Kikelewa Cave Camp to Mawenzi Tarn Camp (Day #6) (2/17/2011)

I was in the tent writing my daily log and had no idea what day it was.  All I knew was that it was yesterday plus one.  I had to go back out to check the date on my watch  to figure out the date (it was too dark in the tent and my old eyes were having trouble focussing on the tiny date scale).

Reveille was at 6am with Adam's solemn voice ringing in the new day and the aroma of freshly brewed tea wafting in the air.  We were out of the camp by 8am.  Today's was a "special" hike.  What was so special one might ask?  Kikelewa Cave was at 11,200 ft and we finished at Mawenzi Tarn Camp at 14,160ft; and it was all UP, all the way, not much in the way of flat areas and very few if any downward slopes.  It was one of those hikes where we look up ahead at the trail and it snakes its way through boulder-strewn hillsides and disappears into the clouds.  It was another cloudy day during the trek.  That was probably a blessing in disguise as it hid the ultimate highs we had to cross before getting to camp.  If we had glimpsed those insurmountable heights it might have proven to be very demoralizing.  So into the clouds we trekked.  We pass numerous valleys lined with giant groundsels with marks of the fire that had destroyed parts of the vegetation a few years back, still lingering among the plants.  And even here fresh shoots arose from the charred remnants, continuing the circle of life.  We soon left the heather at the lower altitudes as we ventured into the alpine region with hardly andy vegetation at all.  The trek was a slog but not unduly tiring.  All credit go to our excellent guides, Bernard and Godlove, who  kept up a very manageable pace and ensured we rested often.  The Harry and David trail mix packs were put to good use with everyone enjoying the variety.  Oh, and the elk jerky: excellent.  Just chewing on the tough, juicy strips of meat was especially satisfying.  Everyone is required to drink atlas 4 liters of water.  I found that to be the most difficult feat during the trek.  I drank enough, but not the 4 liters, a secret that I did not tell Bernard until we were at camp the next day.  He was a little concerned but I was doing my best.

We passed and were passed by a number of groups.  One could always tell the groups with Brits among them; there was always someone who just could not leave his beloved brolly (umbrella) home.  There was one strolling among the tents at the next camp as if it was just an afternoon stroll along the banks of the Great Ouse, a brolly protecting his balding pate from the bright sun.  One of the spectacles of the day was the sighting of a rare species on this trek: lady porters.  I had seen one or two at one of the camps, but here, as we were resting for a few minutes after an especially arduous portion of the climb, here come three ladies bearing their burden, delicately balanced on their heads.  How they mange to climb balancing the stuff on their heads is beyond me.  They smiled as they went by and there was always the familiar, "Jambo."  Prosper, sat by the trail talking to one and all.  It seemed that everyone knew my friend Prosper.  He always had a kind word for everybody.  He could speak English quite well and was well versed with most of the flora and fauna we encountered.  What he did not know he would promise to read up when he got to his books.

Just before we got to camp the trail passes over a sharp ridge and then winds down along a particularly rocky path.  I suppose we could have had a great view of the camp but the with the ever present mist and clouds we could see not more than a few feet in front of us.  A few delicate steps over rocks and there was water.  That was Mawenzi Tarn, a small body of water at the foot of Mawenzi.  The Thomson Safari brochure had described this camp as "...a placid mountain lake at the foot of the majestic, steep ridges of Mawenzi, Kilimanjaro's second highest volcano. The camp is nestled at the edge of the lake in a protected alcove with spectacular views towards Mawenzi's cathedral-like spires." All true.  What they neglected to mention was that half the population of New York was camped there.  There were traffic jams here.  There were streets and avenues.  Now, if there were street lights and traffic signs the transformation would be complete.  I think everybody who had anything to do with climbing Kilimanjaro was there.  There was a group from Seattle led by the outfitter herself, a bossy lady who insisted the group dine outside without the luxury of a tent (or was it because the tent carrier was missing?)  Some of her group were not very happy.  Then there was the school teacher from Crete, with a bunch of British expatriate teenagers, all unusually well behaved.  This gentleman told me that it was his third trip up Kilimanjaro.  Every time in the past, when he got done, he promises never to have anything to do with Kilimanjaro again only to find that when the memory of the pain of the climb passes into the vaults of amnesia, he is back.  I checked in Stateside by sat phone to make sure everything was OK and then indulged in the luxury of an afternoon snooze, something I love but never get to practice very often.  Mawenzi was out of the clouds when I awoke, the sun was out and it was not too cold either.  I took the opportunity to take a few pictures of Mawenzi and the Tarn.  Renee and Norah are doing great.  I had been worried about Renee but she has done remarkably well since that bad day when exhaustion and a touch of altitude sickness had really did a number on her.  Ken was his usual self, taking notes, referencing his books, we were always kept well informed of all the curious plants and birds we saw, and taking pictures.  Then there was the Jordie and his brother from Morecambe Bay in Cumbria.  He works in IT and is a frequent visitor at Furness General Hospital, my old hospital.  I have asked him to say hi to my friends at the hospital.

I've gotta mention one other thing: Thomson Safaris had provided us with a convenient "loo" tent, one that had a chemical toilet.  I never did ask what happened to all the excrement.  Maybe I will the next time…  Some of the other groups did not have the luxury of their own private potty tent, and they made use of the permanent "outhouses" found at each camp.  The ones at Mawenzi Tarn were special, the drop through the aperture in the floor was a few hundred feet.


Tomorrow we hit the saddle...

2nd Cave to Kikelewa Cave Camp (16th Feb 2011) (Day #5)

Mawenzi

The trek to Kikelewa Caves started at our now usual time of 830am.  Today was an easy trek.  Down to 11800 ft.  The vegetation changes from alpine desert to heather.  Here, on a couple of occasions we see buffalo dung, but once again not nyati himself.  We start the morning with drizzle and over the course of the morning this gives way to a mostly cloudy sky.  I have not been using much in the way of sun screen.  I figured I could do with a little top off of the tan which seems to be wearing away living in Columbus, OH. The sun does come out for short periods.  Kibo is covered with clouds almost all day.  Mawenzi shows itself every so often and is beautifully framed with clouds.  We have not had very good weather during the trip.  Its rained or snowed every day.  I suppose it could have been worse; we could have had a blizzard, oh well we still have time for that, don't we?  Mawenzi is covered with snow.  Its craggy peaks contrasted with the whiteness of the snow.  Very rarely have Bernard and Goody seen Mawenzi covered in snow.

Senecio

As we walk, we see vegetation peculiar to this area.  Senecio are large plants that are unlike any other plants we have seen, either here or anywhere else for that matter.  It has been recently reclassified into a new subspecies with the botanical name of Dendrosencio kilimanjari.  These are also known as tree or giant groundsels.  They grow to about 8-10 ft in this part of the slopes of Kilimanjaro, although elsewhere they are found in more abundance and may grow to 15ft or more in height.  They have a thick craggy dark bark and are topped with a crown of light green to yellow-brown leaves.

Lobelia

Lobelia come in two shapes, one being the cabbage-like variety and the other that looks like a phallic symbol sprouting out of the cabbage!  Lobelia deckenii is the species that is seen on Kilimanjaro in the moorland zone.  The leaves close at night to  preserve water stored among the leaves.  They flower but once every eight years or so.

Lobelia

Gladiolus

Carduus keniensis

The path is lined by a variety of pretty flowers.  Some of the most beautiful are the gladioli (?) a beautiful dainty red flower.  Also seen are Carduus (keniensis).  I am not even sure what its commonly known as. Then there is Erica, not the pretty girl who works with me, but Erica excelsa, a bushy plant that grows in abundance in the heather zone.  

As we walk we approach a sheer wall that extends for what seems like miles on eight side of our path.  There's no way we are going to be able to climb THAT, I think.  Goody leads us to a fault in this unbroken line that was not visible till we got right up to it.  Through this rough fault we climb across to the other side.  It was a relative easy trek from there to camp.

Lunch was at Kikelewa Caves and consisted of leek soup, fried chicken, fries, boiled eggs and brownies.        
Richard does such a good job with the food.  How he manages to concoct such tasty fare I have not the faintest idea.
The night was clear for the first time on the trek.  No amount of describing can do the African night sky justice.  There, spread out for us in all its splendor was the Milky Way and the countless other stars.  Ken, being from the Big Apple had never seen such a sight.  I give a short astronomy lesson, pointing out the familiar constellations.  Then there was the satellite, a tiny speck of light making its way across the heavens.  That was the first one Ken had ever seen. He gazed at it till it disappeared into the horizon.  The moon was out that night and the Kibo was free of clouds and mist.  It was beautiful.  

Pofu to 2nd Cave (Day 4) (15th Feb 2011)

It almost feels like Columbus, OH.  It has been raining all night and we start off on the trek to 2nd Cave in pouring rain.  Today was an easy day, descending down to 11,800 ft at the camp.  Our first stop was the third cave where we had lunch.  Hate losing the altitude gained with all that pain, only to start climbing again in the next few days.  Descending is not any easier than climbing, and at times feels a lot harder.  The soil is mainly volcanic and the rocks are rough and coarsely pitted.  We pass a few dried river beds and a few areas where glaciers held sway in years past.  Now all that remained where moraines, with glacial debris strewn across the floor.  This was probably the "snow" that Rebmann first saw on November 10th 1848.

Johannes Rebmann is credited with the first sighting of Kilimanjaro by a European.  Johannes Rebmann was a German missionary, who along with his lifelong friend and fellow missionary, Johannes Ludwig Krapf were some of the earliest Europeans in Easter Africa.  On their earlier travels they had heard of a mountain "capped with silver".  They had no idea what that meant.  When Rebmann first saw the majestic mountain, the natives called Kilimanjaro, he still had trouble fathoming what all that white was on the summit; after all, in his mind, he was at or very near the equator and hence it could not be snow.  His guide did not know either and said it was, "baridi" or coldness.  It was then that Rebmann realized that the white was snow.  The reports of snow in Equatorial Africa was not well received in Europe, where there was plenty of skepticism, especially by the "experts" on Africa, some of whom had not even been to Africa.  Rebmann was vindicated when Europeans actually went up the mountain and confirmed the presence of snow.  He was honored by the French Societe Geographie and also the National Geographic Society.

Sometime during the morning the rain eased and it was mostly cloudy and then sunny for a short while.  There were a few good views of Kibo during this time.  The weather changes to fog by the time we arrive at the camp.

At 2nd cave we are back to the heather and moorland zone from the alpine desert.  There are signs of cape buffalo but no sign of the critters themselves.  The skull of a cape buffalo is prominently displayed at the entrance of the cave.  How it got there, I have not idea.  The caves are not used to camp in.  Animals lick the salt off the rocks in the caves and cohabitation with some of these creatures might not be mutually beneficial.

  

 Renee is feeling better today.  The denser air is doing her good and her face is healing.  The food is great as usual.  Dinner consisted of Spinach soup, rice and beef in coconut milk, fruit and dessert (yes we had desserts) was banana fritters.  Now isn't that cool or what.  

Moir Hut to Pofu (Day 3) (14th Feb)

It was raining when I had drifted off to sleep.  It was cold this morning.  I woke up before Adam's and Innocent's usual wake-up call and was in the process of rolling up the sleeping bag, inflatable pad and repacking the bags when my back came into contact with the side of the tent and I could hear this peculiar sound of something sliding down the side of the tent.  Now, what could that be?  I found out soon enough when the Adam entered the "foyer" with the coffee.  Snow, and plenty of it.  We started off that morning with the snow still falling and visibility limited to less than 50 yards.  Bernard had shown us the route the evening before and I remember asking him whether it was absolutely necessary to "climb up there."  Couldn't we just walk around the hill, especially since we were descending to 18,200 ft at Pofu.  The path, what little we could see of it that morning appeared to be even more steep.  We clambered over wet rocks in nasty conditions to a new height of 14200 ft.  That was not easy.  It soon stopped snowing, but the sky remained overcast.  Bernard asked us to wear our dark glasses.  One does not realize it but the snow is awfully bright and the glasses were absolutely essential unless a spot of snow blindness was in one's request list.



It was a six hour walk to lunch. (You know I would time that).  About midday Bernard asks Ken and me to go ahead at a faster pace with G'Love.  Renee was having trouble walking.  Ken, G'Love (Goody), Prosper and I set off at a faster pace.  Arriving at the bottom of a rather steep slope we had a rest stop when Goody and Prosper put on an impromptu recital!  "Jambo! Jambo Bwana! Habari gani, Mzuri Sana, Wageni, Mwakaribishwa, Kilimanjaro, Hakuna Matata …"

And these guys have rhythm in their genes.  Ken joins in … It does not take very long before the rarified atmosphere makes us curtail the entertainment.  A little short of breath we make our way to the rendezvous with lunch.  Just as we get there, I realize the bottom end of one of my trekking poles fallen off somewhere.  Prosper, the great guy he is, immediately sets off to find it, re-tracing our footsteps.  I felt terrible.  The guy did not even have lunch.  He was gone a while but soon caught up with us with the missing tip. Bernard had found it and handed it to him.  He just walked over to me and handed the tip to me with just a hint of a smile.  People here send a lot of time on greetings, hands clasped exchanging news and conversing for minutes on end.  Not so when it comes to expression of appreciation. Someone, not well versed with the local culture might take offense, as they barely nod their head with a mumbled, "Asante" (Thank you).  It's not that they are not grateful, its just the way of their people.

Pofu camp was a total of about seven and a half hours trekking.  It was a welcome sight.  The girls catch up about an hour and a half later.  Renee is absolutely exhausted.  She's shaking like a leaf and has a bad cough.  I suspect its due to broncho-spasm.  After talking to Bernard I give her a dose of Advair and that helps.  She has very little dinner.  The pumpkin soup was awesome.  Richard had also cooked up one helluva lasagna.  I am not very fond of lasagna, since, for a few years in the early 90's I had been brought up on a diet of hospital canteen made lasagna, which left, forever, a distaste for the dish.  So, it was with much trepidation that I served myself a small helping.  It was good, really good.  And it was unfortunate that, except for my small helping and an even smaller serving that Renee and Norah had, the dish was returned untouched.  Renee's face is also badly sun-burnt.  And I had drugs for everything under the sun except burns.  I later gave her a tube of Analpram, and I am glad to report that it did wonders to her face.  I had only heard the rumors of Preparation-H being used for facial application, and this was my first experience in this off-license application of the drug.

Shira 1 to Moir Hut (Day 2)

I could hear Adam's kettle clink before he got to my tent.  He "wakes" me up with a, "Good morning, would you like tea or coffee?" as he unzips the foyer of the tent and squats down with his array of cups, tea, coffee and sugar in his small plastic tray and proceeds to pour me a cuppa.  It had rained most of the night and the ground was damp.  We set off around 8am.  As per the schedule given to us prior to the trip this was going to be another easy 3-hour walk.  But the evening before Bernard had suggested that we push on to Moir Hut and skip Shira 2 camp, a trek of just over 6 hours.  Moir Hut was our 3rd camp, but now it was going to be our 2nd.  The plan was to later split a later trek in two which would make it easier on us.  Moir Hut was at about 13800 ft.  This was a grueling trek.  I had not walked for 6 hours in a long time, and then you add in the altitude to boot and it was not easy.  But the easy pace is what makes it possible.

We trek steadily East and Northward through the heather and on to the high altitude alpine desert.  The Shira plateau is one of the highest in the world with an average height of 12500ft and extends for about 8 miles to the West of Kilimanjaro.  The plateau is a caldera, a collapsed volcanic crater.  Shira was the first of three volcanos here, Kibo and Mawenzi being the other two.  About 500,000 years ago Shira blew for the last time  and its cone collapsed some time later.  The crater was then filled with lava flowing West from Kibo as it started its fireworks.  Many years back it was not uncommon to see elephants, cape buffalo and even lions here.  But now all we saw were the occasional piles of cape buffalo dung, and also one with a signature hoof print right in the middle.  Not that I was in any way interested in seeing one of those ill-tempered creatures,  not without the right equipment, if you catch my drift.

I was pretty tired when we got to the Moir Hut.  Tired, but not exhausted.  I lay in the tent thinking, "Dang, what have I got myself into?"  (But that was also the last time that thought crossed my mind) Well, dinner was great as usual, and that cheered us up a bit.  Renee started to feel out of sorts this evening after dinner.  Bernard, Ken and I walk over to the Moir Hut, a tepee-like structure made of plywood, originally built to accommodate climbers, but long since abandoned, its skin peeling off and ripped wide open in places.  It's a picturesque place, situated at the bottom of a lava flow, with towering walls of rocks on both sides.  It rained most of that evening so we did nothing much.  

Day 1

I really don't remember what time I woke up.  It was still quite early and the sun was not up yet.  I was hoping to see the bushbuck to take a few photographs, but he probably had other ideas and did not humor me.  Last night was a cacophony of noises.  It almost felt as if the entire neighborhood, in the wild animal sense, was having a party outside the tent.  There were so many noises and cries I did not know whether it was a bird or an animal.  Drinks must have been on the house as they sure were having fun.
The camp was just stirring when I made my way to the "front desk" and got me some coffee and biscuits (cookies).  By the time I was done with the coffee my shower was ready.  This was going to be the last shower I was going to be taking for the next ten days.  I hated the prospect of a shower-free ten days;  a white-tail buck in Ohio would probably be able to scent me all the way across the Atlantic.  What about my  new found friends?  What were they going to think?  Oh well, they were going to be in the same boat, so I suppose it was not going to matter much.  I had very quietly asked Bernard, the day before whether anyone shaved while on the trip.  His answer to me was, "Jas, if you shave, you will be the first to shave on the mountain."  Well, that put paid to that.  Everyone will just have to get used to seeing my scruffy beard.
The large duffel bag was to weigh not more than 30lbs.  That wasn't too difficult.  I left most of the electronics: laptop, Ipad and chargers in my suitcase I intended to leave with Thomson.  My back pack, though, felt as if it weighed a ton.  Withe the extra camera batteries and other stuff it weighed in at about 20lbs. No problem.

We set off on the road to Londorossi Gate, a trip that was about an hour and a half.  We bumped along winding gravel roads, past a few check-posts, even one with a few guys, military personnel, I am told, with AK 47s.  All along the roads were children tending to their herds of goats or, if they were a little older, in their teens, their small herds of cattle.  Here and there were youngsters in black rather than the colorful, predominantly red Masai blankets.  These guys have been recently circumcised.  Not something anyone would want to go through as its done with a sharp knife and NO anesthetic (forget about asepsis).  And the poor kid has to endure the procedure in silence.  If he should make a noise it brings dishonor although only temporarily.  They even stay in a hut made by their mother, separate from the rest of the village and to further emphasize their passage onto adulthood this hut, known as a manyatta is not surrounded by a protective barrier.

Londorossi Gate

Londorossi Gate has been likened to a Wild West outpost a few wooden buildings surrounded by a high fence in the middle of nowhere.  Today it's abuzz with activity.  There are dozens of mini buses and Land Rovers, all bringing climbers and their teams together.  Here we meet up with Bernard, sign in at the desk and quickly move out to Moram Barrier gate, a 55 minute ride through a dusty trail that takes us to 12000ft.  We see a few colobus monkeys and stop to take pictures.  "Colobus" in Greek means mutilated and they are so named for the stump they have for a thumb.  They are one of the "old world" monkeys.  They are also mostly arboreal and rarely come down to the ground.

Colobus Monkeys

After meeting with the rest of the team, including Godlove (Goody or G-love as we called him), our assistant guide and Prosper my personal porter and a quick lunch at Moram Gate we begin our trek.  Goody leads the way.  What strikes us immediately is the pace.  Its slow, very slow.  A step every second or so, with one foot place barely ahead of the other.  Damn, I though we would never make it to the grocery store, let alone the mountain.  I was later to learn the mountain was a lot closer than the closest grocery!!  It's an easy trek.  The terrain was gentle and mostly "flat" until we come across a fissure in the earth.  Ah ha! I knew there was a trick somewhere.  Do we walk along the gorge till we come across a narrow section and then jump across?  No such luck.  We make our way down to the bottom, cross a small tributary of the Engare Nairobi North and up again on the other side.  We crossed four such fissures today, the last one if which was right at the Shira1 camp.  Kilimanjaro is a long way off to the South West and with the clouds and mist covering its upper slopes it looks menacing.

There's really nothing much to do once darkness sets in.  So it was off to bed after dinner.  I had my Kindle with me as I figured that its battery would easily last for the duration of the trip and I did not have to choose between books to save on weight.  I read something each night and wrote my journal and then drifted off to sleep with the gentle drumming of rain on the tent and an occasional clap of thunder in the distance…

Ndarakwai Ranch

The sun streaming into the tent woke me up.  It was a beautiful sight.  There was thick bush all around the tent and I got out of the bed to get my camera, not to miss the mystical morning light.  I had just got to the lounge chair where I had left the cameras when I noticed a movement from the corner of my eye.  There was something out there in the bush.  I grabbed the video camera as I realized that it was a male bushbuck cautiously making its way towards my tent.  I had never seen one in the wild and I was excited. They are known to be very shy and elusive.  I crept up to the net-like sides of the tent and turned the camera on.  The bushbuck froze with the beep of my camera turning on, and so did I.  A few seconds later it continued its progress towards me.  The video is crappy as its taken through the tent.  A few more steps and it turns to the left and moves off into the bush again.

There are rules here for washing up.  The tap water is ok for your hands but to brush your teeth you better use the bottled water provided for drinking.  And taking a shower was a whole different matter.  When you are ready for a shower you go over to the front "desk" and you request water.  This is then brought over to the tent in a large bucket and emptied into a canvas bag connected to the shower head by a plastic pipe.  The bag is then raised above the tent by a set of pulleys and left there.  In the bathroom there is an "On"/"Off" "switch" which you activate by pulling a short length of string.  And this results in an anemic stream of hot water.  The water drains out through the floor to settle into a puddle under the tent.

Breakfast was good as were the rest of the meals.  We had the company of a small family of blue-faced monkeys through most of the day.  Their faces are not really blue, its just they don't have much hair on their face and therefore it looks blue.

  Must be the local colorectal specialist

We had our first briefing this morning and were introduced to our main guide Bernard.  He is a youthful guy who has summited more than a hundred times.  He's quiet and self assured and a very likable guy.  We also pick up all the gear we had rented from Thomson.

Later in the evening we go for a nature walk, led by our Masai guide, Nicole.  I half expected her to be wearing a traditional Masai dress, but she looked just fine in a t-shirt and jeans.  Accompanying us was a local game guide armed with a shot gun with a folding stock.  I wanted to take a look at the gun, but he seemed a little reluctant to let go of his toy, and I did not press it as he spoke little English.  There were a lot of plains game, including zebra, wart hogs, baboons, blue wildebeest, giraffe and a whole herd of eland.  There was among them a nice mature bull, beautiful blue coat and an impressive dewlap.  The eland are the largest of the antelope, weighing in at about 1700 lbs and stands about 5ft 7" at the shoulder.  They make a characteristic clicking sound when they walk.  There's a lot of debate as to the origin of the sound, with some thinking it comes from bones in the ankles, and others think that it's the clicking of the hooves as they come together after being splayed by the enormous weight of the animal as it walks.  I have heard an éland coming at night when it was still about ten minutes away.  And in spite of its weight it can clear a 12 foot fence from a standing jump.

We had a beer at the tree house at the end of the day and it was back to the ranch for supper and an early night.  I nearly forgot about the sky.  The sky at night in Africa is like nothing we see in the US.  All those millions and millions of stars is just breathtaking.  The Milky Way forms a beautiful swathe through the heavens and one could spend the entire night just watching the stars go by.  Ken, being from New York City had never seen anything like this before and was quite excited when he saw his first satellite tonight.

Tomorrow we set out.