Cunard Cruise Lines had a tagline back in the day: getting there is half the fun.
I think this is because getting back clearly isn't. From the curb at ZAN to the curb at DCA: 31hrs 47min.
ZAN
Small little airport. It has three "gates" which are really just three sets of double doors that open on to the same patch of pavement. This was the only place where the domestic baggage weight limit was enforced. Precision charged me 15,000 TSH (a bit over $10) for being 6kg over. Two pretty decent souvenir shops considering. Everything is marked in dollars but gladly accept shillings at pretty close to the exchange rate. Prices were about what I had haggled for in Arusha.
DAR
A bit bigger. This is where the trip was most uncomfortable. I arrived several hours before KLM started checkin, so had to wait outside. It's kinda hot and nothing to do. Someone from Leopard Tours (big safari operator here) offered a place to stash bags and take me into Dar for dinner. I declined, but some other passengers took them up on it and they seemed happy with it.
There are a few shops outside, but having seen the post-security shops I wouldn't waste time here souvenir hunting unless you want to stuff it in your checked bags. ATMs helpfully have a 10,000TSH minimum (~$7) for getting snacks or, in my case, a souvenir note.
Got checked in and through immigration - they'll take your picture, so try not to look too annoyed. Upstairs is like a whole other world. Several souvenir shops, a cafe (with cold beer), and air conditioning that seems to work. Everything up here was priced in dollars, but they take shillings at a fair rate (1400:1).
Very late boarding the flight ... I think some folks didn't realize they were in DAR and had to get off the @#$% plane. I had switched to a window seat near the back of the airplane since it appeared I would have a row to myself. This was not the case.
AMS
Got here a little late. Cursory passport check at the gate by the Dutch authorities. Got up to the KLM Crown Lounge and put my name on the wait list for a shower and had second breakfast. (First breakfast on the plane wasn't bad ... KLM does a decent job with food.) Surprisingly good croissants and plenty of champagne and vodka. On hour (and two screwdrivers later) it's shower time. Believe it or not, the shower access was the main reason I got club access, and it is well worth it.
Looked around the terminal a bit (branch of the Rijksmuseum was closed for renovation; casino next door is small and unremarkable; purportedly awesome observation deck is actually after security) then went to the gate.
Huge line. Just like last time, it's the full-on document and x-ray check. Since I flew in from Tanzania, I got a bit of special attention re: my checked bags (the old "did you pack your bags yourself?" they used to ask everyone a few years ago). The magnetometer was a joke: everybody set it off, not just the idiot that went through it wearing a metal watch and 6-8 rings on his hands. I'm convinced they had it on a setting to detect anyone with a pulse which gives them an excuse to pat down everybody. Then again, this was the flight of the infamous "crotch bomber."
Flight over was very long, but that happens when you don't sleep. Saw a few movies. DL's in-flight entertainment system < KLM's system. And some DL dummy didn't think to put English copies of the US Customs declaration form on the flight over. I almost filled out the Dutch version, but a few questions I couldn't figure out, so I'd just hastily fill one out when I got there.
We finally land. We're all up and ready to go when the stews tell us to sit down. Two CBP officers walk on board. Uh oh. They call for one fellow to get his stuff. It was a south-asian looking male (Indonesian or Indian or something like that) with an Islamic-sounding name. They take him off the plane, and then they let us off.
DTW
Clearing Customs was uneventful. Rescreening at the transfer point. Is airport security so bad that we have to be rescreened every time, or do they just have so little faith in somebody else's screening abilities? (FWIW, I didn't set off the magnetometer here, reaffirming my suspicions of the one at AMS.)
Up to DL's Sky Club. I will never underestimate the restorative powers of hummus, chocolate chip cookies and cuba libres.
Moseyed to the gate. Flight to DCA is mostly full. And Sen. Carl Levin (D-MI) is on the flight... in coach! I thought he'd be taller. And flying business class.
Flight to DCA also uneventful. Though I will note that outside of Detroit, short-track oval racecourses outnumber baseball/softball diamonds 3:1.
DCA
Look, it's DCA. Not a whole lot to say. Felt like someone left the heat on in the jetway, but it's really just 100F outside. Baggage was a minor clusterfuck: Nobody knew for sure which belt our bags were on. Lady at luggage office said 2... skycap said 3... monitors above the belt said nothing. 20 minutes later my bags arrived, on belt 3.
Long hot wait at taxi rank. Stopped my stopwatch. Nearly 32 hours in transit. Wow. Ride home was surprisingly quick.
Left glasses in back seat. At least I managed to lose them at the very end. Arlington Blue Top cabs not all that helpful in tracking them down. So a trip to the wilds of Falls Church to see if the driver left them at their offices.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Elephants Fart (And Other Things I Learned on Safari)
Kili was the impetus behind this trip, but seeing as it takes 20-24hrs to get here, I might as well stay as long as my money and sanity allow. My apres climb activities inclueded a safari (2 nights each at Ngorongoro Crater and the Serengeti) and Zanzibar (3 nights).
Here's what I discovered on safari:
Ngorongoro is convenient but don't expect solitude. Ngorongoro is more accurately a caldera, and specifically the largest unbroken one in the world. It's about 9 miles wide, 10 miles long and about 600ft deep. I don't know for sure, but I think that's almost as big around as the Capital Beltway. (Edit: it's not. But for my DC friends, imagine the area bounded by the Beltway, 395 and 66 was a giant hole in the ground. For my NC friends, it's about as big around as the Beltline.)
It has a nice concentration of wildlife - including the seldom seen black rhino - but it's proximity to Arusha also makes it popular.
So popular that the Tanzanian government has been jacking up the access fees. My guide Dennis told me that last year it was $50/vehicle/day. This year it's $200, mostly to control the crowds. Even then, I counted maybe 20 vehicles one day. This is a lot, esp. when they're all in one place looking at the same thing... like a black rhino.
Seronera is much the same. It's a bit further from Arusha, but probably the most accessible part of the Serengeti. It also has a lot of wildlife thanks to two rivers in the area (they look more like creeks, but nevermind). This also means crowds whenever someone finds something interesting, like a leopard in a tree or lion cubs. But there's no annoying crater rim fencing you in, so it's not hard to completely escape the madness.
Elephants are the most fun to watch. I never could get close to them in Ngorongoro, but they're almost unavoidable in Seronera. Elephants are great because a) there are usually several of them together, b) they're slow-moving, and c) they're usually doing something. I've seen them nap, eat, bathe, play in the mud and even get into a tussle, all within 100ft of the Land Cruiser.
Leopards are rare... and really damn lazy. There's nothing more boring than a well-fed cat. A housecat will spend up to 18hrs a day sleeping if it's getting enough to eat, and I think leopards are the same way. I only saw one in the Seronera, and that lazy bastard was sleeping in a tree.
Elephants fart... very loudly. This isn't much of a surprise, considering their bulk and their flatulence-inducing diet of grass. Mercifully, I never found out what they smell like.
The birds are very colorful. I was surprised to see so many colorful bird species in such a drab environment. Bright green, iridescent blue, red, yellow.
Elephants are mostly right-tusked. Elephants, like people, favor one appendage over another. Pachyderms prefer to use one tusk for digging and scraping, and this one is the shorter one due to wear. For most pachyderms, this is the right tusk.
Thompson's Gazelles are everywhere in Seronera. So much so that you get sick of seeing "Tommies." If you've gone more than 5 minutes without seeing one, you're asleep.
Lionesses do most of the hunting, but it's not some gender inequaity thing. Female lions do the hunting because they are not encumbered with a mane and other showy markings. This makes it a lot easier for them to sneak up on prey. Male lions can and do hunt, but aren't nearly as successful.
Here's what I discovered on safari:
Ngorongoro is convenient but don't expect solitude. Ngorongoro is more accurately a caldera, and specifically the largest unbroken one in the world. It's about 9 miles wide, 10 miles long and about 600ft deep. I don't know for sure, but I think that's almost as big around as the Capital Beltway. (Edit: it's not. But for my DC friends, imagine the area bounded by the Beltway, 395 and 66 was a giant hole in the ground. For my NC friends, it's about as big around as the Beltline.)
It has a nice concentration of wildlife - including the seldom seen black rhino - but it's proximity to Arusha also makes it popular.
So popular that the Tanzanian government has been jacking up the access fees. My guide Dennis told me that last year it was $50/vehicle/day. This year it's $200, mostly to control the crowds. Even then, I counted maybe 20 vehicles one day. This is a lot, esp. when they're all in one place looking at the same thing... like a black rhino.
Seronera is much the same. It's a bit further from Arusha, but probably the most accessible part of the Serengeti. It also has a lot of wildlife thanks to two rivers in the area (they look more like creeks, but nevermind). This also means crowds whenever someone finds something interesting, like a leopard in a tree or lion cubs. But there's no annoying crater rim fencing you in, so it's not hard to completely escape the madness.
Elephants are the most fun to watch. I never could get close to them in Ngorongoro, but they're almost unavoidable in Seronera. Elephants are great because a) there are usually several of them together, b) they're slow-moving, and c) they're usually doing something. I've seen them nap, eat, bathe, play in the mud and even get into a tussle, all within 100ft of the Land Cruiser.
Leopards are rare... and really damn lazy. There's nothing more boring than a well-fed cat. A housecat will spend up to 18hrs a day sleeping if it's getting enough to eat, and I think leopards are the same way. I only saw one in the Seronera, and that lazy bastard was sleeping in a tree.
Elephants fart... very loudly. This isn't much of a surprise, considering their bulk and their flatulence-inducing diet of grass. Mercifully, I never found out what they smell like.
The birds are very colorful. I was surprised to see so many colorful bird species in such a drab environment. Bright green, iridescent blue, red, yellow.
Elephants are mostly right-tusked. Elephants, like people, favor one appendage over another. Pachyderms prefer to use one tusk for digging and scraping, and this one is the shorter one due to wear. For most pachyderms, this is the right tusk.
Thompson's Gazelles are everywhere in Seronera. So much so that you get sick of seeing "Tommies." If you've gone more than 5 minutes without seeing one, you're asleep.
Lionesses do most of the hunting, but it's not some gender inequaity thing. Female lions do the hunting because they are not encumbered with a mane and other showy markings. This makes it a lot easier for them to sneak up on prey. Male lions can and do hunt, but aren't nearly as successful.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Summit Day
According to the calendar it was only 6 days ago, but from the warm shores of Zanzibar it feels like a month.
The trek was going very well. I was the only one of the seven to carry his own daypack (but my porter carried the tripod, just so he didn't feel unused) and I kept up with everyone step for step right up to Arrow Glacier (just a bit under 16,000ft). I had been feeling the altitude since Shira 2 (which was about 11,000ft) but I started low-dose Diamox (125mg twice a day). The rest day at Sheffield Camp (a stone's throw from Lava Tower) was good and the hike to the top of the Tower itself was all hakuna matata. Two Kiliwarriors hikers on the same route the previous week had to descend from here due to AMS.
Then we got to Arrow. I felt alright that day - it was a relatively short hike - but that night I hardly slept, opting to breathe (pseudoephedrine for a stuffy nose) than snooze (Ambien). At least the insomnia allowed me to get some kickass night exposures.
The next morning we were up at 4am so we could take on the Western Breach in relative safety. Frozen ground means lesser chance of rockslides. (Three American climbers died here in early 2006.)
I felt awful. It took me a while to get going. My oxygen level (the ox in pulse-ox) was down to 74 - several points below the dinnertime reading, but i figured it was because of a cold finger. (Unscientific testing amongst ourselves revealed that a cold finger could produce a pulse-ox reading as much as 10pts lower than a warm finger. So, warm up those digits first!) I could only manage a few spoonfuls of porridge, which I knew was definitely a bad sign.
I finally got my pack on and slowly caught up to the others.
An hour ahead of us was another team that stayed at Arrow. We had heard that they were struggling - one member who had previously summited had to go down at a mere 10,000ft and the rest were dragging.
My hands were freezing as they gripped the trekking poles. The guides helped warm them, then suggested I simply give up the poles and walk with my hands in my pockets. I used the poles sparingly so far, so why start now?
Before long I fell behind. Asst. guide Hosea and my porter Ephet stayed with me. Pole pole. I warmed up after a bit, then I was too warm. I could feel my base layers getting damp. I can change at the top, I thought. At some point I gave up my pack. I can't remember if it was their idea or mine, but I was OK with it.
...
The others were maybe 10min ahead of me at a snack stop. They knew I was hurting and did their best to cheer me up. They took off as I waited for my tea to cool. (I don't care how cold it is outside, tea can still be too hot to drink.)
The porters dumped the remaining warm water into my camelbak and gatorade bottle, so at least I could get those warmed up. The bite valves had been frozen for a while. After 15 minutes of rest, I was at it again.
The rest were pulling away... and not far from catching the other team. But for me it was pole pole and very agonizing. The chronic shortness of breath felt awful. I was getting dehydrated and hungry. And the porters started singing (actually, warbling) Celine Dion:
"Neee! Faaa! Whereeeeeeeveeeerrrrr you aaaaahhhh!"
"Oh hell no!" I yelled. "If they don't stop I'm gonna climb up there and throttle 'em!"
But I did find some nice rocks.
Sidebar: I'm turning into a bit of a rockhound, and Kili has lots of interesting rocks around it. When you're doing step-breathe-breathe-step-breathe-breathe, you have a lot of time to look down. The wretched feeling was tempered by some nice rock finds, including some a'a lava with olivite crystals in it.
Even at high altitudes, I'm still a nerd.
Right, back to the pain and misery. I felt awful, but somehow I was still able to crack a few jokes.
"Pole pole, Alex."
"'I can't! You took em away!!"
There's still hope if I'm still a wise-ass.
...
Hosea and Ephet are gently pressing me. Hosea smiles about two-thirds of the way up and says there's no turning back. "No really, from here we'd have to carry you up and over instead of down." Great guide, but he's no Tony Robbins.
I'm still recovery stepping and looking at rock when, maybe 100 vertical feet from the crater rim I see a single red gummi bear on the trail. I wanted to eat the damn thing, but that would require bending over and getting really dizzy. The ravens can have it.
The rest of the team had reached the rim and I could hear them cheering me on. At this point I was on the verge of breaking. This was the most difficult thing I had ever done, and I wasn't sure how I was going to deal with it. I went with step-breathe-breathe and saved the emotional and psychological ramifications for later.
I got to the rim, but no one was there. Just me. Hosea, Ephet and a big hunk of ice known as the Furtwangler Glacier. Camp was 10min away, and the rest of the team was there.
I staggered in to camp sometime after noon. The others were sitting outside in chairs, waiting for lunch. I told them that they weren't half the tossers I thought they were since they were nice enough to wait for me before summiting.
...
Into the mess tent for lunch. I down some soup and a few nibbles of fruit - eating better but not shoveling it down like I should. We start talking strategy. Before I arrived, the others decided that a night at Crater Camp would be miserable. It was frigid and windy. I had hit the wall, and I think some of the others didn't think they'd be any better after a night at 18,800ft.
The weather was great otherwise, brilliant sunshine and hardly any clouds. What if we summited that day and descended to another camp? The Ash Pit was a distant second to summiting. I kinda wanted to see it, but I knew that wasn't wise in my current state.
We got head guide Faraja in for his input. The park permit had some flexibility to it - we didn't have to stay at Crater. We could summit after lunch then take the long scree-filled descent to Kosovo Camp at 16,000ft. Only problem is Kosovo is a dry site and the porters would have to bring water down.
I'm leery of summiting - hell it was a struggle just to get to Crater - but I'm clearly outvoted. It seemed to have a perverse logic to it anyway. A little more suffering now would save a lot more suffering later.
I had to get down, but just after another 600ft of up.
It's settled. We're going. Holy shit.
We set off, with me trailing from the get-go. They could've put me in front - slowest person leads in search-and-rescue - and I was getting a bit miffed about being left in the back, but I digress.
Step-huff-puff. For 600 god-damned feet. Ephet packed some toast and fruit left over from lunch and implored me to eat. The pineapple was like eating a wad of tin foil dipped in vinegar, the toast was like buttered sawdust.
The others let out a cheer when they get to the top of the mount. They wait for me.
The last bit is more or less flat. Just a slight dip and rise over maybe 200m of rock and snow. They slow down a bit so we can get to the summit together. The team we followed up had already reached the summit and were moving away.
Finally, we're here.
Hugs and handshakes all around.
I wept.
No seriously, I wept. I left everything I had - and a few things I didn't know I had - on that trail and I just didn't know how do deal with it right then. (A week and several hundred miles later, I still don't. This is what some psychologists call a "typical male emotional response.")
I held it together as best I could for the photos. Now you know why the shades stayed on.
...
The up bit was over, now time for the down.
For a while I was just trudging along, with everything focused on moving. I had even abdicated my photo-taking to Hosea, who was actually pretty happy to play with my D80. He got some good shots too.
We started down near Stella's Point and it wasn't long before we encountered uphill traffic on the Machame Route. A lot of them looked terrible, a few I thought were even worse off than me. One asked which route we took. One of the Brits said Western Breach, and she said "wow, that's crazy." After a few minutes on the scree and soft sand of the route, I think the Machame hikers are the crazy ones.
We're almost skiing down, but that's not easy. Miss a step and you faceplant. Have a loose rock tumble under your foot and you're in ass-over-teacups trouble.
It's dusty and painful as we use muscles we hadn't needed up to that point. We could see Kosovo pretty much from the top of the descent, but it's little encouragement when those little orange dots stay little for hours.
At around 4:15pm, I get to camp. Several of the porters greet us. I get to my tent, open it and collapse on the mattress. And weep.
...
After a bit. I pull myself together. I take off my boots - this takes a long time at altitude, even when you're not completely spent - and slip on my sneakers. I limp into the mess tent and throw myself into a chair. The others congratulate me on my feat. They said it was hard on them, but for me to drag myself up and over after I had clearly hit the wall was something else. One of them even called it "heroic."
We start dinner, but the nausea of AMS has a firm grip on me. One spoonful of soup and I feel like I want to hurl. I pull the hood of my insulated "hefty-bag" jacket down over my eyses because even the sight of food makes me ill. Nevermind the headache.
...
After a miserable sleepless night, I hobble out to see the sun rising next to Mawenzi, one of Kili's three peaks. At this height, we're above most of the weather, so below us we see a sea of clouds. The sun appears orange as it climbs above the horizon to the surface.
It's stunning, And I'm too sick and tired to take a picture.
Andy asks me how I'm doing. I say not much better than yesterday. My nose had been runny for a while, but it was into full-blown congestion. I had also picked up a cough that I thought might be a cold. The headache was neverending. I was still spent. I told him I was thinking about just leaving the mountain and getting into Arusha that night. I summited, and I didn't think it was worth screwing up the rest of my vacation by staying out there any longer.
I didn't mention it at breakfast, but Scott gamely raised the possibility to Faraja for me.
The short answer: No.
The longer answer: The closest a vehicle can get is Mweka Gate, which was the end of our trek. (I knew a helicopter was out of the question.) If I wanted to get to Arusha that night instead of the next day, I was going to have to walk. Besides, dropping a few thousand feet would cure me.
We set off. I start feeling better. At around 14,000ft the headache was gone.
At a water stop, I ask Faraja about my episode. He says he was surprised I got ill. He thought I was the strongest hiker in the group - humping my own pack had made an impression - but altitude sickness isn't predictable. Sometimes you conquer it, sometimes it conquers you.
I think I won on a split decision.
The trek was going very well. I was the only one of the seven to carry his own daypack (but my porter carried the tripod, just so he didn't feel unused) and I kept up with everyone step for step right up to Arrow Glacier (just a bit under 16,000ft). I had been feeling the altitude since Shira 2 (which was about 11,000ft) but I started low-dose Diamox (125mg twice a day). The rest day at Sheffield Camp (a stone's throw from Lava Tower) was good and the hike to the top of the Tower itself was all hakuna matata. Two Kiliwarriors hikers on the same route the previous week had to descend from here due to AMS.
Then we got to Arrow. I felt alright that day - it was a relatively short hike - but that night I hardly slept, opting to breathe (pseudoephedrine for a stuffy nose) than snooze (Ambien). At least the insomnia allowed me to get some kickass night exposures.
The next morning we were up at 4am so we could take on the Western Breach in relative safety. Frozen ground means lesser chance of rockslides. (Three American climbers died here in early 2006.)
I felt awful. It took me a while to get going. My oxygen level (the ox in pulse-ox) was down to 74 - several points below the dinnertime reading, but i figured it was because of a cold finger. (Unscientific testing amongst ourselves revealed that a cold finger could produce a pulse-ox reading as much as 10pts lower than a warm finger. So, warm up those digits first!) I could only manage a few spoonfuls of porridge, which I knew was definitely a bad sign.
I finally got my pack on and slowly caught up to the others.
An hour ahead of us was another team that stayed at Arrow. We had heard that they were struggling - one member who had previously summited had to go down at a mere 10,000ft and the rest were dragging.
My hands were freezing as they gripped the trekking poles. The guides helped warm them, then suggested I simply give up the poles and walk with my hands in my pockets. I used the poles sparingly so far, so why start now?
Before long I fell behind. Asst. guide Hosea and my porter Ephet stayed with me. Pole pole. I warmed up after a bit, then I was too warm. I could feel my base layers getting damp. I can change at the top, I thought. At some point I gave up my pack. I can't remember if it was their idea or mine, but I was OK with it.
...
The others were maybe 10min ahead of me at a snack stop. They knew I was hurting and did their best to cheer me up. They took off as I waited for my tea to cool. (I don't care how cold it is outside, tea can still be too hot to drink.)
The porters dumped the remaining warm water into my camelbak and gatorade bottle, so at least I could get those warmed up. The bite valves had been frozen for a while. After 15 minutes of rest, I was at it again.
The rest were pulling away... and not far from catching the other team. But for me it was pole pole and very agonizing. The chronic shortness of breath felt awful. I was getting dehydrated and hungry. And the porters started singing (actually, warbling) Celine Dion:
"Neee! Faaa! Whereeeeeeeveeeerrrrr you aaaaahhhh!"
"Oh hell no!" I yelled. "If they don't stop I'm gonna climb up there and throttle 'em!"
But I did find some nice rocks.
Sidebar: I'm turning into a bit of a rockhound, and Kili has lots of interesting rocks around it. When you're doing step-breathe-breathe-step-breathe-breathe, you have a lot of time to look down. The wretched feeling was tempered by some nice rock finds, including some a'a lava with olivite crystals in it.
Even at high altitudes, I'm still a nerd.
Right, back to the pain and misery. I felt awful, but somehow I was still able to crack a few jokes.
"Pole pole, Alex."
"'I can't! You took em away!!"
There's still hope if I'm still a wise-ass.
...
Hosea and Ephet are gently pressing me. Hosea smiles about two-thirds of the way up and says there's no turning back. "No really, from here we'd have to carry you up and over instead of down." Great guide, but he's no Tony Robbins.
I'm still recovery stepping and looking at rock when, maybe 100 vertical feet from the crater rim I see a single red gummi bear on the trail. I wanted to eat the damn thing, but that would require bending over and getting really dizzy. The ravens can have it.
The rest of the team had reached the rim and I could hear them cheering me on. At this point I was on the verge of breaking. This was the most difficult thing I had ever done, and I wasn't sure how I was going to deal with it. I went with step-breathe-breathe and saved the emotional and psychological ramifications for later.
I got to the rim, but no one was there. Just me. Hosea, Ephet and a big hunk of ice known as the Furtwangler Glacier. Camp was 10min away, and the rest of the team was there.
I staggered in to camp sometime after noon. The others were sitting outside in chairs, waiting for lunch. I told them that they weren't half the tossers I thought they were since they were nice enough to wait for me before summiting.
...
Into the mess tent for lunch. I down some soup and a few nibbles of fruit - eating better but not shoveling it down like I should. We start talking strategy. Before I arrived, the others decided that a night at Crater Camp would be miserable. It was frigid and windy. I had hit the wall, and I think some of the others didn't think they'd be any better after a night at 18,800ft.
The weather was great otherwise, brilliant sunshine and hardly any clouds. What if we summited that day and descended to another camp? The Ash Pit was a distant second to summiting. I kinda wanted to see it, but I knew that wasn't wise in my current state.
We got head guide Faraja in for his input. The park permit had some flexibility to it - we didn't have to stay at Crater. We could summit after lunch then take the long scree-filled descent to Kosovo Camp at 16,000ft. Only problem is Kosovo is a dry site and the porters would have to bring water down.
I'm leery of summiting - hell it was a struggle just to get to Crater - but I'm clearly outvoted. It seemed to have a perverse logic to it anyway. A little more suffering now would save a lot more suffering later.
I had to get down, but just after another 600ft of up.
It's settled. We're going. Holy shit.
We set off, with me trailing from the get-go. They could've put me in front - slowest person leads in search-and-rescue - and I was getting a bit miffed about being left in the back, but I digress.
Step-huff-puff. For 600 god-damned feet. Ephet packed some toast and fruit left over from lunch and implored me to eat. The pineapple was like eating a wad of tin foil dipped in vinegar, the toast was like buttered sawdust.
The others let out a cheer when they get to the top of the mount. They wait for me.
The last bit is more or less flat. Just a slight dip and rise over maybe 200m of rock and snow. They slow down a bit so we can get to the summit together. The team we followed up had already reached the summit and were moving away.
Finally, we're here.
Hugs and handshakes all around.
I wept.
No seriously, I wept. I left everything I had - and a few things I didn't know I had - on that trail and I just didn't know how do deal with it right then. (A week and several hundred miles later, I still don't. This is what some psychologists call a "typical male emotional response.")
I held it together as best I could for the photos. Now you know why the shades stayed on.
...
The up bit was over, now time for the down.
For a while I was just trudging along, with everything focused on moving. I had even abdicated my photo-taking to Hosea, who was actually pretty happy to play with my D80. He got some good shots too.
We started down near Stella's Point and it wasn't long before we encountered uphill traffic on the Machame Route. A lot of them looked terrible, a few I thought were even worse off than me. One asked which route we took. One of the Brits said Western Breach, and she said "wow, that's crazy." After a few minutes on the scree and soft sand of the route, I think the Machame hikers are the crazy ones.
We're almost skiing down, but that's not easy. Miss a step and you faceplant. Have a loose rock tumble under your foot and you're in ass-over-teacups trouble.
It's dusty and painful as we use muscles we hadn't needed up to that point. We could see Kosovo pretty much from the top of the descent, but it's little encouragement when those little orange dots stay little for hours.
At around 4:15pm, I get to camp. Several of the porters greet us. I get to my tent, open it and collapse on the mattress. And weep.
...
After a bit. I pull myself together. I take off my boots - this takes a long time at altitude, even when you're not completely spent - and slip on my sneakers. I limp into the mess tent and throw myself into a chair. The others congratulate me on my feat. They said it was hard on them, but for me to drag myself up and over after I had clearly hit the wall was something else. One of them even called it "heroic."
We start dinner, but the nausea of AMS has a firm grip on me. One spoonful of soup and I feel like I want to hurl. I pull the hood of my insulated "hefty-bag" jacket down over my eyses because even the sight of food makes me ill. Nevermind the headache.
...
After a miserable sleepless night, I hobble out to see the sun rising next to Mawenzi, one of Kili's three peaks. At this height, we're above most of the weather, so below us we see a sea of clouds. The sun appears orange as it climbs above the horizon to the surface.
It's stunning, And I'm too sick and tired to take a picture.
Andy asks me how I'm doing. I say not much better than yesterday. My nose had been runny for a while, but it was into full-blown congestion. I had also picked up a cough that I thought might be a cold. The headache was neverending. I was still spent. I told him I was thinking about just leaving the mountain and getting into Arusha that night. I summited, and I didn't think it was worth screwing up the rest of my vacation by staying out there any longer.
I didn't mention it at breakfast, but Scott gamely raised the possibility to Faraja for me.
The short answer: No.
The longer answer: The closest a vehicle can get is Mweka Gate, which was the end of our trek. (I knew a helicopter was out of the question.) If I wanted to get to Arusha that night instead of the next day, I was going to have to walk. Besides, dropping a few thousand feet would cure me.
We set off. I start feeling better. At around 14,000ft the headache was gone.
At a water stop, I ask Faraja about my episode. He says he was surprised I got ill. He thought I was the strongest hiker in the group - humping my own pack had made an impression - but altitude sickness isn't predictable. Sometimes you conquer it, sometimes it conquers you.
I think I won on a split decision.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Done
Just a quick update, with more to follow later, but I summited. :)
We went up a day early - June 25 - since Crater Camp was absolutely frigid and AMS was starting to kick in. I was suffering at Arrow Glacier (16000ft) and Crater would've done me in.
I went from Arrow Glacier up the Western Breach to the Crater, then the summit, then down to Kosovo Camp (up a bit from Barafu) in 12 hours 15 minutes. It damn near killed me, but somehow I made it.
We went up a day early - June 25 - since Crater Camp was absolutely frigid and AMS was starting to kick in. I was suffering at Arrow Glacier (16000ft) and Crater would've done me in.
I went from Arrow Glacier up the Western Breach to the Crater, then the summit, then down to Kosovo Camp (up a bit from Barafu) in 12 hours 15 minutes. It damn near killed me, but somehow I made it.
Friday, June 18, 2010
East African Hotel
Kiliwarriors put me up at the East African for two nights. It's an extended-stay suite hotel geared mainly for business travelers. One of my guidebooks made a passing mention of this place, but said a tour operator isn't likely to put Kili trekkers there. And here I am.
It's actually a pretty decent place. The staff is friendly and helpful. Rooms are spacious, if oddly furnished. I have a burgundy leather chair next to what I'll call an orange-creamsicle leather loveseat. The beds are really firm - more like a boxspring with an inch of foam on top - but I like that. The pool is small. The Wifi is free, but a little pokey since it's via satellite.
The TV gets 15 channels, including:
Food is reasonably good, provided your expectations aren't too high. They make an effort to prepare Western food, but it's not quite what you'd get in the States. The eggs at breakfast were good. The croissants were bleh.
I had spaghetti bolognese for dinner, which was well prepared but heavy on the cilantro. I asked for Parmesan cheese to put on my pasta. The befuddled waiter said he would ask in the kitchen, then came back with a small bowl of grated swiss. Tasted fine though.
I called room service at 2am to get a chocolate milkshake. The first gal understood the chocolate part, but not milkshake. She got someone else on the line who understood, and it was on its way. A little thin to be a proper shake, but this is East Africa.
Prices are pretty fair too. A 300g grilled steak goes for roughly 14,500 Tsh ($10). A shot of Jameson's was only 2,500 Tsh, a bit less than a milkshake (3,000 Tsh).
It's been a pleasant stay. I don't know if I'd come back to Arusha anytime soon, but if I did I'd certainly consider the East African.
It's actually a pretty decent place. The staff is friendly and helpful. Rooms are spacious, if oddly furnished. I have a burgundy leather chair next to what I'll call an orange-creamsicle leather loveseat. The beds are really firm - more like a boxspring with an inch of foam on top - but I like that. The pool is small. The Wifi is free, but a little pokey since it's via satellite.
The TV gets 15 channels, including:
- CNN
- Express 24/7 (the Indian equivalent of CNN)
- Al Jazeera (the Arab equivalent of CNN)
- something called ITV that shows a mix of public affairs and other networks' feeds.. including CNN and Al Jazeera
- a South African version of ESPN
- a South African version of the Starz movie channels
- an African channel with acting as wooden as the figurines I bought in town
- one channel that's all sound and no picture (still not sure what it's supposed to be),
- and one I call the Screen Saver Channel, because all it shows is "Screen Saver" jumping around the picture.
Food is reasonably good, provided your expectations aren't too high. They make an effort to prepare Western food, but it's not quite what you'd get in the States. The eggs at breakfast were good. The croissants were bleh.
I had spaghetti bolognese for dinner, which was well prepared but heavy on the cilantro. I asked for Parmesan cheese to put on my pasta. The befuddled waiter said he would ask in the kitchen, then came back with a small bowl of grated swiss. Tasted fine though.
I called room service at 2am to get a chocolate milkshake. The first gal understood the chocolate part, but not milkshake. She got someone else on the line who understood, and it was on its way. A little thin to be a proper shake, but this is East Africa.
Prices are pretty fair too. A 300g grilled steak goes for roughly 14,500 Tsh ($10). A shot of Jameson's was only 2,500 Tsh, a bit less than a milkshake (3,000 Tsh).
It's been a pleasant stay. I don't know if I'd come back to Arusha anytime soon, but if I did I'd certainly consider the East African.
Haggling in Arusha
I should be asleep now (just after 2am) but I'm not, and it's way too late to pop an ambien. So why not write about my little excursion to downtown Arusha?
The East African is just a few hundred meters east of the Clocktower, which is considered the tourist heart of town. Old Moshi Road is two lanes of blacktop with a wide shoulder and something that passes for a sidewalk. It's kinda dusty but not a bad stroll.
Any mzungi that gets within a stone's throw of the Clocktower will certainly get a pitch from a local. The first one offered me a German newspaper. I'm not that Teutonic, am I?
The next one offered something, can't remember what. Then another one greeted me. I got the usual litany of questions one would expect from a tout trying to sell something, and I lied all the way.
Been on safari? yes
Climbed Kili? yes
What route? Lemosho (Ok that part is true.)
I politely tried to ignore him, but he was persistently friendly. So I'll call him Friendly. I ducked into the tourist board's office to pick up a free map (which some other guy tried to sell me), then slipped into the Africafe just a few feet away.
I'll say quickly that this is a nice place. Clearly run by Westerners, and it was the first (and only) place in town I saw any white people. I had a nice double latte for 5,500 Tsh or thereabouts.
After I finished I went into a small curio shop next door. By small I mean it looks like someone put a roof over an alleyway. And whaddya know, Friendly reappears.
I look at some stuff then check out some bracelets. I'd seen bracelets like that before, so why not. I ask the shopkeeper for a price. He tells me 10,000 Tsh (roughly $6.50) and he swears that's the "african price," not the higher "mzungi price." Uh-huh.
So I counter with 6,000. That of course is too low. Friendly gets involved somehow... I can't remember exactly, but it becomes a two-fer. Shopkeeper says 2 for 17,000. I counter with 15,000 (about $10.50). Deal.
Odds are I got ripped off a bit, but it was cheaper than in the States. (Update: Same bracelets at ZAN for $5 each, so not bad.)
I leave, with Friendly in tow. He's like a kid or a damned puppy. He wants to know more about me (I'm a financial reporter from Missouri). I said he must be really bored if he's following me around. He can't earn a fat commission on a safari or trek, so he must want me to buy trinkets.
He mentions tanzanite, and I act indifferent. We get closer to the Clocktowner when he says his sister's shop is nearby and asks me to check it out. The skeptic in me thinks she's no more his sister than mine, but what the hell.
He leads me to a souvenir shop on India Road. There's an old guy standing outside keeping guard with a side-by-side shotgun. 12- or 14ga. I don't know if the coot is strong enough to control that piece, but I digress.
The shop has plenty of wood carvings, some postcards, items made out of bottlecaps, Masai spears, fabrics, woven handbags and so on. Three ladies sat towards the back. (I never did find out which one is his sister.)
I picked up some postcards ($1 or 1000 Tsh each... and that's why you should deal in local currency when you can. The exchange near the tourist office will at least give you 1,100 to change a single dollar bill.)
I looked at some woodcarvings of various safari animals - lion, hippo, etc. I picked up one that looked like ebony and asked if it was real, commenting that some try to pass off stained wood as ebony. He says it's real, and proves it by making a small cut on one piece. Well, either it's ebony or stained really well.
I pick out four small ones that are roughly 3" long. He picks up a calculator and says lets deal. He asks shillings or dollars. I blew the few TSH I had at the coffee bar, so I said dollars. He says $60, and he'll throw in the postcards for free. I counter with $20, knowing damn well he wouldn't bite.
We're back and forth for a bit - 55, 25, 49, 30. I'm making progress, but I'm getting resistance. Then I realize I'm not sure exactly how many dollars I have. I think for a bit then tell him I need to count my money. I really did, and it gave me an advantage.
I come back and we start again. I say I'm not that interested in one carving, so I ask how much for three. He offers $35. I counter with $30. Deal.
They wrap up the carvings, even making a point to show me that yes they're wrapping them all up and not trying to pull a switch.
I probably got ripped off a bit at $10 a piece - hell, I expect to overpay - but better than the $15 each he first offered. And it was kinda fun. (Update: The carvings were colored with polish which is rubbing off already, so definitely a rip-off. The shops at ZAN and DAR had larger carvings for quite a bit less. So avoid this place or don't pay more than $3-5 each.)
I had to wave off a few more peddlers and taxi drivers on the way back, but once I was past the roundabout at the Clocktower they gave up.
The East African is just a few hundred meters east of the Clocktower, which is considered the tourist heart of town. Old Moshi Road is two lanes of blacktop with a wide shoulder and something that passes for a sidewalk. It's kinda dusty but not a bad stroll.
Any mzungi that gets within a stone's throw of the Clocktower will certainly get a pitch from a local. The first one offered me a German newspaper. I'm not that Teutonic, am I?
The next one offered something, can't remember what. Then another one greeted me. I got the usual litany of questions one would expect from a tout trying to sell something, and I lied all the way.
Been on safari? yes
Climbed Kili? yes
What route? Lemosho (Ok that part is true.)
I politely tried to ignore him, but he was persistently friendly. So I'll call him Friendly. I ducked into the tourist board's office to pick up a free map (which some other guy tried to sell me), then slipped into the Africafe just a few feet away.
I'll say quickly that this is a nice place. Clearly run by Westerners, and it was the first (and only) place in town I saw any white people. I had a nice double latte for 5,500 Tsh or thereabouts.
After I finished I went into a small curio shop next door. By small I mean it looks like someone put a roof over an alleyway. And whaddya know, Friendly reappears.
I look at some stuff then check out some bracelets. I'd seen bracelets like that before, so why not. I ask the shopkeeper for a price. He tells me 10,000 Tsh (roughly $6.50) and he swears that's the "african price," not the higher "mzungi price." Uh-huh.
So I counter with 6,000. That of course is too low. Friendly gets involved somehow... I can't remember exactly, but it becomes a two-fer. Shopkeeper says 2 for 17,000. I counter with 15,000 (about $10.50). Deal.
Odds are I got ripped off a bit, but it was cheaper than in the States. (Update: Same bracelets at ZAN for $5 each, so not bad.)
I leave, with Friendly in tow. He's like a kid or a damned puppy. He wants to know more about me (I'm a financial reporter from Missouri). I said he must be really bored if he's following me around. He can't earn a fat commission on a safari or trek, so he must want me to buy trinkets.
He mentions tanzanite, and I act indifferent. We get closer to the Clocktowner when he says his sister's shop is nearby and asks me to check it out. The skeptic in me thinks she's no more his sister than mine, but what the hell.
He leads me to a souvenir shop on India Road. There's an old guy standing outside keeping guard with a side-by-side shotgun. 12- or 14ga. I don't know if the coot is strong enough to control that piece, but I digress.
The shop has plenty of wood carvings, some postcards, items made out of bottlecaps, Masai spears, fabrics, woven handbags and so on. Three ladies sat towards the back. (I never did find out which one is his sister.)
I picked up some postcards ($1 or 1000 Tsh each... and that's why you should deal in local currency when you can. The exchange near the tourist office will at least give you 1,100 to change a single dollar bill.)
I looked at some woodcarvings of various safari animals - lion, hippo, etc. I picked up one that looked like ebony and asked if it was real, commenting that some try to pass off stained wood as ebony. He says it's real, and proves it by making a small cut on one piece. Well, either it's ebony or stained really well.
I pick out four small ones that are roughly 3" long. He picks up a calculator and says lets deal. He asks shillings or dollars. I blew the few TSH I had at the coffee bar, so I said dollars. He says $60, and he'll throw in the postcards for free. I counter with $20, knowing damn well he wouldn't bite.
We're back and forth for a bit - 55, 25, 49, 30. I'm making progress, but I'm getting resistance. Then I realize I'm not sure exactly how many dollars I have. I think for a bit then tell him I need to count my money. I really did, and it gave me an advantage.
I come back and we start again. I say I'm not that interested in one carving, so I ask how much for three. He offers $35. I counter with $30. Deal.
They wrap up the carvings, even making a point to show me that yes they're wrapping them all up and not trying to pull a switch.
I probably got ripped off a bit at $10 a piece - hell, I expect to overpay - but better than the $15 each he first offered. And it was kinda fun. (Update: The carvings were colored with polish which is rubbing off already, so definitely a rip-off. The shops at ZAN and DAR had larger carvings for quite a bit less. So avoid this place or don't pay more than $3-5 each.)
I had to wave off a few more peddlers and taxi drivers on the way back, but once I was past the roundabout at the Clocktower they gave up.
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