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.

Cycling from Gauteng to Durban: Who can do it?

So who can do a long cycle? Who can qualify to cycle 140km's per day for more than 5 days? The answer is simple, anyone can.

On Saturday I set out on a quest to cycle to Durban from the tiny town of Witbank. The trip is planned to take no longer than 7 days. The man who will be accompanying me is an incredible mentor, role model and friend...and now, he steps into my world of adventure. Its an unusual step for him to take and will by no way be easy. Camping, eating strange things, struggling on the bike might all be new things to him but the sooner one can adapt tough life lessons, and apply them on the bike, the quicker one will learn to survive and push on.

So what can you do to prepare for a cycle expedition?

1. Do your research:

You need to have a well planned route which may take some time. You need to do some research into the gradients, the terrain and the temperature during the time of the year you wish to set out.

2. Pack the right stuff.

There are hundreds of web pages that will offer you the correct advice and give some insight into what you need to pack and what equipment will be useful on the road. If you think you are prepared, draw up a "worst case scenario" of things that could go wrong and try measure your kit up against the challenge. You will know if you are prepared.

3. Have a good bike set up:

You don't need to have spent hours and years training but it is crucial to be comfortable on that bike. Make sure you set up. you can do your own simple set up at home but it would be advised to visit your local cycle shop and get it done. A simple test I use to adjust my seat height: If your knee gets sore in the front, your seat is to low. If the back of your leg gets sore, behind your knee, your seat is to high.

4. Have communication:

In my earlier trips I hardly had any communication with anyone. In a way it was freeing but what are your goals? If your goal is to rebel against a economic society and live a life of poverty and adventure, then you need to accept that uncomfortable death is possible. Like Christopher McCandalees in "Into the Wild" you will fall off the radar and possibly never be able to cry out for help when you need. If you intend to experience adventure and then get back to your normal life in a coulple of weeks, make sure you have a phone or any other form of advice to let people back home know how you are doing.

5. Renew your mind:

Every thought, every feeling of comfort and anything you think you know for sure must be chucked out the window. If not you will have the worst time of your life. You need to open yourself up to the possibility of being taught by the road, the solitude and everyone you meet along the road. Humble yourself, open your mind.

The next couple of days on the road will be a pilgrimage for myself and my very good friend, who I think might be preferred not to be mentioned at this stage, until he finishes. The pilgrimage will finish in a holy place for both of us, a place it all began...Grey Town. We were both part of the 2010 Mighty Men Confrence that changed our hearts and transformed our lives dramatically.  Our biggest hope is that we get a chance to meet the man that influenced us so much, Mr Angus Buchan.

May the Adventure begin
Keegan "Kunjani" Longueira

Am I wrong?

This new song that has burst onto the scene has inspired my short video clip entitled; A Go Pro journey through South Africa.

Take a look at the video which basically puts into motion what I believe and how much I love being on the road.

Lost and off track

With so much going off, it's so easy to step back and realize you have drifted so far off your original path its scary.

The problem with my life is that it is so public. Everything that happens or I say I am open about and let people know. It trying to create a transparent, truthful and open man I have created a man who stands in front of a firing shad all day being blown to pieces. In my transparency, my faults are clearly visible which leaves me left in the dark while stores and comments spread like wild fire. It hurts more than anything to know that the reason you do things is being viewed by others as anterior motives.

I watched the small extract on Riaan Mansers and Vasti's documentary the other day on carte blanch. They had such an incredible journey across the Atlantic! The truth and love I saw in Riaans eyes when he finished the journey in New York was unbelievable. There is something very special about Riaan. Through his life as an adventurer he has chased freedom, hard ships and love in everything he does. Perhaps Riaan doesn't even know but so called "Adventurers" actually criticize him for what he does. Some hate everything he stands for and its so sad to see a war on words happening between adventurers.

I take my hat off to the two of them who trudge through trouble every day even when not out on a trip.

Back to the drawing board for me. 5 Months left and I don't have one visa, my flights are not booked and all my sponsors and friends are not on board. Scary stuff.

Final book launch runs smoothly

What a day! Book Launch in Witbank, then off to a talk and book signing at the Methodist church in Boksburg.


The day started in absolute chaos as I awoken quickly only to look at my watch and realize I had 20 minutes to shower, eat and prepare my things for my book launch that was to be held at the mall. The frantic start to my day was unsettling but once arriving with my books at the coffee shop, I knew that nothing mattered but the book and welcoming guests that came to see me.

I could sit and complain for days on end about the people that didn't come round to support me for the final Official launch but do they matter? Yes it hurts when friends don't show up in support of something you have worked so hard on for three years but in the end of the day it shouldn't matter. Today was definitely like that. Having many young children from school and some good friends coming round to purchase their copy of my new book was so special to me.

I just love handing over that memoir, that collection of words from three years of memories and experiences on my bicycle. Its more than just a book, its my life.

After a pretty good turn out, we packed up, thanked our hosts and shot off, Johannesburg bound, for our next event. The Methodist Church in Boksburg is the home congregation of one of my good Friends Chris Els. We met him at his house and then travelled with him to the church where we set up before the ladies arrived. It was a ladies fellowship event that seemed to happen quite often with the amount of intimacy shared between the ladies.

I was incredibly excited to be there and spoke genuinely from the heart about Operation Smile, my involvement and some of the lessons I had learned on my bicycle trips to Cape Town. I shared with them my plans to cycle from Cairo to Cape Town to which they seemed quite nervous, yet excited about.

I want to thank the congregation for the opportunity to speak to them as well everyone who came out and showed their support.

For those who want to get a copy of my book it is available here: Two Wheels and a Chain (BUY NOW)