Mt Kilimanjaro by Brian Schultz January 5th-10th, 2002 Summit day January 9th
The idea of climbing Kilimanjaro intrigued me after finishing the Colorado fourteeners but only in a fleeting way. I had no burning desire to climb the peak and it wasn't until reading trip reports on it that my interest was piqued enough to email Steve Helle last May to get his thoughts on climbing it. When he said, "let's do it, I've always wanted to go to Africa!", the planning began. Steve jumped right in and took charge of finding a group to hire because Kilimanjaro can not be climbed without one. He contacted the Colorado Mountain Club and on their recommendation we chose the Marangu Hotel for the climb, based on their satisfactory experiences with the hotel over the years. Steve said we could hardly go to Africa without seeing the wildlife so we added a safari as well and picked The Lions Safari in Arusha.
Many issues and details had to be worked out but the most difficult for me was the flying aspect- I'd never flown in my life and this would be a long trip. I didn't want to take a test flight to Chicago first, as suggested by my wife and others, because if I flew to Chicago and didn't like it, I surely wouldn't fly overseas. By my reasoning, going to Africa to climb Kilimanjaro was a great incentive to deal with my fear of flying and the long flight would force me to handle it. My wife said that didn't make any sense. It did to me.
Other worries were food and water safety in Africa, available medical attention if needed, contact lens care over the six day climb, and altitude sickness (I can't take Diamox because I'm allergic to sulfa). We booked our flights in late August just prior to my leaving for a fourteener climbing trip in Colorado. I became confident about flying, especially after getting home from Colorado, but the feeling didn't last long.
My airline tickets were mailed on September 11th. Could the timing have been worse for a first time flyer? Steve assured me the security would be fine by January but I was totally shaken. And mad at myself for spending so much money on nonrefundable tickets because if our planning had begun after the 11th I doubt I'd have gone. However, as time went by I found myself surprisingly determined to go and convinced myself if I didn't take this trip I might not ever fly again. Then, in October Steve called and said he was backing out and we should postpone the climb for a year. I understood his concerns but I wasn't ready to give up yet and besides, with two months to go I thought I could find someone to fill his spot. It didn't happen.
In the meantime I began my series of vaccinations, confirmed reservations with the climbing and safari people, and applied for my Tanzania visa. I was fine with the idea of going alone and decided I could always bail out at the last minute if necessary. I was heartened by all who encouraged me to stay with it, but my resolve was severely tested when another plane went down in New York and later again when a damned fool tried to light a shoe bomb on an overseas flight from France to Miami. These were difficult times for someone trying to convince himself that flying was safe.
Christmas was not a good time for me, being so close to the departure date, and the possibility of another incident taking place totally consumed my thoughts. My wife and I spent New Years Eve with close friends at a nice restaurant and as I sat there I wondered if it'd be the last time I'd see them. The same thing happened at work later that night- I said good-bye to everybody after the shift and walked out of the building with an overwhelming empty feeling.
I was packed and ready on New Years Day. As the hours ticked down my anxiety level went up, but I didn't waver on my decision to go. It was no surprise that sleep didn't come easy that night- I lied awake thinking about all the terrible things that could happen and slept an hour at most. The ride to the airport was quiet and my wife sat a while with me there, but after she left an unexplainable strange calm took over and upon boarding the plane I felt fine. No jitters, nothing! After the plane took off I had a big smile on my face, not only because we didn't crash and burn, but because I was flying and actually enjoying it. I turned and asked my seatmate if she was all right because the terrified look on her face was what I expected to have on mine.
Other than slight turbulence over the ocean, the eight hour flight was smooth and as I stepped off the plane in Amsterdam, I was amazed to be in Europe. This flying business wasn't so bad. Four hours later I boarded the next plane to Kilimanjaro International but had to wait as the plane was being de-iced. I had a window seat and watched anxiously as they sprayed down the wings but we took off subsequently and soon the snow capped peaks of the southern Alps caught my attention. My seatmate was a fellow from Norway who spoke excellent English- Jan, a professor and seasoned traveler, has lived all over the world and turned out to be wonderful company. He'd already climbed Kilimanjaro years ago and was returning to Tanzania for five weeks with students.
I was glad to have a window seat, for the views were exceptional flying along the Italian coast and over the desert of Egypt. The eight hour flight arrived only fifteen minutes late to the tiny airport at Kilimanjaro where a platform of steps was wheeled to the door- quite a change from the huge airport in Amsterdam. Passengers going to Dar Es Salaam stayed on board while we exited and crossed the field to the terminal. Once inside, everyone scrambled to fill out forms for customs because it was late and nobody wanted to wait in line. I got through quickly and grabbed my luggage. The Marangu Hotel had sent a shuttle for me and two friendly looking fellows were waving a sign with my name on it. They carried my bags to the van and I plopped in for the fifty mile ride yet to the hotel. It was past 10:30 when we left the airport and even though I was exhausted, I was downright giddy over getting to Africa in one piece and knowing I'd soon be climbing Kilimanjaro.
The driver knew only one speed- fast- as we rattled along the road in the dark to Marangu. It was all I could do to stay awake as the fellows spoke Swahili and tried to teach me some phrases but I couldn't concentrate with only two hours sleep over the last two days. The hotel office was closed when we arrived but I was met by several employees who waited for me and brought me to my room in a small two unit brick house, where I promptly crashed.
Friday was a peaceful day with plenty of time to email my wife and friends. Phone rates are outrageous in Tanzania and I appreciated the hotel letting me use their computer for free. One of my emails was to a coworker- I insisted he tell everyone at work that I really was in Africa and not hiding out in my basement at home. In the afternoon I got my gear ready but couldn't pack it until it was first checked by two women to make sure I had everything. The hotel owner and climb organizer, Seamus Brice-Bennett, wants all climbers prepared and provides what you either forgot or don't have. The ladies insisted I add a balaclava and warmer gloves. That evening Seamus spent an hour and a half going over the entire route so I'd know what to expect and also what to tip the guide and porters afterwards. I was very surprised to hear I'd have four porters and a guide for just me- no one else would be in my group. At dinner a young couple talked of their successful climb up the Marangu route, the standard tourist route. I'd be taking the more scenic and longer Machame route.
Day 1 Saturday January 5 Machame Camp- elevation 9,800 feet
This morning I was introduced to the guide, Winford, and the porters, two of whom were also guides filling in just to get some work. Lots of men were milling about the hotel driveway hoping to be put to work but jobs were scarce. It didn't help that in addition to the normally high unemployment rate, the climbing season was slow because of September 11th. Seamus said it would pick up in February. We left the hotel at 9:20 and passed through several towns on the way to the trailhead. Throngs of people walked along each side of the highway and when we entered the towns, larger numbers yet massed about, seemingly with nothing better to do than to chat with each other. Most buildings in the towns were badly run-down, vehicle traffic was congested, and the stench of diesel exhaust was sickening but I was totally captivated by the hustle and bustle. I was especially impressed at how nice everybody dressed, considering how scarce the means are. Girls and women wore long dresses, boys and men wore slacks and button down shirts.
We stopped in Machame village to get some meat and while waiting there I bought Cokes for my whole group. Across the street and outside a shop was a large slab of meat hanging on a hook and I watched intently as a worker with a large knife came out and hacked off pieces for a customer. I wondered how long that meat was hanging out in the open and was glad to see our man coming back from a different store but it's possible he purchased ours in a similar way. If he did, I didn't want to know. I could've sat there a long time observing the activities going on but the storekeeper wanted the empty bottles back and the driver wanted to get going.
We drove up the unmaintained road to the trailhead where all climbers have to register at a small building, elevation 6000 feet, and pay the entrance fee. The pre-climb anticipation was exciting for me as many groups waited to get their permits and enterprising young men hawked bottled water. Finally at 11:35, Winford sent me up the trail with one of the porters and said he'd catch up to us later. It was hot and muggy as we trudged up a wide path for a while and then entered the lush vegetation of the rain forest. Winford caught up and sent the porter ahead. We soon stopped to put on rain coats as a twenty minute rain drenched us, enough to muddy the trail and slick up the numerous tree roots embedded in it. Winford set an excruciatingly slow pace, intended to let the porters get ahead and set up camp before clients arrive, but I had a very hard time adjusting to it. Colorado fourteener climbers who enjoy hiking at two miles an hour or faster will not like this. I sure didn't.
We stopped at the halfway point for lunch where Winford pulled my meal out of his pack- sandwiches (with an unidentifiable filling), a brownie, bananas and tea. I don't like tea but ended up drinking gallons of it on the six day climb. It was good for staying hydrated and saved the hassle of filtering water so often. Seamus said the water was safe for drinking but I used a filter and antiviral drops anyway because I didn't trust the mountain water. The other porters caught up and also stopped for a rest at the lunch break. They were carrying the heavy loads, including my duffel which weighed 50 pounds- I only had about 10 lbs on my back and had a fairly easy go of it. After they pushed on, Winford allowed me to take the lead and now, at last, I could pick up the pace. Winford kept hollering pole, pole- (slow, slow) ... so I would slow down for about thirty seconds and then speed up again. I had him sweating like crazy. I caught up to a young German guy named Carsten who spoke excellent English and the two of us had a great time talking and pushing the pace even faster. When we caught up to my porters taking a break, Winford's Swahili left no doubt as to how angry he was with them. Porters are expected to stay ahead and I felt bad- who can fault them for taking a break with their heavy loads? Winford sent them scurrying and made me sit tight for a while, after which he set the pace again. Very slow.
Even at the snail's pace we pulled into Machame camp at 4:35, where he sat me down on a bench by the hut while the porters finished setting up the tents. The huts on this route are for the rangers who come around to make sure everybody logs in, unlike the huts on the Marangu route which climbers can sleep in. After signing in I went to visit with other Americans from California until Winford waved me back to camp. The standard procedure, at least in my group, was for the porters to set up my tent and the kitchen tent first, then their tent which would remain empty except for a table and chair for eating meals. But only for my meals- they left their sleeping bags unrolled until bedtime and would eat in the kitchen tent separately from me. After the tents were set up they would crowd in the kitchen tent and carry on lively conversations while boiling water for tea and dinner. They always served tea upon arriving in camp each afternoon and also warmed up water for washing, a comfort I relished after hiking.
Every day, from the moment they set up camp until turning in for the night, they'd talk nonstop chatter. I couldn't understand a word they were saying but they were laughing all the time and it was obvious they enjoyed each other's company. I heard no banter like it from any of the other climbing groups and mine was always the last one to shut up for the night. Guides from other groups would even come to visit and laugh with them. Our cook (Winford's brother who also guides) spoke very good English and would often come and talk to me. I appreciated that as Winford could speak English but not as well. Meal times were always interesting. The food was brought out in courses and quite tasty, and you're expected to eat like there's no tomorrow. If I ate like that at home I'd be obese. Every camp also had primitive outhouses called long drops- no seat, just a wood plank floor with a square hole cut in the middle. Very undignified but functional. The ones without roofs offered terrific night sky viewing.
Day 2 Sunday January 6 Shira Camp- elevation 12,500 feet
The morning started out very warm and sunny. The never ending breakfast consisted of fruit, toast, porridge, scrambled eggs, bacon, and tea. Winford and I departed camp at 8:50 and once again he controlled the pace. It was driving me nuts until the porters passed us but he wasn't taking any chances of a repeat performance like yesterday. The trail was very muddy but devoid of the ubiquitous tree roots and I wore my older boots for the second day in a row, saving the new ones for the remainder of the climb. After my ankle killing experience in Colorado last September I made sure the new ones were really broken in for this trip. We eventually reached a rock face which had to be scrambled up- finally some bona fide climbing, if only for a few moments!
Unfortunately, the clouds quickly socked us in and shrouded Kilimanjaro for the rest of the day. Interesting plants and trees were seen as we continued along until breaking for lunch at 11:40. Winford said it was the halfway point and maybe it would've been if he was still leading but he let me lead again, figuring the porters were far enough ahead this time. As he was hollering pole, pole behind me to no avail, I charged up the trail and had him huffing and puffing even worse than yesterday. I was grinning but Winford had the last laugh- my trail leading was officially finished for the rest of the trip on this day.
Meanwhile, the swirling clouds made it seem like we were traveling on a different planet and as we strolled by trees draped in cobwebs of moss, strange looking plants popped up out of the fog on each side of the trail. Very neat. The hiking required some use of the hands while ascending a rocky slope before topping out at the flat, expansive area of Shira camp at 1:10, only an hour and ten minutes after our lunch break. My porters had set up camp far from the other groups who more or less congregated at the near side of the trail. We couldn't see but a few feet in the thick fog and Winford had to call out to find our porters. The Shira plateau typically receives cool weather and today was no exception so I switched to warmer clothes after washing up. The cloud cover was thick enough that Winford wouldn't let me visit with other climbers lest I get lost, so he went with me and stood off to the side while I chatted in the rain with a guy from Louisiana and a gal from Connecticut. It quit raining later, the clouds cleared, and we were treated to an impressive view of Kilimanjaro before dusk. Dinner consisted of pancakes, soup, rice, beef and vegetable stew, fried potatoes, cabbage, a banana dessert, and tea. The temperature froze that night and we awoke to tents completely iced over in the morning.
Day 3 Monday January 7 Barranco Camp- elevation 12,800 feet
The sunny morning prompted me to pack up my warm outerwear despite the chill. With a decent view of Kilimanjaro to our front, Winford and I left at 8:45 at the usual slow pace and I decided to just enjoy the day and not worry about getting to the next camp so quickly. Like I had a choice anyway. The porters passed us after we hiked up a large valley strewn with boulders of all sizes on each side of the trail. The odd landscape was soon shrouded in clouds again and we reached 14,500 ft at 11:30 before dropping a bit and traversing below a large wall. Climbers going to Lava Tower would branch off after the wall and ascend another 500 feet to 15,000 feet elevation but we stayed low to reach a saddle ahead on a ridge. From there we dropped down about 400 feet on a steep but easy scree slope and stopped for lunch at 12:30 near a creek at the bottom.
Twenty five minutes later we began discouraging up and down hiking over three valleys, adding lots of mileage but steadily losing elevation. Our highest elevation of the day had been 14,500 feet and though our total gain was surely 3,000 feet, the net gain amounted to only 300 feet for the day. We descended into Barranco camp on switchbacks of loose scree, which Winford raced down like a marathoner, and arrived into the surrounding walled-in area at 2:10. Looming above was Kilimanjaro and the imposing breach wall with its class 3 climbing. Fast moving clouds socked in the whole area but occasionally they opened up enough for us to get a glimpse of the peak. I was getting mighty eager to scramble up that wall in the morning. After tea time and cleaning up I sought out Carsten again. I didn't see him at all yesterday because of our remote camping area, and we visited a long time before I was called to dinner. Today it hadn't rained at all despite being clouded in and it made for great photo opportunities of the unusual plants and flora.
Day 4 Tuesday January 8 Barafu camp- elevation 15,100 feet
Another chilly morning greeted us and again the tents were iced over until the sun worked its magic. After breakfast I watched early departing climbers making their way up the wall and had my patience tested waiting for Winford. We finally left camp at 8:30 and hiked towards a small stream crossing, where I unwittingly stepped into a small patch of quicksand. It rapidly sucked my foot in and I think it might have drawn me in to my knee if I hadn't pulled out right away. Winford watched and laughed, greatly amused to see my brand new boot full of gooey mud.
Climbing up the wall was easy for me but challenging for the porters, who had to balance their loads while reaching for rock holds. Everyone chuckled when one dumped his cargo but I didn't envy their job. We reached the top at 9:35 after climbing good solid rock and lots of slabs. We took a rest break before descending into a valley, then did lots of up and down hiking over more valleys before stopping for lunch at 11:05 in the Karanga valley. We were totally clouded in but the porters had arrived early to set up the kitchen tent and make tea for me. They sat me at the fold-up table right out in the open where it was chilly but I wasn't complaining. No one else was getting this special treatment and before long the cook brought out a hot lunch of fried potatoes, French toast, and roast beef, along with carrots, cucumbers, and watermelon. It was a fantastic and memorable meal.
After a one hour lunch break Winford and I started up the steep valley and began the grueling hike to Barafu camp. The garbage strewn about was depressing and I wondered why some of the climbing groups didn't employ an extra porter or two to clean up this littered area. I'd certainly contribute to a fund to pay them. There was no let-up in the thick cloud cover as we trudged up slowly and took numerous rest breaks along the steep barren ridge. We finally reached the slanted boulder-field camp around 3:30 and I dug out warmer clothes to ward off the chilly thin air. It was pretty neat to be at a higher elevation than Mt Elbert, Colorado. The itinerary called for a light dinner but the cook stuffed me full, which I didn't mind because I still had an appetite even at 15,100 feet. The temperature was cold but the altitude wasn't affecting me, and after eating I began preparing for the long awaited summit ascent, to take place at midnight. I loaded up my pack and expected to easily fall asleep after the exhausting day but it wasn't to be. I was too excited thinking about the climb.
Day 5 Wednesday January 9 Mt Kilimanjaro summit- elevation 19343 feet and to Mweka camp- elevation 10,000 ft
I only slept an hour and ten minutes, waking up long before Winford came to rouse me at 11:15. It reminded me of my experience on Longs Peak in Colorado in August 2000, another big summit day with a short night of sleep. Winford brought tea and cookies and I layered on clothes while drinking and eating. My clothing included long underwear, two pairs of supplex pants, two pair of socks, a tee shirt, a short sleeved shirt, a long sleeved shirt, two Polartecs, and a North Face gore-tex shell, along with the balaclava, gloves, and gaiters. I was full of adrenaline and overheating as we departed at 12:12, yet those layers would prove to be just right later.
It was snowing lightly as Winford led by flashlight with me right behind him and my headlamp trained just beyond his legs. The porters didn't accompany us because only guides and clients go to the summit. We passed several large groups and I felt comfortable when the temperature turned very cold near 16,000 feet. Another similarity to climbing Longs Peak was the string of bobbing headlamps behind us and the glow of town lights in the distance below, but fascination soon gave way to discouragement as I trudged up the trail and nothing could be seen above. Winford knew the route like the back of his hand and I appreciated that because I surely would've lost the trail in the dark on my own. But climbing for hours in the dark began to wear on me.
I was doing fine until around 3:30 when the strangest thing happened- I had no recollection of the prior ten minutes and asked Winford to stop because I thought something awful was happening to me. I told him maybe I should turn around but he wasn't worried. Seamus said the guides are trained to recognize altitude problems but I wondered if mine was being overlooked. I dropped my pack and took out an energy bar and drank some water but when I put the pack back on I couldn't even fasten the buckles. Winford insisted on carrying my pack so I let him. I had trouble keeping my balance and had to stop repeatedly- I honestly felt like I was drunk but Winford wasn't the least bit concerned. All along I'd originally hoped to see the sunrise from the top but now would be content just to get to the top. I asked Winford what time he thought we'd make Stella Point (the rim of Kilimanjaro), and he said 6:30 at our pace. I stopped again to reach into my pack because for some reason I thought I should take some ibuprofen. Amazingly, in less than fifteen minutes my condition improved. I was likely dehydrated and drinking water helped but whatever, it worked and on we went.
The route from Barafu camp, according to Seamus, averages 7 hours to reach Stella Point. I was surprised when Winford announced we'd arrived and my watch said 5:33- how did we manage that with all the stopping? I bounded up to the high point above and upon returning, Winford asked if I wanted to go on to Uhuru Peak. Silly question. We made Uhuru in less than an hour, trudging over a fresh blanket of snow as morning dawned quickly. We were greeted by a bone-chilling wind on the summit but witnessed the sun breaking through the clouds of the eastern sky and got to see the sunrise after all! It was stupendous but the biting cold literally numbed the glory. I talked with other climbers the next day who'd reached Uhuru before us in the dark and waited for the sunrise but had left because of the excruciating cold and wind. My jacket seams were totally iced over as was my backpack so we didn't stay long either, maybe 15 minutes to take some pictures and talk briefly with the only other group on the summit. I was disappointed that one of my cameras froze up, even with a brand new CR2 battery installed.
We passed some hikers on our way down, including a group of very young people coming up from the Marangu route. Winford took a different trail to camp which bypassed the right side of Stella Point (from Uhuru). The storm had dumped a fair amount of snow on this side of the rim but the sun was already melting out the trail and we were able to make a fast descent on the scree. Overheating from the warm sun, even at the high elevation, I had to stop to delayer and several more times to rest my weary legs. Winford was eager to get to camp and we finally made it back at 8:30- I was happy with the timing but we weren't done yet. We still had many miles of hiking to the next camp and I was grateful when the cook asked me if I wanted to take a nap first. An hour and a half later he made lunch after which Winford and I set out for Mweka camp, at 10:45.
We dropped down into a valley from camp and followed a good but long trail, adding even more wear on the body after the tiring summit climb. It was quite an endurance test. I met up with a woman from South Carolina who'd turned back from the summit around 17,000 feet, disappointed but still happy she got as far as she did. Eventually the camp could be seen in the distance but getting there would be slow even at our steady pace. We finally pulled in at 1:30 and the first thing I did after dropping my pack was to buy a Coke at the hut. I drained it in about 3 seconds. It was worth every penny of the 2 US dollars because somebody had expended a fair amount of energy hauling the soft drinks and beer up there on their back.
I strolled around the crowded camp and had a great time visiting with other climbers and finding out that most of the Machame route climbers succeeded in making the summit this morning. It felt great to be one of them. The Americans I talked to at Shira camp three days ago had taken a different approach to the summit, via Lava Tower and Arrow Glacier. They reported a harrowing and exposed ascent of the peak in a vicious snowstorm- very scary. They said their travel agent assigned them to that route yet they were the only two in the group. It's a good thing they were experienced climbers- I wondered how many novices the foolish agent has booked on that route.
Carsten and I talked until Winford called for supper. My energy didn't last long after that and once the sun set, I turned in, sleeping soundly and straight through the night.
Day 6 Thursday January 10 Descent on Mweka trail and back to the Marangu Hotel
This morning's weather was the finest of the whole trip and a clear view Kilimanjaro could be seen from camp. After an excellent breakfast Winford and I started down at 8:10 on the scenic Mweka trail. The trail was dry and for that I was grateful because it would've been a slippery mess if wet. The rain forest was exceptionally beautiful this sunny day and on our long descent I talked with two brothers from Nevada and a friend of the South Carolina woman. The time passed quickly as Winford and I pushed the pace and arrived at the trailhead at 12:15, drenched in sweat from the hot midday sun.
I was herded into a hut to receive my certificate for making the summit and while signing the log noticed other climbers had signed in from Germany, Denmark, France, Australia, Canada, Britain, Czech Republic, Italy, Switzerland, and the Netherlands. Somehow in the excitement of it all I forgot my trekking poles inside the hut and didn't realize it until we were nearly back at the hotel. I hope someone makes good use of them.
Winford and the porters waited at the hotel while I quickly cleaned up. I tipped them generously because they treated me well and, knowing they were eager to get to their families, made the farewell a quick one. I spent the remainder of the day visiting with a couple from Europe and just hanging out but I couldn't get over the feeling that the last seven days were like a dream. It seemed so unreal to be in Africa. The driver for the safari stopped in at dinnertime to introduce himself and said he'd be by in the morning to pick me up. If this was a dream, it sure was a good one.
The next three days were great fun and the driver for the safari knew just where to go for animal sightings. I had the whole Land Rover to myself and the driver gave me as much time as I wanted for taking pictures. I saw lots of animals in Lake Manyara National Park and in the Ngorongoro Crater, stayed in very fine lodges, and even met college students from my home state of Minnesota. I also visited a Masai village which my driver said he could get me into for a cheaper fee than the usual group rate but when I saw him and the chief discussing the fee in Swahili, I was convinced they were in cahoots and would split the money. I went in anyway. The chief spoke better English than anyone I'd met so far and was easily able to break my fifty dollar bill with a rolled up wad of American dollars. He teased me about having only one wife compared to his three and rattled off how many children he had with each. He also asked me what the exchange rate was on the brand new Euro. For someone who lives in a mud hut fortified with cow dung he was well informed on current events.
My last day in Tanzania had nothing scheduled other than the tour-paid lunch in downtown Arusha, after which my driver took me to an outdoor market and told me I could meander around while he'd watch the vehicle. He said my safety wasn't an issue but my luggage in plain view in the back seat was. It was an odd feeling as I walked around and had so many eyes staring at me but he was right about my safety. Nobody hassled me and everyone who spoke to me was polite. We drove all around the city and because I still had lots of time before my flight, I asked the driver to find a bar so I could buy him a beer. He drove way out of town before stopping at a nice outdoor bar-restaurant, probably to leave a favorable impression on me since Arusha is so terribly run down.
I was dropped off at the airport at 6:00 and settled in for a long wait. The flight was scheduled to leave at 10:20 PM but we didn't board until 11:30. My friendly seatmate was a young woman from Berlin, Germany who worked in the Serengetti for eight weeks as a field assistant studying hyenas. As we flew to Dar Es Salaam, Dagmar shared interesting stories about her work and asked about my climbing adventure on Kilimanjaro. She'd be coming back to Tanzania for more research in July.
Many passengers embarked in Dar Es Salaam for the night flight to Amsterdam and whereas most were able to sleep, including Dagmar, I was lucky to get two hours of scattered napping. But the flight was good and I was looking forward to two scheduled days in Amsterdam- planned because I wasn't sure I'd ever get to Europe again.
Amsterdam turned out to be a wonderful place to visit and I put lots of miles on my legs touring the Anne Frank House, taking in two museums, and strolling the Red Light District. The canals and narrow streets of the old city were easy to negotiate and I enjoyed it very much but after fifteen days of international travel I was ready to go home.
A smooth flight back to the States wrapped up the journey, completing a special trip that will hold lifelong memories for me. It'll be a hard one to top.
Additional information on trip costs:
Climb- $1150 total (arranged thru Marangu Hotel). The breakdown includes 3 nights at hotel and meals- $90, six day climb- $630, park fees- $380, and taxi ride from Kili airport to Marangu- $50. Does not include tips for guide and porters.
Safari- $1070 total (arranged thru Lions Safari). Includes 3 nights of hotels and meals. Add tip for driver.
Airfare- $1900
Total- $4120 not including visa, vaccinations, tips, etc.