Vacation (PART 7)

10/19/05

I wake up of my own accord.

I hear the camp start to stir. I can discern the sound of our porters boiling water for tea. I am warm inside my tent, in my thermals and two sleeping bags, but I am excited to go. I hear someone's alarm clock, somewhere in the camp. I sit up and start layering. Mr. Charles brings me tea and biscuits and I eat them. I feel good, strong. I go out into the cold. The night is crystal clear; the moon is huge (since it was full last night, it was pretty damn full tonight.) I realize that I wont need a flashlight at all. Nico comes out, he pisses, and we are off. He didn't bring a pack, water, anything. We climb up the rocks, through the camp, it is quiet, just the Swiss foursome in a last huddle. Are we the first one's out? I want to be the first to the summit for some reason. We climb up through the rocks, the moon (a giant 10k in the sky) illuminating distant ridges and peaks, and directly above us is Kibo, just a sliver of snow. We pass by the other Americans; they are stopped, the girl complaining of stomach problems. We climb. We are moving fast, I can see the Swiss team behind me, see their headlamps, but they will never catch us, we are moving too fast. We pass a guy I don't recognize; he is walking so slowly. We climb. The moon is bright, and as we climb, so fast, I am getting hot, I'm wearing too many layers, I take off my beanies and shove the wool watch cap in my jacket pocket, but I hold on to my Ecuadorian power beanie. A shooting star flies overhead, between Kibo peak and that nearly full moon, and it is astoundingly beautiful. I can see Moshi Town behind me, it is that clear, and the town looks the way it would from an airplane. I see lights ahead, more people! We weren't the first ones out of camp, we were the last! That's why it was so quiet! We have to catch them! I clutch my Ecuadorian power beanie tighter and No. NO! It's gone! Where did it go?! "Hold!" Nico stops. I set down my backpack, I check all my pockets, it is definitely gone. "My beanie, it's gone." "We'll get it on the way down." "No, I need to get it now. Wait for me, I'm coming." I retrace my footsteps. How long has it been since I dropped it? Five minutes? Ten minutes? Will I be able to see it in the moonlight? Will it blend in with the rocks? Fuck! My power beanie! How could I? And I am losing time! Look, those headlamps are the Americans, those are the Swiss! But then YES there it is, and I am relieved. I feel so light, without my backpack or my jacket, having found my Ecuadorian power beanie, I feel so light that I run back up the rocks, up the trail, and I'm running! Why the fuck am I running? And who runs on Mt. Kilimanjaro, especially on the final midnight ascent to the peak? I slow down. I reach Nico, we set off again. But it's like the other groups aren't even moving! The Americans, the Swiss, whoever that is in front of us… It's like we are the only ones moving up this mountain, we are so fast, Nico and I, we are lions, we are intrepid explorers, we are the masters of this mountain. And we pass by another guy, and we are moving so fast, we'll be at the summit in no time. And we climb and climb and climb. And then there's another group! Who are they? (And are they even moving?) Oh, it's the Brits, 10 of them, walking in a line, and they are moving so slow, you'll never reach the summit by sunrise at that pace! And they are all wearing black jackets and they look like slaves, walking in their line, so slow, I expect them to break out into a chain gang song at any moment. I want to pass! And Nico knows I do, but the path is so narrow, so he suggests we take a small rest, and I suggest we rest at the summit. And just to drive home the point, I take out a Clif Bar as we walk, I unwrap and eat it as we pass them, forging our own path, moving so fast, and it's cold, the Clif Bar is so cold that it's almost frozen, and it's difficult to chew, but I eat half, I eat half and then put the other half away, all still while climbing, climbing. And my tea and biscuits are wearing off and half a Clif Bar isn't much and I need some water but it's difficult while we climb, and I don't want to stop, if you stop the ground is lava and you melt, you lose, you die, but we've been climbing for hours, two at least, maybe three, and I'm getting tired but I don't want to show it, I just want to keep climbing and Nico is getting tired, I can tell, his steps are slower, less sure, but Nico, we meet up with the Marangu Route at Stella Point and maybe some of them left at 11pm, 10pm, maybe some of them never slept! We have to keep going fast, fast like the intrepid explorers, the lions that we are. But Nico slips! I catch him and he sits on a rock and I sit on another, take my backpack off and sit on another, and I am grateful, I'm exhausted though I don't want to admit it, and look, there are the Brits, their headlamps look like fireflies, and we could sit here for an hour and they wouldn't catch up to us, how do we move so fast? And I look up at the ridge, it's so close, we must be no more than 20 minutes away from Stella Point, and then the summit is only an hour away, and I ask, I ask how far to Stella Point and I want him to say 10 min, 20 min, 30 min max, and he says, "almost two hours." And No! How can that be? We are so close, and we've been walking for hours, and I'm so cold, and two hours? Even at our pace? I'll never make that. I can't. I'm doomed! But no, that means that we're more than half way there, and that means we can make it, must make it, and look at all those fireflies down there, think about how far we've come. And I take a sip of water but it's turning to ice inside my bottle, and it's cold, so cold! And I told you that stopping was death, was lava, was ice lava that freezes you into submission, but no! We are moving again, we're going, and I'm so cold that I forget about the pain in my legs and in my back. But then I remember and the pain makes me forget about the cold. And we are moving slower now, but still fast, but the mountain is so steep, a 60-degree grade, no exaggeration. I think it might be easier to crawl, and why didn't I rent mountain poles? And I think that my legs might just give out, that I'll have to leave my pack, just take my dad, crawl to the summit, and I would still be the first one there! And why did I bring so much stuff? It's the extra 1.5 liters of water, turning to ice in my backpack, that's what's weighing me down, why did I bring it anyway? It's too cold to drink water. Should I leave it, jettison it? But I don't want to litter, and I'm getting so hungry, but I cant imagine eating, my stomach is twisted into a knot and I'm tired, so tired. And Nico stops again and I put down my pack and stretch my back and try to keep warm as I take a sip of my icy water, the water is getting thick now. And it's cold, cold, cold. But we're moving again, so slow, the mountain is so steep, and my legs are so tired and my pack is so heavy. But here is the crest of the ridge! And that wasn't two hours, but we must be No! There's another ridge, even bigger. And Kibo seems to be getting farther and farther away, even though we are near, so near, but wasn't it closer when we started? The fireflies have all disappeared, we're moving so fast even though we are moving so slow, and my mind is racing, I'm thinking these words just like I'm writing them, and I try to turn it off, stop thinking, but No! If you stop thinking it's lava and you die and you lose and you want to win, are going to win, you are going to be the first to the summit and you are bringing your father's ashes and your Ecuadorian power beanie, and that shooting star and the almost full moon agree. And my bowels are so twisted and do I need to fart or poop? Fart oh good, but no, even farting takes energy, too much of my precious energy, so no more farting. And we climb up and up and it's ridge after ridge and Kibo is getting farther and farther away, and now, that ridge, that must be Stella Point. "Stella Point?" "No." "How much further?" "At least an hour." No! And Nico is fading and he's not even carrying this heavy pack, and you're a lion Nico, how can you be fading? And I told you that stopping was lava. And we are moving again, but barely, and sometimes all I can think about is the blistering cold, and sometimes all I can think about is the pain in my back and in my legs, every muscle group in my legs, and sometimes I manage to think about both, and those are truly wonderful times… And in the nearly full moonlight the mountain looks so steep and it never looks like we can go any further, but Nico always makes a turn, makes a tack up some path that I didn't see and we push on, so slowly, so painfully. And it's ridge after ridge, and now Nico is only answering my questions with grunts, with inaudible mumbling, and we are struggling and walking in silence but my brain wont shut up! And the pain in my legs, my god they are nothing but Jello, they may give out at any second. And what kind of Jello? Is it lime? Orange? Cherry? Is it that holiday Jello that M.E. makes with the cranberries inside and the sour cream on top? Is it mystery Jello? My legs are mystery Jello and I don't know how I keep taking steps, how I keep putting one foot in front of the other, and it's cold, so cold. And do they make peach Jello? And it's always darkest just before sunrise and it's so dark now, but still so bright, and just up that hill, just up that 70-degree grade is Stella Point! But it's so far away, it's 20 minutes at least, 20 minutes to something that looks so close, and 20 more minutes of this excruciating climb? But they go by. They go by step by labored step, we're walking sideways now because the hill is so steep, I'm following Nico's lead and walking sideways, and finally, finally, FINALLY we are at Stella Point! And there's no Marangu trekkers, was I crazy? No one could walk that fast, we are lions! And we rest just for a minute, not even a minute, I don't want to sit in that ice lava long, and I try to take a sip of my water and now it is cold and thick. And we push on. And now it's not as steep, but it still is, it's still so steep and it's up and down, and Nico is staggering left to right like he was drunk. And the huge Kibo glacier is to our left, shining in the nearly full moonlight, and Nico sits again, but we are so close, we must be so close, I stretch with my pack on, I cant get in the lava now. And "is that the peak?" "No." No! The peak must be farther, and higher, because it's the highest, and good god we have to go higher than that? It's so high. But we keep walking, keep staggering on and on and on and finally, finally we are there. And Nico gives me a hug and says "congratulations" and it's so disappointing! It's just a sign and some trash and there's no snow, where's the snow? I thought it was going to be a glacier. I waterproofed my $8 Dickies hiking boots that I bought second hand in Kisii for nothing! And "what time is it?" "11pm." 11pm?! Are you fucking kidding me?! How the fuck could it be "No, sorry, 5am." And okay, weird mistake, and you got me worried, but still, 5am? And "what time does the sun rise?" And Nico looks crestfallen; he doesn't want to wait for the sun to rise. And the wind picks up and it's subzero and god it's so cold, but the most beautiful sunrise in Africa is supposed to happen right here, and I came all this way, and I wont miss it. And Nico walks away, resigned, trying to keep himself warm, and don't worry Nico! I'm giving you a good tip! You got me up to the summit, you got me here first! And you have real clothes on anyway, I'm the one in cotton American Apparel shirts and a Hanes sweatshirt and a rented jacket that doesn't zip up, pretending I'm not going to freeze to death in this wind. And I go into my bag and I get out my father's ashes, and I've already decided, I've already been told not to scatter them all, just a bit, just a gesture, I already know that I spread the rest at the canal behind the house he built, the house where I was conceived.. And why did I have to walk to the top of this mountain to realize that? It was always there… but I'm not trying to argue, I just wonder. And I get my fingerless gloves out too but the second I take off my other gloves it's so cold. But I get my fingerless gloves on and I take the container with my father inside, his memory inside, and I walk to the edge of the cliff, to the edge of the peak, to the edge of the world, and I am ready but my fingers are so cold, and the container is metal and it's so cold, and my fingers are already turning blue! They've never been so cold. But my mind is made up and I try to take off the gaff tape that's holding shut the container and NO! It's frozen on! The fucking tape is frozen on to the fucking container and my fingers are turning blue! But my mind is made up, and I claw at the tape, and I claw and I claw, and yes! The first piece of tape is coming off, three more to go. And one by one I get the pieces of frozen tape off and my fingers, god my blue fingers are so cold, they're going to be frostbitten, they are going to turn gang green and I'm going to be sent to the village witch doctor and they're going to cut off my fingers with a rusty knife or a pointy rock and I'm going to have two fingerless stumps for hands and how will I make pictures? But my mind is made up, and the tape is off and I try to get the lid of the container off and NO! The fucking lid of the fucking container is frozen shut! And why is this proving to be so difficult? But my mind is made up and I pry and twist and claw with my numb, blue, soon to be amputated fingers, and I claw and I twist and I pry and success! And the color is starting to dye the sky in the east, and the nearly full moon is above me, and Nico looks asleep, huddled over himself, and I am alone, alone on the summit of Kilimanjaro! Uhuru Peak! Freedom Peak! And I take a bit of his ashes, and I toss them in the air. And the strong freezing wind picks them up and takes him away, into the dark, over Africa, and he would like this, he would appreciate this. And I take another handful and another and the wind carries him away, and I'll save the rest for when I'm home, back to his home, standing next to the canal where he jogged everyday, but now we've been to Africa! You took me to China and the Grand Canyon and to Ecuador, but now I've taken you to the top of Africa! And if I hadn't, I never would've thought of something as simple as the canal behind the old house, I don't know why, but the thought never even occurred to me in all these years, never occurred to me until I was climbing up Kilimanjaro. And I close the lid and reapply the tape and go and watch the sunrise. And it is beautiful, I can see why people say the most beautiful, you're so high, you see the light mounting behind the horizon, getting stronger and stronger, the colors fade in, black to blue to white to yellow to a fiery red, growing and growing, and the glacier, so close, starting to shine, and Mt. Meru poking out of the clouds in the distance and the almost full moon was hanging above me. Oh but my fingers! They're so numb, I had forgot, I was distracted by the beauty but oh god they are blue, so blue in the blue light and I'm certain that I've lost them and I run back to my bag and put away his ashes and change back into my other gloves, my two-dollar cotton gloves (oh but they have fingers!) And I blow on my hands and try to warm them up through the two-dollar gloves; I try to wake them up, to bring them back to life. And as I watch the sky slowly bleed its color I wonder if a good plastic surgeon could hook me up with a new set, could attach them to the muscles and maybe even the nerves, and if not maybe I can get my friends to call me 'Fists Of Fury' instead of 'Stumpy.' And they start to come back to life, though I'm still certain I'm going to lose them, but the sunrise is becoming beautiful, really beautiful, so I get my camera, a natural reflex, but the camera isn't capturing the beauty of it, it's deadening everything, so I stop trying, and the color comes stronger and stronger. And the sky around the moon and the clouds around Mt. Meru turn pink, and those are good pictures, those I can try and record, share. And Nico wakes up and now there is light in the sky so I ask him to take my picture by the sign, the sign that says 'Congratulations' and 'Africa's Highest Point' and 'Uhuru Peak, Tanzania, 5895M' and he tries but he cant seem to hold the camera still enough, and so he tries again but still the shot is blurry so I demonstrate and then he tries again and still no but better and then look! Trekkers in the distance! And they are so excited, they're already shouting, but ha ha! I've been here for an hour! The summit is mine! Mine and my father's! But it's not like that, I know what they have just been through (though these trekkers were from the Marangu Route, which by all accounts isn't as difficult but still) we congratulate each other and I take their picture and they take mine and where is Nico? I want a picture with Nico, but he is off again, sleeping, huddled over himself and sorry man, I know you're struggling, and I'm sorry, but I'm at the peak! And you've been dozens of times but this is my first so let me talk to other trekkers and have them be amazed at the speed that I made it up and let us watch the sunrise and take pictures of Kibo and Meru and my nearly full moon. And then look, there's the Swiss… couple? Two must've turned back. And there's the old Brit, he made it quicker than I would've thought, he must be 60, but where is his wife? And the sun, finally the sun is cracking the horizon, breaking out from the ground and rising, bathing us in its healing warmth and my fingers! I can feel my fingers! And now there are so many people on the summit, and a guide is singing Bob Marley and NO! African Queen! Not here! And the summit isn't mine any more, not the way it was just 20 minutes ago. But that's okay, we had our time, our moment, and none of those other trekkers got to stand there as the first lines of color appeared on the horizon, grew from the black, no one else got to risk their fingers just for some romantic idealism. So now you can have it, and Nico and I will go, and as we make our way back down to Stella Point we will pass the Americans and the 10 Brits and they will see the smile on my face and say Congratulations, and I will encourage them, tell them how close they are, because they are. I'll stop saying that as Nico and I are skiing down that 70-degree hill, skiing down a hill like that time in Desolation Valley. I'll stop saying it because now they're not that close, because I don't want to give them false hope. But I'll still try to encourage them; tell them that they're getting there. But I hope it doesn't sound smug because I'm skiing down the hill, I've had the summit, now the sun is out. And we pass by another group and another and another and people look like they are really struggling, but the last group I see ascending, still hours away from the peak, but still ascending, is a guide followed by a beautiful young girl with her ancient grandma tied to her waist. And she makes me so happy, I howl and give her thumbs up and she smiles and takes another careful step.

And I wonder if they made it to the summit, that beautiful young girl with her grandma tied to her waist with that bright red professional grade safety strap, but I'll never know because I've already descended, down 8400 feet to Mwenka Camp, where its raining and I'm in my tent and I'm so tired but I ate my Snickers bar because I deserve it because I did it, because I did it the way I wanted to do it and because it all worked so perfectly, the moon and the shooting star and sunrise and god Barranco, Great Barranco may be the most beautiful place I've ever been.

And all along the path down I met people that didn't make it to the summit, people that made it half way or could see Stella Point but couldn't go on. And I look at their pro gear, boots and gaiters and pants and jacket and gloves and glasses and hats and mountain poles, and I look at my boots and jeans and my cotton shirts and 5 dollar sunglasses and hat and my gloves that almost cost me my fingers, and I smile, not at the fact that they didn't make it, but at the fact that I did.

And tomorrow I'll spend the night in Moshi, and the day after I'll be back on a bus, back on a bus to the village to get back to work, back on a bus with my mystery Jello legs.

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