Conquering Kilimanjaro

Looking for a mountaineering experience that’s more challenging than the gentle amble up Mount Kosciuszko? But not keen on donning ropes and crampons? Perhaps, you’re ready to tackle a guided ascent of Africa’s Mount Kilimanjaro. But as Staff Writer Charles Walker writes, it’s not for the faint hearted … or those who’ve neglected their fitness.

Look, I’ve got nothing against Australia’s tallest peak. In fact I’m mighty fond of Mount Kosciuszko, having done much skiing around it and the rest of the Main Range during my misspent (perhaps, well-spent?) youth.

But there comes a time when bigger hills beckon. When you want to test your mettle in the face of a new challenge.

I found such a challenge in Mount Kilimanjaro.

Africa’s tallest mountain, Kilimanjaro is no pushover, but offers those of moderate fitness -- who have a hell of a lot grit and determination -- the chance to ascend to heights normally reached by hardcore mountaineers.

While smaller than the towering mountains of the Himalayas, Kilimanjaro should not be underestimated.

Kilimanjaro viewed from the Great African Plain.

Standing at 5895 metres, the peak is seriously tall by anyone’s measure. Its substantial height means you will need a guide and a party of porters to get you up the “hill”. In fact, it’s mandatory that you be accompanied on any ascent.

What’s more, altitude sickness is a very real possibility, even for the best prepared of trekkers.

The reasons for climbing “Kili” go beyond the mere physical challenge.

Located in the north of Tanzania, its beauty captivates many trekkers. From the plains below to the summit above, every climatic system is represented on the mountain’s slopes.

Topped by now-receding glaciers, Kilimanjaro has become a potent symbol of global warming.

Who knows how long the snows will last?

With this added incentive, my companion “Alpine Girl” and I decided upon climbing the scenic “Machame Route”.

Apart from being the most beautiful of the routes to the top, it’s the longest. This has the added advantage of giving parties more time to acclimatise.

Day One begins as our group drives past banana plantations to the Machame trackhead.

Porters and touts jostle at the gate, eager to join climbing groups or sell a hat or bandana to those who’ve forgotten some items from their kit.

After signing in with park authorities, it’s time to wrestle with your pack, adjust its compression straps and stagger upwards.

Today will be the biggest altitude gain of the entire climb.

The walk begins on firetrail-type paths, through humid, pleasant forest. Striking flowers occasionally poke through the dense green vegetation.

Emboldened by the terrific scenery, we widen our stride, full of energy.

“Pole, pole!” cries out the deputy guide in Swahili.

The caution means “slowly, slowly”, and it’s no laughing matter.

Like disciples on a pilgrimage, the convoy of climbers and porters ascends the trail.

One of the most common faults is for groups to climb too fast, hampering acclimatisation.

It’s one of the ironies of Kilimanjaro that the fittest people have to be more vigilant than those of average fitness.

The lean, taut and overly keen may race up the lower slopes, only to pay for it later.

They’re seen spewing up beside the track, grimacing and, in the worst cases, having to make an early exit back down the hill.

About the only people on the mountain who don’t ascribe to the philosophy of climbing slowly are the porters who, battle-hardened, race ahead to set up camp in time for your arrival at the end of the day.

So having been educated about the risks of a hasty ascent, our group adopts a slower pace.

Over the next few days we will chant “pole, pole” like a mantra, as if it will somehow increase our chance of making the summit.

When we finally roll into Machame Camp, there’s a welcome cup of tea made by our trusty porters.

There are tents everywhere and it now becomes apparent how many groups can be on the mountain at any one time.
Nearby Machame Hut is off-limits, like all huts on the Machame Route.

They’re for emergency-use only.

Camping at 3000 metres, the effects of altitude are, at this stage, small but perceptible.

Physical activity is just that little bit harder, and we feel a slightly light headed.

Day Two.

All climbing groups exit the campsite en masse, and a traffic jam ensues on the rocky slope upwards.

All the while, lichen-covered tree branches mock your slow movements, like windblown Ents from Middle Earth.

The view ahead appears and disappears as clouds swirl above.

Porters, as always, pass you with heavy loads balanced precariously on their heads.

Some fellow climbers get peevish about the congestion, but eventually the mountain works its charm and everyone relaxes and works together.

It’s a sustained ascent up the spur, past botanical curiosities such as the giant Senecio Kilimajari. When we finally make it to the Shira Plateau campsite, the summit is clearly visible.

It’s a view that will inspire and terrify you over the next few days.

The strange, giant Senecio Kilimajari are at home in this somewhat alien alpine landscape.

The view of the top greets you every day, in the cloud-free mornings when you break camp.

The elusive summit disappears from view in the middle hours of the day, as you toil on the slope.

It’s only revealed again when camp is made and the evening rituals of eating, cleaning, repacking and campsite-chatter begin.

Not many of our party have slept this high before and the effects of altitude are shown in the oxygen saturation readings we take each night as a precautionary measure.

An electronic device measures your pulse and the oxygen saturation of your blood -- quite an amazing feat for the pocket-sized apparatus that simply snaps onto your finger like a clothes-peg.

The Barranco Campsite - another place of rest on the journey to conquer Kilimanjaro. You can see the Barranco Wall in the background.

On the morning of Day Three, white-neck ravens, one of the few animals seen at the higher altitudes, make mischief in the campsite, investigating scraps and tents.

A welcome sunny start and we climb steadily for three hours along a boulder-strewn ridge.

At a fork-in-the-road we enjoy a well-earned lunch and discuss the merits of taking the high-road or low-road options to the next campsite.

Some of us decide upon the alternative, high-road route via a lava tower situated at 4600 metres.

There is some logic to pushing ourselves harder, and deciding against the lower way to the campsite.

The maxim of acclimatisation is to climb high and sleep low, so an additional push today may give us an edge in the later stages of our adventure.

“Alpine Girl” and I pose for photos at the impressive, volcanically-formed tower, thrilled, but puffed to have made it this high. Boy, do we feel the altitude now!

We descend to the Barranco Hut campsite at 3950 metres, arguably the prettiest of the camps.

Day Four begins with an assault on the Barranco Wall.

It is the only technical climb of the Machame Route and, despite one or two tricky bits, it’s pretty much rock steps the whole way up. Just don’t look over the precipitous drop below -- truly hair-raising!

What’s perhaps just as inspiring is watching the porters scale the Barranco rockface. They perch huge loads on their head and at high speed, ascend wearing inadequate and improbable footwear such as thongs, cast-off sneakers and ill-fitting leather loafers.

We push onwards to the Karanga Valley (3963 metres), through an alpine desert.

At night the lights of the nearest town, Moshi, can be seen clearly. It’s a reminder of how high we’ve climbed already.

Charles Walker inspires us with this spectacular shot of Kilimanjaro's summit as he passes through the alpine desert.

Day Five is another short day, and a valuable chance to acclimatise.

After a sustained climb up scree, the way on is lined by craggy cliffs of red and black.

Rock shards break off underfoot, as we climb in intense sun.

Tent-sites are in short supply when arrive at Barafu Hut.

The campsite is an ominous spot, as it’s the last place we’ll rest before the summit.

We’re supposed to sleep in the afternoon, in order to prepare for the summit push. But we’re all a bit nervous and find it hard to get those valuable “z”-ies.

Our light dozing is broken by dinnertime, and then it’s back to another enforced sleep.

We are awoken by the guides at 11 pm, fed a warm meal and are off by midnight.

So begins Day Six, the most challenging but rewarding of the climb.

In pitch-black we inch upwards.

Our head torches provide minimal illumination, as we move almost two steps forwards, one step back.

The scree makes for a hard ascent and the wind and cold are both bone and mind numbing.

Our guides estimate it’s about -20 degrees Celsius, including the wind-chill factor.

The guides are extra attentive, always assessing our progress and keeping watch for possible signs of altitude sickness.

We complete several “switchbacks” by zig-zagging upwards through the scree -- stop for a drink, quick snack and catch of breath – then repeat this same regime again, and again, and again.

Hours pass like this, as we tackle the mountain a couple of hundred metres at a time.

The great thing about walking through the night is the summit is usually gained at sunrise.

What better way to reach the roof of Africa, than as a golden light floods the slopes?

What’s more, your footholds are more stable before the midday sun softens the snow-cover.

A.G and I stagger on together for what seems like ages and then suddenly we crest the crater-rim.

Phoar! What a view!

This area is called Stella Point. Once you make it to Stella, you’re all but there.

Traversing around the crater rim to the summit and its well-photographed sign is something I’ll never forget.

It’s amazing that in the middle of Africa, you can be in the middle of snow and ice … at the same cruising altitude of small planes!

A.G and I congratulate each other and take some piccies of the breath-taking glaciers.

Parties usually spend half-an-hour like this at the top, before safety necessitates a descent.

It ends up being a long, long day. After our night-long ascent, it takes two hours to get back to Barafu Hut.A quick rest and lunch and we’re off again.

The rest of the descent is via the Mweka, rather than the Machame Route. Four hours later, we stumble into camp.

The breathtaking views of Mt Mawenzi from Kilimanjaro's crater rim.

The view of the glaciers from Kilimanjaro's Summit.

The view of the glaciers and Mt Meru from Kilimanjaro's Summit - more spectacular views.

Day Seven.

Boy is it good some decent air into your lungs!

We leave Mweka Camp early in the morning and descend through lush forest.

Just before the park border, some entrepreneurial youths offer to carry our packs, at a price of course.

They’re very polite, but why would you haul your pack so far only to give it up this close to the “finish line”?

The path widens, the forest opens up, and before you know it we’re at the Mweka ranger station.

This it. The finish.

On completion of the climb, park authorities will record the details of your ascent and issue a certificate, so you can prove it to the folks back home.

Certificate in hand, there’s nothing more to do than return to our hotel in Moshi to toast our success.

The certificate is a great keepsake to remind you of your journey and experience having climbed Kilimanjaro That's one for the pool room!

Our climbing party is euphoric as we sit in our mini-bus on the dusty road back to Moshi.

As we bump along, I think there could be no better introduction to mountaineering.

Some Points for Climbers to Consider:

Kilimanjaro is challenging, physically and mentally.

But with adequate preparation, a person of average fitness has a real chance of making it all the way to the top.

A pre-climb fitness regime is essential, including activities such as hill walks with a full rucksack, running and gym work.

But as with all endeavours, your attitude is most important.

Climbers who persevere despite fatigue and hard work, and maintain a sense of humour, will have the best chances.

You should also learn a few words of Swahili -- hello, thank you and please.

Your porters and guides are essential to your success, and deserve your thanks and respect. Learning a few basic words of their language is the least you can do.

Their work is also physically arduous and poorly paid.

As such, it’s expected that all trekkers tip their support crew.

This will need to be in US dollars. Consult guidebooks and your tour operator as to what would be a reasonable amount.

Remember to use responsible tour operators who make a contribution to Tanzanian communities and don’t exploit their African-based staff.

Well there you have it champs - Kilimanjaro is a hard challenge but not an insurmountable one for the fit and adventurous. All readers should do their research with a whole host of professionals including your doctor, the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade and a guide group. Thanks for your insights and experiences Charles - we look forward to hearing about your next adventure!