You will never walk alone.

Kilimanjaro Day 5- Summit Day.

Most people leave to reach the summit around midnight to reach the summit at sunrise. I was so excited about the climb that I couldn't sleep, so I only slept for half an hour. That's really not a good idea. I don't care how you do it, make yourself fall asleep. Summit day you hike for between 14 to 18 hours, so you NEED that sleep. 

We woke up at midnight and bundled up. I mean seriously bundled. I had on 5 layers on the bottom, including two pairs of thick under armor spandex, two pairs of thick sweatpants, and my ski pants, and then 7 layers on the top... Epa told me I looked like the Michelin man. He couldn't have been more right. On top of that, the fly of my ski pants was broken. I looked like a hot mess. But no one cares what you look like on the mountain. At this point, I hadn't showered in 5 days. At least if I fell I'd have some serious padding. 

Me.

Source

Bima woke us up, gave us ginger biscuits, and sent us on our way. We left around 1:30 am. The sky was pitch black and the stars were the clearest I'd ever seen. The almost full moon and the entire milky way lit up our walk, and we almost didn't need our head lamps. I will never forget looking up at that sky and seeing the stars shine so brightly. We were so high up, and the thick clouds far below us were blocking any light from the earth that would dim the starts. The result was indescribable. 

At one point, we all stopped to take one of our many water/sugar breaks, which are very necessary for re-energizing. Erick, Epa, my Dad, and I sat out and looked up at the sky, which felt like it was laid out in front of us. As we sat there, we saw about 5 shooting stars. I've only seen a couple before, and no more than two at once. 5 shooting stars? All at once? How lucky can a girl get? I can tell you my wish now, because it came true: that I reach the summit safely. But to be honest, it was that moment, with just the four of us, that was more momentous to me than the summit itself. 

I did run into a few issues on the way. My legs felt like I had attached lead weights to them, they were so loaded down with all the layers. It was a steep climb too. On the last day, you climb from about 15,000 feet, where base camp is, to 19,400 feet. So you have a rather long way to go. So not only was it a hard climb to begin with, I had about 20 extra pounds of clothing to take up as well. You need to dress warmly for the summit, but not as warmly as I did.

At about 17,000 feet, I think I lost contact with my body. I knew I was sweating profusely, but it didn't occur to me to shed a few of those layers. We only had 3 liters of water each, which wasn't enough for all the sweating we were doing. We started moving really, really slow.

The crater at the top!!

At about 17,500 feet, my breathing started getting heavier. Everything made me short of breath. Erick noticed that I was getting tired, and that everything was slowing down, so he started singing to me. He sang everything, but mainly Kilimanjaro songs. He played me songs on his phone. Erick got me up the mountain with his music. To be honest, I firmly believe that Kilimanjaro is entirely mental. Being in peak shape is nice, but you don't need to go to absurd lengths to train for this. You walk slowly, take lots of breaks, and drink TONS of water. As for getting yourself through it, its all about the motivation, and having people who motivate you pushing you along.

At about 18,500 feet, I started experiencing serious fatigue. Many people had left their camps at midnight, and were on there way down. In my oxygen deprived state, I hated those people. I was so jealous that they were no longer experiencing the feeling that I was. They were on such a high, understandably, as they had just successfully summitted the highest peak in Africa, but I was no where near their energy level.

By 19,000 feet, I felt so, so, so lazy and almost drunk. I was passing views like this:

and barely even noticing. I remember thinking that I should appreciate them, but not being able to bring myself to care. I was also moving at a snail's pace, literally one foot in front of the other. Luckily, at the very top you're walking on flat ground for about 350 feet:  

...but it was exhausting even walking on flat ground. I felt sooo lethargic. I asked Epa if he felt it. He went for a little sprint around me for a few minutes. I guess not. He's summited over 100 times, so I guess that's what happens.

BUT, after 7 hours of hiking....

WE MADE IT!!! 5 days, over 45 liters of water, countless bathroom breaks, 2 amazing guides, 11 flawless porters, and we finally got to the top. We ran into several friends up there. Everyone was giving hugs and congratulating each other. 

Reppin Nova at the top. 

Once at the top, I lost the fatigue and laziness. Bima had packed us some ginger tea and ginger biscuits because ginger is supposed to help with altitude sickness, so we cheersed and ate up. The feeling of accomplishment I had was incredible.

The team.

You're not supposed to stay at the summit for very long, but I didn't want to leave. We ended up staying for half an hour taking pictures and such.

Its spring in Tanzania, so although there isn't snow at the top, there still are glaciers. 

Father/daughter bonding experience. So relieved. 

...and HAPPY 50th Daddy!!

This trip was my Dad's 50th birthday present. He turns 50 on October 21st. He's definitely not old, he just summited Kilimanjaro!

Another view from the top. 

Epa and a Michelin Man.

On the way down, I experienced my first altitude sickness. Because of all my layers, I had sweat profusely and lost a lot of water. The water that was supposed to be regulating my altitude sickness was used to replenish what was lost from the sweat (my Dad, a physician, could explain how your kidneys regulate the altitude sickness, but I, an econ and political science major, sadly cannot). But really though: I got the most killer headache of all time. I stopped, took off all my layers, and drank what little water we had left, but to no avail. At one point, Epa found me sitting forlornly on a rock, blinded my headache. He immediately jumped into action, and offered to carry all my things. I let him, but only for 30 minutes. My headache didn't subside, but I wasn't about to let it get in my way. The porters do enough by carrying my gear; I could at least carry a few pounds of my warm clothing. 

At one point, however, Epa and Erick had a conversation about having Bima come up and meet us and bring us water. They were talking in Swahili, but I understood what they were saying. I interjected saying, "guys, I'm fine" (even though I was super dehydrated and my brain felt like it was on fire, I'm not a baby, I can tough it out). Epa looked at me and asked, "You know what we're saying?" "Yeah, I don't need Bima to bring me water." They both started laughing. From then on, it was bad news when they spoke in Swahili to each other because I could understand it. I felt so proud of myself, not only had I summited Kilimanjaro, but I was also really beginning to understand Swahili. Kupanda mlima Kilimanjaro- I climbed Mount Kilimanjaro. 

I made it back to the base camp, and chugged the juice and water Bima had waiting for us. Everyone was congratulating each other, and there was such a feeling of camaraderie throughout the camp. Erick taught me a bit more Swahili as we were walking through the camp, and so we were stopping to chat in both English with tourists and Swahili. 

This sign above is written on a rock at the top of the base camp. It's completely true. The mountain has your back. Everyone's looking out for each other, and the community up there becomes your temporary family. 

I feel so blessed to have experienced all that for myself. I made it, and I will never forget what I learned on that mountain. All people, no matter where it is that they call home, are alike and equal.

We're all in this together, so you will never walk alone.