Kilimanjaro! aka Oh Mommy! Machame! Part 1

African Kili Ascent 2002 - Fundraiser for HIV

1/12 6:32 Machame Camp- first night of the climb

I think impressions are better than narrative. So here goes... Africa- beautiful, lush, verdant, bananas, papayas, mangoes everywhere. Clean. Smiles and waves; beautiful fabrics in bold colors and patterns; children so beautiful it makes your heart ache.

Okay- the Gemini can't be away from narrative for too long...

Got picked up at my hotel around 9AM and met Vincent, our guide, and Maggie, a Filipina nurse working at Cedars-Sinai in LA. She's hilarious. When she introduced herself, I thought she said she was from Malay--turns out she was saying, "Mmmm. L.A." Lots of Californians in Africa.

Oh- one thing I forgot--I saw a cool PSA from Eve- the gist was "Real Men Wear Condoms". Very frank, very well done. I wondered how it was received in Tanzania. Also wondered if it was part of my friend Rob's MTV World AIDS Day Africa event.

-back to story-

We arrived after about 1 1/2 hours drive at Machame Gate, driving through small villages with loads of immaculately dressed people. Being Sunday, I thought they might be church bound. We stopped for Vincent to buy some meat for our trip. Delicious, fly-encrusted, room temperature meat. Which won't be refrigerated for our seven days. Mmmmmmmmmm. Take that, immune system.

(Not to mention the chicken leg for lunch which was unrefrigerated for 7 hours... I'm the gustatory Eval Kneivel!)

At the park entrance--elevation around 5,000 ft, we registered, I rented gaitors and ski poles, and generally just soaked up the environment. Today was a very busy day for Machame- the Whiskey Route up the mountain- maybe 35 trekkers or so, which each had at least 3 porters, a cook and guide. At around 11:30, Maggie and I were introduced to Sunda, our cook, who would lead us for the first section while Vincent tied up some last minute things.

Off we went, in 80 degree, humid weather, past monkeys and trees, with our gaitors on, as we waited to encounter the infamous mud. Very lush rainforest, intense pink violets, blood lilies, a baby black kite eagle. Gorgeous. It started to get a little slipperier under foot as we ascended. The mud stared to show up but didn't seem so bad. Kind of like our mud hikes up to Heublien Tower in Simsbury as a kid.

Then it showed up. Mud. Mud! Thick, deep, beautiful mud… The porters said "Chocolate!". To me, it was more like walking through the world's largest, deepest baby diaper--but then I thought that description took something away from the pristine beauty. And there were logs that would trick you. People placed logs as footholds and it became a chore to balance-hop from one to the next.

Seems my log of choice was a floater. Looked solid. I leapt on to it and sank up to my knee in mud. And this mud didn't want to let go.

"May I kindly remove your boot for you, sir?"

I schllluuuukkkked it out and kept going. It was an exhausting day of hiking--5,000 feet in elevation gain, about 4,000 through mud. My boots must have weighed 20 pounds each.

Around 4:30, just as I was seriously starting to flag, we left the rainforest and entered high alpine meadow. Another 20 minutes and we were in camp--mud encrusted, exhausted, serene.

Our tents were set up, including a dining pup tent (sorta had to eat at an angle), basins of hot water were brought to wash off, and my boots and pant legs disappeared, only to return 10 minutes later--immaculate.

Had some tea and popcorn, a dinner of boiled/fried potatoes, bread, chix noodle soup, and chicken pepper carrot stirfry. Great food but not much appetite. I downed some bananas and a Clif bar for electrolytes, and went to bed. Slept like a log.

-Oh, for five minutes, just past sundown, the peak of Kili appeared-- glorious, majestic. And high.

Kili too!

1/13 4PM Shira Camp 12,500 ft resting pulse 84

(Sorta looks like some of the Alaska AIDS Vaccine ride campsites--Right, Phoebe, right?)

Had a spectacular hike today. We were told it would 6-7 hours, so we headed off at 8:30. Right out of camp, it got very steep. Today we had an elevation gain of 2,500 ft-more actually, because we went higher, and slept low. Most of the elevation gain was in the first hour and a half. After about 20 minutes of climbing up a boulder streambed, we left the forest completely and entered what looked to me like what a terrarium would look like if you were a newt. Giant heathers, Old Man's Beard moss, giant senecias--the only place on earth they grow--Kilimanjaro impatiens, lichens, red hot poker flowers. Saw ice for the first time. Had lunch with an amazing view of the Rift Valley, Mount Meru, the jungle we'd hiked up yesterday (funny- didn't look muddy or hilly).

We came into camp with fantastic views of Shira Cathedral, looked sorta like how I'd imagine Macchu Picchu looking-- all romantic green peaks, mists, and cobalt skies. Very surprised to have made it in to camp in just four hours. Must be doing okay.

This seems like a good time to introduce a real character- a reporter from New York who's first words to everyone he meets are, "I've been to 60 countries."

"Oh! And I have fungal toenail. Nice to meet you."

Delving a little deeper, I soon learned that 1) we'd paid too much for our trek, 2) Brazilians are ugly & contemptible, 3) the trek was a major disappointment because of the people on the route, 4) people who don't travel are deadbeats, 5) his route was better and harder than ours, 6) and he hiked very hard today so that a 40- year old guy with HIV wouldn't beat him into camp (which I did, thangyewberrymush).

Huh.

My reply to him was, "Dude. It's the journey, not the destination. Put the checklist of experiences down and look around you!" It made me wonder if he enjoyed any of his 60 countries. Or his life.

He asked if he could join me to Uganda, and I replied, "Please do! But first, may I borrow your pocket knife so that I might slit my wrists?" Well, I didn't really say it, but I thought it.

I don't know what the phenomenon is that Americans like to flock together when traveling. Maybe it's shared experience, or that we often get chilly receptions, perhaps because of boors like the reporter.

I love meeting Americans, but I learn more, like by talking to the Austrian man living in Canton, China, who had lived all over the world, or the South African stock broker from Johannesburg, who had a similar wanderlust and genuine kind spirit, or the slightly chilly French woman who warmed to me when she realized I was nuts.

I really liked Mark's (S African guy) motto, which he told his clients when they were considering stock options.

"Which longterm investments should I pursue?"

"Longterm? You could be dead. What about now?"

I love that. What about now? What is life other than a collection of experiences and relationships? It's not real estate or wealth. It's spirit, it's family, it's being fully, truly alive in the present, right now.

And right now, I'm going to give myself the present of a mid-afternoon catnap. Night night.

1/14 Barranco Camp 3:39PM (Play Misty For Me)

It was frigid in camp this morning- I'd say maybe 15 or 20, but crystal clear and gorgeous. Overnight the mud had been transformed into paisleys and whiskers of ice crystals. Woke up at the usual time--4:30 AM-- and lay in my Blue Kazoo mummy bag, looking like a huge blue caterpillar with a giant proboscis. Been having vivid dreams--it may be the combo of Diamox, Larium & HIV meds. I woke up this morning saying, "Mom! Why'd you intentionally break my sunglasses?"

It's been 16 years since my mom died, and she breaks my sunglasses? A fine-how-do-you-do. I woke up laughing at the absurdity.

Speaking of absurdity, I heard our cook, Sunda, greet one of the other porters with a beautiful, Swahili-inflected, "What ees up? How ees my neee-gah?"

Silence. Then uproarious laughter.

Back to today--it was supposed to be a 6-hour hike to camp, and it took us 4 1/2. We spent the first two hours hiking up 3,000 over fairly easy to navigate terrain- none of the 18", 24", 36" steps-from-hell of day one. At 15,500, which for Californian perspective is 1,000 higher than Mount Whitney, we descended 2,000 feet to camp. Going up may be tiring, but doing down, exhausting. And it makes everything hurt. It started off as a skree slope so it was lots of fast little steps and near misses as we started gravelanches, then as we approached the lava tower, it became the steps-from-hell and loose boulders.

Absolutely amazing terrain and flora-- at 15,500, you'd have thought you were on the moon except for the occasional blade of grass, but as we descended to camp, we hit the cloudy, misted side of the mountain. Saw white-necked ravens, giant senecias, giant lobelias. Tiny, tiny Craig. Kind of expected a hookah-smoking caterpillar to appear.

Perspective made me feel antlike. Arrived in camp at lunch, made myself a Kili moccha(my invention)- 2 spoons of Nestles Nido (milk), Nestles Milo (like Ovaltine) and two spoons of coffee.

Speaking of Nestles Nido, it made me recall the boycott of a few years back. Seems Nestles was marketing their formula as better than mother's milk. And people bought it, but being poor, diluted it. Hence, babies dying of malnutrition. Now, that's a killer marketing campaign!

Didn't seem like things had changed much. On the pretty green can featuring fat Swiss cows with bronze cowbells, munching clover on a daisy-strewn Alp (now THAT must resonate with Africans) the gist of the back of the can was "If you love your children, you will give them Nido. If you don't, they will die of your hate." (Maybe not that strong--don't sue, Nestle). What says love better than powdered milk?

One thing the mountain keeps telling me (Okay-it's the altitude…mountains talk), is that there is a significant fundraising opportunity in doing something just like this. I'd like to develop the concept and bring 12 to 24 people here next year. People who are willing to make an extraordinary statement. People who are willing to pay their way so that 100 percent of their donations go to their charity of choice. People who are willing to accept a challenge and press on…

"I have a dream…"

So, I'm sitting in my tent to avoid the clouds that are scraping over us, enjoying the altitude gain/loss--needles and pins in my hands, face, feet and ass from Diamox, uncontrollable flatulence, and a resting pulse of about 90 bpm. A satisfied, happy, tired heart.

P.S.- For some reason, the mountain also has Toto's 'Africa' stuck on an endless loop in my head. "Please stop the rains down in Africa…" Toto, just stop.

1/15 7:15AM "I'm On Fire"

"Owwwweeee. Owwweeeeee." ~Rosario, -Will & Grace‚

My head hurts. Not altitude. I seem to have given myself a scalpwide 2nd degree burn. Yikes, that sun is strong at 15,000 feet. So I slept with my suntan lotion in my bag last night-excellent move. Nothing worse than slathering 20 degree lotion on in 20 degree weather. I think at this altitude and at day four, we might be showing some signs of GI stuff. Maggie was up 6 times in the night & had cramps, and I've turned into Hermes Sulfur Works. We're a flammable pair. I think this may have been the day that my pal Phoebe started feeling sick on her trek. We boil & treat the water, but at altitude, water boils at a lower temp. My drinking H2O is fine 'cause I use iodine, but the tea and soups we're served--all just boiled. I have some kind of bite on my wrist. I hope it sprouts worms or spiders, like in 'Angel Heart'. Also, have a killer sore throat, but I think that is from the cold, dry air, and my de-evolution into a mouth breather.

Oh. There is a bird outside my tent, perched on my boot, looking at me. Good morning, bird!

1/15 12 Noon in Karanga Valley Camp

Weird dreams numbers 1-3.

#1-Was in a ski lodge in Utah, but it looked more like a Blade Runner-era warehouse. A skatepunk was operating the elevator, and he thought it was funny to make me stick to the ceiling.

#2-I ran in to Stevie Nicks in Arusha, and we reminisced about the time I was at her condo. Then she asked to see my posters, which she suggested I sell on Ebay.

#3-I was at Lake Manyara and rounded a corner to find 50 or so people lining the path, all holding boulders. They were going to stone me because I wasn't Muslim. They all looked American and wore North Face zip-off pant leg travel pants. After they stoned me (which didn't hurt), I lay on the ground noticing how beautiful the flamingos were.

Gotta love Larium--who needs acid?

For Breakfast, Scrambled Boulders

3- hour hike today. 2,000 foot gain to spectacular views of glacier, Mount Meru, and these amazing mountains in the mists. It was a hard three hours. Much of it would qualify as rock climbing, gripping, assessing foothold, scooting on your butt. All this done in a single file row-- a group of 6 South African women going polepole (Swahili for slow), and a bunch of porters impatient to charge by you, up these uncertain inclines, with astonishing balanced items on their heads: propane tanks, chairs & tents, duffels, fish aquariums, Mini Coopers…

Very little air up here, but we just keep little-engine-that-could-ing up the mountain.

Right now, I'm in my tent, I've washed my underwear, soukous is playing on a radio, belly full of delicious beef stew--it is a very good day to be alive.

1/16 Karanga Valley 6:30AM 13,900 feet 15 degrees

Shanti shanti. Only six of us trekker here at Karanga because we added an extra acclimatization day. Really nice to be away from the madding crowd. What a great surprise to go to sleep in a dreary, mist enshrouded campsite, only to wake up to a glorious blue/pink/orange sunrise over the left crest of camp. The lights of Moshi town sparkle far below, and there are loads of mountain chats (a bird) and ravens looking for scraps.

I have underwear and a shirtcicle outside. Because we arrived in camp so early and it was sunny, I washed socks, underwear and my shirt. A cloud immediately appeared and sat down for a visit until sundown. Yes, the camp became Skyline College. (Any of you who've done the Avon 3Day SF know of what I speak. My friend Thelma said she was far colder at Skyline than she ever was in Alaska during the vaccine rides.)

I've gotten very good at using squat toilets-- the near-year in India and Nepal helped with that. The toilets (okay- a hole in the ground with wooden walls) are surprisingly well maintained- but are much smaller than Asian toilets and require a certain finesse. Just wanted to paint a picture.

It's amazing the ease with which travelers discuss bodily functions--poop is rated for texture, frequency, bouquet; menstruation become dinner conversation; vomiting, disease, pus, snot--all society topics. We're a damn classy bunch.

It just dawned on me, here at dawn at Karanga, by this time tomorrow, we'll be headed down from a hopefully successful summit attempt. We'll start the 6 hour, 4,000 foot ascent to 19,300 feet at midnight. And the gods are smiling on us--it will be a full moon hike to an astonishing sunrise over this beautiful land which is Africa.

1/16 12:30PM Barafu Camp 15,500 feet, resting pulse 100

"I'm Breathless!"

At 15,500 feet, it's like trying to breathe in an unopened can of Pringles. Everything winds you--walking 20 feet to the outhouse, buttoning your shirt, watching an eagle soar. Blinking.

Arrived at Barafu after a 3-hour walk. The first 2 hours were straight up via numerous switchbacks. Stunning views--completely arid here--only the occasional tiny plant or electric orange lichen. The rocks are a mix of shale, slate & pumice--here you really see that it is a volcanic mountain. The glaciers on top of Kili are showing patches of cobalt- amazing to think they could be gone in 20 years. Great views of sharpy, pointy Mweka mountain.

Kind of just hanging in my tent waiting for lunch, then I'll nap, eat dinner and we're off to the summit at midnight.

Ran in to the NYC reporter- first words were, "Welcome to hell…"

I smiled and said, "Funny, I was just noticing how beautiful it was." (I think my optimism really got under his skin).

He started in on how awful the descent was (which I'm sure it is), but I said, "No negative. I'm here to enjoy this."

He looked a little confused, then smiled and said, "It's really beautiful up there."

Finally! Was that so hard?

As we were hiking, Maggie said, "When do we get to Mweke gate?" A few steps later, "When do we get to Arusha after Kilimanjaro?" Five minutes later, "When can we use the Internet café in Arusha?"

I finally said, "Maggie! Be here now. I know it's hard when our minds always have us 50 yards, two hours, a month, 10 years ahead. Tell it to stop and just look around."

The untamed mind is an exhausting brat/child. I remember the initial agony of the 10 day silent Vipassana retreat--but when you get to the point when it stops-- magic.

I have my stuff for tonight all laid out-- Mom's necklace (which I'd intended to leave on the top of the mountain, but it's litter in that context, so I'll bring it home so that it can be relegated to a family heirloom tchotchke box--Jane--don't throw it out…), my postcards, my three cameras justincase, and a sense of awe.

I feel very fortunate to be able to see such beauty while I'm alive, and to not have to wait till the Imax of World Wonders which they show for all those being Kevorkianed at the age of 25 like in Logan's Run (or was it Soylent Green?).

I'm thankful for those of you who've supported my efforts, and those of you who are friends and family, those of you who've tolerated my seemingly endless fundraising appeals. I most definitely promise this will not be my last, either. For me, it's really the only way to stay (moderately) sane within the bleak context of HIV. But I like to think I'd be this committed even if I hadn't seroconverted. After all- I'd done two AIDS rides and four AIDS walks before I ever knew I was positive. I guess my genetic makeup that makes me Craig also makes me sensitive/compassionate. And that's not easy to be. It's far easier to not care.

"Not my problem."

But it is our problem. That which affects the least of us affects all of us, and if not us solving problems, who? If not now, when?

In talking to Mark, the South African, he said, "My continent is dying."

Why is this not of the same urgency as North Korea/Iraq/Afghanistan? Because there's no oil? Because they're African? Unacceptable.

I climb for them, I climb for every one of you, I climb for me. It's basic survival. To quote my Hindi/Nepali friends, Namaste. I honor the god in you. All are one.

1/17 2:30PM Mweka Hut 9,000 feet resting pulse 80

Success. Probably one of the more physically exhausting days I've had in a while. Last night, up at 11:30 to get dressed, have tea & cookies, and then set off for the peak. I was getting impatient because groups started going by at 11pm and we weren't leaving til 12:30. At 12:45 we headed off from camp under an intense near-full moon and 10 degree weather. We had headlamps, but I never used mine, as the moon was bright enough to cast razor sharp shadows. The only sounds were crunch of foot on gravel, scrape of poles on rock, and sniffs for almost every step. It seemed as if we were climbing up a slide covered in gravel, boulders and sand, made all the more exhausting by the backslide for every step and what seemed like a 65 degree rake.

6AM seems like a long ways off at 1AM in Arctic freeze darkness. Songs kept baubling through my head-- Cat Stephen's Moonshadow played for about an hour and a half, and Mickey Rooney and Keinan Wynn followed with Put One Foot In Front of the Other for about 3 hours.

We hiked strongly and passed nearly every group on the trail up. One group of what seemed to be about 20 people, was from the UK and I got the feeling it was an Outward Bound-type executive bonding exercise.

By 3:40 we were nearing our first glacier. The wind picked up and dropped about 20 degrees. My scarf froze. My water bottle froze. My Maggie froze. My Clif bar package burst, so I figured it wanted me to eat it. I did.

At about 5:15, the eastern sky just starting to shake off night, and we arrived at Stella Point--a final point for many people at over 19,000 feet. I wasn't feeling altitude effects at all, other than very short breath and a resting pulse of about 145. (Maybe I could get someone to drop me on the top 3x a week for 40 minutes…I'd never have to work out again.)

Something sparkled in the setting moonlight as we sat at Stella Point overlooking Kilimanjaro's impressive black crater. I picked it up-- it looked like obsidian or volcanic glass--the ground was covered.

We set off for Uhuru Peak on what seemed to be like a beautiful paved road after nearly 5 hours of playing in the gravel pit.

As we neared Uhuru, I suppressed sobbing, for accomplishment, for Mom, for loss. (It was very similar to the emotions I felt during my AIDS rides of the mid-90s. Never felt that during the vaccine rides.)

At 5:45, we reached Uhuru Peak, the roof of Africa. The temp was said to be about -10 degrees F, plus windchill. Really all you could do was snap a pic and head down--it kind of added an unfortunate Been There, Done That feel to the otherwise significant event.

We headed directly into an electric magenta/orange/cobalt sunrise and started our descent back to Barafu.

It was kind of mind-boggling to see in the daylight what we'd hiked up in the dark. Also boggling in that it only took us two hours to skree ski back to Barafu.

Once back, we had and hour-and-a-half nap, had lunch around 9:30. Both Maggie and I had headaches, more dehydration than altitude.

As we were packing up, we saw two people being escorted through camp--- one staggering, one sort of bluish grey--a very real reminder that altitude can kill people on Kilimanjaro. By 10:30, we were off to our final camp, Mweka Hut, which was another knee and quad busting 6,000 feet of descent. By the time we stumbled into camp at 12:30, we'd be hiking for almost 12 hours-- 4,000 ft gained, 10,000 feet lost. Hard to imagine. Tomorrow, we head down the mountain another 4,000 feet- back through rainforest, to showers. Shampoos. Laundry.

PS- I had to admit to feeling a little guilt as I gulped my morning cocktail of Viramune/Trizivir/acyclovir atop Kili. A day's worth of these pills cost as much as two porters would earn for an entire week of work. Or what two teachers in Tanzania would make. It's a strange world sometimes.

PPS- I just made Albano, one of our porters flip out. I asked if he'd like my Nikes. He tried them on to prove to me that they would fit--to quote Bill Murray 'a real Cinderella story.' I have too much to pack so I'm giving away sweatshirts, shoes, gloves, scarves. I don't use them much and they will be used every day here. I remember thinking when I first arrived at Machame gate that the porters looked like a 1975 production of Godspell--a collision of colors and patterns, cloud long johns over bright yellow shorts, kaleidoscope jackets. Really great.

1/18 Mweka Hut to Mweka Gate

Woke up to a clear day after a great night's sleep. Feeling sort of drunk on oxygen. We set off on the final leg at 8AM. We still had 4,000 feet of descending to do and were expecting a 3- to 4- hour hike.

By this point both Maggie and Vincent were really over the trek. Maggie wanted to get back to Arusha ASAP so that she could "wash each strand of hair individually." You see, your hair gets kind of crunchy after a week of sweating/freezing/sunscreen/sleeping/deet.

We were hiking at a very aggressive clip--so much so that Maggie fell a couple of times in her haste to get back to Arusha.

As we continued, the terrain turned to a pristine rainforest again--all moss and ferns- the smell, a heady concoction of mold, earth, spice, sweat, tea leaves and foliage. I decide to hang back a bit and actually take in some of the scenery.

At one point, Vincent asked if anything was wrong. I said, "I'm fine. Not many times in my life when I get to walk through a Tanzanian rainforest. I want to enjoy it."

This caused Maggie to stop, look around, take a picture and keep walking.

Vincent tried to hike in back of me, I'm sure to speed me up, but he got frustrated by my not speeding up and just passed me.

The trails had been groomed in the past year and looked very much like clay tennis courts- with steps and bridges. We passed people working on the trails, and heard a familiar refrain of "Chocolate? One school pen?" from the kids along the trail.

We arrived at Mweka gate at 10 AM- we'd done the hike in 2 hours.

After settling up with Vincent and the porters, we set off for Arusha, first passing through Moshi town. We got to TSA by 1PM, and had a very warm welcome from Jordan & Iris. We were briefed on safari and given a little time to relax.

We went to Mezza Luna for dinner-- a huge outdoor Italian restaurant with stone oven pizzas. There was only one other couple there, and we were right next to the band, which played off key and very quietly so as not to disturb us. Some of the best pizza I ever had. Or maybe I'm just comparing it to 5-day old fish and such on the mountain.

Took a taxi back to the hotel and had a well-deserved long night's sleep before setting off on safari.

Signs we passed along the way:

Sophie's Bar & Butcher

General Hula Supplies (nothing specific?)

My personal favorite pair of business: House of Lubricants and Happy Sausage Factory (I wondered if there was a link…)

And perhaps the most frightening two:
Pentagon Beauty Salon
and
New Jersey Haircuts. I shudder to think.