Kilimanjaro Day 4 - The Mountain Rules!

By Friday, our summit attempt night, we had gone without sleep for 48 hours. We were all tired and our once jovial spirits were dampened with exhaustion and feelings of sheer madness that had now gripped us.

We woke up to a miserable morning one second it misted over the next the sun was attempting to burn its rays through the roof of the mist.  Our summit cloths and other extra warm gear was still wet from the day before. We set out all our wet clothing, boots and so called rain jackets and laid them out on our tents and on the large boulders around our camp.  

 

 

Thomas told us at breakfast we could stay until 10am, to allow a chance for our clothes to dry. We were all relieved.  But an hour later the mist came in thicker and a light drizzle was now falling.

Thomas, our guides and our porters scampered around the camp to collect their own gear and clothes that had also become wet.  We were all in the green mess tent, the last of the equipment that still remained erect.  The decision to pack up and go was made, Thomas had called ahead and found out that the sun was shinning at our final camp. So we made the long trek along the boulders and the uneven, dry terrain, that now looked like we were walking on the moon itself.  

 

 

 

 

 

Gone were the plants, any sign or sight of flora or fauna were absent. This was a punishing and relentless terrain.  The route itself never seemed to come to an end. This was now a mental battle and the porters were no longer ahead of us, instead we all walked together and rested together.  Everyone was now taking little steps, and stopped and rested, gasping for air. It was even too exhausting to even think let alone talk, which was a new experience for me!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                       

 

 

 

 

 

 

We passed and walked on huge chunks of shale and large pieces of slasto. As we walked and struggled in silence the only sound breaking the predominant silence was the sound of heavy breathing and the sound of our trekking poles hitting the rock. It made a sound of breaking glass. In the silence it was deafening.  I was starting to take strain and every cell in my lungs felt they were going to burst.

We managed to drag our exhausted bodies up and over the final section to reach our final campsite. No much talking was happening, no inviting smells of food was wafting into the camp, no laughter from the porters nor from us. Our tents thankfully were up and we all crawled into our tents and collapsed.  We were told to meet at 5pm for dinner in the mess tent where we would be briefed for the summit.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I was too tired to even register that the summit was eminent.  I rested for a short while and started to unpack my bags and repack my backpack for the summit.  Celeste and I were moving very slowing without much purpose I might add. Packing and repacking, checking and rechecking, not sure what would be appropriate, only that we wanted to pack as light as possible.  Just before dinner all the summit clothes had been laid out and were ready to be put on.  We tumbled down to the mess tent and joined our other weary adventurers.  I looked around  and we all looked a bit worse for wear, and by the looks on everyone's face all wanting to have a couple of hours sleep before the summit attempt. In that moment everyone was in the same place, the same physical pain the same mental challenges. We were one in battle!