Exploring Tanzania

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Fingerprints on a frosty pane

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Fingerprints on a frosty pane

Great sheets of ice flanked our walk on Kibo's rim. Aside from the fact that we were tripping along a corridor that was 19,000 feet in the sky, it could have been someone's gravel driveway. Or one of Jupiter's moons.

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Then I let myself believe it

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Then I let myself believe it

I caught her in my headlamp. She might have pretty in another place but she was beyond defeat here, maybe even beyond consciousness. She was draped between the wings of two laboring guides. Her head was lolling. Her toes were dragging. That little Piper had stalled.

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The big push

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The big push

Three other members of the team had walked out of camp an hour earlier. We assumed they were already pressing the envelope on the ridge above us. It was now our turn.

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The most interesting man in the world

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The most interesting man in the world

Ernest Hemingway dangled a riddle of death at the front end of his short story, "The Snows of Kilimanjaro." But what kind of epigraph is this? A freeze-dried window decoration? A chewy historical tidbit? The most interesting man in the world may have solved the riddle.

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It has an odd ring

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It has an odd ring

The old king climbed into the icy womb of Kilimanjaro. On his finger was the ring of Solomon. His porters carried a vast treasure. None of it has ever been found, of course.

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15K+

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15K+

It was one of those nice mattresses with a heat-reflective layer that is supposed to keep you snuggly warm even if you choose to bed down on an iceberg or glacier or such. It also shared many qualities with a Wham-O Slip-'n-slide.

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Starry night

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Starry night

The icy peak was silhouetted against the night sky. But the longer I looked, the more I saw. And the more I saw, the less I noticed the mountain of our obsession. It was stars--sweet Jesus!--the stars that dominated this glorious night. They were everywhere, from horizon to horizon.

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Mush balls

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Mush balls

West African fufu has a an unusual odor and taste. And that's just the upper end of the experience. This is why I shuddered when they brought in the East African ugali.

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Come and see, the moon is dancing

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Come and see, the moon is dancing

Jason turned on a small speaker clipped to his packstrap. The speaker pulled tunes from a phone. It  bounced as he walked. So did we. And we sang. And it was magic.

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Breakfast scramble

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Breakfast scramble

The icy stream clawed at the bottom of the ravine. This contest of strength was initiated more than a century of millennia ago. Water versus rock. Fluid versus solid. Speed versus size. It is difficult to imagine a struggle more sublime . . . or primal.

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Valley of the giants

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Valley of the giants

We knew that were no longer alone. Giants began to arise. Initially, they appeared as isolated figures with bad haircuts. Then they rallied and arrayed themselves on both sides of the trail.

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Shark fin and teeth

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Shark fin and teeth

Jason offered a weather report at breakfast. "It's two degrees above zero" (it sounds more sinister in celsius). 

He meant no evil, nor did I return it, but his words did prompt a flashback to my days of fieldwork in the deserts of Jordan.

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And we ate it too, twice

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And we ate it too, twice

In Paul's hands was the most beautiful birthday cake I had ever seen. We secretly thanked Tommy's mother for bringing him into the world on a day when his future friends would appreciate a special dessert.

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Acclimatizing

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Acclimatizing

Primordial rivers of stone loomed overhead, frozen midflight by some sort of Medusian sorcery. I could feel them leaning toward us, pockmarked and dark. 

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A stone-cold cauldron

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A stone-cold cauldron

At some point in the distant past, planetary nausea triggered a spew of subterranean chunder. The blow was horrific enough to empty a mountain of structural support, causing it to collapse into its own throat.

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On elevating

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On elevating

I opened my eyes. It was still dark. Bursts of wind beat against the fly of my tent and caused a flutter. I shivered and scrunched deeper in my bag.

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The CIA

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The CIA

Paul was stocky fellow, the veteran of many climb seasons. His feet were glued to a muddy floor. I knew immediately that I needed to befriend this man. 

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On the shira

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On the shira

We trudged up one more rise. At the crest, the landscape flattened. It was the collapsed floor of an ancient volcano. 

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Hakuna matata

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Hakuna matata

What we heard next was spectacular. The porters treated us to a welcome song in Swahili. It was a Kilimanjaro version of "Jambo Bwana," a local tune. To our delight, the phrase Hakuna Matata ("No worries!") was repeated throughout. It would not be the first time that I felt as if I was living out "The Lion King" in Tanzania. The only thing we lacked was a meerkat.