Kilimanjaro (Part 2)
The crew killed Kili before Kili killed the crew
Overview of our daily routine
By the start of day 4, we had a fairly consistent routine. Our guides would wake us up around 6AM, at which point we'd get dressed, pack our bags...
Most of us got dressed before packing our bags
... and go grab a BIG 'ol breakfast.
I wonder who ended up with Matthew's facepubes in their toast
We'd start our hike around 7AM, daypack in tow, while the porters stayed behind to pack up the the rest of camp.
Most days we hiked for around 4-5 hours. The porters would catch up with us about an hour in, veritably flying by, despite carrying at least 5 times the weight of our daypacks.
Left: bad-ass. Right: fat-ass.
We'd usually stop for a snack break about mid-way through and get into camp just in time for lunch.
Looks like Matthew is especially hungry
All of our meals were served by our main man Jamali (Jamali Jamali Jamali), and every time he walked in into the mess tent (and I mean every time), we'd drop whatever we were doing and launch into a Jamali-themed beat-box jam.
"JAMALIN' JAMALIN' JAMA JAMALIN' JAMALIN' JAMA"
"Everyday I'm Jamalin', every day I'm Jamalin'"
Lunch (as well as dinner) always started with some super dank soup, and involved waaaaay more food than the 5 of us could finish.
Not shown here: a massive pot of soup and an equally large plate of meat
After lunch we'd have a couple hours to chiiiiill. We'd nap, play frisbee, read, work on crossword puzzles, and otherwise just kick it.
Nappin', readin', frisbee succeedin'
We'd generally hit up the mess tent as soon as it started getting dark, around 6ish, at which point dinner was served ("Everyday I'm Jamalin', every day I'm Jamalin'").
Some meal-time trends include: 1) Jandro using ALL OUR GODDAMN HOTSAUCE, 2) Isaac eating WAAAAY more than his fair share of peanut butter, and 3) at least one person pulling a Phil spill.
And by "at least one person" I mean "Jandro"
Soon after dinner, our three guides would come in to debrief us on the next day's climb: where we're going, how long it will take, and what to wear. They'd measure our heartrates and blood oxygen levels.
But mostly, they'd just ramble along while we tried not to giggle, 'cause they'd invariably be really, really, really, high.
Left: Dixon trying reaaaal hard to remember what he was just saying
Right: Matthew feeling pretty damn skeptical about the last shuffle
After that it was cards, cards, and more cards. Matthew taught us how to play hearts and cribbage, Isaac taught us how to suck at them, and Jandro did us all a favor by covering his head with the asshole helmet for the majority of "presidents and assholes."
There was always a porter outside on guard while we were in the mess tent
Most nights we hit the hay around ten, ready to do it all over again.
Day 4: Dipping into the nausea zone
On day four we made our first significant dip up above the 13,000 foot "altitude sickness barrier." We started at Shira 2 Camp (12,800 feet), made a steep climb up to Lava Tower Camp (15,190 feet), and came back down to Barranco Camp (13,000 feet). Such "acclimatization hikes" help build up your altitude tolerance.
Left: expectations. Right: reality.
The way up to Lava Tower was a pretty steep climb. Soph's headache started getting worse, but otherwise, we still felt pretty good.
So many ways to count to 4!
Feeling pretty stoked we weren't feeling very shitty, we ran around, took some pictures, and played some frisbee.
Indisputably the cutest picture of the trip
It didn't take long to get tired, though, and eventually the altitude started creeping in.
Getting a liiiiiittle sleepy...
The altitude hits everyone a bit differently. For Isaac and Soph it took the form of a headache. I found myself not having much of an appetite. All in all, though, we still felt surprisingly good, and it says something that our guides were genuinely stoked nobody was vomiting. Seriously. They were legitimately impressed.
... aaaaaand he's gone
After lunch we bombed back down, all the way to Barranco Camp (13,000 feet).
Enthusiasm's back, bitches!
The views that night were especially stunning. The lower-level clouds receded, revealing distant cities glowing in the fog below.
Day 5: Leaping through the clouds
We woke up the next morning to pristine blue skies, with not a cloud covering Kili.
"Alright Jandro, for this one, try to age by like 25 years"
It'd now been 5 days since some of that sweet nectar of the gods commonly known as beer had graced our lips, so we had ourselves a little brewery-themed photo shoot.
West siiiiiide! Isaac reppin' Santa Barbara's Night Lizard Brewing
Ahhh, you could almost smell the hops.
East siiiiide! Jandro hits back with Knoxville's Crafty Bastard Brewing
Almost. But not quite, because it was pretty much impossible to smell anything other the stench of four bros not changing their t-shirts for an entire week.
The solo t-shirt challenge: no bro was allowed to change their t-shirt for the entire duration of the climb. Soph appealed and was grudgingly granted an exception.
Both breweries actually ended up using our pictures on their social media pages. We even ended up getting a few free beers out of it.
Thanks Tim, I needed that
Our main ascent of the day was a crazy steep scramble up the Barranco Wall. Let's just say there's a reason they call it a "wall." Don't look down!
Jandro's like 15% faking it
At the top of the wall we were treated to one of the tastiest views of the trip, and you better believe we went ham on some snaps.
It's the ciiiiiiiircle of liiiiiiife...
Our guide, who didn't realize there was a lower ledge here, looked up just as Matthew jumped and just about crapped his pants
Ninja kicks to cool off!
"Hey Mirek can I do this to your balls?"
"Oh fa sho, as hard as you can bro!"
"NAILED 'EM!"
Soph would like you to know she jumped early and is totes on her way down
The rest of the day's hike was pretty flat and uneventful. Unless, I suppose, you're a die-hard panda fan, because pretty much every single photo I have between now and camp involves a panda.
Bear bros unite!
The unBearable lightness of being
The saddest of pandas
Before long we arrive at Karanga Camp (13,000 feet), where we'd spend our last night before sprinting up into the nausea zone.
We spent the afternoon running around and playing pushup frisbee, marveling at how easily you get winded at this altitude. The rules of the game are as follows:
Step 1: find a frisbee, a steep rocky slope, and some dirty ground covered with the waste of a thousand climbers (that last part is really important).
Step 2: fling the firsbee between bros until someone screws up.
Step 3: the culprit has to do as many pushups (in the dirt) as there were preceding successful throws.
Step 4: don't wash your hands and go eat a bucketful of popcorn.
It's a game that's fun in and of itself, but for the real reward, you'll have to wait until nighttime.
The last bit of beauty before the great expulsion
Day 6: BBBLLLLEEEEEUUUUURRRRRGGGGHHHHH
That night Soph and I were treated to a cacophony of sound so immense it could be heard from faraway in space space space. Because the final rule of pushup frisbee is:
Step 5: spend the evening in a rotation of retching, fiery feculence, and writhing wretchedness.
Isaac kicked things off around 10PM, just as I was drifting off to sleep. I was startled to attention by the sound of a frantically torn zipper, followed promptly by a deeply demonic HLEEAAHHHurkurkBLLEAAHH <cough> <gulp> HUURGGEHH!
About an hour in, Mathew made it a duet, chiming in with his own brand of primal vom-song, and not long thereafter, Jandro's fomo got the best of him. Before long all three weak-stomached bros were firing away, employing every orifice, filing the air with a slew of sounds and stinks so vile you'd have to be there to believe.
The bros reminisce about their evening
Both Soph and I slept like babies, and we're still not quite sure what happened.
Was it altitude sickness? Possibly - these are exactly the symptoms you'd expect, and we're at exactly the place to expect it. Then again, we'd been at the same altitude for 3 days now, and to have all 3 bros snap at once?
Was it the pushup frisbee? Possibly - slurping dirt off the latrine-lathered slopes of Kili could definitely do you in. Soph and I didn't use our slope-soiled hands to eat any popcorn, which might explain our good health. On the other hand, it's not like everyone took turns doing pushups atop the same turd.
Perhaps most realest picture of the trip
Either way, day 6 SUCKED for said wussy bros. Fortunately, we only had about 3 miles to climb.
Smile for the photo... HLEEAAHHHurkurkBLLEAAHH!!!!!
Unfortunately, those 3 miles were mostly spent going vertical. Eventually we made it to the delightfully-named Barafu Camp (15,200 feet).
So happy to make it! Just look at those shit-eating grins
Here we would spend a few short hours feeling queasy and trying to nap. We ate an early dinner and tried to get to sleep around 5PM, since we'd be "waking up" just a few hours later to make our final push.
Day 7: Icing on the Kili-cake
We "woke up" at 11PM that evening to start the final ascent. There are two main reasons for doing things this way. Firstly, there are no camps situated higher up, and there's still a LONG ways to go. It's best to do most of it in the wee hours of the morning, while it's still nice and cool.
The mortal combat theme is fitting. FINISH HIM!
More important, however, is reason number two: by the time you get to the top, you'll be feeling like an altitude addled ballsack, so its best to push through the pain as fast as you can.
Props to Matthew's camera: it was pretty much pitch black right here
It's about 6 miles from Barafu to the top of Kili. We were going craaaazy slow, but we didn't stop very often, and actually ended up passing about two dozen other groups.
Just follow the space panda
We spent about 5 of those hours trekking in the dark, and the sun started rising just as we crested the main ridge.
"And thus the fellowship climbed ever higher, steadfast and resolute..."
At this point you're surrounded by year-round ice and snow, and you're so far up above the clouds that it feels like you're surrounded by snowfields as far as the eye can see.
Isaac lost the space panda
The sunrise was breathtaking. It felt like we were on the frozen surface of a faraway planet, watching a cold sun rising a galaxy and a half away.
Cuteness for days
We walked like this for another hour or so, slowly climbing up along the ridge, until suddenly...
Jandro and Sanka: a kindled passion, ready to ignite...
... we were there. We'd made it to Uhurua Peak (19,341 feet), the highest point in Africa, and the top of the tallest free-standing mountain in the world.
Consider. Kili. Conquered.
Bathing in exuberance, we ran around yelling like madmen, and I took advantage of the chaos to snag Jandro's panda hat. This I laid down on the ground, using it to cover up an especially nice patch of... ice.
Oooooooooooooooooooooooooh!
OOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
OOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
That is correct. We flew a Smirnoff Ice from the US to Tanzania, shlepped it for six days up the slopes of Kilimanjaro, and served it to our favorite Mexican at 19,340 feet.
The fastest recorded ascent of Kili is 4h 56m by Karl Egloff, in 2014.
The oldest recorded climber is 86 year old Angela Vorobyova, in 2015.
And the only recorded icing at the top of Kili is of Alejandro Ortega, in 2018.
This was, in fact, the first sip of booze Jandro'd had in about a month, and it would prove to be the nudge of liquid courage he needed to make his blooming bromance with Sanka Facebook official®.
The ballad of Jandro and Sanka: although Isaac was our group's undisputed African dude magnet, Sanka and Jandro had something special from the start.
It started innocently enough. "Sanka!" Jandro would cry. "Teach me something in Swahili!" Sanka would smile, eyes brimming with affection, and whisper softly in Jandro's ear: "mambo ne kulana-tu."
It escalated quickly. That night it was Jandro's turn in the solo-tent. We went to bed at the usual time and awoke no earlier than normal. And yet, the next day, Jandro could barely keep his eyes open. Slept terribly, he'd say. Think nothing of it. The muffled grunts from the night before? A bear, surely. His eyes would dart nervously, here, there, to Sanka's tent and back... think nothing of it. Just a big 'ol African bear.
And so it went, day after day, sleepless night after sleepless night. Did they think we did not know? Or perhaps they feared to break the spell that held their searing souls a'twist? Who can say what haunts the harried hearts of merging men.
The elation of a successful summit, heightened by a healthy buzz, finally cracked the dam of denial. "Sanka," said Jandro. "I can no longer hide my love for thee. I want thee. I NEED thee. Take my hand, and never let me go."
And so Sanka took hold of Jandro's hand, and the two ran down the mountain, hand in hand, heart to heart, and never once looked back.
Alright, maybe that's not exactly how it happened, but you get the generally idea. Turns out Jandro was hiking Kili with a torn meniscus, which isn't really an issue going up, but can be quite painful when going down.
After we summited, then, I told Sanka about Jandro's knee and told him we'd have to take it slow. Sanka had a different solution. He ran off, fetched one of the other porters, and the two of them lifted Jandro by the shoulders and veritably sprinted him down the hill and all the way back to camp.
At this point our two lovebirds are back and cuddling at camp
It took us just under two hours to descend. We made it back to camp around lunchtime, where we ate, rested for an hour or two, and had a mustache competition.
"The Sanka slayer"
"Still thinking of Barak"
"Soon to be single"
Keep in mind that at this point we'd been awake since 11PM the night before, and had been hiking up - and down - a crazy steep slope pretty much every moment in between. Surely we're done for the day... right?
Hahahaha foolish mzungu! You still have 5 miles to go. Day six is a total bitch.
Enthusiasm SLIGHTLY waning
We eventually made it to Trek Mweka Camp (10,171 feet), feeling pretttttty damn beat. There we ("we") spent the rest of the afternoon working out our tip allocation.
Tipping guidelines: tipping is an integral part of the porters' pay and is very much expected, so come prepared with cash. General guidelines are:
- Porters: $8 - $10 per day
- Cook: $10 - $15 per day
- Guides: $20 - $25 per dayBring a little extra, though, because I guarantee you'll want to give a little more. Trust me: you'll never be more stoked to tip anyone in your life. These guys earn every cent. We budgeted about $400 per person and ended up tipping about $2,200 as a group.
PS: Popote did a great job navigating the tipping process in a professional manner. There was no pressure, no awkwardness, no putting us on the spot. They just gave us a list of names and roles, asked us to write down our desired allocation, and divied up the resulting sum on our behalf. Very chill.
Allocating tips to a 23 man crew in multiple currencies like a boss
We crashed pretty much right after dinner. And by "we" crashed, I mean "all the bros" crashed, because about an hour or two later... HLEEAAHHHurkurkBLLEAAHH!!!!!
That's right: it was Soph's turn to catch the black plague, and she spent the night bouncing between toilet and tent, both escape hatches gainfully employed. Who needs sleep, anyway?
As with the bros, though altitude sickness is the likely explanation, the timing is kinda off. Why would it hit now, hours after our descent, situated as we were well below the nausea zone? Either way: hit it did. Oof.
Day 8: Time to celebrate... TIMES THREE!
The next day we woke up feeling pretty beat. Our porters, on the other hand, were spring-chicken spry, and that final morning we were treated to another epic song-and-dance serenade.
JANDROOOOOO YOU SAID YOU'D NEVER LET GOOOOO!
It was an awesome sendoff. We nominated Jandro to give a speech, and he eloquently expressed our heartfelt thanks. It was a touching moment and a poignant goodbye.
Thank you, homeboys, each and every one
Our final leg was a fairly chill 5-6 miles descent through the jungle, and it didn't take us long to make it to the finish line.
"Genghis awoke, peeked out of his hermit hole, and sniffed the morning air...
Big Swingin' Dixon (the stick) came through big on the final half-mile. Soph was starting to slip into a walking coma, so I fashioned her a chair of sorts and carried her down the final stretch.
OMG so manly
We finally made it down to Mweka Gate (5,348 feet), feeling beat but blissful.
I think Soph and Jandro are at opposite ends of the beat / blissful spectum
Here we held a sendoff ceremony for Big Swingin' Dixon (let the record show that Jandro's ugly face still owes me $50), signed the guestbook, and hopped onto the bus.
Must...
... throw...
... STICK!!!!
On the way back we convinced Dixon to stop at his homeboy's pad to buy us some homebrew banana beer. Aparently this is the local drink of choice, and after a week of not drinking, it was starting to sound prettttty damn dank.
Their brewing system involved - I kid you not - this rusty old car battery
The banana beer was... well.... super weird. And though it was fun to try, it soon became clear it wouldn't be our intoxicant of choice for the evening.
The final goodbye... Isaac, show some damn respect
We arrived at the hotel feeling REAAAAAALLY thirsty. At least, those of us that'd slept during the prior 48 hours did: Soph finally started feeling better, so she hit the hay pretty much on arrival, though only after making me promise I'd drink an extra beer or two on her behalf.
Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeer!!!!!
The rest of the evening played out pretty much exactly as you'd expect. We completely exhausted our hotel's stash of 2 different beer brands, Matthew stomped on his laundry in the shower, etc etc.
No, there was not enough time for the laundry to dry out, and yes, Matthew's bag smelled like a mating ground for mold for the the next few days
The grand finale, however, was yet to come. Awed by Matthew's inspired adulting (laundry, bro!), we decided he'd be best suited to take care of our dinner order.
I'm pleased to report that he did not disappoint. As best we can tell, the subsequent interaction went something like this:
Matthew: "So, we'd like, uh, some steak bits, a salad, a pizza, some fried rice, and some chicken nuggets.
Waitress: "Got it. One of each?"
Matthew: "Uh, I have no idea what you're saying. It's food for three."
Waitress: "Uh, what? You want THREE? Like, of EACH???
Matthew: "Yea, totally. Three. Tres. THREEEEEEE."
About 75 hours later, our food started coming out. And kept coming out. AND KEPT COMING OUT. You see, Matthew literally TRIPPLED our order. We still have no idea exactly how said ordering interaction went down, but I bet the kitchen staff had a good ROFL at the four drunk bros who ordered 21 different dishes.
"Dudes, don' even worry, I gots this order COVVVVVVERED"
And that, ladies and gentleman, brings us to the conclusion of a two-part blog post that probably took longer to write than Kili did to climb. Over and out.
PHOTO DISCLOSURE: pretty much all the (good) photos in this post are courtesy of SkinnyFatNatz Photography