On Our Way to Shira Plateau Camp

The Snows of Kilimanjaro

Christina is my tentmate. She's turning 38 the day we summit Kilimanjaro. Christina is a lobbyist in Washington, D.C., though she doesn't tell people right away. We meet our porters. Lingarevo is carrying my stuff and Lemetu is carrying Christina's. They are extremely kind and speak a little English. After breakfast, we head out of camp, passing a hiker from Greece who is the sole person in his party. He has four porters cooking and taking care of him. We walk at a very slow pace behind Noel, which is good because the trail is a constant grade up. The scenery is stunning as we move out of the forest zone and get closer to being above the tree line. We climb, then descend, then climb, then descend. The forest falls behind and trees become stunted.

We stop for lunch at the top of a ridge: salami, egg salad, fruit, cheese, bread. After lunch, Jerome Bonaventure, the logistics manager for the porters, leads us and walks more quickly than Noel or Ben. We hike straight up and it is hard at Jerome's pace, climbing up the ridge that takes us to Shira Plateau Camp. Just when I think I can't continue, others ask for water and a "pressure check" break. We women have a system where two or three of us go together to find a private spot. With vegetation growing shorter, it is a challenge.

We follow the ridge for an hour, then see our camp at the base of Kili as the mountain rises and rises into the clouds, proudly displaying its snow cap. We discuss making it to the top, because we all worry about altitude sickness. To prevent altitude, or acute mountain sickness, everyone in the group, except Christina, is taking Diamox. Christina is allergic to sulfur-based medicines, so she's taking Viagra. Lots of jokes about that, especially since I'm her tentmate. Another tactic for curbing altitude sickness is to drink lots of fluids. We're instructed to drink six liters a day. Breathing is difficult for the body at high altitudes and 40 percent of our energy output can be devoted to it. It's possible we expel several liters of water a day through our lungs alone.

The best way to avoid altitude sickness is to climb slowly, so your body can acclimatize. When facing chronic oxygen deprivation, our body's response is for the bone marrow to produce millions and millions of extra oxygen-bearing red blood cells. Physical fitness and conditioning do not guarantee you'll make it to the summit, and there's no way to know beforehand if you'll be susceptible to high altitude. Even climbers who have never had a problem may develop either high altitude pulmonary edema (HAPE) -- lungs fill with water and cause death unless you go down the mountain immediately-- or high altitude cerebral edema (HACE) -- the brain swells and may lead to coma. So it's easy to see why we worry.

We're camping at 11,300 feet with Kili before us. The porters have been tremendous. As we enter camp, they come to greet us and congratulate us, take our coats and backpacks and show us to our tents. A river, running 50 feet from our camp, has little waterfalls and pools. We wash up as usual with heated, filtered water, have tea and popcorn in the mess tent and rest up until dinner. While we dine, the porters congregate in their tents to play cards and sing.