One year ago today, I was standing on the highest point in Africa and the tallest free-standing volcano in the world: Mt. Kilimanjaro 19,341 ft above sea level. Below is the write up that I wrote for the Dirtbag Darling blog, and also for my hometown newspaper. Long story short -- dream come true. Thanks for reliving it with me...
I had always had this inexplicable love and fascination with
this corner of the world and its culture, and felt like a little piece of my
heart has always been there.
Growing up in the hilly countryside of the Mississippi River
Valley, I always had a love for the “unplugged” life and the outdoors. If I woke up and the sun was shining, I was
always pestering my dad to take me outside and explore the woods around the
English Bench in northeast Iowa. I was never the typical
4-sport athlete growing up, but I excelled at swimming which made me strong and
taught me more about my own strength. Two months
after graduating from college with a teaching degree, I landed my first job as a
middle school math teacher in Loveland, Colorado. It was the
best decision I’ve ever made for my life.
The Rocky Mountains lure a lot of Midwesterners out to
Colorado, and I was no different. Two weeks after moving, I went and climbed the highest peak in
Colorado. Even though it's the highest, it's one of
the easiest mountains to climb – dubbed a “walk-up” hike that requires no
technical skill or climbing, just the ability to walk at an incline. It takes the body several weeks to months to
fully adjust to altitude and start producing more red blood cells, so it was
one of the hardest things I had ever done.
Climbing mountains in Colorado is like being part of a club; lots of
people try it, but others, like me, get hooked in an addictive sort of
way. Of the 58 Colorado mountains
exceeding 14,000 feet above sea level, I have climbed 38 in the almost 4 years
that I’ve been here, and almost 10 more that are between 12.000 and 14,000
feet.
I think I’ve taken to this sport
because I can be so successful at it without having been the superstar athlete
as a kid, you just need the knowledge and time it demands. Yes, it really is a sport. It takes practice and strength, but unlike
other sports, there’s no competition in it; it’s a conquering of personal
weakness and self-doubt.
Last fall when I ran across the opportunity to go to Africa
and climb Mt. Kilimanjaro, it was the easiest yes I’ve ever had to say! It was a combination of a lifelong love and a
more recent passion rolled into one. I
was confident that I would be successful in this climb because of all the
“training” I had here in Colorado above 14,000 feet. It’s no Mt. Everest, but it’s definitely a
huge time and financial commitment – and most importantly a privilege to get to
have the chance to travel and climb overseas.
The route we took, the Machame route, was about a week long, taking
almost 5 days to slowly trek up and acclimatize, and I felt fantastic the whole
time because we were at elevations that I was already used to. It started off rainy, and it was a light mist
for the first 3.5 days… I wasn’t having very much fun in those conditions! It was constantly damp and just dreary.
Finally by the 4th day we were
high enough that we were above the rainforest cloud layer and dry – yet
cold. Only above 15,000 feet on the
night that we planned to summit did I finally notice the lack of oxygen. From the high camp at 15,000ft, we got up at
2:00am to start the 4 hour trek to the very top. I don’t have asthma, but now I think I had a good
idea of what that might feel like! Every
step was painfully slow, so slow that my body never warmed up from moving. I was breathing so hard for air and wondered
if this is what suffocating must feel like – not being able to take in a full
and satisfying breath. I wanted to hike
faster so that I could keep my blood pumping to stay warm, but I was already
using all the energy that I had to keep me going at my slow and steady
pace. I struggled to keep feeling in my
hands and feet by wiggling them but they inevitably went painfully numb. I am always naturally a cold person, and I was
wearing every layer that I had that night, so I don’t know what else I could
have done to stay warm.
By sunrise, our group was cresting the crater rim, and there
were already quite a few people there.
Kilimanjaro is a giant volcano, so where we crested wasn’t considered
the true highest point; we needed to keep walking around the rim another 20-30
minutes to the other side of the crater.
The wind was definitely stronger at the top. While hiking, I had looked down at my feet
most of the way as I walked up and didn’t even notice that the rest of my group
in front of me had stopped behind a huge rock to take a break from the
wind. When I looked up and didn’t see
anyone from my group I figured I was just too slow and that they had all had a sudden
burst of energy and raced the last 20 minutes to the other side of the official
summit, and I was left in the dust. This
climb was absolutely a humbling experience.
It was never about who could get there the fastest, who was the
strongest, or about proving one’s strength and fitness. I was the caboose of my small group by
choice. I was physically struggling and
I was almost at my limit. I wasn’t
ashamed to admit it. I knew I could
still do this and so one step at a time, I’d get there and I’d be proud at what
I’d accomplished and I wouldn’t compare myself to anyone else.
 |
| Photo: Jon Kedrowski. Looking back at the summit heading back down |
I got within view of the summit and saw the sign that marked
the official summit in the distance, and I didn’t see anyone else at all. Where was my group? Where was anyone?! I was hiking with one of the local porters
that was accompanying our group, and the two of us were the only two people in
sight. We slowly trudged closer. I heard someone calling my name from behind
me, and our group leader was actually running up to catch up with me. He had climbed to the top of that big rock
that everyone else had taken shelter behind to keep an eye out for me, but when
I kept walking past it he didn’t see me and had thought I didn’t make it and
that I had to turn back around… I didn’t see everyone pause behind the rock and
no one else saw me continue on past the crowd of other people. I truly felt like I didn’t deserve it, but I
ended up being the first person to reach summit that day, out of hundreds of
people, just past 6:30am on June 26th.
The three of us enjoyed almost 10 minutes all
to ourselves on the rooftop of Africa before the others in our group made it up
one by one for our group summit photo. I
was more concerned that I wasn’t with my group that I didn’t even realize that
I was the first person there that morning.
Talk about a summit high! This
climb will go down as one I will never ever forget. My first big international climb - of many I
hope!
We still had one week left in Africa after we
descended. We got to go on three days of
safaris through Tanzanian National Parks, and spend a few days in the local
villages experiencing the real, authentic local culture that I always dreamed
about. The days we spent touring the
local villages made me feel like I was on a National Geographic
documentary. I had just summited the
tallest mountain on the continent of Africa.
We were driving through a park and had to stop to let an elephant (not a
deer, or family of possums) cross the road.
After returning back to the US, it was only one night’s rest
before I was back out on another 14er. I
had the rest of my summer in front of me and nothing else on the calendar and I
got to live out every day doing what I have absolutely fallen in love
with. I felt so spoiled! I didn’t go more than three days between mountain
summits; I only spent a total of 6
nights not in a tent somewhere around
the world. I climbed more relatively
“easy” 14ers, and even more that were labeled as dangerous and deadly, totaling
16 more after Africa. I finished up my
summer with a bang - two more glacier climbs in the Pacific Northwest, Mt.
Rainier and Mt. Adams. I camped
overnight on Mt. Adams for my first summit sleepover, and arrived back home on
a Sunday night where school started the next morning! By the end of this summer, I climbed a grand
total of 20 mountains.
Five years ago I never would have pictured myself being
where I am. I keep proving to myself
what I am capable of and getting to newer heights that seemed so unattainable
for someone like me before. I will
always love northeast Iowa as the place I was raised, but from the start,
Colorado has felt more like “home” to me than anywhere else.
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