Kilimanjaro, Day 3

January 31, 2014

Kilimanjaro, Day 3: Shira Hut 2 to Lava Tower to Barranco Camp

After the sun went down last night, it got cold, cold, cold.  I guess I should have known that would happen; we were camping at 12,500 feet, after all, but the frigidness took me by surprise for some reason.  It was an unrelenting, permeating cold that followed us wherever we went.  Even the mess tent provided little respite, with our food turning ice cold the moment it hit our plates.  And this morning we were greeted with a thin sheet of frost covering everything in camp, even our tents.  It was a chilly reminder of how far up the mountain we've already come, and, yet, how far we still have to go.

Today was, by far, our coldest start yet.  It was also our most difficult day yet.  The point of today was to acclimatize ourselves to the ever-increasing altitude, so we started at the 12,500 feet elevation of Shira 2 Camp, making our way up to Lava Tower at 15,190 feet for lunch, then back down to 13,044 feet, where Barranco Camp resides.

Unfortunately, today was not my finest day.  I felt fine when I woke up.  Nothing was out of the ordinary, except being increasingly sore and stiff from our long days on the trail, coupled with sleeping on the cold, hard ground.  I ate breakfast and packed up my gear without a second thought.  But, as soon as we began ascending up the trail, every part of my being felt off-kilter.  My head began to ache, despite the prophylactic Tylenol I had taken earlier.  My stomach felt nauseated.  My bowels felt off.  And, no matter how hard I tried, I could not get my breathing under control.  It was shallow and rapid, like I was gulping for air.  I did my best to take long, slow breaths, but wasn't able to do so at the pace we were keeping.  It was like drowning on dry land.  I could feel my mental status altering; I was angry, scared, and frustrated all at once.  What made it even worse was that the boys kept on, pulling further and further away from me.  I wanted to yell for them to wait, but I didn't have the energy.

The frustration, anger, and fear only continued to build as I tried to catch up.  I'm never at the back of the group, so I was becoming infuriated that I couldn't catch them.  But, as the gap between us increased, I also began to realize that I simply wasn't capable of keeping that pace, which made me feel even worse.  I became mired in self-doubt.  What if I couldn't make it to Lava Hut?  What if this was the end of the road for me?  What if I don't get to summit the mountain?  It was becoming a dangerous mental game.  I could feel the panic rising up and taking over my entire body.  The tears began to well up in my eyes, no matter how hard I fought them, but there was no stopping them; it was a visceral, gut reaction.  I tried to get myself under control.  I tried to think logically, use my nursing smarts, and remind myself that all of this was a basic physiologic response to oxygen deprivation.  Still, I couldn't help the intense emotions overtaking me.  I was becoming physically and mentally exhausted, and we weren't even an hour into today's hike.  Finally, I had to make the decision to stop caring about the boys, and dictate my own pace.  Pole, pole.  Pole, pole.  I kept my head down and repeated that familiar phrase over and over.  After was seemed like an eternity, but was probably only another 10 minutes, the boys noticed I was moving considerably slower than they were, and stopped to check on me.  We took a break, so I could catch my breath, drink some water, and start taking my Diamox, the most commonly used medication to prevent altitude sickness.

Eventually, I began to feel better.  After our short break, we were able to continue up the mountain and over the ridge, albeit at a much slower pace, finally reaching Lava Tower at 15,190 feet.  By the time we arrived at our lunch destination, I was back to my usual self; no headache, no stomachache,   and, most importantly, my breathing was back under control.  As my physiologic symptoms of altitude sickness dissipated, so did my psychologic; the panic, frustration, and anger were all gone.  My confidence had returned.

We eventually made it to Barranco Camp, at 13,044 feet, by 1:30pm, where we're all just hanging out and relaxing, as per usual.  Oddly enough, we were exactly on schedule, despite having adopted my slower pace.  Today was a good lesson in the importance of listening to my body.  It doesn't matter if if I'm first or last to reach our destination, as long as I take it nice and steady up the trail, I will make it.