Story Script

Pole pole. It means slowly slowly in Swahili and I was finally starting to understand what that term really meant as I willed my brain to keep my legs moving. One step in front of the other. I remember looking up - it was pitch black in the middle of the night except a line of headlights leading up to the mountain. Maybe it was the altitude, but they seemed to blend into the stars. I was getting confused. I heard our guide Haji up ahead tell our group, "Only 5 more hours to go until we reach the highest peak of Africa". Ugh. That guy is way too excited I thought to myself. It was so cold, my fingers and toes were completely numb. It was hard to breathe. This was definitely the last place I thought I'd be 4 months ago ... as I looked back up at the stars, home seemed like another world away.

Home. Let's go back there for a minute. Life was fairly normal 4 months ago. I was your typical college graduate totally unsure of myself and what I was going to do with my life. So with nothing better to do, I followed a friend of mine to a travel blogging event one night (she was a travel blogger, I most certainly am not). At the end of the night they had a contest. Meh, I’m not really part of this group, but I’ll throw in a business card for good measure I thought. To my astonishment, I WON! You know that thing that happens when you laugh so hard milk comes out of your nose? I had a similar experience with my beer when I heard them call my name. Who me?! I almost choked. I have literally NEVER won anything before in my life. It was all too exciting. And the grand prize? A trip anywhere in the world.

Images started popping into my mind of all the places I could go. I could see the canals of Venice. I could go ziplining through the Costa Rican rainforest. I could explore the temples of Japan. The world was my oyster as they say.

The next day I sat at my computer staring at my screensaver and as if it was meant to be, a picture of a mountain appeared with elephants and giraffes in the foreground. And I suddenly knew where I was going. The next thing I know, I’m calling my mom to tell her I had booked a solo flight to Africa to spend a week climbing Mount Kilimanjaro. Awesome, right?

Well, the problem with booking something like this so spontaneously and so far in advance is that you then spend the next 4 months Googling. It’s kind of like hypochrondia. The excitement quickly turned to anxiety. Single female. Africa. A REALLY high altitude of 5,895 meters. 5 days of serious climbing. 5 days of porta-potties. Oh and there was also the little know fact that only 60% of all climbers actually succeed in summiting and 5-10 people die each year trying. Great. The list of doubts just kept growing. But sure enough, 4 months passed and despite my fears and worries, I found myself standing at the gates of Kilimanjaro, face to face with the beast of a mountain in front of me. Here we go!

Day 1: I’m feeling good, taking pictures, loving the views. How hard can this get? Maybe everyone is making a big fuss out of nothing?!

Day 2: Woke up to two group members throwing up. Altitude sickness already and we’re only at 3,000 meters. I hope this isn’t a sign of things to come.

Day 3: Today we hiked for 18km. It’s getting cold, my head is pounding, and my body hurts all over. Everyone is tired and our delicious chicken dinner is not staying down. Remind me again why I’m doing this?

Day 4: We come across a strange looking metal device. Haji informs us it’s for carrying people who are sick back down the mountain. I’m really hoping I don’t end up being one of those people …

Day 5: We are woken up at midnight to start our ascent up to the summit. Each step is harder and colder than the next. It’s a loooong way up and we have hours to go before sunrise. The possibility of not making it to the top becomes very real as we pass people being brought back down the mountain, others puking their hearts out on the side of the trail. Pole pole, I tell myself, over and over and over again.

Before I know it, it starts getting lighter. I see it! I see the end! I push myself up the last steep hill and take the final step just as the sun starts to rise. I’m not sure if it was the complete physical and mental exhaustion, the lack of sleep, the altitude, or just the pure feeling of accomplishment, but I found myself completely overwhelmed with emotion at that moment. I threw my backpack off and shed some tears as I stood over Africa, watching it get engulfed with the warm light.

It’s funny – you spend 5 days climbing a mountain to spend less than 15 minutes at the top. But it was at that moment that I realized what others had been telling me this whole time: it’s not the destination that matters, it’s the journey. And that journey was so much more than a solo accomplishment. It took an entire team of porters, chefs and guides to get us all there. It was a collective journey of different stories. And those stories now live on the mountain. The mountain taught me patience, perseverance and to take things one step at a time …