Climb of Mt. Kilimanjaro via the Machame-Path

7:15 p.m. It's cold. It's dark. I'm lying in my down-filled sleeping bag wearing gloves and woollen cap and ask myself why I changed my heated and cosy flat against this fluttery tent voluntarily. Outside an icy wind mixed with tiny grains of sand is blowing. Due to the wind our entire group fled into the sheltering tents after a hurried evening meal. Actually I wanted to read, but after five minutes my flashlight gives up, the light bulb is broken. As a well equipped trekker I have an extra light bulb with me, but I don't dare to change the tiny 6 mm thing in this pitch dark tent. The wind is dragging on the walls of the tent; probably it'll take off any moment. My feet are cold as well. In this case my mom used to say: "Child, just think of something warm". Alright.
When we left Moshi 36 hours ago it was hot. Tropically hot. We, that's a group of eight holiday-makers coming from all over Germany who set their mind on climbing the Kilimanjaro, the highest mountain in Africa with an altitude of 5,892 m. Peter, our guide is 26 years old and the youngest, but he climbed the Kibo, the highest of the three peaks of Kilimanjaro, three times already. Herbert and Ruth are the oldest with 57 years. They can tell a story of almost every peak in the Alps. Leo, Achim and I got our experience from climbs in Nepal and South America, only Frank and Martin (both in their early thirties) have never been in the mountains. They are well trained and after their last holiday in white water rafting, they want to do something different. The Kilimanjaro can be climbed without any special climbing experience. We are sure that it won't be a problem for those two friends. At least that's what we think.
We start in the early morning. We are taken by car to the village of Machame, the starting point of our six day trekking tour. The village of Machame lies at an altitude of 1,800 m. A little bit higher up people are very busy. Joseph, our trekking guide, introduces us to our team: Charles the second guide, Kabila the cook, Rasta the second cook and 14 porters. Our luggage, tents, food, cooking pots and even folding chairs are distributed on the porters. Every porter receives 15 kilos, we have to carry our daypack only.
The path is as wide as a road and takes us through dense tropical mountain rainforest. Moos and lichen are hanging from the trees. Achim discovers a chameleon about seven centimetres long which hurries up to a higher region with its typical swaying movements. Peter urges us permanently:"You have to drink a lot and move slowly to give your body time to adjust to the rising altitude."Well, no problem for me, it's so hot that I'm permanently thirsty anyway. Late in the afternoon the forest becomes thinner, the lush vegetation has changed into Erica aborea. Here at 3,000 m altitude our porters build our first camp. After a delicious meal with a fresh mango for desert we go to sleep. It's my first night in a tent, the ground is quite hard but I'm too tired to start thinking about it and fall to sleep immediately.
On the next day the path narrows and gets steeper. "Pole-pole", Joseph is calling. Slowly, slowly, we have time. Time to take photographs of the blooming flowers on the edge of the path, time to enjoy the landscape. For the first time we have a splendid view of Shira, the second peak of Kilimanjaro. About 500.000 years ago the volcanic activity became extinct.
In the afternoon we reach our camp named Shira camp at 3,800 m. The sun is in hiding, it's extremely windy and tiny grains of sand are blown into my eyes. That's the situation at the moment. I'm freezing cold in my sleeping bag and would rather prefer to be in my nice and cosy bed at home. I would have saved a lot of money as well! A six-day-trekking tour costs between 650 to 750 USD. Some time or other I fall asleep, but only to wake up at four o'clock in the morning with a very urgent need. It's nice and cosy in my sleeping bag now, but there's no other way than to get up. It's impossible to carry on sleeping with such a full bladder. I put on my fleece jumper and reluctantly take a step out into the cold.
What a view! The wind has blown away the clouds, the sky is clear. It's totally quiet around me. Directly in front of me lays in all his might the Kibo. The moon illuminates the masses of snow on the highest peak. All inconveniences are forgotten instantly, I rush back to my tent, get my camera and I'm very happy to be here.
The third day of our hiking tour starts with warming sunshine and a lively trilling finch getting his breakfast from the flower of a lobelia. The path is leading us uphill continuously. We are now at 4,000 m. Here, only moss and tiny plants are growing. Once again a chilly wind is coming up, the sun hides behind thick clouds and a light rain starts to fall. We have our lunch break behind a big stone at an altitude of 4,500 m. As usual our cook has hurried on ahead and hot tea, bread, fresh tomatoes, peppers, cucumber, boiled eggs and bananas are prepared for us. I've got a slight headache, Frank is complaining about sickness. "You have to drink a lot", reminds Peter. We hike a short way down and reach Baranco Camp at 3,900 m after seven and a half hours. Franks lies down immediately, he is exhausted, he doesn't want to eat anything, only wants to sleep. The others are fine.
The next day is terrific. At the beginning we march through a fantastic forest of Phoenicia-plants (sorry, no idea how these plants are called in English or Latin). Than we climb a narrow path along the rock face. In front of us we have a fantastic view of the glacier of the Kibo. But suddenly the sky is overcast. It's grey all around us. Clear view about 30 m. The path is barren and stony. We find one of our porters lying exhausted behind a big rock. He is whimpering quietly and he is not able to stand up. Joseph and Peter take some pieces of his load. We will get help for the porter in our next camp. Hopefully there will be a stretcher! We carry on. I'm really happy I bought those two walking sticks right before the trip, on this scree path they are big help for me. Tired and exhausted we reach Barafu Camp at 4,600 m after nine hours hiking. For supper we have soup, noodles and beans (for the carbohydrates). We rest at 8 p.m. Again it's cold with an icy wind outside. Now I take out me first-aid blanket and put it over my sleeping bag. This helps but as soon as I come to rest I hear our guide: "Midnight, get up! Start for final spurt".
Well, I can't really say that my way of walking has anything to do with a spurt. I'm crawling at a snails pace, even my grandma with her two operations on her hip walks quicker at home than me here. The altitude is getting me in trouble. If I walk just a fragment quicker, my heard starts racing, my pulse-beat is throbbing in my ears and I puff like a locomotive. "Pole-pole". Frank is staggering in front of me. He wants to give up. Return. Get away from this place. It wouldn't be a problem because today one person of our Tanzanian team is accompanying two tourists each. In case of trouble nobody shall be alone on his way back.
But Martin encourages his friend: "You'll make it, Frank, remember, you are not a softy". In my opinion this is rather silly to say, because wrong ambition can cause real trouble in this high altitude even death. Frank continues walking blithely. Step by Step. He's real tough. At 6.30 a.m.the sun rises above the Mawensi, which is the third peak of Kilimanjaro. The darkness has had one advantage: We couldn't see our final destination. Now the Kibo is in front of us in all his might and seems to be unreachable. The path is steep and stony, just straight ahead upwards. This means: every step we move forward we slip back a half.
I'm walking for seven hours. I don't want to go any further. What am I looking for on top of that bloody mountain? I'm tired, I'm hungry and the peak is all the same to me. Joseph encourages me by telling that it's not far any more. Helpfully he takes my backpack and walks ahead in front of me. The most holy thing of all my stuff is in my backpack: my camera. Like a dog following a piece of dog-biscuit I drag myself behind my camera, no, behind our guide.
Eight o'clock. The edge of the crater. I really made it! Like all the others I let myself fall down on the earth, stretch all my limbs and only want to sleep. Peter, Leo and Achim take their last reserves and carry on hiking to the highest point: Uhuru-Peak at 5,892 m. No, I don't want to go any higher, I'm happy to be here at Stella-Point at 5,740 m.
I enjoy the warming rays of sunshine. It's nice here. If only I wouldn't be so tired. I let my eyes move through the wide barren crater up to the other side where the huge glacier is. I'd like to walk there, but I have no energy left.
Martin wants to take a photo of our group. All but Frank get up in slow motion. Frank is sleeping. Nobody noticed, not even Joseph. Now Joseph jumps up quickly, tears on Franks arms and shouts that he should get up immediately. Frank grumbles morosely, he tries to get up but it doesn't work. His legs just give way under his body. He is not able to stand. In the meantime Peter has returned from the peak and together with Joseph they drag Frank down to the camp. 1,500 meters through gravel. Frank tries to use his legs but without success.
Back in Barafu-Camp Martin takes out his mobile and wants to call a rescue helicopter. "Sorry, Martin, we are not in the German Alps, there are only two helicopters in whole Tanzania and they are far away"! But we are lucky, there's a doctor in the other group, who offers his help. He explains: "If a human being is sleeping the breathing gets lower. Usually that's no problem, but in this altitude the air is extremely poor of oxygen and with low breathing the brain receives even less oxygen. To maintain vital organs our brain switches to ‘state of emergency' and unimportant limbs like arms and legs don't get enough or no energy any more. That's why Frank cannot stand on his legs any more. But it's not that serious. He just has to climb down".
This concerns everybody. After a three hour nap and a snack we walk down the steep Mweka footpath until we reach 3,000 m. With the last rays of evening light we build up our camp. I sleep like a log and on the next morning it's the first time that I'm late for sunrise. Before we reach the rainforest once again, we look back one last time to the icy peak of Kibo. It's hard to believe that we have been there in reality. It was a nice tour, it was an exhausting tour, but I would do it again - however, not immediately.

See also some photographs in the photo-gallery