December 11, 1994|By MICHAEL HILL
Kibo Camp on Mount Kilimanjaro, Tanzania -- Lying in the top bunk, staring through the darkness at the ceiling, I had an odd combination of emotions, as if I were two people in one: a doomed man awaiting the executioner and a kid eager for Christmas morning to come.
I knew that the midnight wake-up call for my multinational group of would-be mountain climbers was not far away. There were 10 of us in the room, competing for the small amount of air available at 15,000 feet above sea level, storing up energy for an assault -- not so much on a mountain as on our own physical limitations.
How would I do? Why was I here? More than 10,000 feet below my bunk were the plains of East Africa. And, nearly a mile above me: the glaciated peak of the continent's highest mountain, the famous Kilimanjaro.
Days before, at the start of the climb, I had searched the faces of people who were coming down the mountain, for clues of what lay ahead for me. "Your body is in for the shock of its life," one woman had said with a weary smile. I also would discover that the high altitude meant my mind was in for a few shocks.
But for now, lying in the dark at Kibo hut, I could only contemplate the final stage of the trek. That afternoon, we had reached this last of three overnight stopping points on the Marangu, or "tourist," route to the top. As usual, clouds had moved in to block any view of the peak and the route required to reach it. Because the camp is used for just a few hours -- between the afternoon arrival and wee-hours departure -- the place is very basic: a stone building holding about 60 people in six rooms lined with double-decker bunks. The toilets are out back -- a multidoored outhouse perched over the edge of a cliff.
When I first looked into my assigned room, I sensed trouble. The faces were dour, almost mean. Had an international squabble erupted among the French, Italians, Swedes and Germans already in there? The truth was much simpler; almost everyone was experiencing the effects of the altitude: headaches, nausea, dizziness, lethargy, depression, whatever. The fact that I wasn't ill only worsened their mood.
Loss of appetite is one of the most common symptoms, so the last supper before the summit is always a light meal. Then it is time to rest. There was no heat in the lodge. Though the equator is only 200 miles to the north, the altitude slashes the temperature to well below freezing, sending you snuggling deep into your sleeping bag. But nervousness and illness made sleep difficult. The room was filled with the sounds of people wheezing and shifting in their bunks.
Then the door creaked open. Time to go . . .
You might say I was trying to match my parents, while testing myself. More than 20 years ago, they made it to the top of Kilimanjaro, and visitors to their home are confronted by a large poster which reads, "I have climbed Mount Kilimanjaro in Tanzania. Have you?" For years, I have wanted to be able to answer "Yes!" My posting to The Sun's bureau in South Africa put the mountain close enough to realize that ambition. So in July, off I went.
At 19,344 feet, Kilimanjaro is the highest mountain in Africa and one of the highest peaks in the world that you can walk up, without special climbing equipment or mountaineering skill. And many people do; roughly 5,000 pairs of feet tread on the summit each year. But that doesn't make reaching it any less of an accomplishment.
Kilimanjaro surely must rank as one of the most recognizable mountain profiles in the world, along with Fuji and the Matterhorn. The classic views are usually seen in pictures taken from a game park in Kenya, the snow-clad peak providing a backdrop for elephants and giraffes. But the mountain is actually in Tanzania and is the country's biggest tourist attraction.
Like many other spectacular, recognizable mountains, Kilimanjaro is volcanic in origin and thrusts up from the surrounding plains in relative isolation. Viewed from the south, the mountain's profile resembles a camel lying down. The hump is the big peak, Kibo. The head is a smaller, craggier peak, Mawenzi, a mere 16,894 feet. The neck in between is called the saddle, a long stretch of rocky tundra.
You can't just show up at the base of Kilimanjaro and head up the mountain. There are fees to pay and permits to get. You are required to have a guide and expected to hire porters. The mountain is a source of both revenue and employment.
The day after flying in from Johannesburg to Mount Kilimanjaro International Airport, I found myself in the back of a minibus, driving through the chaotic markets of the town of Moshi. In the front was Zara, the Ethiopian-born travel agent who was putting together my climb. I was introduced to Gina Marietti, Christine Pernicone and Scott Beckwith, three young Americans who would be my companions. In the back was Goodluck Christopher, our 34-year-old guide, who was hopping in and out of the van, buying the food we would all eat for the next six days.
