ON OCTOBER 9, 2008, I stood on the summit of Kilimanjaro, not yet realising what a personal accomplishment it was. My heart was still pounding, seeking more oxygen, and my nose was still bleeding. There was no euphoria, no excitement, and no mood of celebration, except for taking a haggard looking picture of me, as proof of my arrival.

I was always fascinated by Africa, and having developed an interest for the outdoors, I researched on the Internet, and approached the African Travel Resources (ATR), a London based company that organises hiking trips. It was going to be my 60th birthday present to myself. I booked my flight through the internet, and informed ATR of my itinerary.

By June 2008, my itinerary was finalised. I made my first down payment to ATR and purchased KLM tickets. I did everything using the Internet, e-mail, and credit card.

But, how does one train for an almost 5,985m tall mountain in the flat land of Houston, almost at sea level? I started walking two hours each on Saturdays and Sundays, at a fast pace in the neighbourhood with my new boots on and backpack filled with old telephone directories. On Fridays, I walked on a treadmill at the gym. On other days, I would use a stair master or a stationary bike for 20 to 30 minutes during my lunch break. I thought I was training well, but, I found out later, during my actual hike, that my training was rather pathetic. Besides, I had no altitude training.

I also had a physical examination done, and the results were excellent. As a requirement for entry into Tanzania, I also took a shot for yellow fever.

Soon, my date for departure arrived. We pierced the dark African night, and landed at Kilimanjaro International Airport on October 3, 2008. I checked in at the Kilimanjaro Mountain Resort Hotel at around 10:30 pm, walked up to my room, and went off to sleep immediately. Needless to say, I was tired.

The next day, I met our hiking group. A little later, my roommate, John, from Yorkshire, UK, arrived. That evening, an AWC (African Walking Company), person briefed us about the following day’s events. We also received our rental equipment (a sleeping bag and a mat for me), after making cash payments.

On October 5, after having our breakfast, we packed our bags to be loaded in the vehicle. We were provided lunch boxes for our midday meal that day. We rode towards the Kenyan border on the dusty roads for two hours, to reach the starting point of the Rongai route at approximately 1,950m elevation. By 12:45 pm, we were on our way to the first camp, Simba Camp. We hiked for about four hours, and registered at the camp, at around 2,600 m elevation. We then continued for another half hour, and descended back to the camp to spend the night. This technique was done to get us gradually acclimatised to the higher altitude, and was repeated each day of the trip.

Every night, after dinner, the chief guide, Passian, briefed us on our next day’s plan. He also told us to “take nothing but pictures, and leave nothing but footprints”.

On the trail, we saw the beauty of wild flowers. Passian taught us to respect Nature.

The next two days, we walked for eight long hours through rugged mountains, going up and down, and then camping at the mountain base. On October 8, we crossed two ridges and an absolutely desolate Alpine desert going from Mowenzi camp to the camp at Kibo Hut at 4700 m elevation, at the base of Kilimanjaro. This was the last base camp before our actual climb. The chief wanted us to conserve every bit of energy for the climb. All four guides and two summit porters (for emergency cases) would accompany us. Once again, the chief reminded us of the three golden rules: pole-pole (sounds like polei polei, meaning slowly); be transparent, do not hide any problems; and have a positive attitude, “do not surrender.” One assistant guide advised us on how to dress, from head to toe, layer by layer. Balaclavas on our head, possibly over ski masks, two thin layers under two thick fleeces, and a down jacket for the mid section, two thin thermal innerwears, a thick one on top, then hiking trousers. On top of all these layers, we were also to wear our rain gear, if needed. For our feet, two thick pairs of socks, one pair of thick gloves with an inner lining to protect our hands, and a headlamp for the hike.

So, finally the night of reckoning arrived. I rearranged my backpack, and tried to lighten up my load a little. As I layed inside my tent, my mind went through the checklist once again to make sure I did not forget anything. By 11:00 pm, we were ready. I could feel a tingling sensation on my fingertips. Finally, at 11:10 pm, we started for our actual climb. With our backpack strapped snugly, and with our walking poles, twelve of us headed for the peak for the first time. Pole-pole, we were reminded again. The porters sang out loud, all the way some song about Kilimanjaro, while we gasped for more oxygen. We could see tiny headlamps in the dark up ahead of us, and down below us – trekkers like us challenging the cold mountain. The pale moon was passing by fast through a veil of thin clouds.

In steep areas, we switched back and forth for a little easier climb, following Passian, our leader. Sometimes, groups from behind would pass us, but Passian had warned us about that during our briefing, and had told us not to worry about that. The goal was to make it to the top.

As time passed, my stomach felt queasy. Suddenly, my mouth felt terrible, and I threw up. Passian was strict – no resting, no sleeping, we had to keep moving; if we rested, we might not get up. I had a runny nose that was making the part of the woolen ski mask under my nose wet. Somehow, I knew that my nosebleed was getting worse. My heart was beginning to pound harder. Soon, we saw some huge rocks called Jamaican rocks. It wasn’t easy to maneuver with the walking poles around those big rocks. Slowly, and one by one, we climbed those rocks, only to find the rim getting further and further away from us, like an illusory mirage in a desert. I only prayed in my own mind to give me the last bit of strength, to make it to the peak. The sun was rising in the horizon from the direction of Mowenzi peak, but we were focused on the rock. So, we never savoured the beauty of sunrise. At 6:25 AM on October 9, we arrived at Gilman’s point (the third highest peak). We had no legs left. My heart was pounding even harder. I could hear my heart beating, as if telling me “you are working me to death.” I stood beside the sign of Gilman’s point, pulled out a gamocha out of my pocket, and hung it around my neck. Someone took a picture of me with my camera. We also passed Stella Point (the second highest peak) after about an hour. As we got closer to Uhuru, I saw a giant glacier to our left. I had no energy to pull out my camera and take a picture. The cold wind was blowing so hard that I could barely plant my walking pole down firmly. At 8:50 AM, we arrived at Uhuru point. One could see the giant glacier up close. I also noticed another glacier at the other side of the rim, and ice at the bottom of the crater. Once again, I took out my digital camera, and asked someone to take a picture of me, declaring my arrival at the highest point in Africa!

In a few minutes, we started to descend back to Gilman’s point. Nine of us made it to Uhuru point, and soon, we were struggling downward from Uhuru peak. I could see the camp down below, and I knew where to go. Eventually, I reached the camp at around noon, but soon, we were on the trail again, and, with the help of my walking poles, I basically dragged my feet, my body, and my mind. It was close to 4:00 PM, and the guide stated that I would feel better now. At the camp, tea and popcorn were being served. I, however, went to lie down in my tent. Everybody looked haggard, dazed, exhausted. I slept for almost eleven hours. Bed tea came, and as I woke up, I felt like a completely new person. A hot shower, a clean bed, a nice meal seemed so inviting.

October 10, 2008 was the last day of our six-day hike. The group started singing a song about “Kilimanjaro”, and I could see the happiness in everyone’s eyes. We walked downhill through a beautiful, evergreen tropical forest, and wished each other luck, as we bade goodbye.

Lohit Datta Barua