Small and Strong, My Dad Visits Africa!

            After spending almost three weeks with my dad, one in  Rwanda and another climbing to the highest point in Africa… I suddenly find myself sweating profusely in the Zanzibarian  humidity, the mosquito net flailing gently under the ceiling fan we’ve pulled both our beds under to feel slightly cool. The last few weeks have been amazing.

But, to return to where we left off, I’m skipping a blog post about camp, as it was a success (mind you there were some hair pulling hiccups). Overall it was amazing… everyone had fun… and I’m happy it’s over.

So anyways… my dad arrived in Rwanda the very last day of camp. I rushed to Kigali, took a much awaited  shower (not a cold bucket bath), then walked to the airport, where my dad’s flight was almost two hours late. So I waited, literally dancing back and forth from foot to foot, impatiently watching the people from the flight ahead of his pass through the exit. Finally he arrived and his African journey began!

 

            His first full day began at Gisozi Genocide Memorial and then a trip in a nice taxi to visit my host family. They all loved meeting my father, and they loved all of the exciting gifts that he brought, especially the Nike soccer ball, which my host brother was still hugging when we drove away a few hours later. We passed the second night in Butare, where  my negotiating prices might have been a little overwhelming to my poor jet-lagged father, who also may not have been expecting the daughter I now am after only a year and a half in this foreign world. Finally we arrived in my village, an express bus, a squeeze bus (his suitcase tied on top) and a motorcycle taxi ride later. We walked every day with the pending Kilimanjaro climb looming in our mental periphery. We visited the tea factory, and the cultural village, and we walked a 15 mile road through my sector which I love. He told me over and over how shocked he was by the human constancy in my life. There are always people… everywhere.

            He was true to his character in wanting to fix the little things that could stand some fixing, but found the task challenging without his shop and plethora of tools. In particular, my door handle wasn’t actually screwed in and occasionally it falls off. It’s never been a problem for me, but it seems to drive so many others crazy. So after dwelling and planning for what I assume was actually a couple days, he figured out how to jerry-rig it so that it will stay together. Although I find his determination to be both appreciated and somewhat comically familiar, it is nice to have a door that doesn’t even occasionally fall apart anymore!
 

            After a week, the time came for us to leave Rwanda together and to embark on a brand new African adventure for both of us… Tanzania. We were both fairly relieved to be leaving, my dad antsy to keep moving forward and onwards and upwards (literally), and the same for me too, but also to have the first vacation outside of Rwanda (a place the size of Maryland) in over a year and a half. We were both very ready! And so it is so that we arrived at the Kigali airport quite early, waited for our flight to Nairobi where, after eating a BLT and drinking the first Corona I’ve had in maybe two years, we waited some more for our flight to Kilimanjaro airport. We watched the final light of the day fade out of the sky behind a huge black mountain filling the African skyline as we began our decent into Kili. Anxiously anticipating the next day, the air conditioning on its lowest possible temperature… we wiled away the evening hours in  a cool, clean hotel room.

            Awaking early, we had an African style buffet at the hotel (which was somewhat lacking in my dad’s normal protein allotment). Finally we got into the 4X4 safari vehicle and drove off. Only maybe a kilometer or two later, we stopped to rent equipment (below zero sleeping bags, and some other small things). Feeling somewhat like a back alley deal, we wound through a shop, to come out in the courtyard behind to a little overstuffed shop full of seemingly abandoned climbing equipment. We rented our “funky” smelling equipment, then started off again in the direction of the mountain. It’s funny how many times I am taught something here in Africa… only to get my hopes up yet again that it won’t happen the same way for the millionth time. This time it was the expectation that people would communicate with us. So we sat at the park gate for maybe 1.5 hours not really knowing what we were doing there. Then we got back in the car and drove for another half an hour to our actual starting place. I guess it was to be expected, but I hate to admit, my dad and I aren’t the most patient people in the world.

            After lunch, we began our trek on the road about 3KM from the trailhead, as it was too muddy for the car to make it. Everything I read about Kili and everything people have told me is that we must go slowly. We will continuously hear “pole-pole” which means slowly by slowly, and we did hear this constantly. We began our hike going so slow that within the first ten minutes we asked if we could pass the guide, both taking off down the trail. The first day was rainy, and uneventful. We were both uncomfortable in our “eating” tent, set up with a collapsible table, table cloth and a seemingly absurd amount of condiments which they’d carry up the mountain for us which they’d carry up the mountain for us. It was awkward to be treated like the tourists that we were, and to watch a camp site be put up and taken down around us each day with all our requests to help denied. I can’t say  I honestly cared for that aspect too much, although I will admit that it was nice not to have to cook, or lug all that stuff up the mountain.

            As my father is quite the early riser, we were almost always seemingly the first ones on the trail each morning. Day two was really beautiful, we hiked up and out of the forest and across the remnants of a huge glacial field. It was semi cold as there was sideways rain and big wind gusts for part of it. But as we were crossing the field we got our first real glimpse of the mountain that lie ahead of us. I can’t say that this wasn’t an “oh shit” moment for me, but it was one of determination and self-assurance that we could and we would be able to do this. This was one of our longer days. If you did an eight day trip instead of a seven day (like us) this is the day that would be broken up into two segments. I’m glad we did it in one, but I was very happy to reach the camp when we did finally arrive.

            The camps were kind of versions of tent cities, rolling off and away down the mountain side. Our group alone was 10 people, the two of us, two guides, and six porters to carry all of the gear. So group after group, a really large number of people, made up these tent communities, although for the most part, us foreigners didn’t seem to mingle too much. The next day we experienced our first “climb high, sleep low” experience… Here we made it up to around 13,000 feet, and it was cold. The winds were biting and at times it kind of felt like it was sleeting on us. We then hiked back down to between 10,000 and 11,000 feet to sleep for the night.  

Everyday seemingly between nine and ten AM, the clouds would roll in and really act like fog… We were unable to see much ahead of us, and nothing around us, and the sun’s heat didn’t have too much of an impact.  So I started each morning feeling really cold from the night, then inevitably had to stop along the trail to remove a few layers of clothing as I heated up. Then when the clouds moved in, I began to get cold again. With all the water I was drinking, I had to make a few trips to the bathroom each night which was always on the brisk side. But the first night I did this in an open camp site, I stepped out of the tent to a brilliant star filled sky, and the moon-lit snow covered peak of Kili looming over me. It was such a phenomenal view, and unfortunately is one of those that can never be truly captured on film.

Day four began with a climb up a rock wall. There was a trail, but you did have to pull yourself up rock ledges and over boulders on a relatively steep/sheer rock face. There was even some ice built up. Although it was a little questionable at times, we covered a good chunk of elevation in this little excursion. Only to go back down the other side, as this was our second day of “climb high, sleep low.” Our last day before the summit attempt, we only hiked around 4 kilometers, but we were finally sleeping at above 15,000 feet. It snowed on us this afternoon and evening, as I impatiently tossed and turned waiting for 11 PM to arrive when we’d be awoken to begin our summit attempt.
 

We started trudging slowly up the mountain lit only by a fading moon and our head lamps. We twisted our way, back and forth, up the darkened mountain side, always hoping that the next rise would be that last one. Watching Orion in the sky,  it truly felt to me that at some point, we would be right there in the middle of the stars. As the night (or morning) progressed I got increasingly cold, and I was constantly checking the skyline, looking for any hint that the sun was about to rise. About 3km and 6 hours later, we finally reached Stella point, where being my dad, he wrapped his arms around his daughter and tried to warm her up. I was so cold, my toes were numb, my fingers were numb, and I felt I was pleading for the sun to rise. But, after only a few minutes the guide told us we should continue onwards.

Hostilely I continued. As soon as I came around the rock face from Stella point I saw the first glimpses of a pink sunrise in the distance, and felt so much happier… instantly. We trudged on, me with my eyes on the sunrise, and generally happy to see again, beyond the constraining distance of the head lamp. I watched my dad hiking up the mountain ahead of me, and finally we saw the green “you’ve made it” sign in the distance. Still feeling pretty cold, we happily snapped our requisite “we made it to the top of Africa” pictures, and then pulled open our coats to snap a picture of our Bluegrass Today t-shirts. After only about 10 minutes, we turned and began our trek back down the mountain.

It was so beautiful to see what we had spent the last 6 ½ hours hiking up, the steepness, the views of the mountains around us, the glaciers on the top. It felt so good to have achieved our goal, and to be on the downhill run. You gain around 4,000 feet between the last camp and the summit, in only 3.5 kilometers. It was interesting to see all the snowy switchbacks we came up, as we slid back down them. What took 6 ½ hours to climb only took us about 1 ½ hours to descend. We got back to our camp and slept for a few hours, before continuing downwards.

We stayed in a really nice forested camp for the last night, both pretty tired, my knees aching from all the downhill. We ate our last meal of soup and high carb food and went to bed early. We awoke extra early this last day and blazed through the last part of the trail. Although I was going slower than everybody else because of my crappy knees, it gave me a chance to really enjoy my surroundings, without a train of people crowding me. I took lots of pictures, and was so happy to get to the end and take my boots off. They carted us back to the hotel, where we indulged in showers, beer and pizza and then slept the rest of the afternoon. It was a really nice way to finish the Kili portion of my Tanzanian adventure.
 

The next evening we boarded a flight to Dar Es Salaam and checked into the Best Western Hotel. It was so strange being in such a clean and nice hotel after so many $8 a night Rwandan hotels. I cranked the air conditioner and settled in to watching bad  American movies on the three movie channels. The next day was Christmas, and my friend Kate met up with us at the hotel. We ventured to the hotel bar, and I had my first cocktail in a year and a half. It was really nice, and I was happy. Christmas lunch was an elaborate buffet at the hotel, which was really amazing and good. I was so happy, and went back for at least seconds. Finally the time came for my dad to fly home (which he was very ready for) and the next part of my Tanzanian adventures to begin. I said goodbye to my dad in the hotel lobby and watched him drive away in the (to me) sweltering African humidity.

It was a great trip and it was so great to see my dad again after only 20 months apart. We talked a lot about what comes next and what my life and future might look like, as well as his life and future. He talked a lot about his granddaughter and all the amazing food he was missing back in the states. It was a wonderful visit and I was so happy to have spent my vacation as I did. The next day, Kate and I boarded a ferry and began our Zanzibarian adventures. I hope you all had a Merry Christmas, or Happy Holidays, and that your new year was wonderful too! We’ll get to New Years though in the next posting about Zanzibar! Miss you all and so much love!