Hakuna Matata

Don't worry, be happy!

Over the course of the 8 days spent on the Kilimanjaro trek/climb I've heard this hundreds of times. Hakuna matata! No worries.

I wasn't there to worry. I was there to be happy.
That was at least one argument for me not wanting to climb in March in only 5 or 6 days. I've had my experience with altitude, I had been sick for a day/night in Nepal and only Pepe knows how miserable I've been there and then. I also knew from back then how great I felt once acclimatized and how much I enjoyed being up in the thinner air. To the point where I was running and jumping out of happiness and excitement. No, a fast approach was not for me.

The Shira route our group followed is a beautiful hike: a courtship of Kilimanjaro. At least that's how I felt during the 6 days before we summitted. From West to South-East we walked around the mountain, watching and admiring it from the different angles.
We entered the alpine region right on the first day and enjoyed being high above the clouds for the whole trip. I felt stranded on this solid big mountain like on an island in a sea of clouds. It was a white fluffy sea covering everything beneath, only pierced by the top of Mt. Meru in the distance and the Kilimanjaro and Mawenzi peaks here. The mornings were perfectly clear, and so were the nights, too. The afternoons were marked by a pilgrimage of clouds shrouding the peak in mystery and haze, but by sunset this was over and the rock was glowing orange and then red in the setting sunlight. At night the sky was lit by a bright Milky Way and an ever growing and brighter moon. You could see the mountain throughout the night in the silvery moonlight. This fact only was fantastic!

The hike took us from the moorland and giant heather region into the alpine semi-desert where the little heliochrysum bushes were the only vegetation. The delicate white daisy-like flowers were glittering in the sunlight dotting the otherwise dry, dusty and rocky scenery. And then there were some small yellow flowers and purple thistles. From time to time we encountered giant lobelia plants, a few even in blossom. They were perfectly shaped with their many layers of green leaves like giant scales and the deep blue flowers almost hidden beneath them. The giant senecio trees were a huge surprise: they clearly preferred some valleys and slopes where they grow up to a few meters high. In a way their shape and silhouettes reminded me of Namibia's quivertrees or some giant cactus.

Our summit bid began at midnight along with many other groups. At first the walk made me think of a pilgrimage. In a way it was: in the dark and cold air we were all aiming for the summit as the climax of a long personal journey, the fulfillment of an old personal dream. But soon I discovered this was much more than that. It was a journey through a surreal landscape, bare and cold, beautifully lit by the full moon. What a great coincidence this was: to have the full moon lighting our way up. We didn't need headlamps. We had our goal all along ahead of us visible and bright. Even during this night we could see Mt Meru in the distance sticking out of the blanket of clouds. Our slowly advancing line of dark silhouettes mirrorred by the line of small black shadows made me think of characters in a fairy tale. We were the dwarfs in a twisted story of this SnowWhite giant. Tough to describe.

The crater was covered in snow and there was also some frozen snow along the crater rim. The snow and glaciers were glittering silvery in the moonlight but when the sun rose it turned everything from silver to gold. It was magnificent. And too short for my taste :-) I was hyper as usual. I reached the peak last and left it last, too. There was simply too much to see and get excited about or take pictures of. I didn't really want to come down but I had no choice ;-)
How excited I was? When we reached the crater rim at Stella Point on the way up Richard - one of the assistant guides - and I sang the "Jambo" song. We had sung it many times over the last few days but I still did not master the words. And so we always sang together... I guess it wasn't too fair towards the many people struggling in the thin air but my excitement was quite borderless at that point :-)

The descent was quite hard on our knees because of the elevation drop and the terrain: all scree and rocks for the 1200m+ back to our camp.

On the way down the mountain after traversing again the alpine desert and heather regions we walked past beautiful protea bushes (some even with a few white flowers left) before descending into the rainforest with its trees wrapped in lichens, delicate purple orchids and pink impatients growing beneath giant ferns and colobus monkeys roaming the trees.


Should I just offer an idealized image of this climb? Was everything smooth and easy? Nope. We had very strong winds for 3 days before the Barrafu camp. It was extremely cold at night and, for the first time ever, I felt very cold at night in my sleeping bag. Darn, was it cold :-) I also had headaches at some point during the acclimatization days and eventually decided to take a small dose of Diamox. But none of this prevented me from singing out loud, from running around to take pictures and from enjoying the whole experience. And I had a huge appetite throughout the whole trip. In fact, I think I just gained some more weight on this trip.


Throughout the time spent in Africa and Nepal I discovered and reconfirmed again and again the fact that the challenges you face while travelling are often not identical to the ones you expect and that the things you are prepared to be impressed by may be less impressive than others. And Kilimanjaro was no exception.

The scenery was fantastic and the hike wonderful. But watching the porters and guides was a bigger treat for me. If I may call it so. I was extremely impressed by the warmth and sense of humour of these people, struggling to make a living mostly away from their families, carrying heavy loads on their head, defying the cold and the wind ill-equipped and often suffering. For so little money and with hardly any expectations for their future. And yet their broad smiles, their jokes and their gospel songs have touched me so deeply.

Just like in Nepal I found myself more interested in spending time around the porters and locals rather than my Western companions. And I was rewarded with so many smiles and friendly chats. Besides, I had so much energy to burn, as usual. So why not help pitch down a tent or share my chocolate and tea with a shivering guide.
And when I sat down to listen to the singing coming out of the tent where most of the porters were crammed together at first the gospel singing stopped but then it picked up again shyly. Yes, Kilimanjaro was a unique experience with and thanks to these people!