In October of 2003, I made a solo climb of Kilimanjaro via the Shira Route. The terrifying ascent left me with a great adventure story to tell. However, the fearful moments had little to do with Kilimanjaro, the mountain itself. The story will also explain why I have so few photos to post of the adventure.
In the past, I’ve traveled internationally either with group tours or have gone solo. There had been times when I had paid for a group tour, but felt cheated. “I can do this myself, for so much less money”, I’d think. In a few tours I felt no added benefit whatsoever of using the tour operator. Since the local language in Tanzania is English and the economy is driven by tourism, I felt I could book my own trip to Africa. It would be much cheaper than a tour company, but I’d be booking the local operators in Tanzania with whom the tour companies subcontract. I’d be cutting out the middleman and calling my own shots. Unfortunately, I unknowingly set myself up for a common scam for Kilimanjaro climbers.
Of the six routes to the summit of Kilimanjaro, the Shira route was not very popular in 2003. Tourist companies have since been promoting this route, but in 2003 there were few climbers. Most tour companies now advertise a 6-7 day ascent. I summitted in five days; I would have finished in four days but a group of bandits mandated I stop and camp overnight on the way down.
My trip to Africa began on an ominous note. My plane was late and didn’t land in Arusha until 1 AM. When exiting the airport, I scanned in vain for my name amongst those written on papers by awaiting escorts. Nobody was holding up a sign with my name. One by one the signs disappeared, and I was left standing alone. No taxi drivers were there to offer a ride (probably at an inflated price). I eventually begged a driver with one of the tour groups to give me a lift. Otherwise, I would have spent my first night in Africa at the airport.
After arriving at my hotel in Moshi (and waking up the clerk in the middle of the night), I finally made it to bed. I thought I’d sleep in late and have a nice day relaxing around the hotel pool. I was startled to hear someone knocking on my door at 7 AM. I was surprised to find a short, old, local man at the door. He introduced himself as Kivu, and said he was my climbing guide. Was I ready?
I informed him that he had visited me a day early. I had purposely planned a day to recover from the long flights before climbing. Kivu said there must be some mistake, and that the rest of the crew were in the vehicle and ready to begin the climb.
I had to scramble to pack the belongings I would need for the climb into a smaller bag (I would leave items at the hotel for my return). Regretfully, there wasn’t time for a shower or meal – it was immediately off to Kilimanjaro to start climbing.
I piled into an awaiting jeep and was introduced to the rest of the crew: the cook, and a porter. We picked up another “day laborer” sort on the way who would also carry packs. Pack animals are not allowed on Kilimanjaro, so everything must be carried by humans. This makes a nice industry for unskilled labor in the area.
Our band of five began climbing Kili around noon, and stopped for the first night’s camp at 7000’. So that was 7000’ of ascent the first day (much of that in the jeep). To this day, I suspect the first night’s dinner was my first “set up”. I believe I was purposely given contaminated food or water. This ploy was the second in a series of tricks to force me to quit the climb (showing up a day early being the first).
My home is close to 5000’ elevation, and I had been training throughout the year on 10,000’ and higher peaks. Imagine my surprise when I awoke the first night (at 7000’) at 2 AM to vomit. Altitude sickness? I doubt it. Bandit-induced food poisoning? You bet.
The next morning my group of thugs was eager to get on the trail. Since I was their only client and they had already begun the trek a day early, I suggested we stay at this camp until I recovered. Not possible, they said. They had another climb directly after me; they could not change the schedule. Up I went.
I wasn’t able to keep any food down, but as long as I stuck to plain water I was OK ( I had iodine tablets). The next night we spent past the Shira hut and nowhere near it. Most groups spend two nights at the Shira hut elevation for acclimatization. Not my group of bandits. We were off the next morning. We had to keep on schedule; onward and upward.
Day number three, and my sickness had not improved. The meat-based items the “cook” had brought along wouldn’t seem appetizing in the best of times. At altitude and with nausea, it was a futile effort to try and keep any of the food down. Add to this calamity the completely disgusting sanitation along the trail, and you have a recipe for disaster. None of the (then) $450 National Park fee obviously makes it back to the “park” for any type of sanitation. The few “toilets” were just swamp sewers, with fields of poop and toilet paper spread out for a distance. Every toilet was completely unusable, and the wafting odors worsened my nausea.
The next night the thugs made their move. We camped at the Arrow Glacier camp, at around 15,600 feet. This was a sparse campsite with a few other tents in the distance. When dusk fell, the swindle went down. Kivu came to my tent and said the rest of the crew “demanded $250 to climb any higher”. I informed Kivu that I had pre-paid, and had my receipt. Kivu insisted that he had no influence over the rest of the bandits; that I had to pay or they were going to desert me at this high camp.
I lied to Kivu. I told him that my money was in the form of traveler’s checks. We would need to go back into town and cash these traveler’s checks in order for the thugs to get any actual cash. I told Kivu we could stop at a bank on the way back to the hotel, and I would pay them there. Kivu was quick to add that his tip was not included in this ransom, and that I should cash more traveler’s checks for his tip. He claimed he had pleaded with the men, but had no control over their demands.
Now that plot had gone down, I began to suspect the contaminated food. I really didn’t want to eat anything now. During the uphill struggle--constantly battling nausea--I had contemplated giving up. Admitting defeat at going down would end the suffering & I could recover. But now I was furious that I had been set up. Those bastards! How dare they ruin a trip of a lifetime. I wasn’t going to let them win. I was going to climb this damn mountain or die trying.
I put on my headlamp and struck out for the other tents. I found some Germans in a group tent and I told them of my situation. I asked them to look for me in the morning. If they didn’t see me outside my tent, to come over and see if I had been stabbed to death overnight. I also gave them my contact information and asked them to check at my hotel in a few days. If I hadn’t returned to the hotel, I asked them to call the authorities.
I spent a completely sleepless night at Arrow Glacier. We were up early in the AM to push onward to the crater. This day was the most difficult. The ascent was brutal, and Kivu was intent on going as fast as possible. By now I had caught onto his game. He was doing everything to push me too fast, so I’d give up. There were several areas where there was significant exposure. Other areas had extreme rock fall danger. I was wary of Kivu pushing me over the edge or knocking down any rocks. At this point, who knew to what lengths these gangsters would stoop to?
Amazingly, the crew took a different route to the next camp. Why Kivu and I had to take a harder, steeper, more dangerous route was never explained. When I finally reached the rim of the crater, I literally climbed over and lay on the ground exhausted. I was breathing extremely heavy. But I was level with the glaciers now. Almost there! After some time recovering, I made it to the camping area within the crater. That night, I couldn’t even lie down in my tent due to the extreme nausea. I had to sit upright, and near the door to the tent. I was amused to hear more then one member of the crew also vomiting that night. Had the relentless push given them altitude sickness? Or had they accidently ingested some of the contaminated food?
The final morning I was up in the dark and heading upward with my headlamp. The objective is to see sunrise at the summit. If I did see the sunrise, I don’t remember it. I just remember getting to the marker that indicates “Uhuru Peak”, which I had seen in countless other photos... I had finally made it. In spite of those Mother F’ers, I DID IT! And it is truly amazing that my body was capable of existing four days (and 12,000’ of gain) without any food. I let the chief thug snap two photos of me, and then started the descent.
The crooks were to break camp and start the descent without us. I caught up to them at lunch, along with tourists from all different routes who converge on a single “lunch spot”. Men selling glass bottles of soda plied the crowds. I took a short jaunt to the side of the mountain to look down, and discovered the trash shoot where all the empty bottles (and everything else left over from the ascent) are thrown.
I started talking to other people, and met a Canadian couple who hired a private climb and were being similarly harassed by their crew for money. I vividly remember them both telling me that the demands for money had completely ruined their trip. I could not agree more strongly, but I felt triumphant that I had overcome the scheme and now would have great stories to tell.
So now we just had to solve the problem of getting back to the hotel without paying these thieves. Surprisingly, my plan worked like clockwork.
I had the thieves drop me off at a bank. I had “accidently” left my ID in my luggage (a complete lie; I had my passport pasted to me the whole time). I had the crew unload my bag and I schlepped it into the bank and pretended to remove something from it. When I stepped up the cashier, I told he “I HAVE A PROBLEM, THOSE MEN STANDING OUTSIDE THE DOOR ARE EXTORTING MONEY FROM ME. PLEASE CALL THE POLICE”! She motioned for the armed security men (standing prominently around the bank) to come over. The bandits made a run for it, so they never got any tips! To make a long story short, I ended up spending that afternoon giving “statements” and signing a report in an office of well-dressed Tanzanians. I was later escorted to the local tour agency who had contracted with Kivu. Now remember, I haven’t eaten anything in 5 days and haven’t had a shower since I left Utah. I don’t remember much of that afternoon, except being very hot and humid spending an ordinate amount of time explaining every little detail of the story—over and over and over. I wanted nothing except a shower and a safely locked room, but apparently there is some type of guide licensing in Tanzania.
Poor old Kivu will never guide again. I don’t know whether to feel sorry for him. Perhaps the other bandits did mutiny; maybe they did demand more money. I sincerely doubt it. Hearing of others similarly swindled, I think Kivu was the mastermind behind the extortion. He thought he could turn me around on the mountain, but I was way too tough for him. I probably would have given up if he hadn’t tried the extortion bit. Not eating for days was a drag. It’s my overwhelming anger towards these criminals and my determination to NOT let them win – which allowed me to summit.
I learned I could keep my wits about me and outsmart crooks, or at least die trying. I actually had a real fear of death on Kilimanjaro. Whether from a hypoglycemia-induced slip on the exposed trial, to being stabbed in my tent in the middle of the night – my fear was real. It was terrifying. It was beyond what I would ever experience living a calm, comfortable life in Layton, Utah. I had chosen to put myself in that solo situation in Africa. I took a chance, and events took an unexpected turn.
My mental and physical stamina went well beyond what I ever thought possible. Five days, no food, no sleep……. incredible. This knowledge has helped me on subsequent climbs. If my body can handle the grueling conditions of Kili, then other mountains with full nutrition & sleep can’t be all that difficult.
As you can see, few photos survive of the Kilimanjaro ascent. I don’t know if I deleted most of them, or if I only shot a few. Since I completed the climb three days early, I had extra time to recover before my scheduled safari. I ended up recovering in a plush resort (with good security), and getting one extra safari day in Arusha National Park.
You’d think with this horrific story that I’d always book with established guide services in the future. Well, that’s not the case. In the summer of 2008, I hired a private guide in Morocco over the Internet. The trip turned out to be far above my expectations; the guide was fantastic. You just have to take chances when you’re traveling to new places. When things don’t go as planned, you get fodder for better storytelling in the future!
Click a picture to see a larger view &
explanation.