The New Year started and I feel like I’m playing catch-up just to keep up, strangely enough January just seemed like such a long month! My blogging took a back seat none-the-less and I have yet to finish my “Life is like climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro” posts.
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The afternoon before the final ascend, our whole team (seven of us), sat in a cozy little tent, out of the cold and out of the rain. We had just finished a seven hour hike reaching our final rest spot at 4,550 m high, that’s 14, 927 ft. At this point they say you should definitely be feeling the altitude, which was the case for us. We were tired but we knew that everything we had done to that point didn’t even compare to what we were about to embark on. It was the make it or break it point.
I will always treasure those few moments we had at that base camp right before the final ascend. After four days together, our team shared a special bond. Pedro led the group in sharing about their experience and why this climb was significant and then in a special prayer. Coming from different countries, different languages and different religious beliefs, it was as if for that one moment we were one, one people coming before God and petitioning for our journey.
People usually mention butterflies in their stomachs right before the start of race. I’ve ran a marathon and I use to compete in track when I was younger, but the anticipation and anxiousness that you feel before a climb is different. Sure preparation can help you become a better candidate for making it up the top but it takes more than that. They say altitude sickness can hit anyone and it can affect one person more than another. In the end, you can practice reaching the top in your head over and over again but that won’t make it a reality.
That night as we started to ascend, we all had the intention to reach the top but none of us knew for certain whether that would be happen.
At 23:45pm we grabbed our sticks, turned our heads to the left and started walking in the dark. We had another seven hour journey ahead of us and if we wanted to make it before morning and the heat we had to make to the top by sunrise.
As I lifted my head towards the mountain trying to outline it and see what the route would be, I saw to my surprise a trail of little sparkling lights all along up the mountain, like twinkling stars in the sky. Some climbers had already started the journey up to the top.
Climbing in the dark isn’t easy. Climbing in frosty cold night weather isn’t easier but that’s what we were up against. Pedro and I tried to prepare ourselves as much as we could with warm clothes, gloves, a light backpack and water in a canister, as water in a normal water bottle would freeze.
Our steps up were slow, very slow but you couldn’t stop. Stops along the trail made it difficult to start up again because of the cold.
That night we had a full moon to light our way. It was a very beautiful sight. To be in the stillness of the night on a grand mountain and to see above you a mountain covered in glacier snow and below you clouds and below the clouds the dim lights of city life. I don’t know if any of you have ever just gone outside to star gaze at night, there is a sense of tranquility and peace. I guess the feeling of knowing the world is asleep, it’s a safe place.
About half way through our journey, I started to get dizzy and lightheaded. I tried drinking water to keep the oxygen going through my body but it seemed to support me for only short periods. I didn’t want to drink too much water as it made me go to the bathroom and that just doesn’t sound attractive in the cold night.
The only thing I could concentrate on was the person’s shoes in front of me; I had to keep focus on them because if I didn’t then I would lose it and fall over. And then those thoughts started entering my head, “I can’t do this… I can’t make it to the top, this is too painful.” This whole journey Pedro had been the one struggling and then at the end I was the one having trouble moving forward. It’s not so much a body ache that you feel but more like your head is going to explode the higher you go.
We had brought our iPod’s for this moment. We charged them and never used them, wanting to save them for this exact moment. Mine of course froze along the way but Pedro saw my hour of need as I started to take more breaks and gave me his. I had prepared a worship songs selection and as soon as I started listening I started crying hysterically, which wasn’t good because I needed that water and eyes to guide but I felt God so close to me. Every song felt like it was written for that moment, there is nothing like worshiping God in the splendor of his creation and in the hour of your need.
Those last few hours climbing up are a blur to me; God gave me the strength to make those final steps. The final ascend is literally an inclined uphill and as we were making our way up we passed people resting on the sides in tears, in agony, and weak… They were so close to finishing but couldn’t give those final steps.
As we took those last steps to Stella Point, I looked over my shoulder to see the sun rising behind me. I had never seen anything like that in my life. Every thing that was dark came into light. It was as if God concurred with us that the hardest part was done and he was shining new light on our souls. When we reached the top of Stella Point we still had another 35-40 minutes to Uhuru Peak but we had already completed the most difficult part.
I will always remember that night as it is one of the moments in my life I have felt God so intimately close to me. I think all of us go through these night journeys at least once in our lives, dark places that can be really difficult to get through, even when we are so close. We often think we can try to get through it on our own or that we are alone. But the truth is that we are not, God is always with us. We just make the choice of acknowledging that or not.
