Hoerenpad!!

Believe me: climbing the Kilimanjaro is no joke.  I will be the first person to admit to have underestimated the challenge. No climbing experience, hardly any walking training and choosing to remain completely ignorant about the mountain beforehand is of course not the best preparation for reaching the roof of Africa, but even then. Although some parts of it have never been saved in my memory, I will never forget the summit night. Starting the ascend in the middle of the night, for a near 6.5 hour walk to reach ‘only’  Stella point has been the hardest exercise I’ve ever faced. I don’t remember the number of times I had to stop for a split second, immediately closing my eyes and reaching out for oxygen. Looking back, there are a few reasons why I, and I guess this holds for all of us, made it to the top. First, the darkness. Not being able to see how far and how many twists and turns were still needed to reach it has definetely helped. Second, pure will power. Third, the helping hands from our guides, in my case mostly Alfred and Anthony, for stepping onto the next stone. Fourth, and for me the most important reason, seeing the person in front of you drifting around. The last three hours I’ve seen my personal marathon-style pacemaker Frank nearly falling down cliffs, missing steps and sliding back in the soft gravel. His famous words, “Hoerenpad!!”, have received a special place in this memory. As a true pacemaker, Frank left the last one-hour climb from Stella point to Uhuru peak for myself to finish. Memories from this part are scarce, but what I do remember is throwing up, lots of snow and ice, ‘Sir Limbs-a-Lot’ Jesus leading the way regardless of the twisted ankle, and the nice bitch-fight between Boyana and her Swedish friends. All followed up by the horrible three-hour descend, using the rock-skiing technique, but mostly just hanging on the the guide’s arm who was running down the hill. I have and probably will never enjoy a two-and-a-half hour nap more  than that one back in base camp at 4600 meters.

Finally, I’d like to note that there are not that many differences between Europe and Africa. Just some examples:

• Bagage on top of the bus vs. bagage completely lost
• Blisters from walking down a mountain vs. blisters from walking home from Groningen CS on sandals
• ‘Nairobbery’ vs. Groningen during KEIweek
• Emailing in a hole in the ground vs. emailing against the bar
• Seeing a building excavation immediately upon exiting the airplane

More memories are still to come. How many blogs does it take to escape Boyana’s home-made dinner AND enjoy a Peter Schuurman dinner??

Cheers, Van Santen

Making the most of it

Wile extremely jealous of the absolutely legendary summit night of the rest of the gang, Friday ended with Serengeti beers at the restaurant of Bristol Cottages Hotel. Somehow Kilimanjaro beer just doesn’t taste right yet. Within moment entertainment was provided by an American tourist trying to get an answer from the waitor to various questions about the menu, an activity we’d given up on a long time ago. Later, thanks to our “lifely discussions in the language of his grandparent” (German, thank you.) we learned Rodney to be a 57 year old editor and university teacher from Missouri who arrived ahead of his son and friends to visit some exotic local projects before climbing Mt. Kili. How nice for him (twice).

Upon breakfast we learned the projects to be the incredible work of Theresa Grant of makeadifference.org. She is a former Sin Valley start-up marketeer from Ohio, who, after deciding that her dreams of helping poor African kids weren’t nightmares, eventually ended up running an orphanage in Moshi (among many many other things). She and Rodney planned to do groceries for the 22 children, visit a primary shool, and take two of the girls to apply for a renowned secundairy school that day. Half an hour later we were in the back of her car.

An hour drive later we arrived fully packed at the orphanage. Fully packed meaning carrying the weekly groceries, easily fitting into two ordanary plastic bags at a price I not irregularly pay for a days meal. The orphanage itself can best be described as an Oxfam Novib calender picture perfect institutate: the building flagged to be torn down, the children more grateful than 7-10 year olds should be able to be. Words are really lacking to describe the impact being there has over watching 29 years of development aid tv commercials. Incredible.

Eight double Windsors later (thank you business skills for finally paying off!) we took the older girls for the biggest day of their lives: Applying for a secundairy school application exam. In perspective the private school was state of the art: a science-lab, full library, and computer-lab (Theresa says: always check for electricity and whether a teacher with computer skills is available). All this goes for ‘ only’ $2.000 per kid per year (approx. 1,5 times the yearly gross domestic product per capita of Tanzania). The tension of the girls was painfully visible. Unfortunately we didn’t get to see the alternative (public school), but the differences must be devastating.

Neverbefore has it been this clear to me that making the most of it while waiting for the other to come of the mountain is one thing, making the most of day-to-day life around here is something totally different. Hurray for people like Theresa!

Uhuru Peak!!!!! We did it!!!

A quick update from the first internet point I could find: WE DID IT!!! WE REACHED UHURU PEAK!!! We conquered the roof of Africa, the highest point on the House of God: 5895m!

We left on Friday at 23.30 in the evening  and reached Stellar point at 6AM. Some of us started vomiting severely, most of us were disoriented and could not stand or walk straight. Imagine the worst hangover of your life +  being spun in a centrifuge for 20 minutes + having to walk up a steep mountain along deep ridges (if you misstep, you ‘ll kiss the ground 100m lower).

The altitude sickness of Frank was so severe that he had to go back asap. The remaining six of us continued to Uhuru (freedom) peak, under the motto ‘f*** it, we’re here anyways so we’re pulling this through’.

 

When the sun came out over the vulcano ridge, it warmed our cold and tired bodies and gave us the last bit of courage needed in order to make the last hour.

We reached the roof of Africa at 6.59AM. The view is absolutely gorgeous, although some of us cannot remember it due to blackouts. Three people needed to be pulled off the mountain by our guides because they were so disoriented. Those who were present enough to enjoy the view were extremely moved, and there were some tears.

We have pictures and video clips for evidence that we made it (including our precious and almost legally obtained RUG flag). We could only stay 10 minutes because we climbed 1200m in one day (recommendation is 300m) and the height will literally kill you if you stay too long.

On the way back, I remember that every second person walking to the top was either crying, dillusional and being helped up by guides, or cursing (‘Why am I doing this? I am never doing this again’ ). Most people give up at Stella point, with only 40% reaching the top. After we made it to the top, we walked back down until 10.15AM (or 12.15 as some people were injured) to reach the Barafu camp, where we had a quick lunch. We left for the next camp at 14.30h. We arrived at respectively 18.30 and 19.30h. It is fair to say that this was the longest walking day in our lives for all. On average we walked 17 hours on rough terrain. And the altitude…. pffff.. tough business!

But it was all worth it! We did well and I am extremely proud of everyone.

Hemingway once said about travelling: ‘Never travel with someone you don’t love.’

After this trip I am convinced that the saying should be slightly different:  ‘You cannot truly love someone you haven’ t travelled with.’ Thank you my friends for sharing this amazing experience with me! You all showed true character, humour and companionship.

Tomorrow we’ll move on to the safari around the Serengeti, Ngorongoro, lake Manyara, etc.

The people at home will get an update when we reach the next computer. Now I’ll go back to our merry lot and celebrate our achievement.

Hugs to The Netherlands, Bo

 

 

Day three- Franka’s story

Day three started on a sad note. Peter S., who had not joined us for dinner the night before because he felt nauseaus and had a headache (symptoms of altitude sickness, of course) decided he could not proceed with us. He attempted the climb with one of our guides, but he decided it was impossible after just 25 metres of walking.

Like proper vultures we started to think what was in his day pack and his duffel bag that could be of use for us. His coat, for example, because for some reason Boyana’s coat did not make it to the mountain gate. (Fortunately her muffin pyama trousers did. ) I however did not really pay attention to all this for long. My focus was entirely on my head: it hurted like hell. When I was still figuring whether this was due to high altitude or muscle tension (I have some knots in my back and neck, even though some of the boys had been so kind to carry my kilogrammes of water, I really don’t have strong shoulders….) my stomach decided to join in in the fun as well. Bah.

I am used to headaches and I am even able to deliver well enough work when I have migraines when I really can’t be in bed for the whole day. This, however, was different. When I work, I don’t have to take small steps on stones alongside valleys. At least, generally not. It became worse and worse and no matter how many painkillers tried to kill the pain, it did not go away.

Knowing my headaches, I thought it probably would vanish in the day, but alas. I had to stop the group about every five minutes and take a pause just as long. So around lunchtime, I lost all my mental reflection and I was just sad. I tried to get my thoughts together. A. I came her for fun. B. I was not having fun. C. I did not have a prospect of feeling better. D. I did have a prospect of sleeping in a tent at minus 10. E. I wanted to reach the top, but not at all costs. F. Because I was dizzy, walking was dangerous. G. I was not going to risk my health and maybe life for something that was not even fun at that time.

Shit.

It is really uncool to quit a mountain trip of seven days just halfway day three. It really is very uncool. But coming back from it with a broken back, when you knew what you were doing was dangerous, is probably even more uncool. Not having fun on a trip that is supposed to be fun is also uncool. So my choices were between various types of uncool and I chose the safe one, the one that included lazy hanging around the hotel reading books.

(So just uncool disappointment. But WWDPD? (what would doctor Phil do?) Come up with some cheese self help book style conclusion! Well, here you are:  I have never been good at quitting. I generally quit when it is too late, when it is no longer my decision. But quitting before it is too late, when all is still well, was new to me. Hurray, I am a new born person, Halleluja!)

I had to walk the whole path back to our camp, were I slept for several hours, and the headache sticked to me like I was it’s destiny. Then the guide and I went for a walk to the pick up point for the ambulance vehicle. My brains hurted, but they were working. I was in the utter dark, in a mountain dessert, with stars above me, cold wind, clouds and views to die for- just not litterally.

The ride took me about three hours. Around ten at night I was back in the hotel, were I was awaited by Peter, who was told that someone else would come as well. He was feeling much better and smiling again.I had some dinner and he told me that the director of the tour organisation was in Nairobi that day, but that he returned to Moshi to greet us, because he always does that when people drop out. At first this news made me think ‘ oof, I am not THAT ill’. But then I realised it was a good sign. We booked with a rather expensive agency and it had not let us down a single step. It’s better if they are too careful, than not careful at all. Hey, I’ve heard that one before.

Today is Peters birthday. I got him the Moshi guide. (Or actually, he saw it in the bakery, where we went to get cake, said he wanted it no matter how much it costed and I refused to let him pay.) Peter was suffering from altitude sickness for sure, he already felt his headache going down when he was. For me, I am not so sure. But I know that I feel absolutely fine now and I like feeling absolutely fine.

The kids on the mountain are also doing well. We had some exchange of text messages (for example to find out the number lock of Boyanas suitcase that holds our non-mountain clothes) and heard that there were some other headaches and also some ancle problems, but non of them so serious that going down would be better. But who knows who we will meet tonight at the hotel.

Day two

We started at an elevation of 3000 meters and proceeded to our second climate zone: moorland. Small trees covered by yellow mosses, all covered in clouds. Very misterious (haha, hum). And leaving us in Awe again. The path was just a path because it was on the map and because our guide led us there, otherwise we would not have recognized it as such. We had to carefully watch each step to make sure we would not fall. Noone did. Fall, I mean, we all carefully watched our steps.

We arrived at our camp just after 14 hours, so we had our hot lunch there, at 3893 meters. We hardly had any views, because of the clouds. It was still beautiful. (There is a saying in Dutch, walking with your head in the clouds- now we know where it comes from). We were told to go and sleep to acclimatise and we all obeyed until we were woken up for dinner.

Dinner takes place in a cosy little tent, and this day this had another advantage: It was warm. Outside, the temperature seemed to drop by the minute. When we came out of the tent, our jaws dropped once more. Other muscles we seem to train very well on this trip. There were thousands of stars, some of them falling. But we could not continue stargazing for too long. Cold. Cold. Cold.

According to our thermometer based guesses, it was around minus ten degrees Celsius when we slept. I finally started to understand what all this equipment fuzz was about. And boy, did I try to postpone emailing for as long as possible…

Not so easy when you are almost forced to drink at least three liters of water per day and when you just had several cups of hot tea (with sugar. Because somehow now taking calories became a good thing). I had to get out of the tent twice. The second time it was starting to get light already. I was grumpy, cold, in need of a toilet. When I came out, I saw one of our group staring over the valley. ‘ Isn’t this the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?’  He asked and my grumpiness disappeared as dark with sunrise. WOW. We could see several peaks. Also the peak of Mount Kili.

About full reception on the mountain

We have full reception on the mountain. Or so we think. Since we were kindly stimulated to start this blog, we thought, why not impress our stimulators and blog every day. From the mountain as well, that is. We came up with the smart plan to send text messages to two carefully selected people, who could retype them and put them up here. But those two carefully selected people (Mieke H and Sjoerd d J) never responded and those ‘ blogs from the mountain’  never materialised. This is either because Mieke H and Sjoerd d J thought ‘ pffffff why bother me, why should I bother’  or because they never got the aforementioned text messages. Let’s leave the conclusion up to the readers imagination.

Day one

So it actually rains in a rain forest. We went up to the gate, saw a whole rain forest crunched for bureaucratic purposed and proceeded up to the mountain. The walk was magnificent, extremely beautiful and interesting. We were climbing, but we did not have wide views. Loony trees in our way… It sometimes was hard to realise that we were actually on a mountain, on a free standing mountain.

Lunch also blew us away. Unbelievable what the two cooks in their little tent managed to whip up for us, in such a short time. Ah, I hear you think, two cooks? Yes, two cooks. We have approximately 30 people working for us. And yes, that feels slightly colonial. Or leave the slightly if you prefer so.

We arrived at the camp around 18 hours so it was still light and we could see the full hikers congestion. Whatever. Hundreds of people who like what we like, like at a festival. Our guide taught us two new words. ‘ Email’  for a short message and fax for a bigger one. Somehow those words stuck with us and we started using them and actually also discussing the activities that were so metaphorically disguised by our guide.  Flatulence was seen as a way to adapt to high altitude. Uhuh. (But my capability to adapt to high altitude is another chapter).

We had another wonderful meal, thought up smart research to be published in the Bulgarian Journal of No Impact and slept well in our tents.  It seems the group is a group and people like each other.

The last supper

It is the last night before we start our mountain hike. We just had dinner -after some time- and I decided on lazy reporting. So I asked everyone for impressions. This led to sentenses like ‘i’ve got my DEET all over me, jokes about who is always late and why and (resolved) debates on the age of Klaas Jan Huntelaar. But also

some of those:

- it is weird to travel to Düsseldorf, onwards to Amsterdam, fly over Germany again and have pudding from Nijkerk above Sudan.

- the bus trip from Nairobi to Moshy was long, dusty, cramped (one of us spend three ours on a chair with a 30 percent angle. It was, however, extremely beautiful and exciting, seeing the unfamiliar landscape and … the mountain. Others said that it beats every rollercoaster.

- today we were in moshi buying the last things or doing some gear renting. We also went to get Tanzanian shillings and one if us had this typical travelling problem of not getting it from the ATM.
Shitty. Let’s hope that it will be our only problem.

-quote: ‘ the kilimanjaro, that us just a sheepish uphill walk’

- DEET really kills your nail polish.

-we saw three men patiently watching a broken machine and could not keep our Africa comments to ourselves.

- ‘please photograph only the good things of Tanzania’

- interesting customs forms, with double questions and cute mistranslations.

- we are not done discussing about whether we see energy in the streets, fit example in the vendours. And not about the sources of poverty. But we talktalktalk.

- we finally have a plan b: a helicopter.

- one of our fellow hotel guests has a hotmail address with lobberbabe. She’s 84, just saw the Rwandan gorillas. Was a performer for the soldiers in the fourties, a proffessional tennis player, holds a phd. Now she’s here for a microcredit organisation. Or so she says. She’s going to send me her autobiography.

- we had our first briefing on our hike. Manasseh (t9 knows this) gave us an excellent overview if what we can expect. He kept saying that he wants us to summit healthy. So we should report any problem to our guide, etc etc ad infinitum.

- tomorrow we will have a 2,5 hour walk, lunch and another 2,5 hike. We will climb some 1200 metres. We are probably going to think we can do more but we are not allowed to.

We hebben er zin an (:-( internetten op vakantie is soms niet leuk)

Serious unserious business

It’s 23.57h and Peter S is sitting on my office table working on his laptop. Under his bum is a pile of freshly printed booklets.  The mountain may be steep, but our travel booklets will be flat as The Netherlands.

Curious what we’ll be up to during our trip? You can find the semi-censored version of the booklet on  http://www.rug.nl/staff/b.n.petkova/semicensoredshizzledizzle.pdf

It’s best to save the file to your computer, as it contains a lot of pictures.

A note on copyright: a lot of the actually useful stuff in the booklet is copy-pasted from Wikipedia or from the Destination Africa Tours information package.

The rest is a bunch of inside jokes.. sorry about that in advance.

O and in case you were wondering why everyone is posting on the blog instead of packing / sleeping… I threatened that I would cook for them if they didn’t.  Capital punishment works!

Time is ticking away

The last hours at the office are now ticking away. Knowing that the next couple of weeks I have to work harder (physically I mean) and that the view will be better, I feel a bit restless. This feeling is a feeling I always have when I go to the mountains. Somewhere in the back of my head I know that I am forgetting something (what certainly is the case) that is of great importance (most of the time not). This feeling will go away when I, or in this case we, are heading for our destination. Knowing that there is us and the top, and nothing else matters.