Mt Kenya, teaching mountain schooled me

Daniela and I pulled into Nanyuki in the late afternoon last Wednesday. Ominous rain clouds surrounded the peak. it rained large pellets of water over the tarmac and muddied the town. we both fretted that the weather would make climbing impossible. Our fears were put aside by a few reassuring words from local guides saying "no don't worry it only rains below 3500 meters and it never snows for more than a few minutes above 4000 meters". ahhh rest assured and so we did. slumbered happily that night at the equator hotel and set off in the morning for the forest gate of mt kenya national park.

Mr Peter Wa, Daniela's friend and former colleague from the Baraka School picked us up at 8:30 sharp and drove us up the 20 km of deeply rutted road to the park gate. we paid the seemingly exorbitant quantities of $US and hauled our 60 and 70 pound packs onto our shoulders. here we began asking some crucial questions. first why did we choose to haul in all our own food, cook stove and fuel when guides, porters, and cooks are readily available for as little as 15 dollars per day. yes we began asking the obvious; was it pride or a just a desire for accomplishment that kept us from paying someone else to carry these ridiculous loads. the questions gradually faded as we slogged and slogged.

instead of starting the hike at the 8000 foot park gate, we decided to have Mr. Wa drive us the additional 9km to the beginning of the hiking route. This means our first day began at 5ooo feet in Nanyuki town and would theoretically end at nearly 14,000 feet, Shipton's Camp base for the north face standard route. Only at 5pm that afternoon after we had been lost for two hours and finally back on route for the five-hour mud soaked climb up to base camp did I actually consider this to be an extremely poor plan for acclimatization. In a nutshell, I got sick, very sick.

It was 8PM and we were still 2 km out from Shipton's camp. I informed Daniela that I could go no more and would have to pitch the tent in the middle of the trail. This we did. The exhaustion of the ten hour day and the splitting pain in my shoulders and sacrum from the poorly distributed 70 pound pack was overwhelming. I gave up and could barely muster enough energy to pitch the tent let alone fire up the stove and cook dinner. Somehow, Daniela was feeling great and with her encouragement we managed to do both. In the tent, my headache destroyed me and kept me up all night. Or maybe it was my hyper resting heart rate or the fact that I had to pee every 30 minutes from the diamox. but then I would have still been happy in my mind about the prospects of climbing if it hadn't been pouring rain all night, everywhere but especially above 3500 meters.

In the morning the mountain had a fresh 6-12 inches of snow from 4000 meters right on up to the summit. Turns out, the guides had either been telling us what we wanted to hear or indeed winter had begun on Mt Kenya (both were later confirmed as true). I woke with the worst groggy heart pounding head aching depressed demoralized kind of lethargy, needless to say not too optimistic about the prospects of getting on the route and climbing. Then the sun came out, which along with Daniela's chipperness managed to encourage me to pack up and hike the remaining 2 kms to Shipton's camp.

Shipton's was a scene. We ended up staying for four nights and saw many groups come and go. For two straight days it rained and snowed at a steady clip until finally on Saturday afternoon, the mountain massif consisting of gorgeous orange pillars of volcanic rock came bursting through the mist and remained pitted against stark blue sky until we knew for sure that the system had moved.

We spent Saturday afternoon reconning the approach and first two pitches of the climb. A party of three Spaniards and two Kenyan guides was also preparing for the north face route. We spoke with them in the evening and confirmed that we would all go together. 6 people total on route. We woke up at 3am and hiked the hour long approach to the base of the climb. The Spaniards, Paco and Raul, and their Kenyan guides Dickson and Vincent were right behind us. As the first light shone from behind the east peaks, we stacked the ropes and prepared to set forth.

The route followed a series of gullies, chimneys, and hand cracks, all of which had been filled the previous day with freshly fallen rain water. Today, liquid water was no more and in its place was yes lots of solid ice. On the lower half of the route, pitches 1-7 were climbable because they were mostly low angle and scrambling, but starting with Firmin's tower, the rock steepened and snow got deeper. What would have been 5.8 and 5.9 cracks and chimneys became sketchy grade VI mixed climbs. By the time we came to terms with this reality, we were 8 pitches up and exhausted. Temperatures never made it above 35 Fahrenheit but it was sunny so I could go until my hands were numb. After a long traversing pitch of foot deep snow and chaucy low angle rock I was fed up. I made the final lead up to the base of the crux pitch of the tower, then made the call.

I hollered down to Daniela who was more than happy to agree that the summit dream was dead. We were both exhausted but quite reluctant because it was only 2:00pm (still 2 more hours of climbing remained plus 3 hours of rappel even if we moved quickly). The decision to turn back and "quit" the climb was clearly the only one. The Kenyan guides had averted the normal route and attempted to bypass Firmin's Tower but even so could not in good judgment lead their clients through the sketchy mixed terrain. When I saw them throw their ropes down from across the amphitheater, I knew we had no choice but to follow suit.

After 8 stomach churning raps, mostly full length 60 meters, we were back to the base of the route and it was only 4:30PM. I felt entirely defeated and cheated. The worst part of the scenario was that I felt somehow I had not tried hard enough. If only I had at least attempted the crux pitch, I could have always backed off and lowered myself. There were many factors telling me that it was impossible to make the summit, but if only I had pushed a little more. There many factors telling me that I couldn't have pushed any more, yet somehow the calls of self deprecation grew louder.

As we headed back down to Shipton's, Daniela and I talked it through. I tried in vain to process the whole mess of my thoughts, but no matter what I said, the shitty feeling grew increasingly intense. Negative thoughts about my abilities and hers reverberated endlessly. Back at camp, dinner was an inedible pot of undercooked rice and vacuum sealed indian lentils, needless to say not the most refreshing of meals for a soar body and sour mind. Curses is all I could think. I went to bed with that pounding message of defeat and again the headache was back.

Where to begin

My trip has just begun. I don't know anything for more than a passing moment. nothing is as it as it seems. The beginning has just begun. This is just the beginning. Let me be clear. Sometimes you think you're awake but actually you've only dreamed to be waking up. You realize in a dream that you're dreaming being awake. Then the next moment you are awake, but only hold onto this thought for a split second. Waking thoughts and sleeping dreams are no different. Out here I am thinking in dreams and it's all coming true.

some tips to jog the sleeping memory:
ask the first person you see to help you find your friend from long ago, in a strange new old town called Nanyuki
The Boys of Baraka are not as they seem in the Oscar nominated film
Mt Kenya, north face standard route is nothing of the sort
white land owners in Kenya are called settlers and own it all, farming vegetables for export under acres of sodium oxide lights to create twenty four hour growth cyles and working conditions for the WORKERS
safaris are fun for an hour, see the giraffe eating leaves from a tall tree, hippos swimming in a pond, and nearly crash the land rover into an elephant strolling down the road ahead in the dark.

Dar to Arusha to Nairobi to Nanyuki

Whoa!! Two days, over 1000 kilometers in rickety buses taxis and minivans, loved every minute of it -- almost, and now it's all worth it. We've got two 60-pound packs all packed and ready to go on our backs, the weather's looking really good, and Daniela's friend from the Baraka school is scheduled to come pick us up at 8am tomorrow morning to drive us the final 30 kms to the Mt Kenya park gate/trailhead. It's been an arduous approach to say the least.

At first I felt a bit reluctant about leaving Tanzania after only a week. The people and the land were so sweet to me, but of course I realize this same longing to stay will probably arise many times again. The longing to stay is like the lingering taste of a supremely satiating meal, such fullness yet wanting to return for more.

This morning we drove through the Masai land north of Arusha with Kilimanjaro hovering above for a solid two hours. we passed masai boys herding goats through the stark plains of dry grasses and trees. I felt a bit odd and voyeuristic as usual, rolling at high speeds through this unique landscape, though at times -- and especially once we passed into Kenya -- it looked much like southern Utah. Instead of Mormons, there were tall Masai warriors with spears and women with shaved heads and dramatic bead earrings hanging from super stretched earlobes. So intriguing the idea of drinking cows blood/milk smoothies and living in round thatched huts, after we get done climbing on Mt Kenya I might head out for a quick homestay in Masai village around here.

Tomorrow Daniela and I take off for a week on MT Kenya, which should be the highlight of my life. Amazing granite, glaciers, friendly local guides and most likely very few other Mizwengos (Swahili for gringos). Will take lots of pictures to make up for my lack of photos thus far.

Before I go, I have to give today's example of just how poignantly things seem to be working out on this trip. So we arrive in Nairobi today on our minivan shuttle from Arusha, after the five hour drive through Masai land. My ass is quite soar from the bumpy roads and my stomach is making many noises and other happenings due to both hunger and the food we ate for breakfast. Point is I was happy to arrive but a bit on edge because one, Nairobi is known as Nai-rob-me and two, we had to quickly catch the next shuttle up to Nanyuki. The Arusha shuttle driver couldn't drop us at the correct locale so we had to take a a short but pricey taxi over to the right spot. We get there and Daniela jumps out to begin haggling for the shuttle price. She completes this mission and I head off to go find a bathroom. When I come back she is talking with the shuttle bus passenger collector, who's second job happens to be none other than a climbing guide on Mt Kenya. Sure enough, he speaks good English and we get to talking while waiting for the rest of the passengers to show up. he offers to walk me over to the bookshop where I can buy the best Mt Kenya map and climbing route guidebook. I had heard this was possible but assumed since we wouldn't be staying in Nairobi for more than 20 minutes we would have to get by without map or book. Next thing I know, I'm jotting along next to this supremely jovial Kenyan climber dude through the intensely busy streets of Nairobi, and he's giving me all the beta we need. After the book store, we bought a few samosas and made it back to the shuttle just in the nick of time, before the passengers began to revolt against the driver and get mad at Daniela for having to wait for me.

What more can I say, time is not cheap, and the owner of this internet cafe wants to close up, but I'm feeling so so lucky to be out here on this amazing mind bending journey, I wanted to share a bit before we head out and say thanks!!

Zanzibar and Beyond

(Africa House Hotel, Stone Town Zanzibar)

I took the fast ferry on Friday afternoon from Dar to the west coast of Zanzibar, and returned this morning sun soaked and vastly relaxed. If you think that sounds an awful lot like a weekend in Nantucket, you wouldn’t be the only one. Ironic as it seems, my life in Tanzania has been thus far one of luxury and ease. Or perhaps this is not ironic at all when we think of the manipulating of the continent that has been and continues to be carried out by people of my historical lineage.

I began to consider my unavoidable and not entirely unpleasant predicament, as I watched the sun set sitting atop the terrace of the former “British Club” in Zanzibar’s Stone Town. This spot is now a famous and four-star hotel called the Africa House, where we happened to stay all weekend (gratis but that's another story entirely). Friday evening, after three hours of conversation (and whiskey) with the owner on history, politics, and the economic protocols of "doing business" in Africa, I had had my initiation. All at once it seemed, I was forced to confront every stereotype I held regarding tourism and the influence of the foreigner in Africa. As tempting as it was, I could not pass judgement on any of the countless white tourists and foreign business people sitting with us on the sunset terrace. Obviously I would put myself in a terribly awkward, and dishonest head space if I were to walk on around Africa thinking I was anything different or special.

For now I'll avoid the sociological commentary and try to focus on the beauty of the place and the brilliant experience I was so so lucky enough to have.

As reputation has it, Zanzibar is the embodiment of tropical paradise. At least it certainly was for me on the physical level, with its white powder beaches, lush forest, diverse agriculture, and ultra relaxed, friendly people who make the place what it is. The island is culturally and historically distinct from the main land country, as almost everyone is and has been Muslim with separate ruling sultanates for generations before the arrival of the German and British imperialists. Still today, it feels, and functions much like a separate country. There are prayer calls audible on every street, most women are wearing some type of traditional head covering, and the food is definitively Indian. But for all that is overwhelmingly Muslim, the place feels peacefully nonsecular and more akin to a laid back island culture than any other I have witnessed.

On Saturday morning, our plan was to escape Stone Town for one of the typical touristy outings, usually including some mix of historical sites, a spice farm tour, and visits to the Red Colobus monkey preserve or other forest parks. We considered getting a taxi to drive us around and then Daniela had the brilliant idea of renting a Vespa for a littel more freedom and open air cruising. Right after that moment of epiphany, the first person we flagged down on a scooter happened to be a tough looking dude named Ali, nicknamed "Vandam" because of his two Tanzanian national kickboxing titles. No joke. Turned out Vandam was the most genuinely nice person we could've found and so safety conscious on the motos he would have made all our moms proud.

So after some easy negotiations (Daniela speaks fluent Swahili) we hopped on two speedy Vespas and cruised north up the West coast of the island. Daniela on the back with me and her friend Wendy on the back with Vandam. All in all, the spontaneous plan worked like magic. Vandam led us smoothly to a small spice farm, to which we arrived literally seconds before sheets of torrential rain came puring from the sky for twenty minutes. We were then led through the misty sun streaked pathes of the farm by a charismatic 16 year old, who pointed out at least 30 varieties of food and spices most of which we sampled off the vine. Next we cruised by some ruins of a some Sultan's palace which very ruined and not so engaging for lack of sufficient explanation. Next door we stumbled upon a traditional dhow boat building yard on the tidal flats. Meeting the boat builders and fisherman was by far the most interesting part of the day for me. We finished up with a snack of french fry omelets (chips myai) and Kilimanjaro beer at an adjacent bar and then zoomed back to town for yet another gourmet meal at the hotel restaurant. (ridiculous!)

Sunday we called up Vandam and again rented a Vespa, this time headed out to the remote and rural east coast of the Island. After an hour and half of zipping along in the lush tropical air, I was a bit sunburned but elated to have reached the famed white sand beaches. We were in the town of Padjwe, off the beaten track with the exception of one fancy beach resort at the far end. We parked the bikes at the house of Vandam's friend and former fight promoter. Then we walked down the beach about a kilometer to a local bar and sat in chairs and read while Daniela jogged endless miles down the perfectly compacted sand.

At a certain point, a soccer ball appeared and a high intensity pickup game ensued. I was eager for some energy building activity and a means to interact with people independent of having to speak Swahili. Two hours later, I was more sunburned but thoroughly satisfied and psyched. Those who've played with me know my enthusiasm and hustle definitely gets the best of me, but eventually I calmed down a bit, focused, and managed to score two goals!


Finished up the day by stretching my body in the deliciously tepid low tide pools of the Indian ocean. Then quickly the sun began to set, so we proceeded back to the motos to find a snack before the long cruise back to Stone Town.

The weekend's indulgences concluded with a four course Indian meal, throughout which the owner tried to impress us with his DJing skills, playing an odd mix of Frank Sinatra, Nora Jones, classical ragas, and not so classical sitar disco. I woke up this morning with a bit of a belly ache and waited in the blazing sun for the 10:00 ferry back to Dar, however reluctantly.

Tomorrow we'll take the 6AM bus to Arusha, Tanzania. There we'll spend the afternoon and evening provisioning and packing for 7-10 days on Mt Kenya. By Wednesday evening we will hopefully be at the wilderness gate of Mt Kenya National Park and on our way to the first of three approach camps before the climbing begins. Can't wait! Pray for sun, at least some!

Dar Es Salaam

The name of the city translates literally as haven of peace. In accordance with this character, Dar Es Salaam has thus far been for me a sea of tranquility. I can't say for sure though if my experience is due to my residual jetlagged perception or a truly underlying state of the city. According to the guidebook and my basic understanding of the country's history, Tanzania in general is known for its laidback temperment and lack of political agitation relative to the region. Whatever the underlying cause, a sense of ease is pervasive. This may also have something to do with the vantage point of the photo, which was taken from the balcony of the air-conditioned hotel suite I stay in. After waking up this morning and having breakfast in a French cafe, I wandered around the city for a few hours in a kind of comfortable yet confused fog. Then took a bus to meet up with Daniela at the public health office where she works. Dinner was taken in the living room of Daniela's ex-boyfriend's family and consisted of ugali (thick corn porridge), vegetables, and chicken stew (all true). They live in a kind of typical down to earth working poor neighborhood of hovels and cinderblock structures located off the main road south of the city center. After two hours of chatting and chilling with the family, we headed over to a bar, had a few drinks with her friends and now posted back here at the cushy ranch. It's almost two AM and I'm wide awake but feel I should push myself to sleep lest I never become accustomed to the time.

I know this is only one paragraph of commentary and I feel like I haven't even scratched the surface. I have no idea what this journey will lead to. For sure it will not be like this for much longer. But I am so grateful for the smooth entry and am enjoying it while it lasts. This weekend we'll head to Zanzibar for more vacation and then the real deal begins Tuesday.

In a nutshell my immediate future looks like this:
Tuesday - bus to Arusha Tanzania
Wednesday- bus to Nairobi Kenya then on to Mt Kenya Park gate at Nanyuki
Thursday through Thursday- climb Mt Kenya
Friday - either back to Arusha for two days or straight north to Addis (at least 40 hours in bus from Nanyuki)

I don't really know what I'm doing with this blog. Perhaps I'll write more after the weekend in Zanzibar, perhaps I'll wait until there is some monumental motivation. Feels kinda forced now, but maybe that's because it's the first one and it's late. Oh well, only one way to find out. Until then, Usiku mwema, which is one of the many words I'm trying to assimilate in Swahili and means good night. In your case probably good day.

Parting People

I could not have dreamed up a better bunch of folks to spend an evening with. I hope we all we meet again in the world and in our dreams very soon. In the meantime though, keep the funny pose going and stay in the light!

Day Before

Return to the launch pad. I fly tomorrow. Today no looking back, only seeing New York City. And remembering Vermont. Jubilant quiet place overflowing with Fall, giving me leaves for leaving. I'm ready.