This was the final stage of my journey. Having left Barranco camp, I continued westwards in a zigzag fashion, descending 984ft (300m) until I reached the Machame Trail junction at 12,139ft (3700m). Turning right onto the trail, I knew this was the final ascent and where my breathing would be challenged the most.
Trekking through the
alpine desert, the sun was strong and glaring, and the temperature was cold and
dry. As I gained more altitude, the air thinned out further. Setting the right
pace to manage my heart rate and oxygen intake became very important. Moving
too fast, I would get dizzy, lose energy and fatigue the muscles. Moving too
slowly, I’d fall behind and potentially run out of time to summit.
With a slow and steady
approach, I arrived at Lava Tower, a volcanic plug at 300ft (91m) tall. During
one of Kili’s past volcanic explosions, lava erupted out of a vent, cooled, and
then hardened like a plug. Luckily, Kili is no longer active because this plug
could build pressure below the surface that could erupt violently.
There was a time when
the tower was climbable, but due to safety concerns, it is now prohibited.
Those who had the chance to climb it in the past said the views of Uhuru Peak
were just amazing. At the base of the Tower is the Lava Tower Camp. Set a little
lower, the camp provides an opportunity to rest and recover from the lengthy
ascending hike and the effects of high altitude.
There are two ways to
climb up to the Summit from Lava Tower. Either via descent to Barranco Camp,
before an ascent to Stella Peak and Uhuru Peak, or the treacherous Western
Breach Wall.
I opted for the latter.
Although the Western Breach Wall is known as one of the most hazardous routes
to the summit, I chose it for several reasons. One, it was the shortest route
to the top. The summit is done during the day rather than overnight, with no
traffic jams at the top. I was also able to sleep in a crater and explore
glaciers.
The downside is that the
Breach Wall, a gap formed by lava flow, is made up of soft loose rocks
resulting from a rockslide. The top third of this wall is very nearly vertical,
and the rocks here are often held together by the glaciers above. When the glaciers
melt and retreat, the previously bound rocks are released and tumble down the
mountain. Beneath the wall is a 30-45 degree mountainside that collects the
fallen rocks from above and shoots them down a narrow chute to the
bottom.
The difficulty was not
in the climb itself, even though there were many switchbacks to tackle, but in
the ever-present glaciers that gave no indication if they had retreated and
loosened the rocks above. Although I had to trek through the dangerous chute,
my time was kept to a minimum. I traversed to a safer pathway as quickly as
possible at that altitude. It didn’t completely eliminate the danger, but I was
in a better position than if I had climbed directly through the ‘danger zone’.
When I reached the top,
I first saw the remnants of an ice cap that once used to cover the summit.
Named Furtwängler Glacier, it seemed almost odd, looking at this large block of
ice sitting atop very fine beach-like black sand. It was interesting to see the
glacier and the sand cohabitating in the same space. Sadly, almost 85% of
glaciers have vanished in the last century. There was a time when Kili had 16
named glaciers and 3 icefields. In the last half a century, at least four have
vanished, and at the rate they are melting, it is predicted that in less than
50 years, there will be no ice left on the mountain.
I skirted the crater rim
to Crater Camp, elevation 18,865ft (5750m), to refuel and pondered that last
stretch. I was a mere 475ft (145m) below the summit and about half a mile
(800m) in terms of trekking distance. Of course, without further ado, I pushed
for that final ascent. Slow and steady over the next hour, focusing on just one
step in front of the other, I wound my way up to the weathering summit sign and
the spectacular views of Mount Meru, another volcanic mountain, to the
southwest; Kibo’s three concentric craters; and the Northern Icefield beyond
the crater.
In Swahili, Uhuru means
Freedom. Here, at the top of Africa, I felt free and unconstrained, just like
this tall, free-standing mountain called Kilimanjaro.
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