Day 42 2/25/99: Descent to Mweka (10,340')
By looking left toward north, as we left the
Uhuru Peak, we had a nice view of Kibo's inner cone. I did not find the ash pit and its
fumeroles. We followed the standard route along the summit crater rim.
By looking right toward south, we saw the
Southern Icefield.
While we were on our way down, we saw other
hikers wearily making their way up slowly to the peak. At 8:12 a.m. they probably have
been hiking for the past 7 hours. No wonder they had to stop and rest. They looked
exhausted. I was glad that our hike to the summit was only 1.5 hours.
I enjoyed the view of Africa below us. We were at
Stella's point at 9:17 a.m. Since 8:00 a.m. we have been hiking along the summit crater
rim and now we were at 19,000 feet.
We started to descend at 9:20 a.m. You can see
this switch-back trail going down in this picture and also a few of the hikers--look like
ants. When I say descend, I mean descend! I was aware of the fine prints in Wilderness
Travel's brochure: "Our steep, rigorous descent...2-hour descent to Barafu...3-4
hours to our last overnight camp...descend a total of 9000 feet...this is a long,
strenuous day of downhill hiking and many find it far and away the most painful day of the
trip! Ski-poles for support are highly recommended, along with doing your best to build
the strength of your 'quads' in preparing for the trip"
I thought Theresa and I were ready. We both had our two hiking poles; we had already
put on our knee braces that morning even though we don't have knee problems. I've been
working my quadriceps muscles by lifting weights and doing special exercising. Read on to
see how we did.
Incidentally, it turned out that Wilderness Travel's above paragraph was hopelessly
inaccurate in a few places. Read on and find out what and why Lois at one point in the
hike turned to me and said, "We are doomed!"
We started descending. It looked like Theresa has
forgotten everything she learned the other day practicing at Sheffield camp. Side-stepping
and holding on to a rock for balance may be a safe way to go down the steep, slippery
slope of scree, but it was certainly taking a long time. Do you see the concerned look on
Samia's face?
Samia could not stand it any longer. He gave us a
refresher course on how to relax and come down the slope. Another guide and he also helped
us to tie up the boot lace very tightly and in reverse direction.
After 40 minutes of descending at 10:04 a.m.
Theresa was an expert at hiking down. She expertly used her two hiking poles and hiked
down without any assistance. "Hey, where is the blood, sweat, tears that you
promised?" you asked. Don't worry, I'll get to that part.
As we descend toward Barafu Hut at 15088 feet, we
had a view of the South East Valley. Like clockwork, the fog rolled in to cover the
Mountain in mystery around 10 o'clock every morning. It was also getting a little cold.
Frankly, it was not the prettiest part of our hike--okay, it was ugly. This section of the
trail was barren and filled with dark gray stones. I took very few pictures.
We hiked up the mountain in more or less a tight
formation, since Alex set the pace in the front. We hiked at all different speeds coming
down. For sure Theresa and I were not in the front. Thankfully, we were not the slowest
either. I thought Theresa was going to be the last one on the mountain, but there were
others who struggled with pains and aches in their knees or ankles. Coming down the hill
was very difficult on people's knees and ankles as that was definitely a high impact
activity, especially coming down a rocky, loose, slippery, and uneven trail of scree. I
was impressed by how courageous the other hikers in our group were. Yes, they experienced
some blood, sweat, and tears. But wait, there will be more. Just wait.
My watch said 10:37 a.m. Where the heck was
Barafu Camp? Wilderness Travel's brochure clearly indicated that it was suppose to be a 2
hour descent from the summit to Barafu. I knew we were a little slow, but I started to get
a little concerned about our pace. We continued after a short test.
"Theresa, sorry I have not find you the
escalator yet, " I exclaimed. Maybe one can hand-glide down from the summit after
solving the problem with the thin air. :-) Is there a place to rent a hot air balloon?
How can we hurry anyway? We were coming down this
slope with nothing to hold on to.
Alex was down there at the bottom of the slope
wondering if we were going to be okay. It was now 11:30 a.m.--at least we can see the
Barafu Hut in the distance.
Finally we got to Barafu Hut at about noon. I don't have pictures of this place.
Believe me, you are not missing anything. It's not a place that's worth writing home about
(or in my case writing a WEB page on it. :-) It was crowded with tents from other hikers
and other porters milling around. There were garbage everywhere. The actual Barafu Hut
looked so filthy that Theresa and I walked hurriedly past the door without looking inside.
Fortunately our porters and cook set up the dining tent away from the crowd. We got
there and had a quick lunch.
Since it has taken us 4 hours to do an advertised 2-hour hike this morning, we grilled
Alex, "Just exactly how long will the afternoon hike be?" "Oh, it will be
about 3-4 hours...," promised Alex. I thought to myself, "Okay, Alex knows what
he is doing. Maybe it will be only 3-4 hours. 5 hours at most." I don't think I want
to hike in the dark, but at least I still have my headlamp from this morning!
So at 12:30 p.m. with a refreshed body--after
having hot soup and a sandwich--and renewed optimism that we will make it to camp on time
and in one piece, we started our afternoon hike. You can see the trail in the middle of
this picture.
Theresa and Norman taking a quick rest.
Good, we were still on the Mweka Route. We
certainly did not have the time nor the energy to get lost. Actually Alex did not trust
us--he literally sat at the trail intersection of the Mweka and the Southern Circuit and
pointed us the right way. Was this due to his professionalism, customer orientation, or he
did not want to search for poor lost clients in the dark and cold :-)
Even though we were happy to be off the
relatively steep and ugly slopes of the Barafu trail and were on the relatively flat trail
that was dotted with some shrubs, our spirits were soon damped.
That's sleet on the ground. Yes, at 2:00 p.m. the
weather took a dramatic turn, and we were now hiking while being pelted by sleet. Were our
spirits damped? (Gee, I always wanted to write it but did not have a chance to use this
phrase until now :-) Actually, Theresa and I thought it was fun. With our Gore-Tex jacket,
pants, and hats on, we were invincible--until we realized that the trail would be
slippery. Already we were hiking at a slow pace; now we were forced to slow down even more
to a snail's pace (Gee, I always wanted to write this phrase too. :-)
At 3:06 p.m. Theresa was smiling because the
sleet and the rain had stopped. Besides, we felt stupid. Alex told us that this section of
the trail was mostly volcanic soil, which did not get slippery when it got wet, unlike
clay. We could have just step in the middle of the trail without falling! Why he did not
tell us earlier! With that great hint, we picked up our speed down the scenic heather
zone.
Looking toward the left of the trail at 3:07.
p.m. We could see some Senecio Kilimanjari in the distance, not in this picture though.
Looking back at the hill where we descended from
at 3:16 p.m.
A close-up of a shrub along the trail. I had a
close encounter with one of its cousins later on...
We have been hiking with Lesley and Lois and
enjoying the sunshine. There were some sleet on that ground that has not melted yet.
At 3:27 p.m. we had been hiking for three hours
now. So where the heck was the Mweka Camp? I'll give Alex another hour. The trail got
stepper and more slippery since the soil was more clay-like now. In the afternoon I
lent one of my hiking poles to Lois because she did not have one. This turned out to be a
tragic mistake...
It was a nice hike, though. We saw some flowering
shrubs.
We continued. Camp still was not in sight.
5:05 p.m. So why did I take a picture of "old man's
beard?" We have been hiking for 4.5 hours now. We should have been at the Mweka camp
enjoying a beer, relaxing, and even taking a cold shower. No such luck. We wearily
pushed on. What other choice do we have, anyway? I now was hiking like an old man: slowly
and gingerly; if I spend more time on this mountain, I'll be growing a beard like this!
:-)
Camp was nowhere in sight. All afternoon Lois had been questioning the porters coming
down or up, "How far is the Mweka Camp?" They always answered, "Oh, not
far," "Just over there," "Half an hour," etc. At one point she
even saw the spot where the camp was because she saw some tents and some smoke rising from
a camp fire. She was encouraged and buoyed by the hope of getting to camp in just another
30 minutes. I was not so hopeful. I looked down the forest and said, "no way we
can get from this point to that point in less than 30 minutes." "Just no way,
" I exclaimed; I knew everything looked closer than they really are in this crystal
clear African air. After a few exchanges like this and after many periods of 30 minutes
expired without getting to camp, my pessimism finally infected Lois. That's when she
turned to me and finally consented, "Stephen, we are doomed!" I was ambivalent
that she finally agreed with me. We realized by then that of course a porter's sense of
distance and time was very different from ours. I just wanted to get to camp.
Actually, she should have been more correct if she had said, "Stephen, YOU are
doomed!" Click here to find out
why.
I promised you blood, sweat, and tears. Here it
is. :-) I had the blood on my hand, Bruce had the sweat when he pulled out the splinter
from my palm, and Theresa had the tears--I think she did, anyway :-)
All the times prior to and during the trip, I've always worried about Theresa getting
hurt while climbing down Kili, as Alex and Samia would also testify that my worry was not
unfounded. However, she did great today even though she hiked up 800' (1.5 hours) and down
9,000' (9.5 hours--instead of the 5-6 hours that was stated in Wilderness Travel's
brochure!). She arrived at camp around 6:00 p.m. in one piece--despite her still numb toes
and thumbs. She did fall a few times. However, she picked herself right up and continued
without missing a beat. (That pair of Gore-Tex pants worked out great as it was
water-proof.)
However, I arrived camp as two pieces. No I did not break a bone nor severe a limb--I
arrived camp with a large wood splinter embedded deep in my palm. Remember I was hiking
with only one pole. I also was hiking with bare hands, without my glove liners. Big
mistakes. At one point I slipped on the trail, as I went down I tried to break the fall by
holding down to a tree branch. Well, my butt survived, but my palm got a new souvenir. On
the trail we tried to pull the splinter out without luck. Theresa was also worried that we
were trying to pull out the splinter under not the most sanitary conditions. We gave up
after 15 minutes.
So I hiked to camp while holding my palm and fortunately did not fall the rest of the
way. I felt sorry for the assistant guide who was with us because he felt guilty that I
got hurt. It was not his fault at all. It was once of those things that just happen.
When we got to camp, Samia and Alex could not really offer too much assistance.
Fortunately, Bruce, who I used to call Air Bruce was now Medicine Man Bruce, was calm and
very enthusiastic about helping me. By using the medication and instruments from his and
Samia's first-aid kit he was able to fix me right up.
I was only kidding about Bruce being sweaty when he tried to remove the splinter. I was
travelling with a great group of hikers, but I was especially thankful that Bruce is an
orthopedic surgeon! I think he could have removed the splinter with one hand tied behind
his back and while blind-folded. This was not a challenge for him at all. The only hiccup
with the whole process was that there was no scalpels, so he had to used the thinnest
needle he could find and then cut open my skin and palm so he can get to the splinter.
What a relief when he finally extracted my splinter. Actually, Bruce was more relived
because a few time I accidentally stepped on his toes--which he just lanced to remove some
blisters--with my heavy hiking boots still on! I think he was in more pain than I was!
For me the pain was not so bad even though there was no local antiseptics applied--what
was a few minutes of sharp pain as compared to the dull ache in my head and nausea in my
stomach just a few days ago as I was suffering from altitude sickness on the Shira
plateau--the most challenging part was not to fall down while sitting down on the
three-legged canvas wooden camp stool! "Be a man and sit still," I told myself.
Theresa probably shed a few tears while all there these were going on. She cared for me
deeply, but I wondered why she did not get me a beer! :-) That would have been more
helpful. :-)
So that's the story of blood, sweat, and tears of Kilimanjaro. (Kilimanjaro Lager has
to wait until tomorrow :-)
Mt. Kilimanjaro was kind to us. The spirits of
the Mountain let us visit. Indeed, we did not conquer the Mountain, but we were fortunate
that we were able to have a great hiking and camping experience. Here is the view of Mt.
Kilimanjaro from the Mweka camp at 6:29 p.m. Theresa and I are going to miss that majestic
mountain.
For dinner we had fresh fish: Tilapia. We have
not had fresh meat since our grilled chicken in peanut sauce on our first day on the
mountain at Forest Camp. Other than sausages and also the Chinese beef jerky that I shared
with everyone else at lunch at Sheffield camp, our meals have been mostly vegetarian.
Could it be just seven days ago that we started our adventure? We still cannot believe
that just 12 hours ago at 7:30a.m. we were on top of Africa!
I passed out the commemorate luggage tags to everyone. It said "I survived Mt.
Kilimanjaro. Feb 25, 1999." Did we celebrate having survived Kilimanjaro a little too
early?
We went to bed knowing that tomorrow will be a nice short and pleasant walk down the
mountain. It will be a cake walk, right? Not exactly...
Click here for next day's adventure and find out who was the
person who ate passion fruits at Mweka gate 
(By the way, if you want to have the most digustingingly memorable experience--complete
with sight and smell--at Kilimanjaro then you should try to visit the outhouse at Mweka
Camp.You should thank me that I was too disgusted to take a picture. :-)
