Rothschild Giraff Breeding Center
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Mt. Kilimanjaro
You'll fade from where you're found,
You're finally standing still
And your fingers all go numb,
Get higher on your hill
So your big black cloud will come
. . .
Your legs walked your heart high
Your whole body is sprawling out.
Major view, wide.
When I received this fellowship in April of 2006, one of the first destinations I included in my itinerary was Mt. Kilimanjaro. Now, in the end of July 2007, it is amazing to realize I have just come down from the mountain. To me, summiting Mt. Kilimanjaro is not just an accomplishment in itself, it also represents how far I have come in this journey, following what were at first just ideas through to actual accomplishments.
Another Bonderman Fellow was recently commiserating with me on the low points one can reach during such long solo travels; she stated something to the effect of feeling the Bonderman committee made her live through difficult experiences. While I fully understand her point, I more often feel that I am making myself live through difficult experiences, when I have the full choice to avoid those experiences. Everything about Kili proved to be difficult, not just the trek.
I had planned, as with most of my activities, to organize my trek upon arriving in Moshi. Though Moshi is a small town, it has a very large tourism industry based around Kilimanjaro treks and Serengeti safaris. I quickly realized that the plethora of companies made arranging a trek more difficult, rather than less. Unfortunately many companies do not pay their guides and porters well and often their porters are under equipped and under fed; however, the people running these companies are not stupid when it comes to business, so they will not willing admit their business practices. In the end, I used the local Porters Assistance Project to set me up with an independent guide and crew. It worked out well for me and I hoped it worked out well for my crew as well. Most importantly, climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro became a learning experience both in setting up the trek and completing the trek.
I could not help but feel a little strange about using a porter, even though it is the norm on Kilimanjaro. I could never work out in my head how adding porters to carry my stuff made any sense, as they would have to carry my equipment and their equipment. I am happy to give people jobs, but do not want to over work them either. My crew assured me that what I gave to my porter to carry weighed about half of what the normal client brought; nevertheless, my porter carried a pack with my things, plus a bag on his head. Our cook also carried a fair share. The park regulates the weight porters are allowed to carry, weighing their packs at the entrance gate. The limit is 25 kgs, which to me is still a huge amount. Further, porters are often loaded up more later in the trek and other porters can be sent down with only partial pay. The one thing that seemed to even things out in my mind a bit is the fact that the porter and the cook do not make the final summit, which is substantially harder than the first three days.
My trek took 5 days and 4 nights up and down the most popular Marangu route. Due to the popularity of this route, I met many people along the way and was not at all lonely. For the first three days, we walked between camps, staying at small huts at each camp. Each day we hiked roughly 5 hours, increasing our elevation by approximately 1000 meters. These hikes were not nearly as difficult as I expected them to be, though I am glad because the energy I saved was most definitely needed for the final summit hike. By the time I reached the top camp, I was feeling pretty good relative to many other tourists. It seemed that at 4,700 meters, many people were already succumbing to altitude sickness, spending most of the evening vomiting in the "toilets", which were actually holes in the floor of a shack perched over a cliff/hole (I didn't look too closely). I felt slightly weird, in a nondescript sort of way -- it could have been from the altitude, but it could also have been from the cold meats, unboiled water or long hikes.
We being our summit attempt at 12:30 am on the fourth day. At first, the hike was going very well. Though my guide and I were two of the last to start, after the first 3 hours, we had passed most of the other groups. Then, at about 5,300 meters, the altitude sickness struck. Altitude sickness affects different people in different ways; the most accurate way I can describe the way I felt is to say that it was like the flu. I had a splitting headache, I felt very nauseous, and I ached all over. Once I made it to Gilliman's Peak, at 5,600 meters, I was on the verge of tears from pain and from happiness for reaching that point. Little did I know I still had and hour and a half to hike before reaching the highest peak. At points I questioned whether I would make it, but I never wanted to stop trying. Finally, at 6:30 am, I reached the summit just in time to see the sun rise. I even managed to stand next to the 5,895 meter sign and smile for a photo with my guide, which was amazing seeing as at that point I actually was crying. My altitude sickness had only become worse and my hands were so cold I began to have delusions about having fingers amputated once I returned to Moshi. I really think I owe it all to my guide for getting me up there. He used just the right combination of encouragement and sympathy to keep me going. Of course, by the time I returned to camp at 4,700 meters I felt just fine again and somewhat ashamed for not being tougher at the top. Then I remembered borrowing someone's pulse oximeter at camp the previous evening and discovering that, at rest, my pulse was 92 and my blood oxygen level was 86%. I suppose my levels had to be even more abysmal another 1000 meters high, therefore I don't feel so bad.
The experience, though expensive and at times painful, was one of the highlights of my trip. I feel ready to try my next mountain, so let me know who wants to join me! I am leaving Moshi tomorrow and am not quite sure I'm ready to leave this town. As well as making several good friends in town, I also think that I will miss my guide and crew quite a lot. Making the trek by myself was quite interesting as, though I befriended other tourists in other groups, I spent the majority of my time with my guide. I have a strong sense that I just did something slightly profound and that my guide was a big part of it; however, I suppose he has been with so many groups ascending the mountain that the last five days don't hold nearly the significance for him. Interestingly though, when I went to the Porters' Assistance Project office today I got to see my porter again; further, Philip, who runs the office, told me that my crew very much appreciated my tips and enjoyed working with me as they felt I was their "sister" rather than a client. I will take that for whatever it is worth -- it meant a lot to me.
So who is up for Kilimanjaro 2008?! Machame route over at least 7 days this time. And it will be the "Carry Your Own Damn Pack" trip. You have been warned.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Into Africa
There will be days of peace you'll never have the time
Friday, July 13, 2007
The Last of South America, But Not For The Last Time
Firewater steps, firewater feet
The South was such a blast
With firewater mind, firewater soul
Where am I?
Well this won't be the last time
As with the rest of Brazil, Rio far exceeded my expectations and became, perhaps, my favorite city I have visited thus far. I will not claim that Rio is any sort of perfect city, far from it in fact, with major pollution problems, crime problems, and sub-standard housing problems. That said, it is still a city that charmed and excited me and made me want to do something about the problems, rather than abandon the city because of them. It gives Seattle a run for its money when it comes to being a perfect city for the outdoor enthusiast, with rock climbing, hiking and surfing right in the city and scuba diving nearby. I took advantage of the climbing and climbed the well known Sugar Loaf overlooking the city and the ocean. I stayed in the best hostel I have stayed in, made a suprising number of new friends and went out to just enjoy myself a bit more, all of which probably added to my love of Rio.
A small group of us went on a tour of one of the flavelas, guided by Bernardo, who works at the hostel. Bernardo explained that the hostel had decided not to use the usual guided tours because the people who worked at the hostel did not feel that life in flavelas was accurately portrayed through these tours. Instead of pointing out the lack of infrastructure and support from the city, the tours tend to highlight that utilities are not paid for and police do not interfere with the drug trade. They tend to glamorize life in flavelas, rather than point out the huge number of challenges people face when dealing with substandard housing. While outside (U.S.) perceptions of flavelas usually revolves around drug dealing, in reality, life goes on in many more or less normal ways: children play and go to school, women run small food stalls, old men sit and chat around beers. Obvious problems arise when children begin working for drug dealers, wanting money so that they can acquire the material possessions they see while attending public schools in wealthier neighborhoods. It was a very eye opening experience; though I cannot expect to have a full appreciation of complicated relationships and inner workings of the flavelas, I certainly have a better, more informed picture of them now.
I left Rio earlier than I would have liked, though it was probably not a bad thing, as I could see myself getting stuck there for quite some time. I also ran out of time to visit any other towns in the south, with the exception of Foz de Igacu. The falls were beautiful, as expect. While there, I stayed at a large hostel outside of town, where I met the craziest traveler I have meet so far. And I have met some pretty crazy people on this trip. I was eating dinner with my extremely friendly and talkative French roommate and she invited a British kid to sit with us. At first he seemed normal enough, though a bit difficult to understand – I couldn’t exactly figure out whether this was due solely to his accent, or perhaps a slight speech impediment. As talk among travelers in
I wish I could tell you about all the cool things I saw and did, but mostly I just enjoyed a break with old and new friends. I drank too much and ate to much, but enjoyed it fully. Thanks to Nicolas, his roommates, Christina and Matias for the much needed break!