Leaving the Trees Behind

The forest disappeared slowly. I did not notice the exact moment it happened.

At first there were still trees around us, although they were getting shorter and the light was changing. Then I looked back and realized the world we had walked through yesterday was gone. We had climbed out of it.

Ahead was open moorland, wind and a trail rising toward Shira Ridge.

The hike from Mti Mkubwa to Shira 1 was the first day when the elevation gain felt serious. My legs noticed. So did my breathing.

Learning to Leave Something in the Tank

At home I had trained to move with purpose. On Kilimanjaro, the challenge was almost the opposite. I needed to move efficiently without emptying myself. Sarah and I talked about this during one of the steeper sections.

“I keep wanting to push until the hill is over,” she said.

“Same.”

Joseph, a few steps ahead, turned around. “The hill is not over until Mweka Gate.”

We laughed, but the point landed.

That morning Marcus discovered the downside of carrying an enormous bag of trail mix in a soft-sided snack pouch. The pouch opened inside his pack. At the next stop he pulled out a glove decorated with peanuts and raisins.

“New ultralight nutrition system,” he announced. “Food integrated directly into clothing.”

We were only on day two and group humor was already getting worse in exactly the right way.

The Moorland Felt Prehistoric

The vegetation became stranger as we climbed. Giant heather, low shrubs and tougher plants replaced the forest. Wind moved across the open slopes. Clouds came and went with surprising speed.

Whenever the sky opened, we stopped looking at our boots and stared. There were huge views down toward Tanzania, and then, minutes later, cloud could erase everything.

I started to understand that Kilimanjaro does not reveal itself all at once. It gives you pieces—a ridge, a clearing, a glimpse of Kibo, then nothing again.

My clothing system finally began to make sense. I started cool in a lightweight base layer, added a wind shell when the breeze picked up, then removed it again on a steeper climb. The expensive jacket was not the important thing. The ability to adjust constantly was.

Shira 1 and the First Real Altitude Check

By the time we reached Shira 1 at roughly 11,500 feet, we were sleeping higher than many mountains I had previously considered major objectives.

That fact stayed with me.

Eleven thousand five hundred feet—and we were nowhere near the summit.

At camp, everyone responded differently. David wanted food immediately. Sarah lay down for twenty minutes and emerged looking human again. Marcus went straight for the tea. I took off my boots, checked both heels and put a small strip of preventive tape over a warm spot before it had a chance to become a blister.

That might have been my smartest gear decision of the day.

Afternoon tea came with popcorn and biscuits. Dinner started with soup, and then potatoes, vegetables and a stew. We talked less while eating than we had the night before. The day had been longer, the air thinner and the camp colder.

I ran the altitude checklist in my head. Headache? No. Nausea? No. Dizziness? No. Appetite? Definitely yes.

Good.

A Different Kind of Satisfaction

The evening light on the Shira Plateau was beautiful without trying to be dramatic. Long shadows. Open sky. The upper mountain becoming darker as the sun dropped.

I took photographs, then deliberately put the camera away.

Some experiences become smaller if you spend the entire time trying to capture them.

I stood outside the tent and looked at the landscape. I had imagined Kilimanjaro hundreds of times before coming here. In those imaginary scenes I was always near the summit. Nobody daydreams about brushing dust off hiking pants beside a tent at Shira 1.

But that was the surprise.

The mountain was not only the summit.

It was hot soup. A taped heel. A glove full of trail mix. Wind on the plateau. The relief of removing a backpack. Someone making you laugh when you were tired.

That night I went to sleep more tired than the night before.

But I also felt more certain.

Yesterday, I was someone who had started climbing Kilimanjaro.

Tonight, I felt like I was on Kilimanjaro.