Pology Magazine  -  Adventures in Travel and World Culture.
Travel and World Culture   
Kilimanjaro
 Photo: Kathryn Collinson
Kilimanjaro
 Photo: Kathryn Collinson

Kilimanjaro, Tanzania: Climbing The Mountain of God
By Grant Currall

Herding us like a flock of mountain goats, Auguste urges us forward with a smile that could melt the ice off Kilimanjaro. Tall and gaunt, he is wise to the happenings of the mountain and a touch older than our porters, who have long since disappeared with the baggage.

He commutes from Marangu Township, on the southern slopes of the mountain, where his people are seen as a successful group in Tanzania. These Chagga (Bantu speaking) locals have continued to take advantage of Kilimanjaro’s rich and fertile soils and prosper economically.

Off the path an errant dik-dik stops to survey the group. Unimpressed, it darts back under the scrub with a twitchy snort. Auguste is quite the fan: “The name comes from trying to describe their zik-zik call when startled.” It seems my guide is a sucker for anything small, furry and romantic. Turns out, these cute little antelopes hunker down in small communities and mate for life.

Through his watchful eyes the rainforest continues to reveal many hidden treasures. But after four hours of jungle hiking we find the change of scenery in Mandara Hut a welcome one. The scene here appears more Nordic than African, with A-frames huddled above a sea of mountain foliage, like a village over a fjord.

Clear views stretch out over the forest and down to the hot Maasai Steppe as small villages with corn and fruit plantations dot the tropical landscape below. But, the Arctic-like conditions above prove difficult to see as late afternoon cloud rolls in, swamping our huts in a misty haze.

As night falls our porters continue to shine, whipping us up a fine three-course meal consisting of pasta, vegetables and soup. I sit heavy under the weight of the moon with my new friends. The African sky is the widest I’ve seen, wider than Auguste’s smile. Spirits are high and the altitude has not yet worked its spell on us. Unzipping my sleeping bag I begin to wonder what all the fuss was about.

The real climbers are on the Machame, Umbwe and Mweka routes, while we trudge along what locals refer to as the ‘Coca-Cola’ or Marangu route. We have taken the path because it suits tourists wanting five days of enjoyment and one day of distress, as opposed to the others, offering fewer days and more horror.

The next morning the porters continue to amaze me, with huge servings of porridge, toast, fruit and eggs for breakfast. I don’t eat this well at home. Gorged on food, we continue into the forest expecting a second day of jungle fervor but the landscape changes dramatically, as dense forest gives way to open moorland with knee high grass and a gentle breeze.

The surprising change is as good, until I discover the intense UV rays are peeling sunscreen from my neck like dry paint from an old house. One girl in particular suffers after forgetting to reapply sunscreen to her legs and is reduced to shuffling.

Horombo Hut is the central crossover hub for most hikers going up and down the mountain, and our camp for the evening.  It is swarm of activity and without much oxygen to ground me it feels overcrowded and unruly compared to the relative calm of Mandara below.

At this height I’m feeling like a sloth in quicksand. But there is excitement about; this is the place of returned conquerors and the fallen. As they talk quietly, the mess hall crowd hangs on their every word.

But outside, guides and porters have their own tales to tell.

Strange effects of altitude have long played a part in stories here. The Local Chagga people traditionally refused to climb Kilimanjaro, believing it to be the home of God. If someone was arrogant or reckless enough to climb the mountain, they assumed God would get angry and bring them headaches, nausea and eventually death. 

Auguste quickly points out the disguised truth in the tale. In the past eight years, altitude sickness has accounted for 25 tourist deaths. It’s the reason our group is spending an extra day at Horombo to acclimatize. He believes it greatly improves our chances of making it from the final hut at Kibo to the summit. 

The temperature at Horombo drops dramatically overnight. In the morning the ground is frozen solid. Some of the hikers are starting to experience headaches, nausea and sleeplessness. To help acclimatize we take a short hike to Zebra Rock, a striped crystal filled lava slab located an hour or so north of the huts.

From this attractive cliff I can see the mountain’s two distinguishing peaks: they are both fantastic and scary. To the right of us stands the raggedly sinister Mowenzi Peak, to the left, the steep frosted lump of Kibo. On our return hike to Horombo, Auguste explains: “In Chagga folklore Kibo became tired of Mowenzi borrowing his fire and wasting it, so to teach him a lesson, he beat his smaller brother with a club.”

 

Page 1 of 2   Next Page

 

All contents copyright ©2006 Pology Magazine. Unauthorized use of any content is strictly prohibited.