Kilimanjaro Day 4: Barafu Camp, Base Camp Before Summit Ascent

9/13/2011

This post is short for a variety of reasons, as you can tell from the entry. I had trekked for about six hours that day along a route that many, if not most, do in two days. The temperature had dropped significantly, and I had very little time to rest before the final ascent later that same night.

It's difficult to write because my hands are so cold. We've arrived at Barafu, which is the base camp for the summit ascent, and the temperature here is much lower due to the elevation. 
Today was the most difficult day so far. There was actual hand-over-hand climbing. On top of that, the sunburn on my face, neck, and even lips is bad. I finished reading Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter two days ago. (Having previously read Washington Irving and Ernest Hemingway on this trip, I don't feel like I have to justify my reading selection) I felt like one of the vampires from the story the way I hid from the sun today. Fortunately, most of the trek today was in the shadow of the mountain itself.
We stopped at Karanga Camp for lunch after about three hours. Many groups stop there for the night to acclimatize, but we pushed on. The higher we climbed and the closer we got to Barafu, the more hostile the terrain became. Eventually there was only brittle rock to walk on and fog to walk through. The fog gave the whole landscape an ethereal feel. The terrain was a moonscape.
Barafu itself reminds me of the base camp for Mount Everest: no vegetation, rocky terrain, and an unforgiving appearance. There are quite a few more people here though than there were at Everest. I crossed paths with a few people just down from the summit. They were all in good spirits, but seemed utterly exhausted.
I need to rest now. Tonight at midnight Bryson and I will continue on to Uhuru Peak alone. It's six hours there and three back. Afterwards we will rest again at Barafu, and if all goes well we will push on for 5 more hours to Mweka Gate, finishing a day early. We'll see.

This was my last entry on the mountain. My next journal entry is from the first day of safari. There was no time to write about the final ascent to Uhuru after we returned, and once I had gotten down the mountain, I was so exhausted, dirty, and self-satisfied that I didn't bother recording my thoughts. However, I remember it clearly, and I will follow-up with an entry soon detailing the experience. 

Kilimanjaro, Day 3: Barranco Camp, via Lava Tower

9/12/11

Arrived in Barranco Camp via Lava Tower. Lava Tower is approximately at an altitude of 4600m, but Barranco is only about 3900m. Hopefully today's trek will help me better acclimatize, because it turns out the headache was not caused by the candle in my tent. Although they've gotten better, I've had a headache each day, candle or no.
After today's 6 hour trek though, I've got a new problem: sunburn. I'm burnt on my neck, face, and arms. Dalia crossed my path in camp and said, "Man, you're red! Be careful..." Little late for that now. I'll survive. Been sunburned before.
Other than that, today's trek was really pleasant. The route was entirely across an "alpine desert" of wide open expanse: sparse but hearty vegetation, rocky terrain, views for miles. The incline was gentle, and I feel like I barely broke a sweat. At Lava Tower, I ran into Steve and Aseem, my two American friends, who tried to recruit me to climb the "tower" itself. We had eaten lunch at its base, and apparently people used to climb it before a rock-slide rendered it unstable. Their guide advised against it until Steve told him to "take his skirt off." I asked Bryson what he thought. "No. We don't climb here. You break your neck here." Still, Steve and Aseem were adamant, so I agreed to follow them a little ways, but that I wasn't going all the way up. Having been warned by numerous people before the trek to be careful, and not do anything stupid, and having already ignored that advice more than once, I thought it was best not to push my luck.
We climbed around the base, and I followed them up one side where we had to climb hand over hand. I stopped, and the kept going. Steve eventually stopped as well, because it turns out he's afraid of heights. Only Aseem went all the way up, and when he returned he volunteered that it was a stupid idea. The guide pointed out to him the metal rings where ropes used to go, and teh spot where the rock-slide apparently killed someone. Good to know.
When he came down, we continued onto Barranco, passing many palm tree-like plants. Bryson said the oldest of them were 200 years old.
Feeling my sunburn by the time we arrived, I took shelter in my tent. I opened my Neosporin to apply to a cut, and it steadily oozed out, the pressure difference keeping it from stopping. I kept thinking it woul stop eventually, so I let it pool in my hand. When it didn't stop, and I had more than I would need if I had been stabbed, I crammed the top back on. But what to do with all this Neosporin? I promptly smeared it on my sunburned face and neck. Couldn't hurt, right? We'll see how that turns out. Saidi has just brought me tea, so I have to go.

Day 2: Shira Camp and 10th Anniversary of 9/11, on Kilimanjaro

I stopped transcribing my Kilimanjaro journal a few months back because I was unsure about this post. It was already over a month after the 10th anniversary, and it didn't seem timely. Though I meant to come back to it, I never did. However, at a recent wedding, some family friends informed me that they had loved my posts, to which I replied I had more that were unpublished. They admonished me to continue, so hopefully this post will have at least two readers. The first part is about this day's trek. The last half is my ruminations on 9/11.
------------------
9/11/2011

Just arrived at Shira camp, end of day 2, but it's only lunch time. An earlier start today meant that the trail was less crowded and the trekking more pleasant and peaceful. No rainforest with tons of mud today either, although tons of fog. At one point I had to resort to my poncho to stay dry, b/c we were literally walking through a cloud. While the fog obscured the views, it was beautiful in and of itself.

I walked with Bryson today and got to know him a bit better. He's 49, and has a son my age who is a teacher. He's been a guide since '94, and worked on Kili since '82, before I was even born. He carried a bigger pack than I did, although I'm bigger and younger, and still kept a good pace, only stopping for his smoke breaks. While the climb today was much steeper, the open air, sparsely populated trail, and lack of mud made it a better day.

I was worried last night because I had a bad headache which I began attributing to altitude sickness. I started really worry, and thinking I'd be in trouble. It was difficult to eat all the food they kept bringing me as well, both because of my headache and filling up on water, popcorn and Pop-Tarts. I knew I needed to eat more to keep my energy up, but I just couldn't. I stuffed as much as I could, but began to despair. I worried about taking painkillers because I thought it might only mask the symptoms. The way the world is, what with media and guidebooks making it seem like your life is always in danger, it's a wonder anyone ever goes on any adventures at all, and that we're not all hypochondriacs. I could hardly sleep either, and I was worried greatly about today's trek.

I woke up though with no headache, feeling fine, if a bit tired. As I sat up, I took in the surroundings of my tent. I absentmindedly read the warning tag, cautioning against open flame in the tent. I thought about the two candles Saidi had brought me the night before.

"Combustion can produce dangerous levels of carbon monoxide, which could lead to serious injury or death." Last night I thought the candle a quaint accommodation. Having closed myself in with it to keep warm, I now wonder if it caused my headache. Perhaps no candle tonight.

---


Bryson reminded me on the trail that today was 9/11, but he didn't need to. In about 5 hours it will be exactly 10 years since those bastards killed all those people. I can't help but hope that there's an afterlife so that they're rotting in hell.

I was a freshman at Texas A&M, new to the Corps of Cadets. I was sleeping in my friend Magidah's dorm room in Mosher Hall to avoid harassment by the upperclassmen. Her suite-mate Hannah came in and woke me.

"Someone crashed planes into the World Trade Center in New York."

In my half awake state, I remember thinking, "If that's true, it'll be on later." However, I did not go back to sleep as the realization of the event dawned on me. I went next door to her suite and began watching TV with her. We still had no idea who was behind it, or what was going on, but I said out loud, "We'll go to war over this."
"What?"she asked.
"We're going to go to war over this."
"You think so?"
"Definitely."
And I wanted to go to war then. Looking back, I wanted war like most everyone else. did. And even in hindsight, even with all that's gone wrong, I think I was right to want it, and that war was called for. I just wish our leaders had done a better job of it. But that's another issue.

I met some people in Dar es Salaam who did not believe bin Laden and Al Qaeda were behind the attacks.
"They have proof!"
"It wasn't even a passenger plane, it was a cargo plane!"
"Did you know there weren't any Jews in the buildings that day?"

This from people who live in a city that was bombed by Al Qaeda, led by bin Laden. I stopped talking to them. I'm never one to accept everything at face value, especially from an administration I neither liked nor trusted. But ten years ago today, Al Qaeda under Osama bin Laden attacked the US. Innocent Jews, Christians, atheists, and Muslims were killed. Americans, Europeans, Asians, Africans and more were killed. They deserved better. We all did. But now the best we can do is remember them, honor their memory, and cherish and protect the things they loved, and that make our country and world great. Bless them.
---
I wrote a note to myself in the margins to mention a conversation I had with one of my porter's, Enoch, about the anniversary. Unfortunately, I did not write it at the time, and now the memory of the conversation has faded. I remember a bit of it though. We talked about bin Laden, and Enoch confirmed that he believed him to be an evil man. But we also spoke of President Obama. Policy aside, it's difficult for us sometimes to realize the psychological impact that the election of a black-skinned man to the most powerful position in the world has had on people in Africa. Enoch, like many Tanzanians, knew that Obama's father was from Kenya, Tanzania's neighbor. This young man sympathized with the people of the US over the 9/11 attacks, and had no love for Osama. But he also had lost much of the idealism with which he viewed the US after ten years of war, detainees, water-boarding, Guantanamo, and all the other accoutrements of the war on terror.  When Obama was elected, it made him feel like the US was a place of dreams again. He knew nothing about health care reform, stimulus money, government bail outs, or any number of other controversial issues of the Obama administration. He just looked up to America again. And that felt good to hear that day.