Ascent (almost) of Kilimanjaro, August 1972
Up whilst still dark, but as usual in Africa, transport is elusive. Our driver takes 4 hours to wake up from a drunken stupor, and drops us off way below where he's agreed to take us, refusing to go further. So it's well afer mid-day when we start walking, at about 7,000 ft, and we are a long way behind schedule. Equality for women is OK, but I'm feeling daunted by the weight of my sack. Already I'm hot and thirsty, and can see the others disappearing into the distance.
We are taking the most Westerly route on the South side of Kilimanjaro, the Umbwe route. It is the least frequented route, but reputedly the most spectacular. Spectacular certainly for the last person who took this route a month ago, an American, carrying five oranges and a packet of soup. He's not been heard of since.
Still the track is broad and well defined here; flanked on either side by dense forest land. There are plenty of animals around, audible, but seemingly invisible. Suddenly however, rustling of leaves and crashing of brances and a troupe of Colobus monkeys with long creamy fur swing across our path. We stand and watch a while as they descend into the valley far below; I'm glad of the rest. OUr next stop is to eat, and we demolish a chicken we have brought along. The best thing is the water, although we have to be sparing with it as we are only about a third of the way to the first bivouac.
Now we leave the broad track and begin to walk along a small path cutting straight through the forest land. We stick together, it is easy to take a wrong turning if you are not careful. The walking is difficult, stretches of big, fallen trees to climb over, and the path winds up and down endless small ridges and valleys. It is much gloomier in the forest, and I start to think of the leopard tracks we noticed further back.
The path seems endless and I'm beginning to feel exhausted, I've never felt so completely shattered, but the first bivvy is just below us, in a small valley. The all-weather hut has disappeared, used as firewood, so we have to use a shallow cave for shelter. Water comes from a little dank pool in a hollow below the cave, looks awful but tastes very good. We all sleep surprisingly well, still only at 10,000 ft so it is not too cold, and the altitude has not affected us yet.
An early start the next morning despite groans from me. Suddenly we are out of the dense forest, as if someone has drawn a line across the mountain. Trees are sparse now, stunted and literally festooned with pale green mosses and lianas. It is weird country; the land is more open and you become aware of the massive flanks of the mountain, like huge limbs spreading into the dun-coloured clouds which we have risen above. Soon, through the trees, we see our first view of Kibo, the highest peak of Kilimanjaro. (Monty Python does not lie, it has twin peaks!) It looks so far away, a snow-covered dome against the blue sky.
We press on, and again the vegetation changes as if along an imaginary line. Heathland now, stony ground with clumbs of everlasting flowers, red, yellow and white, and dotted about, giant groundsel seven feet high. The sun is hot now, and I am beginning to feel tired, though not as bad as yesterday. Late afternoon, we reach the hut quite suddenly. Coming over the crest of a hill we can see the Barranco Wall, which we have to climb tomorrow. On the west of Kibo, the Breach Wall, 2000 ft of unclimbed rock, is yellowy-brown in the late sun.
This bivvy is quite an advance on yesterday's, a conical galvanised steel hut, not too warm at high altitudes. The latter is beginning to affect us, and fetching water from the stream below is tiring. Sunset on Kibo is beautiful, the snow bright and the rock looking mellow and warm, but in twilight the peak is almost ominous, cold and grey without the sun. Darkness comes very quickly and it soon turns cold. A rather restless night, the altitude makes you dream a lot.
The third day we traverse east to our last bivvy at 15,000 ft. A scramble over the Barranco Wall and the rest of the day we walk on scree. No sun, for the peak is shrouded in cloud; a grey, silent, stony world. High above, a wall of bluish-green glaciers kirtling the summit. Whilst eating lunch, three avalanches shatter the silence, and we look up to see chutes of snow bursting into fans at the base of the glaciers. I wouldn't fancy the glacier routes which the avalanches in fact come down. The scree is never-ending, and really hard on your legs and feet. We pass below a 4,000 ft snow face, and a rock and ice route of the same length, both unclimbed. We have difficulty finding the hut, and the last 200 ft are agony.
Early evening is spent arranging clothes and food for the last day. Night is freezing, and I feel dizzy and remote with the altitude. About 3.30 a.m. we leave, an early start so that we can reach the summit whilst it is clear. Our Chinese torch packs in, and we set off with Robin leading, swinging a candle in a glass jar! The first couple of hours in the dark are peculiar, you have no impression of gaining height. It's so quiet; cold, grey light makes Mawenzi visible to the south-east, and slowly dull red bars show behind. This shattered peak is so different from the smooth oval dome of Kibo. A pale narrow track runs between the two.
After dawn walking is increasingly difficult; Hugh is really suffering from the altitude, with terrible headache and sickness. After a blackout he is forced to stop; people say Kilimanjaro's a doddle! We three press on, Trendy is leading. I'm only managing about 30 steps at a time now. Robin, who has been to the top before, keeps to my pace. There are patches of blue sky, but clouds, bluish-grey, are swirling about. My head feels as if it is going to burst apart, and limbs are like lead. Above us, the glaciers, full of circular holes, look like some weird kind of gruyere cheese! At the foot of the glaciers I realise that I cannot get any further. Trenday, way ahead, is still going. We are about 1000 ft from the summit; I still feel fairly amazed that I've got this far.
A superb scree-run brings us almost to the hut again; we pass a small cave where a wild boar is stretched out dead, but still covered in fur. At the hut Hugh is recovering; after an hour Trendy returns, his third attempt and he's reached Uhuru (Freedom) Peak, 19,340. After some soup, we pack and go. Late afternoon we are at the 10,000 ft bivvy on the Mweka route. We all lie out on the grass in the warm sun; the first part of the day seems like a far off dream. We meet some blokes going up; they have no stoves for the top hut, thinking there are trees for wood up there! The next day they set off with full packs and massive water-containers in their hands; wonder how far they will get.
Polly Rigby, December 1972
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