Day 4 and 5: Gasping for Air, Altitude Sickness

Sitting at home on a brisk Highveld morning I thick back to these days on the mountain. How fear and panic had gripped me that night...how I couldn't breathe...I thought it was the end of my climb. It was one of the scariest places I had been in my life. 

Arriving at Mawenzi Hut 

Freezing Cold, tough night

And now again, looking back, it seems impossible that on this massive earth, you can find places where you feel completely and utterly on another planet. Our minds are truly our worst enemies. 

Day 4 was a lovely flat walk to Kikewela Camp at 3600m above sea level. Only rising, 150m vertically that day, my dad and I both knew this would be the last easy day. Like the Navy Seal quote, "the only easy day was yesterday," I felt quite distressed about the next day. 

At camp the temperature had dropped dramatically and we were well below zero most of the afternoon. There wasn't much place to do an altitude hike in the afternoon to acclimatize without exerting oneself to much over big boulders and our guides agreed that we would only hike up a couple meters to a nearby waterfall to take some pictures. "Its good to get your mind of the days, you need to try relax," clearly seeing me get a lot less talkative and reserved during our usual conversations. After our hike we went straight to the tent for dinner. 

My dad and I chatted, he seemed to be suffering from a headache. I knew he wasn't sleeping much, every morning he spoke about how little sleep he had so I assumed this headache may have been caused by the lack of sleep. However, I was still worried about him. Then things started happening to me...

When I was a child I suffered from Asthma. Having an attacking gasping for air feeling as if there is nothing entering your lungs is the most helpless I have felt in my life. Through careful monitoring, exercise and testing I seemed to get better as I got older. But on this day...my breathing was really shallow, I needed to concentrate all the time. I prayed I wasn't getting any type of Asthma Attack. I was terrified to sleep. To my surprise, the night went well, I woke up, not sleeping much, but getting enough rest to tackle our biggest day yet, a hike up to Mawenzi tarn hut at 4315m Above Sea Level. 

My dad had a headache all day, my breathing was shallow. The camp was in a crater it seemed. A huge hike up and over a rock ridge and down towards a small natural lake left us surrounded by huge rock faces. It was exquisitely beautiful but my "claustrophobic" self ran through all possible scenarios about what could go wrong. We hiked up one of the ridges after settling into camp and dropping our gear off in an attempt to get used to the altitude but my dad and I both seemed to be struggling. Some spectacular views of Kibo and Uhuru peak in the distance took my mind of things for the majority of the night and afternoon. 

Altitude Hike took us up to these views

That night the rain started, then the sleet and snow. The tent was leaking, it was freezing cold, and I felt trapped, but after reading some pages of my book decided to get some sleep. About to fall asleep, I tried to breathe...it felt like nothing in my lungs. "Oh shit, oh shit, relax...its not an attack.." I tried to convince myself. I breathed again, even more shallow, and then again more shallow. The rain, the fact that there was no medics up there and that I couldn't really get down the mountain that quickly played over and over in my head. At one point I thought I was going to stop breathing, and there was nowhere to go...Full panic set it. I jumped out of my sleeping bag, feeling the side of the tent..."I need air, I need air..." I said to my dad trying to stay as calm as possible. "You can't go anywhere, the rain!" he said still clearly wide awake. 

I felt emotions rising to the top of my lungs. I said over and over to myself, "relax, relax, calm down." I ripped open the tent and immediately the cold hit my lungs like a ton of bricks making it even scarier, realizing I really couldn't go anywhere. 

"Dad, talk to me, something, just talk..." He knew what I meant, I just needed to be distracted. 

He spoke, until, God spoke...

The whisper on my heart was so vivid..."Get out your book and pen. Write." 

I moved slowly still breathing very shallow. 

"Who made this place?" I felt God saying to me..."You Lord," 

"And who controls it?" I felt again..."You God." 

"...Why do you fear being out of control, can you trust me." I felt, humbled as If God had crumpled me up into a ball in his hands and was holding me tight. It felt as if God breathed into my lungs, I started to slow down my berthing as my mind was consumed by his truth. 

I started to cry. Gently tears rolled down my eyes on that mountain. A wave of revelation hit me as I stood on the shore of Gods heart. And it hit me wave after wave after wave. 

He was the creator not only of the mountain, but the earth and universe to and all the galaxies...and here I was thinking I was in control of my situation. Surrender. I needed to surrender. Like the many days in my life I had tried to be the king of the story, God needed back the crown! 

"I love you Keegan," my heart rested at the Savior's words. These were words I heard over and over on my Africa trip. 

"You will get to the top of this beautiful place. You will go many more places. You are not in control of this story, would you trust me." Just minuted before I was thinking abut getting off the mountain as soon as morning broke and now God was telling me in two days I would be even higher on the mountain and I would be fine. Who was I to object...he had literally saved me many times before. 

I wrote and wrote and wrote. I felt one with the mountain and the cold and snow as if it had to obey the creator and the creator had spoken. I felt as if I was in a trance...

"You okay...you okay," My dads words drowned into my consciousness and surfaced. 

"Yes dad, thank you...I think...I don't know what it was. Asthma, maybe panic, but...im okay now." 

He seemed so confused but thankful that I was okay. I tried to relax and as I lay back down in the dark my head on my pillow I felt so thankful to be alive. I was in awe of the power of God once again. 

Day 3: Hitting the highest altitude

When I travelled by bicycle across Africa, I reached a magical place in the highlands of Ethiopia that was 3111m above sea level. It marked the highest altitude I had ever reached, its quite a profound experience going higher than you have ever been.

Second Cave Camp, mountain hidden by the clouds

My delight quickly turned to panic. Because I was traveling so fast, working so hard and not monitoring what my body was doing I quickly stated to feel sick as I got off my bicycle trying to appreciate the views. I had a headache that was pounding in my ears and I felt as if I was going to see my breakfast again. The feeling was terrible and at the time I had no idea it had to do with altitude.

Fast forward two years and Im waking up in the rain on the slopes of the highest mountain in Africa. The heavenly peaks cast shadows on our camp which lay at 2800m above sea level. Its cold and today I need to wander out into that daunting altitude having no idea what to expect. All around me the views just stole away my fear as God showed off his trees and rocks and cliffs. The birds just wouldn't stop chirping and in the green trees I could hear the monkeys playing.

Our first breakfast in the tent was awesome. Nico whipped up some oats and fruits, filled our water bottles and sent us back to our tent to pack and prepare for the day. Michael headed out in front of us, followed by my dad, then me and then Deo. We walked so slowly it was so frustrating but so important!

I spent my day being still, appreciating the views as I walked. Not much disturbed us up there. I wandered about this ancient place and all the people that had hiked out in front of us for many years. I said a couple prayers for the great men and women that had lost their lives on these peaks. I had a sudden realization of just how small I was on this planet we call home. Thinking of the mountain and the seas, the stars and the galaxies, the eternities of space created by a God so big we couldn't even begin to fathom...
And the beginning of it, and the end of it...It started from, nothing. The thought always played fiddle on my thoughts strung across my mind. God was the beginning and the end, the Alpha and the Omega, it must have driven scientists crazy trying to figure out how all this started from nothing? For an absolute nothingness, my mind is to small to comprehend.
I felt so grateful God had created me and given me a gift to walk on this earth and enjoy his creation and I sure was going to make the most of.

Afternoon acclimatization walk

We rested up high above the clouds and creeped towards camp on day two. 3000...3100...32000, as the air got less and less, we got higher and higher. Each day was a record for myself and my dad, heights we had never reached since then...it was a symbolic feeling.

The camps was a lot busier than night one. It was called Cave 2 and was at 3450m above sea level about. It was very misty by afternoon and we couldn't really sea the mountain peak in all its glory until afternoon. We hiked up steep rocky hills to get onto a plateau and as we did, the clouds majestically rolled away, like a table cloth being pulled away from over food to reveal a massive feast. Every white slope and rock up there shone in the afternoon sun, feeling as if it was so close, almost in reaching distance. It would be another 3 days before we would be anywhere close to it and that again reminded me how big it was.

Kilimanjaro Day 2: Pole Pole

The transfer from Kenya back into Tanzania via the Loitoktok border rose to be quite a challenge again without our yellow fever cards. However getting into a heated debate about South Africa, politics, Jacob Zuma, Marikana and the general future of our land with a border official distracted him past the point of realizing none of us had our yellow vaccination books.

Almost immediately after leaving the border our driver took a sharp right and acceded a hill for about and hour before collecting our guide along the way. Deo had a hug 85L back pack with him and it was my first realization of how tough this climb might actually be. He seemed fresh and ready for an adventure with the two Longueira's. While acceding via 4x4 for another half hour my dad and I ran through a checklist out loud and realized we had managed to leave sunblock behind (my fault) as well as all my t shirts, again obviously my fault. I could punch myself. Our late night celebration the night before leaving was now creeping up to haunt me.

Deo was on it though and managed to organize a motorbike to run down the mountain along the western route and then pick up a tub for a small price and bring it to us at our first campsite on the mountain.

When we finally arrived at the Rongai Gate that stood dwarfishly small under the shadows of the highest mountain in Africa, the 11 porters, cooks and team made light work of the tons of luggage that needed to be heaved up the slopes. There was tents, stoves, pots, pans, clothing, gear, water buckets that were all shuffled and re packed and distributed evenly amongst the 11. Each porters bag, as in line with mountain regulation, had their bag weighed to see if it exceeded any limits. All seemed well and before looking again the brave young men and one women had headed into the forrest and the footpaths heading into the hills and were soon out of site in the clouds.

We were now at 1800m Above Sea Level. Dr Lombards words two days before were returning to me as my heart rate increased, "You will be fine Manuel, its him I am worried about, the young guys usually suffer on the mountain..." he looked at me with genuine concern.

My dad and I geared up, prepared our water, signed the registration book which felt like signing away any last chances to flee from this challenge, and waited patiently as Deo arranged the last of the needed certification that needed to be produced to the park authorities.

My Dad and I starting on our great father and son adventure up Africa's highest mountain

And we were off..."Pole Pole" (pronounced Pauly Pauly) Deo said as we left which meant, slowly slowly...it became our mountain mantra, our concentration, our everything as we chugged towards that icy peak. Before long we were in the clouds and in a beautiful rain forrest on the lower slopes. We stopped and waited at a wooden picnic table in the trees and received a hot cooked meal of spagetti and vegetable sauce about 3kms into the trail. The meal was done by our cook, Nico, who became quite a legend in the days to come. 3 kms took us about 3 hours, going at a really slow rate as to not dance with the little devil know as AMS or acute mountain sickness. We knew all the symptoms by then, headache, confusion, vomiting, nausea, dizziness, shallow breathing and were told to make sure we told our guide as soon as we felt changes in our body. Again I thought back to that fateful day Gugu Zulu passed away.

Another 3kms in we were at camp 1, Simba camp situation 6 km steeply uphill from where we had started just before lunch. It was the only camp we would have on the mountain with green grass and beautiful sunshine for the entire afternoon. The camp lay at 2600m above sea level and just out of the natural forrest. My dad and I shared a little two man tent which was already set up by the crew when we arrived. We went for a short acclimatization hike up the trails for the next day to fulfill the popular belief of hiking high and sleeping low (or lower)

That afternoon resting in the tent just before dinner we got the first clear glimpses of the mountain so majestic and covered in snow. It was truly the biggest natural specimen I had ever seen. They say a photo can't do mountains justice, but no matter how far away you were from this, it still looked absolutely massive on a photo.

Our eating tent, my dad enjoying some soup on day 1

The eating hall was also the same tent most of the crew would sleep in. It was the place we would eat and chat to the crew and proved to be some of the best memories from the trip. After dinner our other guide Michael appeared with the sunblock which really made me feel better about the days to come, because now, the tree cover would be a thing of the past.

The view of Mount Kilimanjaro at Simba Camp 

My dad and I retired early and read on our kindles before falling asleep but waking shortly after to a massive thundershower that hammered down on the sails of our tent for hours. The wet and the rain was something I knew all to well from my camping adventures in Africa and Europe...getting up in the wet and cold and preparing for a long day was probably one of the worst things mentally. I really prayed it would stop at least a couple of hours before it was time to tackle the next day on the mountain.

Kilimanjaro Day 1: Let the expedition begin

I know I had always wanted to do an adventure expedition with my dad, and many times he had spoken about doing some small things back in South Africa. We both came up with the idea to combine the most epic adventure to do in Africa, and do it together! Mount Kilimanjaro.

Flying over Mt Kilimanjaro and Mt Meru just before landing for a connecting flight to Kilimanjaro International Airport

The trip planning started up relatively easily!  I connected with my old friends from Kenya who owned and adventure company. They really made the process such a pleasure by explaining all the ins and outs as well as all the major budgeting we would need to do. I booked the trip, we secured the flights picked up some of the gear essentials we would need from Cape Union Mart and Kway and only then did we start doing a little more research on the mountain.

I started to read a book about a man who had summited Uhuru Peak on Kilimanjaro several times by the name of Henry Stedman. He gave a comprehensive guide to the mountain in his book: Kilimanjaro: The trekking guide to Africa's highest mountain. The book gave me some really cool insights into the planned adventure and also, quite frankly, scared the crap out of me.
I had heard about altitude sickness before but thought it was something only for those elite climbers who tackled Everest and Dinali and massive peaks like that, but it seemed that Kilimanjaro had its fair share of challenges.

During the planning there was a terrible loss for all South Africans when Gugu Zulu died on the mountain from complications from flu and altitude sickness. This sent shivers down my spine as well as my moms apparently who became quite un nerved about what my dad and I were planning to undertake. We dug into some serious research and found out that only 44 percent of all who attempted to climb the mountain ever summited and that 4 deaths happened on average a year.

Things were getting quite serious.

We slogged through all the planning, chose our route which we decided would be the Northern Rongai 6 Day route that passed the Mawenzi peak and started to do short hikes to prepare our bodies for the trip. The day after my final CrossFit Open Workout, we flew to Tanzania!

My Dad ready for Tanzania!

The Kibo Slopes driver picked us up and transported us to what felt like forever into Kenya, up some hills and to an altitude of 1700m Above Sea Level where we would spend the night acclimatizing before we would start the hike the next day. The border posts proved quite tricky as my dad and I had both forgotten our yellow fever vaccination card at home. We had thought up all sorts of scenarios to explain our dilemma only to find out we didn't get asked for the cards once!

The Kibo Cottages where incredibly beautiful and tucked away from modern civilization, it was a special time for my dad and I to share a great meal and a local Tusker beer and catch up on many months of conversation. Both having busy lives, we would come to appreciate these moments more and more as the trip marched forward.

Packed and ready to spend the first night in the hills on the slopes of Africa's highest mountain

The next day we would start on day one of an epic club up and epic mountain.... (Check the blog for day 2)