Climbing Kilimanjaro may not have been on my bucket list but visiting Africa certainly was. The animals, tribal culture, slave trade history intrigued me with its profound harsh history and primal mysticism. I was looking forward to a new language and new conversations with the local people which meant getting out of big city Dar Es Salam ASAP. I planned to be there one night and then planned to catch a flight to Arusha but of course the thing about plans is they don’t always follow the plan.
The trip was already off to rocky start with my luggage getting lost and the hassle of communicating with Swiss Airlines in three different countries (Zurich, Tanzania, and Istanbul). I spent the night in DAR but unrested and unhappy. I still took the flight to Arusha and now that I was so close to the mountain I dreaded the thought of NOT being able to climb saddened me. You’d think I’d take it as a sign or a free pass to not climb with my lost luggage excuse, but by this time I really wanted to do it. Although I didn’t have any idea what the experience would be like I knew it sparked in me a type of energy that fired up my nerves and made my stomach turn. Some would call this “fear” I call it “living life”. The very reason that made me want to run away is what made me run towards it. I was climbing this mountain no matter what.
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| My bag travelled around the world before I got it |
The Climb Kili local team reassured me of this (note: having an awesome tour operator is a MUST) by letting me know my options: 1. I could rent everything I needed to climb 2. If my luggage arrived they would send up what I needed. 3. My luggage might arrive en route to Kilimanjaro. Of course option 3 sounded the best to me but I was glad to hear there were options.
The night before the climb I was staying at SG Resort where most foreigners stayed who were doing climbs and safaris. The group that would be on my climb met with our lead guide for orientation. We were a total of 5, the three of us SF girls (myself, jenny, and Ling) and 2 guys (Dan and Shree) – one from NYC and one from Kansas (I think). After some quick introductions and a briefing of the mountain we went back to our rooms to rest up for the big day.
Saturday aka “Climb Kili day 1” was finally here. I was still bag less so I scrapped together a hiking outfit borrowing clothes from the girls (thank god for friends!), packed my backpack and went downstairs to meet the group for breakfast. Omelets, tea and a plate of fresh fruit later we were ready to hit the road.
I walked to the main lobby to meet Lillian the tour operator and ask the same question I’d been asking for days “any word on my bag?!” by now I had prepped myself for the standard answer of “it’s en route, they will let us know when it arrives” I looked at Lillian as she spoke and the words coming out of her mouth were different, I made them out to mean “you’re bag has arrived to Kilimanjaro airport and it’s on a shuttle to meet us half way” I looked at her in disbelief… and responded “my bag is here?! Wait, are you sure? Are you serious?” Looking for confirmation before getting excited. She confirmed that both my bag and Shree’s bag had arrived. I thanked her with a huge hug and couldn’t wait to hit the road and reunite with my bag.
The 5 of us piled into a land cruiser along with our guide, the driver and 2 assistant guides. It was a full car with a mixture of aromas and languages. But we had one thing in common, for the next 7 days we would be one happy family camping on a mountain and working towards the summit. To get acquainted with one another the common questions were being asked, “Why’d you decide to climb Kili?” “Have you been training for this?” “Have you climbed other mountains?” I was surprised and relieved to hear that we ALL had different backgrounds ranging from summiting other mountains to being a hiking virgin. I fell somewhere in the middle. I’d had a few California hikes under my belt and a baseline fitness level with yoga, crossfit, cycling and running but I hadn’t climbed anything remotely close to a mountain let alone a 19,340 ft mountain while camping for 7 days.
The climb kili packet stated that this was NOT a technical climb meaning my feet would stay on the ground and I wouldn’t have to use any fancy foot or handwork to keep moving. Basically I’d be hiking… and hiking is like walking… and I walk everywhere, heck I even run… So of course I can hike! But hiking with a backpack after sleeping in a tent made my hiking experience seem like a short walk in a park.
Somewhere in the conversations I zoned out and the reality of what I was about to do hit me like a ton of bricks. I tried to ward of my emerging panic attack by taking deep breaths and chiming back into the conversation with what seemed to be an appropriate comment “guess we’ll be taking some water shots to ring in the New Year” turns out the topic of alcohol was the perfect icebreaker for our group. Stories of past drunk new years were shared and then it was agreed we would pick up a bottle of something to take a shot of at the top of the mountain (at the time it was a brilliant idea).
We made a quick stop at the supermarket to stock up on water for the first day, the other days water would be boiled for us to restock the 3-4 liters required in our pack daily. I headed to the liquor aisle joining the rest of the group. We agreed that one small bottle would be enough and somehow we ended up at the register with a bottle of whiskey (can’t go wrong with good ol Jack Daniels), a bottle of African rum (Jen swore this was delicious), and a bottle of champagne (the guide insisted we needed it for NYE). Guess we’ll be having one heck of a party on the mountain.
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| Climb Kili Day 1 |
I hadn’t thought of my MIA bag for the first time in 3 days, now that I knew it was en route. We made another stop where we waited 20 minutes for the bag driver to show up. He opened the trunk and eagerly pierced inside… hmm… my bag was not in sight. Shree picked up his bags while I asked the driver if there was another bag, he looked around and shook his head No. I could feel the emotions rising within me… false hope is worse than blatant rejection, I prefer the latter.
The guide called Lillian, who called Swissport, and then called the guide back to confirm my bag was still at the airport. Note: Losing a bag in a foreign country prior to attempting a mountain climb is a complete nightmare… I don’t recommend it.
We piled back into the car and headed for the airport. It was now close to 11am and we were already a few hours behind schedule.
I had my fingers crossed when we arrived to the airport, it was the last stop and I knew I’d be climbing this mountain with our without my bag however I preferred with. I went with the guide inside the airport and waited patiently while he asked the lost and found information booth about my bag in Swahili. I saw her shake her head as if to say she had no clue what he was talking about. I headed to the swissport office demanding my bag. The guy looked at the piece of paper with my bag information and also had a clueless look. I went on to describe my bag with hand gestures and somewhere between him thinking and me talking something clicked. He took me to the room next door full of bags, and there it was straight ahead, my very large, very full, REI bag with a blue bandana. Reunited at last!
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| reunited and very happy! |
