Mount Kilimanjaro

During the several years I spent training for Ironman triathlons it never occurred to me that I might be preparing myself for a new career. I figured that the monotonous hours of exertion was good for my physical fitness, but had no vocational application. However, when I came to Tanzania I discovered that my endurance training had prepared me perfectly for a new trade. I could be a Mount Kilimanjaro porter.

Being a guide or porter at Mount Kilimanjaro is a popular career choice for many living in the region. Most of the routes do not have huts to stay in so its necessary to pack along tents and other camping equipment. As each porter is limited to 25 kgs of baggage it takes a small army to support the many tourists making the trek. I ended-up arranging my own hike and found that there were many advantages to going on my own rather than hooking-up with another group. Therefore, my support team consisted of my guide Kessy, a cook and 3 porters. I couldn't believe that it took this many people, but I guess they had anticipated how much I like to eat and had brought lots of food.

Compared to a lot of jobs there are many positives about being a Kilimanjaro porter. You get to work outdoors, get plenty of exercise, deal with relatively low-maintenance tourists, and hang-out with your buddies. While the guide would hike each day with their client the porters would go at their own pace, carrying their loads on their back and/or head. The porters would often hike together in groups and chat with their friends. When I asked Kessy once to translate some yelling across the valley between a few porters he hesitated. Finally, he told me a few words that were anatomy related and certainly not what I would have learned in kiswahili lessons. Kessy also mentioned that "what is said in the mountains is not repeated in the village." This is evidently the African equivalent of "what goes on the road stays on the road." Kessy also mentioned that some of the porters' happy nature is chemically induced and that those aren't always cigarettes they're smoking. Perhaps this explains why we brought so much food.

My guide Kessy is 41 years-old and has worked on the mountain since he was 15. He now has a wife, three teenage children and a small farm in his home village. During the busy season he may go a month between visits home. Kessy seems to be really enjoy his work. I have no doubt that there are worse jobs one can do...like, have you ever been on an audit?

Our Kilimanjaro expedition was a 6-day, 5-night affair. There were a number of routes to choose from and we took the Machame route up and the Mweka route down which will be of interest only to my readers who have actually been there (Hi James). The first day was spent getting above the tree line and clouds and then the next 3 days were spent at around 4,000 metres (give or take 500) as we crossed along the side of the mountain to our point of final ascent. It was great hiking in the sunshine everyday with perfectly cool temperatures. Below us thick clouds surrounded Kilimanjaro an only a few other mountains were in view in the distance. You felt like you were on an island and that the clouds were the surrounding ocean.

Having the flexibility of hiking on my own I was able to go at my pace which was fast enough to impress the porters. Of course, I wasn't carrying the same load that they were, but I was a mzungu. Having not had much exercise for the past year I enjoyed the daily hikes and then relaxing in the camp and watching as tired tourists arrived. I was fairly confident that this whole adventure was going to be a snap. Boy, was I wrong.

Our final ascent started at 1:00 am from 4,600 metres. It didn't take very long for me to know that this was going to be a very difficult day. There was simply not enough oxygen to breathe and it felt that something was constraining my lungs. We walked slowly and many, many times Kessy and I had to stop so that my breathing and heart rate could slow down a bit. However, no matter how long we waited my breathing could not return to a normal rate. I guess this is pretty much par for the course, but that didn't make it any easier to deal with at the time. During one break Kessy looked at my face closely and then said "My friend, I'm worried about you." "Good," I responded between gasps, "because I'm worried about me too."

We reached the crater rim at some secondary peak after about 5 hours. I think Kessy was hoping that I would be satisfied with this, but despite how spent I felt I knew that if I didn't make it to the very top without a try it would bother me forever . We pushed-on with many breaks and I took a few photos of the massive glaciers just for an excuse for further rest. Finally, at 6:30 a.m. we reached Uhuru Peak, 5,895 metres above sea level, Africa's highest point and one of the seven continental summits.

The temperature was cold, but quite comfortable and I spent a lot of time sitting on a bench looking below at the sea of clouds as they blended into the hazy horizon and watching various groups pose for photographs at the peak. Looking at the variety of people who had made it I realized that more than being a test of fitness, climbing Mount Kilimanjaro was about stubborn determination. Once I had rested long enough to fake a smile I posed for the obligatory photo.

I returned to the bench and wondered how I would find the energy to make my way back down. I thought to myself that there would be worse ways to perish than by climbing Mount Kilimanjaro (like death by auditing). I looked deep inside myself and found my reason to survive - the new NHL. Finally I said "Kessy, its beautiful up here, but lets get off of this rock." He laughed and we both knew that I would be fine. I also knew that my career as a porter had ended before it had started.