemed to disappear.

Everything seemed to slow down. I knew I was in trouble.

I took a few more steps and sat down in the snow. One of our most experienced guides came to my side (Simon has climbed Kili over 100 times and led countless groups on this quest). He asked me to describe what I was feeling. He sat with me while my head went into a spin and my insides felt like they were part of a spastic cycle on a broken washing machine. I got up. Every movement felt so strange. I could see the ridge I needed to reach several hundred yards ahead, but it felt like many miles from my position.

I sat. I took several steps. I sat. I took several steps. I sat again. Simon asked me to drink. My water bottle was frozen, but we cracked the ice by shaking it and I sipped on the chilled brew with the hope that some kind of miracle cure might be found to my newly acquired emergency.

By the way, ice water at 19,000 feet when your whole body is chilled and shaking leaves much to be desired (smile).

For the next half hour, I felt about as sick as I ever have felt. Fortunately, I did not have the signs of serious altitude sickness (throbbing headaches, vomiting, fluid in my lungs).

Simon asked me if I wanted to go down. This was a promising and tempting option. I paused. It was probably just a few seconds, but it seemed like many, many minutes of thoughts and emotions that flooded my foggy head.

I was committed to turn around if I felt that this was the right and only safe thing to do ... I also knew that I wanted to reach the summit.

Fortunately, I was with a very experienced partner - Simon has seen hundreds, maybe thousands of cases of individual response to altitude. In addition, I knew that Goegraphic Expeditions, the company I was traveling with had oxygen canisters and special oxygen infused body bags to ensure recovery from serious altitude sickness if it occurred.

I decided to take a few more steps toward the summit. Then I sat. The world seemed to spin all about me whenever I continued my effort for more than a few carefully placed footsteps. At one point, I sat in some especially soft snow and I felt the freezing moisture slip between my jacket and my pants and then down my back ... it didn't seem to matter. All of my mental energy was focused on continuing my quest (or determining that I must go down ... whichever path was to be, was to be). I had a certain calm about this whole experience.

A favorite quote from a friend of mine entered my head. Michael McCormack, a coach and professional athlete, often offers encouragement to his weary and dizzy athletes by stating "there will be better moments ... hang in there".

After watching me and walking by my side for several hundred more steps, Simon kindly offered to carry my camera and water. I hesitated and then thankfully accepted his gracious offer. I remember looking down the hill and realizing that I had climbed the majority of the incline. I took a deep breath and asked Simon how much further the summit was. He told me it was just beyond the crest of the ridge I was climbing. I stood up, wobbled a bit, and then continued my abbreviated and weary motion - one foot at a time.

After more of this effort, I heard a voice from behind. Simon said: "Jeffa, you will make it. I believe this. 100%". The next half hour or so seems like a blur. All I can remember is that I started feeling a bit better and that my motion and breathing improved. When I reached the crest of the hill I was climbing, I could see the summit about five hundred yards away. There was just a slight incline between me and my goal.

My pace quickened. My dizziness and internal tornado seemed to be in a quite state.

As I came to the summit, I smiled and felt blessed. Yes, I also felt cold and exhausted. My hands and feet were completely numb. The wind was blowing. I could barely feel the weight of my camera in my hands. I remember that I could tell that I had taken a picture by the sound of the shutter. My fingers were too numb to feel anything.

The views are SPECTACULAR. Very cool. Very memorable. A wild ride!

I spent about ten minutes on the summit. It is not a very warm and friendly spot to cuddle up and soak in the views. When everyone arrived at the top, we took a quick group photo. Then we all bolted for the descent. Within about three hundred yards of lower altitude, I began feeling more like a normal human being.. It took about an hour for my hands and feet to come back.

The descent was challenging - 9,000 feet on the same day as the summit. Then another decent to make it to the trail head and catch our ride back to Arusha.