Kilimanjaro, Day 4: Barranco Camp to Karranga Camp
It happened again. The beginning of today's hike was nearly a repeat of yesterday's. Once again, I was light-headed, couldn't get my breathing under control, and became overwhelmed with frustration. At least, this time, I knew what to expect, and was able to push my way through it without too much trouble, save for a moderate dose of crankiness. It just isn't fun to feel so horrible, even for a short period of time. But it isn't going to get any better; the higher we climb, the worse these symptoms are going to get. I guess I'm just going to have to accept that the first thirty minutes on the trail are simply going to suck, which means I'm going to have to toughen up.Today's challenge was The Breakfast Wall, which loomed over Barranco Camp, taunting us with it's steep vertical rise. In all reality, it wasn't that much of an elevation gain, maybe 700 or 800 feet to the ridge line, but that didn't make it seem any less daunting when we were sizing it up during breakfast. It looked exactly as the name suggests, a wall jutting straight up from the landscape, separating us from our next resting point. It was a sheer cliff of slick, black rock, formidable in its presence alone. As we drank our morning coffee, we could see the hikers who had set out before us, tiny as ants, slowly making their way up this steep wall. Talk about intimidating...
Once we got going, it became apparent that the wall looked much more formidable than it actually was. Technically speaking, we weren't doing anything more difficult than I've done in any of the canyons of Utah or Nevada that we've navigated dozens of times. But even doing something as simple as a Class 4 climb at 13,000+ feet, is more than a little taxing. Every hand grip and foot placement is one hundred times more challenging than if I were doing it at sea-level. It didn't take much for me to feel completely exhausted and out of breath, which quickly took its toll on my psyche. My temper flared and I snapped at the boys, even though they were only trying to encourage me. But in my oxygen-deprived state, I took this encouragement as mocking, and became convinced they were patronizing me. I was fuming. The funny thing was, I could logically recognize my bad mood was a direct result of the lack of oxygen to my brain; I just couldn't stop myself from slipping into my cranky pants. So, rather than drive my husband and friends away, I put my head down, took a few deep breathes, and concentrated on the climbing. In no time at all, my breathing was under control, my head began to clear, and my grouchiness subsided. I apologized for my foul mood, and before I knew it, we were at the ridge line.
Unfortunately, reaching the top The Breakfast Wall did not mean we were done for the day. We took a quick break, and started back on the trail, first dipping low into a valley before heading right back up another steep ridge to reach Karanga Camp at 13,106 feet, which is where we'll camp tonight. I'm not going to say today was easy, as my brief bought with the altitude would disprove, but it wasn't exactly difficult, either. More than anything, today felt like a slow and steady grind. We reached camp by 11:30 am, which totaled a mere three hours of hiking. In all honesty, the work was done nearly before we realized it had begun. We've spent the remainder of the day relaxing, napping, and exploring camp. We've had more than enough time to kill.
What strikes me most, here at Karanga Camp, is what a serious undertaking this expedition truly is. Mouse and I have backpacked before, spending several days at a time in the wilderness, far from any trace of human civilization, but we've never done anything like this. As I walk around camp, I'm simply awestruck by what a feat this adventure truly is. I'm not sure exactly why this realization is hitting me so hard today - maybe it's because several parties converged from different trails today, making camp even more massive than usual, or maybe it's because someone we've come to know quite well was overcome with altitude sickness today, and had to be emergently escorted down the mountain. Whatever the reason, there's no denying this is serious business.
The snow-capped top of the mountain is getting closer and closer, and it's almost scary to realize we are going to attempt to summit it in just over twenty-four hours. We're in the thick of it now, and there is no turning back. We're going to summit Kilimanjaro, and I'm so grateful for the hiking, climbing, and overall wilderness experience I have, as it gives me a frame of reference, helping me through the taxing hikes and ice cold nights. Each night seems to get colder, so each night I pile on more gear. I'm almost maxed out right now, but am saving the last and warmest pieces for tomorrow. At 13,106 feet, it's cold enough for me to see my breath as I write this, even though I'm tucked away in my tent. And I can't leave my gloves off for long, as my fingers cramp up from the cold. Tomorrow we'll be at greater than 15,000 feet, so it's only going to get worse. I'm not looking forward to tomorrow's conditions, but I have to remind myself that it's all part of this journey; a piece of the puzzle that is trekking Kilimanjaro. Soon, we'll be back at the hotel and in the heat of the lowlands, but for now this is our reality.
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