The descent to Mweka Camp (Day #9 Feb 20th 2011)

 

Sunrise from Stella Point looking towards Mawenzi (Photo by Ken)

I slept soundly until about 4am, when I awoke to the pitter patter of tiny feet, nah, it was the clomp clomp of hiking boots not feet from my head.  She spoke in whispers, this unseen lady who had made it to Stella Point from Barafu Camp, considerate of the sleeping climbers, at least one of whom was awake, noting her passage to the summit.  They stopped awhile and were gone.  More came, most not very considerate of the sleeping climbers.  Some whooped their achievement in the stillness of the night.  Most just talked loud, you could have heard them a mile away.  Maybe, they were just jealous of us, who were asleep.  They came in batches, a cacophony of different languages, and a myriad of accents, only to fade away as they climbed into the darkness, that final steep ridge above Stella Point.

In the pre-dawn, Adam made his rounds with his cups of tea.  I would love to say it was a refreshingly cool, but it was not.  There was a bite to the wind that morning.  It was time to leave.  Bernarde asked Ken and me to descend with Goody, Prosper and Mwelu.  Before long Ken was way ahead of me, his athletic physique enabling him to easily maneuver the steep descent like a champion downhill skier, while my ponderous body "polé-poléd" its way downhill.  It was painful.  The scree was a lot worse here than on the side we had climbed.  Our feet sunk in a good three inches or more and there was no grip to speak of.  When the sunken foot and scree came across a sizable rock it stopped your foot moving and that gave you a chance to take the next step.  By the time we were at Barafu camp I was moving slowly indeed, very slowly.  Each painful step supported by the hiking sticks, without which I am sure I would have had to be carried down.  My thighs felt like they were on fire.  My right big toe reminded me of its painful presence with every step.  And we were only three and a half hours into an eight hour trek.  I was not going to make it at this rate.  I limped into Barafu where we met up with the remainder of the camp staff who did not come to Stella Point.

Here we reunited the luggage we had taken with us to the top with all the rest of it that had stayed back. We rested, I stretched out on a chair, the pain eased to a throb.  I got Prosper to redo my shoes.  He tied it nice and tight, for, you see, there lay my fault having not tied the shoes tightly, leaving my foot to move within the shoe and slamming my first toe against the front with each step.  Refreshed, we take leave.  This time it was just Ken and I and Prosper and Miwelu, Goody having stayed back to ensure all the stuff left Barafu in an orderly fashion.  Prosper was a great guide.  He knew all the plants and pointed them out to us.  We stopped at regular intervals to rest for a few minutes. It was a few minutes down this path that Prosper gave me some very valuable advice.  He tells me that, "polé-polé" was all fine when going up but when descending you go as fast as you can and take long steps rather than short ones.  That bit of sage advice made all the difference.  The longer steps and the tighter shoes made the rest of the descent a helluva lot less painful.  My toe still hurt but at least it was not getting worse.



At Millennium Camp we stopped for lunch.  There were already tents here awaiting climbers who had gone up from Barafu in the dead of the night on their summit bids.  We rested here.  I took off the layers down to regular pants and a base layer for the top.  It was getting warmer.  I gave my Gore-Tex pants to Bernarde.  It had served me well but  I had no use for it once I came off the mountain and he could make use of it .  Lighter, and much refreshed we started towards Mweka Camp.  Before long the trail gave way to a well-marked path lined on each side with small logs of wood, perhaps to keep the trail from getting washed away.  We went through all the different climactic zones we had been through on our way to the summit albeit at a much higher speed, as we passed through all five zones in a single day.  By the time we got to Mweka Camp, the humidity and the temperature were noticeably up.  At the main office we checked-in in the large bound register and then got us all a nice can of Kilimanjaro Beer.  I am not sure how good it is, but on that day and at that moment it was awesome.  We found our camp and before long the ladies were at camp too, having survived the descent in a not too shabby fashion!  The night sky was phenomenal once again.  Ken saw his second satellite.

Dinner was chicken "stew" and rice, fruit and all the usual makings.  It prompts Ken to say, "Nimeshiba", a respectful way of saying, "I am full" (the food was great).  Ever since we started eight days back the two guides would sometimes join us for dinner, but would then go over to the kitchen tent to eat Ugali, the stuff that "gives lots of strength and stamina"!!!  I was keen to try it out but did not want to take the risk on the way up, and I had asked Richard to include me for Ugali on our last night on the trail.  Ugali is a staple of Tanzanian food and is quite similar to polenta, only a little tougher.  I break off a small piece, dip it in the chicken sauce and with a piece of chicken to accompany it, soon it was nimeshiba for me too.