For my friend Tad. Thanks for the 'peace, love and happiness'. You climb with me always...
This photo marks the culmination of three and a half days of walking, climbing and crawling up Mt. Kilimanjaro. I joined Tad in the Fall of 2003 for this climb in Africa. He had just climbed another difficult mountain, Mt. Kenya and was poised for the ascent.
Our climb of Kili was riddled with funny stories, as well as both difficult and triumphant moments. The typical Kili climb takes 5 or 6 days. Our guide was on a hyper pace and pushed us for a summit bid only 80 hours after starting the hike. The climb starts at around 1000 feet and tops out at 19,341 feet.
A hike like this would require a lot of energy. Being pretty big guys, our guide decided to bring a huge basket of food, including a chicken. Each night our 'chef' would carve a section off and it would end up on our plates for dinner. Whether our chef was not on his game (he had malaria) or he underestimated our stomach size we didn't know. But when we looked down at the plate and saw a portion of chicken so small it made a hot wing look like a turkey leg, we started to worry a little. Tad being Tad would not complain, only burst out in laughter and make the best of our mini meal.
We didn't have the time to acclimatize and had little time to rest. By the time we reached 16,000 feet I became sick in the night, only hours before we were to leave our tents for the top of Africa. Tad tried to sleep but my constant vomiting kept him awake. In the middle of the night, he volunteered to give me his sleeping pad. This allowed me to rest for a bit but made the softball sized rocks beneath feel all the sharper for him. At 2AM, when our guide awoke us, we had to make the choice on whether or not we go higher when I had altitude sickness. Our guide said I could go if I felt up to it--I was not going to be the reason we didn't make it up. As we prepared to leave, Tad made sure to take photo's of me puking on my boots.
We progressed slowly up the mountain through the darkness, every step a struggle as our lungs fought for air. The best way I can describe this feeling is running at full speed with a terrible hangover, only put a pack on your back, add random falling rocks and subtract energy. The higher we walked, the worse we felt. The wind was whipping and we had no idea how far we were. Was the summit close? What was that sound? An avalanche? Another climber falling? Maybe our chicken fell out of the food basket? Big loss. Take a drink of water, encourage one another, vomit, repeat. Tad was feeling good for most of the climb, although the effects of the altitude and exhaustion were showing as we battled the higher reaches of the mountain. I had a vomit/#2 attack about an hour under the volcano's rim. As I was falling all over myself in the dark, Tad held me upright and held the light as I did my business. Afterwards, he handed me the headlamp and I dropped it off a cliff. Tad went after it, having to climb down and back up again with waning energy. We continued on and up..
Finally the dark sky went pale and the sun started to rise....we made it to the crater rim. Still not at the summit but it was in sight. This was an unforgettable moment for us both. Our guide and Tad were standing on the rim, cheering me on as I made my last slow steps. "Almost there Brenty Boy!". "A few more steps". As I stepped onto the rim I tried to speak but it didn't work. Instead of words, my mouth filled the blowing wind with vomit. I was facing Tad directly and as my insides poured into the air, the wind whipped from behind him, shooting my puke directly back onto my face. Tad stood there laughing and said "that was a close one"...for him maybe.
After a good laugh..we plodded on, making the final painful steps to glory on the highest point of Africa. To get even with me, Tad had an attack similar to my earlier one and I stood next to him while he made his mark around 19,000 feet above sea level. The wind and the elevation made this a difficult maneuver, but Tad being Tad, succeeded as usual.
Minutes later we stood on the summit. We were happy to be on the on top but were quickly ready to get down to thicker air. Tad still managed a smile in his summit photo. How? I don't know. He carried a sign for "Scavuzzo Meats" all the way up and as I took a picture of him holding it, I was too wary to notice that he held it upside down.
After the climb, we continued into Kenya for a safari and adventures that I will post later. I look back on my climb of Kili and know without a doubt that I wouldn't have made this summit without the strength, encouragement and solid commitment of Tad. Oddly enough, I was the climber with experience and the one who should have been pushing him, but it was Tad whose strength propelled us to the top. Tad as usual...an approach to life that taught me how far you can truly push yourself to accomplish a goal.
The night after the summit, we sat at a camp at 10,000 feet, exhausted but thrilled at our ascent. We were offered chicken for dinner but at that point it was merely bones and feathers. Our chef held up a tiny leg and we laughed, telling him that we could wait another day until we were off the mountain. The next day we took the whole team out for Nyama Choma, a Tanzanian barbeque of roasted meats. We laughed as an entire goat's leg was laid on the table before us. And of course, we ate the whole thing.
Brent
Our climb of Kili was riddled with funny stories, as well as both difficult and triumphant moments. The typical Kili climb takes 5 or 6 days. Our guide was on a hyper pace and pushed us for a summit bid only 80 hours after starting the hike. The climb starts at around 1000 feet and tops out at 19,341 feet.
A hike like this would require a lot of energy. Being pretty big guys, our guide decided to bring a huge basket of food, including a chicken. Each night our 'chef' would carve a section off and it would end up on our plates for dinner. Whether our chef was not on his game (he had malaria) or he underestimated our stomach size we didn't know. But when we looked down at the plate and saw a portion of chicken so small it made a hot wing look like a turkey leg, we started to worry a little. Tad being Tad would not complain, only burst out in laughter and make the best of our mini meal.
We didn't have the time to acclimatize and had little time to rest. By the time we reached 16,000 feet I became sick in the night, only hours before we were to leave our tents for the top of Africa. Tad tried to sleep but my constant vomiting kept him awake. In the middle of the night, he volunteered to give me his sleeping pad. This allowed me to rest for a bit but made the softball sized rocks beneath feel all the sharper for him. At 2AM, when our guide awoke us, we had to make the choice on whether or not we go higher when I had altitude sickness. Our guide said I could go if I felt up to it--I was not going to be the reason we didn't make it up. As we prepared to leave, Tad made sure to take photo's of me puking on my boots.
We progressed slowly up the mountain through the darkness, every step a struggle as our lungs fought for air. The best way I can describe this feeling is running at full speed with a terrible hangover, only put a pack on your back, add random falling rocks and subtract energy. The higher we walked, the worse we felt. The wind was whipping and we had no idea how far we were. Was the summit close? What was that sound? An avalanche? Another climber falling? Maybe our chicken fell out of the food basket? Big loss. Take a drink of water, encourage one another, vomit, repeat. Tad was feeling good for most of the climb, although the effects of the altitude and exhaustion were showing as we battled the higher reaches of the mountain. I had a vomit/#2 attack about an hour under the volcano's rim. As I was falling all over myself in the dark, Tad held me upright and held the light as I did my business. Afterwards, he handed me the headlamp and I dropped it off a cliff. Tad went after it, having to climb down and back up again with waning energy. We continued on and up..
Finally the dark sky went pale and the sun started to rise....we made it to the crater rim. Still not at the summit but it was in sight. This was an unforgettable moment for us both. Our guide and Tad were standing on the rim, cheering me on as I made my last slow steps. "Almost there Brenty Boy!". "A few more steps". As I stepped onto the rim I tried to speak but it didn't work. Instead of words, my mouth filled the blowing wind with vomit. I was facing Tad directly and as my insides poured into the air, the wind whipped from behind him, shooting my puke directly back onto my face. Tad stood there laughing and said "that was a close one"...for him maybe.
After a good laugh..we plodded on, making the final painful steps to glory on the highest point of Africa. To get even with me, Tad had an attack similar to my earlier one and I stood next to him while he made his mark around 19,000 feet above sea level. The wind and the elevation made this a difficult maneuver, but Tad being Tad, succeeded as usual.
Minutes later we stood on the summit. We were happy to be on the on top but were quickly ready to get down to thicker air. Tad still managed a smile in his summit photo. How? I don't know. He carried a sign for "Scavuzzo Meats" all the way up and as I took a picture of him holding it, I was too wary to notice that he held it upside down.
After the climb, we continued into Kenya for a safari and adventures that I will post later. I look back on my climb of Kili and know without a doubt that I wouldn't have made this summit without the strength, encouragement and solid commitment of Tad. Oddly enough, I was the climber with experience and the one who should have been pushing him, but it was Tad whose strength propelled us to the top. Tad as usual...an approach to life that taught me how far you can truly push yourself to accomplish a goal.
The night after the summit, we sat at a camp at 10,000 feet, exhausted but thrilled at our ascent. We were offered chicken for dinner but at that point it was merely bones and feathers. Our chef held up a tiny leg and we laughed, telling him that we could wait another day until we were off the mountain. The next day we took the whole team out for Nyama Choma, a Tanzanian barbeque of roasted meats. We laughed as an entire goat's leg was laid on the table before us. And of course, we ate the whole thing.
Brent
1 comment:
I'm appreciate your writing skill.Please keep on working hard.^^
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