Hakuna Matata

Hakuna Matata literally means "no worries" in Swahili. It's similar to the English phrase "don't worry, be happy". When I first heard this phrase, minutes after arriving in Tanzania, the Lion King song immediately popped into my brain. 



Hakuna Matata! What a wonderful phrase

Hakuna Matata! Ain't no passing craze

It means no worries for the rest of your days

It's our problem-free philosophy

Hakuna Matata!

Hakuna Matata?

Yeah. It's our motto!

What's a motto?

Nothing. What's a-motto with you?

Those two words will solve all your problems 




So would these two words really solve my problems? I woke up on day 4 looking           forward to the short day that lie ahead today with only a couple of miles to cover. Little  did I know the short day meant climbing up a steep 500ft switchback wall called BrrancoWall. 






We started hiking up and quickly the non-technical leisurely walk turned into what I would call a technical, fear invoking climb where I searched for the appropriate hand and foot holes to pull myself over rocks. “I didn’t sign up for this! I signed up for non technical?!”

For the first time in 4 days I felt my mind and body being challenged in ways I didn’t imagine. I could feel the fear inside me screaming “you're going to slip and die” but there was no time to entertain the fear. 

The thoughts would rise and fall as I moved forward trusting the footwork of Jenny, whowas in front of me, and taking help from the guide to get me through some binds. Whenever I made the mistake of looking up, the 500 ft wall seemed never ending, I wouldn’t dare look down. 








As a struggled internally and externally to keep moving forward my anguish was intermittently alleviated by the friendly and playful chats with the porters who zipped by me literally bouncing from one rock to another singing and chanting “Hakuna Matata” no worries or “Pole Pole slowly,slowly . 

To distract my fear I joined in on the conversations
throwing out every Swahili word I had picked up. The cheering
encouragement was a lifesaver. The end had finally arrived and we are at the
top. Once at the top I finally looked down and appreciated the work I’d done
and the landscape that surrounded us.  

I captured what the wall represented to me in
crow pose on the edge of the wall. Just like with crow pose it takes overcoming
fear and looking forward to find balance and fly so to it took with climbing
Barranco wall. 









The hardest part of Day 4 was behind us, an hour later at noon, we were at Karanga camp with a whole day to rest and relax. We spent the day inside the food tent playing card games, drinking tea, and enjoying the rest. 





Before turning in for the night we gathered our entire crew to pop some champagne and make a toast to say goodbye to 2013 and welcome the New Year!





    

Poa kichizi kama ndizi!

Poa kichizi kama ndizi means "cool like a banana" in swahili. I entertained myself on the mountain by practicing the few swahili words I had picked up so far, which at this point consisted of mambo and poa. The first time I heard "poa kichizi kama ndizi" in response to my "mambo" greeting, I was stumped. Poa que who?! Soon enough this common phrase was added to my vocabulary although I still don't fully understand the banana reference I like the way it sounds. 

Starting the day off with style

Today felt like test day. We’d be hiking 5.6 miles and reaching 15,000 feet of elevation at Lava Tower to test how our bodies respond to the elevation as part of the acclimatization process. The trek out the camp was a steep incline, seeming harder now that the air was thinner and my legs had 2 days of hiking on them. We hiked on one step at a time amusing ourselves with stories both real and sci-fi; thin air and high desert climate makes for a creative imagination. 

Lunchtime break

After a few hours of hiking and a few bars later I was hungry for real food, we had lunch boxes packed in our bags and intended to eat them at Lava Tower which although was only a few hundred feet away, seemed too far at this point. We stopped at a nearby rock formation to eat lunch and take a break. I settled down with my lunch of fried chicken, hard boiled egg, juice, bread (of course) and fruit; and before I could dig into any one of the items it started raining. 

We should have been used to the elements having their own agenda and schedule. In a matter of seconds we were caught in a complete downpour! We tossed our half eaten lunches back in our pack and quickly took the shelter of our ponchos and hiked on to Lava Tower.

We made it to Lava Tower! 

15,000 feet felt surprisingly good, it was cold and rainy at Lava Tower but I was still breathing. The air comfortably traveling in and out of my lungs made me feel a bit more confident in summiting this mountain although a lot could happen in the 4300 feet still remaining to the top but in this moment I felt good. We spent only a few minutes at Lava Tower and then made our descent to 13,000 feet where we would camp for the night. 

It was a beautiful descent with colorful rocks and waterfalls, even in the greyness the shiny rocks shimmered and caught my eye. I followed the group walking down at a much faster pace than we had taken coming up. Eventually we made it to Barranco camp, the rains had a cleared up and camp was dry. It was time to perform the evening rituals and call it a night.

No soup for you

Pole Pole

Pole, Pole means “slowly, slowly” in Swahili. It was the mountain mantra recited by guides and porters reminding us to move slowly so we can acclimate. It also became reminder to slow down and enjoy the moment taking in the breathtaking views we encountered. It wasn't until I was in Zanzibar days later that I'd realize the mantra was more than safety advice it was a lifestyle.

views from Shira camp

Day 2 -
I woke up well before the 6:30am wake up time and laid in my sleeping bag taking a deep breath into my body noticing the aches and pains from the previous days work. My hips and shoulders felt tender from my pack and from tossing and turning on the ground all night. The best way to sleep in a sleeping bag is on the back, however it’s also the COLDEST way. I wanted to curl up in a ball to prevent the chilling air from getting to me. I didn’t hadn’t slept well but because I had 9-10 hours of tossing and turning time, I felt rested. All in all I felt pretty good… which I took to be a positive sign.

We awakened to the same ritual as the evening before Regnad,  our friendly waiter, knocked on our tent, greeting us with a big smile as he squatted down to prepare our morning tea (black tea, sugar, and milk powder) the warmth of which was comforting and energizing. Teatime was followed by a hot water bath, then a quick change of clothes and packing our beds back into the 30kg dry bags that the porters would carry atop their head to the next camp (I admired the strength, agility, and friendliness of these guys).

We regrouped with our small hiking family in the food tent and enjoyed some fried eggs, fruit, millet porridge and meat sausages that (thanks to Jen’s taste buds) would be refereed to as eyeball sausages for the rest of the week and become the catalyst for jokes and laughter.

Back on the trail, the hike was long but pleasant. My body was adjusting to the weight on my back and my feet cooperating with continuous movement they were being asked to perform. Day 2 would take us to 12,480 feet to Shira Camp bringing us deeper into the moorland climate where there’s visibly less greenery and hints of the desert climate that awaited us.

Hiding out in a cave to eat lunch

It was here that I caught my first glimpse of Kiliminjaro in all its might (and fright) towering behind our camp miles high and covered with snow. When we arrived at camp that afternoon Kili was hiding behind clouds, it wasn’t until I stepped out of my tent for a nature break in the middle of the night that I looked up at first mesmerized by the millions of stars covering the dark sky, I then gazed over to my right and nearly stopped what I was doing (mid stream) at the sight of Kili. I felt the panic setting into my body but at the same time I couldn’t take my eyes of it. The mountain top looked magnificient and peaceful and then I thought “this is REALLY happening!” as if it wasn’t already happening.

Kiliminjaro in the camp background

I crawled back into my tent and laid in my sleeping bag, panic stricken and heart racing. “Mind over matter. Mind over matter. Mind over matter. “ I thought to myself as I practiced some deep breathing exercises and fell asleep.

dancing on day 2

Mambo Kilimanjaro

Mambo means "hello" or "whats up" in Swahili and is commonly responded with poa meaning "cool". Everyone and I mean EVERYONE says hello to you in Tanzania and especially on the mountain. It was nice to hear the small talk Swahili chatter amidst the hard work and gasps for air.

We were officially on the mountain and en route to the summit. The first couple of hours passed quickly with playful conversations as we continued to get to know the small group that would become our vital support system over the next week. 

As the hours went on I could feel the weight that was settling in on my back. 3 liters of waters gets heavy after a while. I hadn’t ever backpacked before, unless carrying my backpack with my computer to work every day somehow counts. I had no idea what it meant to carry 3-4 liters of water plus food and extra clothes on my back for 1 day let alone 7 days. 

My shoulders started getting tired and my neck stiffening on one side. I tried readjusting my pack while walking only to make matters worse. I left it alone hoping my body would eventually adjust to the added weight or go numb in the appropriate areas. I think a little of both happened in the days that followed.

We would be gaining 5000 feet of elevation today and camping at about 10,600 feet, our first step at acclimating to altitude. For some reason 10,600 feet didn’t seem intimidating to me. In my head I equated it to being in Tahoe and since I did the death ride (the hardest ride I’ve ever done) I should be able to handle 10,600 feet. As we gained elevation I noticed my breathing getting shallower and my mind questioning how I’m feeling and making me second-guess if I could actually breathe. The monkey mind was already getting riled up…

The mind is extremely interesting and clever. It has the ability to create feelings, emotions, and experiences that never existed. The mind creates fear and fear begets fear. However, when controlled the mind also creates power and power begets power. My goal was the latter.

A couple hours into the hike and we entered the rain forest with no signs of rain… at first. Soon enough I felt sprinkles on my body and before I could finish my thought “it’s starting to rain” we were caught in a complete downpour. This was my first real meeting with the elements on a trail in the middle of the rain forest there’s no place to escape the elements, you have to embrace them and move on.

We grabbed our ponchos (an absolute must) and threw them on as quickly as possible, covering our head, body, and pack. The only thing worse than hiking in the rain with elevation is doing it in the dark. The day quickly turned to night as we approached Macheme Camp. Excited voices filled the air, we had survived day 1 of the climb. It was time to rest.

Our tents were next to trees, mud and the outhouse – a lovely aromatic combination as you can imagine. Jenny and I kicked off our shoes and crawled into the tent to settle in for our first night. I’ve gone camping only once and have never shared a tent with anyone, the idea of two people in a small-enclosed space was not appealing but in this case I appreciated the extra body generating heat in the small space.

Soon after we got into the tent the waiter (yes there was a waiter) came by announcing he had brought a hot water bath. The bath became a ritual I looked forward to daily. It consisted of a small bowl with hot water used for “bathing”. I first washed my face, the warmth of the water soothing my tired skin and slowly bringing me back to life. Then I soaked a bath wipe (imagine a wet napkin with soap on it) and wiped my arms, neck, and legs with it. Finally it was foot soak time (jenny’s fabulous idea) I took of my socks and placed my tired feet into the hot water, it was heavenly! I laughed at our rudimentary ritual, so simple yet so soothing.

Bathed, changed, and dry we headed out for dinner and by heading out I mean crawling out of our tent and placing our feet back into our dirty hiking boots and walking a few feet to the food tent.

Before getting on the trail the guide asked about any allergies. I wanted to say “I’m paleo” but I didn’t think it would fly so instead I said I’m allergic gluten and can manage as long as there is meat and veggies provided.  

Africa is big on bread, I learned this on the climb and on safari. The first couple of days I avoided the bread and ate the soup, meat, rice and veggies that were served. Eventually I broke down from depleted calories and hunger and had the bread and pasta that were being served but it wasn’t without consequences of night time heart burn and belly bloat… thankfully I had Pepcid. 

All in all the meals far exceeded my expectations of dehydrated food and protein bars. We had a cook that prepared all the meals and a waiter that served us with a big smile. Given how exhausted we were daily, the food was a delicious gift.  It was time to hit the sleeping bag and rest up for another long day. 

Right when I was cozy in my bag fully clothed complete with socks, jacket and beanie… nature called. I tried to ignore my bladders request for relief to avoid leaving my nylon shelter. Eventually my bladder was screaming at me and I gave in to the urge and crawled out of my tent and into my shoes with my headlamp on. I walked behind a tree and squatted down holding on to a tree branch for balance and at inspecting my surroundings for any critters, lucky for me there were none. 

I glanced up and was mesmerized by the blanket of stars that twinkled above. I felt small very small on this gigantic mountain.

Reunited at last!

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.

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.

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!

reunited and very happy!