KENYA WEEK 6: SUMMIT STRESS

So, where were we?

Oh yes – last week I left us at the base of our final hill, the summit of Mt. Kenya very much in sight and excitement washing over our group. It was 5:40 in the morning but the glow of the rising sun was beginning to light up the mountain. I was convinced the worst was over, and that in 20 minutes or so I was going to be standing at the end of the greatest climb of my life.

I was very, very wrong. From then on out it was all downhill, in every sense but the literal.

It’s really difficult to put into words how terrifying the next hour or so was. I can’t really even put it into visuals either – because I was so scared I could barely pull out my camera to snap a picture (and if even I couldn’t take a pic you know something was very wrong). But I’m going to give it a shot. I should say first that looking back, now safe on the ground, we all laugh about how freaked out we got. I hope you all find it as comedic as we do.

5:40: We began our ascent. It was snowy, but nothing screamed “treacherous”. All I could think about was the peak – the glorious payoff just minutes away. But after about 15 minutes we still weren’t there (although the top looked awfully close), and had hit a bit of a roadblock.

6:00: If you remember from my last post, we at one point hit a section of trail that involved some careful horizontal shimmering across an ice-covered slope in the dark. It was stressful, but relatively manageable. Well, it looked like we had hit the same obstacle at the present – the final one before the peak.

But it wasn’t quite the same. Because instead of moving horizontally, we also had to move vertically. And instead of moving across a steep slope, we had to move across and up what was essentially a cliff. And instead of moving in the dark, we had to move across and up that cliff in the light of the sun – the full magnitude of a potential fall lying vividly in front of us.

The scramble commenced. The slope was completely slicked over with snow that had frozen into ice. Even the rocks were ice-covered, so there literally no place to find traction. I was at the back of the pack, because no way in hell I was going to be the trailblazer on such treacherous path. Our guide made it exceptionally clear that we needed to be extremely careful – “One step at a time, and put your feet only in my footprints” he repeatedly stressed as he stomped out imprints into the ground. We were on all fours – two feet in the footprints and our hands pressed firmly against the snow, as if we could use that to hold on to in the event of a slip. As the morning glow from the sun grew stronger, the perilous drop below grew equally clearer. I am not exaggerating when I say one slip could’ve meant serious injury or death. We were 16,000+ feet in the sky, high above the clouds, and sheer rock climbing on the slipperiest surface of all time. It was flat out horrifying. But still we inched upwards ever so slowly, all while tensions climbed much, much faster.

Cecley was the first to crack. Not surprising, honestly, she can barely handle a moth. About 2/3rds of the way up our cliff climb the terror won out. “I’m done. I’m stopping. I’m not going up there!” she proclaimed repeatedly half-hysterically, plopping defiantly onto the ice. Obviously that wasn’t an option, unless she wanted to slide back down the mountain alone. Two of the group members, Micah and Meredith, took turns helping Cecley during her multitudes of freak-outs. “We’re almost there, Cecley,” they pretended soothingly, “Just keep going the peak is right above that rock!”

It’s easy now to laugh about Cecley’s reactions – but I can’t pretend I was doing much better. I was flipping out – my heart was pounding out of my chest as I tried with all my might not to look behind me at the fall below. All I wanted was to reach the top as fast as possible so this terrifying trek would be over. But we were moving at a snail’s pace, and stopping every 5 minutes for either a break or for the guide to carve out more footprints. Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore. “WHY DO WE KEEP STOPPING?!?!” I shrieked, slapping the ground in front of me with my right hand, on the borderline of having a complete breakdown.

Of course, no one answered – I probably sounded ridiculous and besides, everyone was focusing too much on not dying to answer. So onwards we continued, relying on deep breathes and faith in the powers that be to get us to the peak. At one point the rising sun poked out from behind a cluster of clouds to provide the group with a spectacular view and a few rays of optimism.