United Kingdom

Heath left us in our seats as soon as our plane touched down in at London Heathrow. His flight to Paris left in one and a half hours, so he positioned himself at the front of the plane. Raven and I continued through to customs and collected our bags, leaving his big backpack in Baggage Storage for the night. We made our way via tube to North London and the home of an old friend from Wimbledon nanny days, Anthony. Raven and I were both relieved to finally be in an English speaking country. Upon reflection, it was super excellent to walk out of an airport without being harassed by anyone to take their taxi, hotel or guided tour. Blessed anonymity. After settling into the flat and briefly catching up on each other’s lives (almost 20 years worth),  we went out for dinner at Pizzagone, a tasty pizzeria a few tube stops nearby. This is an eatery that Anthony and his brother Stephen frequent often. Stephen met us there for dinner, but we didn't get to meet his wife. Stephen got along famously with Raven, as he is one of those adults that is never far from his childlike side. The pizza, bruschetta and wine was excellent and plentiful, leaving loads for breakfast the next day.

After a bit of a lie in the next morning, I completed the three hour round trip to pick up Heath's backpack from left luggage. Upon my return, Anthony took us to nearby Camden Town for shopping and lunch. I am glad we did as I needed to buy a jumper (we know them as sweaters). Brrr. The weather in the UK was sitting around 20 degrees. Chilly for us after India and Africa. I had my treasured MEC down vest with me, but had gotten rid of all other cold weather clothes to make room in my pack for the souvenirs and gifts we had collected along the way. Camden Town is in North London, and is an area that has locks going through it, so you are never far from the water side. The area is known for its market area, has funky shops and cafes and a huge market area that has been decorated with full size iron horses that commemorate the history of the area, as horses used to pull the barges through the locks along the towpaths. History is never far away in London, and as we returned to Anthony’s house, walking along the narrow towpaths of the locks, we could see grooves in the sides of the overpassing road bridges that were for the historic ropes or tow lines. Sometimes the bridges were so low the horses would have had to make a detour over the top. Narrow houseboats appear to be the only craft that use these locks now.

This was the kind of slow paced sightseeing that I wanted to fill my remaining travel days with. It was tempting (for all of about 30 seconds) to go with Heath and see more of the continent, but I needed a break. I was ready to spend time with friends in the UK, and take in perhaps one museum. Raven had wanted to see Paris, but it would have been a bit of a nightmare facilitating that, and in the end she was grateful to take things slower in England. Our consolation prize was tickets to the Lion King musical at the Lyceum theatre.

In the mid 90’s I spent almost two years living and working in London. On my weekends and holidays I had seen a lot of what London had to offer, as well as much of the United Kingdom and some European highlights. This time I had no desire to see anything but the Egyptian exhibit in the British Museum. I knew it would be incredible after being in Cairo. Our third day in London, Raven and I took the tube to central London, jumped off and walked directly into Ancient Egypt. 

The wealth of display in the British Museum is arguably better than what is left in Egypt. I know many items have been returned to the motherland over the years, and I am not sure how I feel about the British having the cream of the crop of other country’s wealth and treasures, but it sure was nice to walk into an incredible museum, free of charge, without being hassled outside the door to buy crap. We spent about half an hour there, then walked to the nearby Lyceum Theater to pick up our tickets and suss out our seats. We had pre purchased pretty good seats, in the isle of the stalls. Matinees were full of school groups doing end of year events. This boded well for having short kids sit in front of us, but of course, it turned out to be two big men. Raven is taller than me, so I hijacked the aisle seat. (Thanks Rave!)

The show was magical. It was incredible to be transported to the plains of Africa, where we had just been. It was a top rate musical with fantastic and often surprising costumes and stage settings.

Stephen belongs to an organization that gives free tickets to shows and he passed us two tickets to see another musical, West End Men, that was playing the same night. Anthony had a previous engagement, and Rave didn’t want to go out again.  To be truthful, I didn’t either, as the show didn’t really pique my interest. But, not wanting to pass up a free Broadway show, I went to it solo, secretly hoping there might be a little Chippendale-esque action. The performers were talented singers and musicians, doing renditions of popular West End songs, but I left after the first set. 

Another day we visited relatives from the Thomas family. We call them the "English People", but their real names are Maurice and Chris Ward. They don't live in London, but took the train in for the day. We watched the changing of the guards at Buckingham Palace, then they took us for overpriced tea at Harrods.

We brought our own queen.

Things we appreciated about London: drinking the tap water, flushing toilets, being anonymous in the crowds and being autonomous. Speaking English was awesome and getting correct answers to our questions like: “Where is the tube station…?”  . In my opinion getting the response of “I don’t know” is much better than being given false directions! I donned my running attire for a neighbourhood jaunt every morning. It was lovely exploring the parks of the neighbourhood, sharing the pathways and pavement with the other locals recreating or walking, and not standing out as a target or a strange western lady. My diminished cardio liked the hills, especially the one passing Highgate Cemetery. How cool to run by and see overgrown graves from the 1400’s. Unfortunately it opened at 10 am, so I never went in. Famous people from the past like Coleridge, and current times like Malcolm McClaren now ‘live’ ‘lie?’ there. 

Our last night in London we had another dinner at the Pizzagone restaurant. 

(Heath will laugh at this because we have different viewpoints about restaurants. My preference would be to go to a different one for every meal, and his is to stick with a tried and true one, once found) At the end of another delicious meal the owner had lined up three lemon drop shots on the counter to see us off. One for me, Anthony and Raven. I said to him “My daughter is only 12!” He thought she must have been 16. Raven felt pretty grown up- she drank a quarter of it, then got a little silly on the bus on the way home, more intoxicated by the excitement of it than the actual alcohol- “I feel lighter…am I supposed to feel like this? ………..”

The next morning, leaving most of our luggage in Anthony’s flat, Raven and I took the tube to Victoria Coach Station to buy tickets to Loughbrough on Soar. Unfortunately seats had sold out quicker than usual. It was Friday morning but there was a weekend camping musical festival happening nearby, which we didn’t know about. We parked our butts in a nearby café with free wifi to entertain us during the long wait for the 2pm bus.

We could have walked over to nearby Westminster Abby or other sites, but Raven really preferred to wait in the café, and I didn’t push the issue.

It was excellent seeing old friends in Loughbrough. Julie and the kids picked us up. It had been three years since we had seen them in Canada. Raven and the oldest boy Sam were in the same grade at Crystal View Elementary. Julie and I had never spent a huge amount of time together, so I was conscious of not wanting to be an inconvenience to their routine. My worries were for naught, as their household was relaxed, the family an excellent host. Sam had given his bedroom up for us, excited to be sleeping in the cool upstairs loft area. Raven found more in common with seven year old Georgia than with Sam or younger Dylan. Boys and girls are a little awkward at this age so they didn’t share more than a few polite words to each other. Julie and I had running in common. Her and husband Richard are training for the Lululemon Half Marathon in Vancouver when they come to Canada in the summer. My diminished cardio and pace couldn’t quite keep up with Julie- she worked me- Julie has transformed herself into a goddess; through healthier gluten free meal plans and exercise. Raven and I took away a number of excellent recipes to replicate in Canada, all of them wheat free. 

One day Raven got to check out the local stable, as Georgia was thinking of taking up riding. The handlers never let go of the lead rope, which was different from the riding experiences raven has had in Canada.  

Another day we went to Alton Towers Theme Park, which specializes in roller coaster rides.
Super cool Disneyland-like fun.

Raven could have stayed with the Fullers for the rest of our time, but we had booked coach tickets to Leeds to visit my cousin Jenny, followed by on-going tickets to Edinburgh to stay with our best friends, Tanya, John and their son Davis.

Visiting Jenny and her daughter Ruth in Leeds didn’t go exactly to plan, as they had to make a hasty retreat back to Spain. Jenny teaches English as a second language and has a house in Spain. She had rented it out while they were in the UK, (Jenny took a contract at the University of Leeds), which finished the day we visited. We had planned on visiting her for a few days, but they had moved out of their flat and were staying with friends, so she couldn’t host us. I had coach tickets from Leeds to Edinburgh that were unchangeable because they were an on line cheap seat deal. I found a host through Couchsurfers and we visited Jenny for a few hours, in a park near the university. She drove us to our bed for the night after our short, but sweet, visit. We never got to meet her daughter Ruth.        

Jenny Raven and Su

The coach ride the next day took the ‘milk route’ to Scotland, eventually landing us in central Edinburgh. We weren’t sure if our friends were going to be able to meet us at the coach station. When Raven and I alighted from the coach, we attempted calling them, with no answer, so then had to hunt down some free wifi to get the local bus directions to their house that Tanya had previously messaged us. We were in the main shopping area, and after a quick stop in a café around the corner, we walked a few minutes down the hill to the main street, Princes Street. It is a lovely city- this part feels open, as there are bridges connecting the two sides of the city, and the buildings are historic and grey. In her last message, Tanya had mentioned we might see Heath as she thought he might be coming our way. I thought that was fairly impossible, as his flight had landed in the airport a few hours before our arrival time, and he would have been at their house by this time. Tanya had given us a selection of 3 busses to catch, as she lives fairly centrally just off a main artery in town and a number of busses route past their student housing. The only thing I was unsure of was which side of the street we should wait on. I inquired of one bus driver, who directed us to wait on the bridge, just around the corner. We jumped on the first bus that came, and while I was fumbling with change to pay our fare, Raven had spotted Heath at the back of the same bus! Super cool reunion!

It was so nice to alight the bus as a family and walk to their housing. It looked familiar, as when Tanya John and Davis left Canada almost 2 years ago we had ‘google – street viewed’ their house.

Scottish Haggis was been 'foodie-ified'

The first night we walked to a nearby pub for a tasty dinner.

Pub fish and chips

Arthurs Seat

We had 6 days with them and it passed too quickly. Tanya and I immediately got some girl time in by walking over to Arthurs Seat for a hike. I had visited this area before from Wimbledon nanny days, but had forgotten a lot of the details. The mini mountain looms over the city. The terrain is open and gentle, with grass, rocks and broom and gorse bushes a-plenty. Very ‘moor-like’.

Heath will fill you in on the rest of the adventure, as we took a couple days RV-ing up the North East coast of Scotland, then returning via Loch Ness. Tanya and I took some time to attempt a small mountain- we got to the col before the summit before the winds felt like they would fly us off the path. We retreated to the lee and descended. 

Serengeti Safari

  I had one full day to relax in Arusha after the Kilimanjaro trek before Su and Raven were due back. I had actually spoken to them on my way back, as the office manager had sent someone to track them down with a phone. A very nice touch, hearing their voices put my mind at ease. Rick came over after his dinner and we drank our fill of Kilimanjaro Lager. Actually, we finished all the Kilimanjaro, and moved on to the Tuborg, having a fantastic conversation about the climb, silence, and happiness in life. A wonderful group of volunteers from the Juilliard Academy in New York arrived on a late flight, and suddenly the Ujaama Hostel was alive and buzzing. Actors, musicians and vocalists, they were a very inspiring group of elite performers, their laughter and angelic voices filling the compound. Because I was a day early, after we picked up the girls from the airport, we had an extra day to putter around Arusha, find some Wi-Fi, and do some laundry. We were all so excited to start the safari, but the hostel was such an oasis of relaxation and camaraderie, that we were hesitant to leave.

  Up for an early breakfast, we were packed and ready to go when the Landcruiser showed up. We met our guide/driver and the cook, left our giant bags with the guys from the office, and piled into the loaded jeep. We would be camping, so there was a fair bit of gear, but with only three of us, there was plenty of room, and great visibility. Our first day would take us to Terengire National Park, known for its large population of wild elephants. It was a long, dusty, bumpy drive alongside the newly paved highway. It was so close, so smooth, but so far. We would occasional pass from one side to the other, but the new black asphalt stretching out into the distance was closed to traffic for 2/3 of the drive. We arrived near noon, and it wasn’t long before we started to see some wildlife. First it was just a few impalas, then a large giraffe and some birds, but before long, the driver hinted that we might be able to find a cheetah!

  Sure enough, it wasn’t long before we came across a jeep with two people in it. They were staring intently into the distance, always a good sign while on safari, and as we pulled alongside, they whispered: ‘Cheetah!’ They are so well camouflaged, that it took me a minute to spot them, lying in the grass, maybe 4 meters from our jeep. It was a mother and her two yearling cubs, resting in the shade during the heat of the day. We took quite a few pictures of them doing nothing but panting, barely visible in the tall grass, and then the mother stood up and took a lazy look around. Wow! We were so close! What a sleek, exotic looking animal. I was a bit star struck, as there are few celebrities as well known as the cheetah, the world’s fastest animal. She paced a few times, and then settled down for a lick fest with one of the cubs. They look so soft and cuddly, long pink tongues evoking the soft rumble of a purr. After a good 45 min of being entranced by these super predators, our guide drove us to a lunch spot, were we could get out and stretch our legs. We only wildlife encounter during lunch was with a stealthy thief of a blue monkey. As we opened our lunch boxes, it swooped down from the tree overhead, snatching Raven’s donut, but not without a solid spanking from Su! She smacked that little monkey butt! Ha! Take that, Monkey! Those donuts were dry anyway…

We drove late into the afternoon to our first camp. When we got there, it turned out that all the tents were full, so we were upgraded to a room! A nice treat, we had showers and a fan, and each of us had a single bed. Dinner and breakfast were both massive, and delicious. Again, the Tanzanians know how to cook! Out campsite was just up the hill from Lake Manyara, nestled in the Great Rift Valley, the cradle of humanity. The park is famous for its climbing lions, adapted to climbing trees in this densely forested park. We didn’t see any, or any of the resident leopards, but there were a lot of baboons. Baboons are one of the scarier looking primates. They are quite large, have that square, menacing snout, and usually move around in large groups. The males will actually kill leopards, because they prey on young baboons. We also saw a male kill another male’s baby by smashing it on the asphalt. Brutal, but real.

We were very excited to spot our first zebras and gnus. We had a good laugh when we figured out that a gnu is also known as a ‘wildebeast’. I Gnu it all along…We spotted a few elephants, some interesting birds, and chatted with a family from Friday Harbour, but overall, this was the quietest day of the safari. When we got back to camp, we were unceremoniously downgraded back down to a tent. They were still quite nice, large permanent stand-up tents with two single beds, but no attached bathroom. Gasp!

  The third day was a long day of driving. We drove up into the Crater Highlands, a green, lush forested area with many rolling hills and craters of both active and inactive volcanos. We stopped briefly at the viewpoint overlooking the Ngorongoro Crater, and then continued on, dropping down onto the Serengeti Plains. This vast grassland is home to one of the last great migrations on earth. Nearly 1.5 million wildebeast, and nearly another million zebra, follow a massive loop as the vegetation dies off during the dry season. The loop goes all the way into Kenya, to Lake Victoria, then back south again with the return of the rains. I couldn’t help but think of the North American Plains and the huge herds of buffalo that they used to support. It is sad, but also inspiring to see a place in the world where there are so many animals still in their natural state.

Just outside of the park boundary, we stopped at a traditional Maasai village. They charge $50 per jeep for a ‘tour’. I felt a little weird at first, but the people were so genuine, colorful, and welcoming, I warmed to the idea. Everyone else is making money from the tourists, why shouldn’t they? They still live a semi-nomadic lifestyle, but have begun to send their children to modern schools, and there is no health care coverage in Tanzania. These iconic tribal people are so beautiful and captivating. Who hasn’t wanted to see Maasai warriors leaping into the sky in the wilds of Africa? The deep, throaty song the woman chanted while the young men all displayed their skill and maturity was incredible. It sent shivers down my spine. That song probably hasn’t changed in a thousand years. Of course they wanted to sell us some beaded jewellery, but most people probably want to bring back a memento, and so they are supplying a product to meet a demand. It was as a great honour to meet these noble people. Their customs and community are so strong that nearly everyone who goes off to school returns to the tribe to marry and carry on the family lines. Oh, and the Maasai don’t eat any vegetables. None. Just meat, blood, milk, and some roots and herbs. And no, I didn’t drink any blood. Or milk.

  Even though we weren’t even in the park yet, the amount of animals on the plains started becoming outrageous. Impala, mostly, but also ostrich, and finally, some lions! The first ones we saw were quite far away, but our guide spotted them at 70 km/h. Before we got to our camp for the night, we had an evening game drive. There were so many zebra, impala, wildebeest, birds, giraffes, hippos…the driver slammed on the brakes as a six foot long black spitting cobra slithered across the road in front of us. Unreal! And the birds! Different kinds of vultures, eagles, massive cranes and storks, kingfishers, egrets, and many more I can’t name. We saw three more lions, and then another 9 hiding in the long grass next to a river. In the distance, we could see a bunch of jeeps clustered together, a sure fire sign of a good sighting. It turned out to be a leopard stretched out on a dead tree. It was also far away, but I was pretty excited to see one of these very elusive animals. I was briefly envious of the guys with those huge telephoto lenses, but our tiny camera takes pretty good pictures, and is so much easier to pack around. Our campsite in the Serengeti was very basic. There were a couple of screened huts to cook and eat in, a basic toilet and shower, and a large unfenced field. The Maasai would patrol the campground during the night, but the biggest danger was wild elephants, oh, and the wild boars. Day three was beyond all expectation. Completely surreal. We thought there would be no way to top it.

    The next morning was packed with wild animals. Nearly everything you might think of when imagining an African safari. Birds, impalas, antelopes, giraffes, hyenas, elephants, hippos, baboons, dik-diks, ostrich, zebra…you get the idea. Shortly after that, we saw a few more lions, and then we watched the herds of migrating animals run past continuously, stretching all the way to the horizon, a truly unimaginable amount of wildlife! Just minutes after that, we watched in awe as a pride of lions gave chase to an isolated group of zebra. They didn’t manage to take one down, but it was pretty damn exciting. Real life National Geographic! We then watched as two lions wandered right past the jeep on the way to the shade of a tree, where after a little amorous rough-housing, they began to mate. Life, death, and a little sex in the Serengeti…

We returned to camp for a late breakfast, before heading out again, this time to the hippo pool. We came across more stampeding herds of wildebeest, grazing impala and antelope, and a large male giraffe with a massive claw wound on its side. It was healthy and active, busy munching away, but it was nasty looking, from a very recent attack. It must have been sleeping, because lions don’t usually attack these huge animals. One kick from a giraffe that size can kill a lion.

Hippos get more credit than they deserve. You know, that whole ‘I want a Hippopotamus for Christmas’ song and all. They’re just big sausages that lay around in smelly, stagnant water farting and splashing themselves all day with their stubby little tails. Gross and boring. Su has some very long videos of hippos, so if you’d like to see how boring and gross they really are, ask her to show you one. Of course you won’t get the smell, but maybe we could leave a bottle of eggs and milk out in the sun for a few weeks, and then bring it in for effect? The babies are pretty cute, but a baby anything is cute, even crocodiles. Hippos, however, cause the most fatalities of any African animal, and are to be viewed from a safe distance, but why would you want to go closer?! PeeEww.

Can you spot the croc?

  On the way back from the hippo pool, we stopped at a watering hole, surrounded by thirsty zebra and wildebeest, but infested with crocodiles. We watched with big eyes and bated breath as groups of animals would come down to the waters’ edge, and the 15 foot long crocodile would slowly sink beneath the surface. More zebra would push up from behind, and the ones closest to the front would get pushed chest deep in the murky water, not two feet from the crocodile! It would snap, but they would all bolt, leaving it lurking hungrily.              Soon another group would make its way down to the water, a few would slurp at the water gingerly, anxiously, and then they would all crowd forward, splashing and gulping right beside the croc! The tension was almost unbearable, the cycle repeating itself over and over. Sink. Drink. Lunge. Flee. Wait. Of course, our guide fell asleep, his head in his arm on the sill of the open window. There were just countless numbers of animals running past, so it was only a matter of time before some unlucky zebra became dinner, but we had to leave, the sun already hanging low on the horizon. Another incredible day. After dinner we stood outside the tent, enjoying a family hug. The stars were so bright, and despite the occasional animal scream in the distance, I slept well.

  After an early tea, we headed out early the next morning for our last game drive in the Serengeti. The light was spectacular, and we gazed sleepily out at the giraffes and hot air balloons on the horizon. Within a few minutes of the camp, we pulled up behind a jeep that had parked on the side of the road. Another leopard! This time really close, up in the crook of a tree. The light was perfect, and we got some fantastic pictures and video. There was actually a mating pair, so after the one in the tree disappeared, we drove around the corner, spotting the other leopard in another tree, but further away. Just a few minutes later, we came across a pack of hyena, some more lions, massive herds of wild elephants, and so on…Just so many animals!

  We returned to camp for a late breakfast, and then packed up for the drive back to the Ngorongoro Crater. On the way out of the park, we played chicken with a family of elephants on a dusty track in an ocean of undulating grass. Just before the park entrance, Su screamed “STOP!”, and so the driver locked up all four wheels as we skidded to a halt on the gravel road. Backing up, we spotted the impala that had caught Su’s eye. It had a large chunk of a bush stuck on its antler, so much that you couldn’t see it’s face at all! Just a green, leafy bush with legs, stumbling through the long grass. We laughed and laughed.

  Our last night of the safari was spent in the clouds, on the rim of the crater. Brrrr. After another fantastic dinner, we played cards with some girls from Toronto. They were pretty funny, screaming at every little insect, and grilling their guide about all the dangerous and poisonous critters. We bundled up in all of our layers, as the dense fog was brutally cold. We turned in early, snuggling up in the little canvas tent. Besides a wild buffalo and some giant wild boars, the last night was quiet.                                                      

                                                      The last day was going to be a fairly long one. We packed the jeep for the last time, later than we had hoped, and started the drive around the crater rim to the entrance. The road down into the crater is steep and twisty, and I was very glad the rains had ended early this year. The Ngorongoro Crater is a World Heritage site. It has the highest biomass of large mammals anywhere in the world. The lake at the bottom of the crater provides a constant water source throughout the year, and the volcanic soil is so rich that the resident elephants here have the largest tusks in the world! Some of the highlights are the massive flamingo population, the large numbers of lions, and the extremely rare Black Rhino. The rhino was the last one of ‘The Big Five’ that we hadn’t seen yet, so we had our eyes peeled. There was a lot of radio chatter between the different jeeps, so it wasn’t long before we joined the group of jeeps along the road closest to a lone rhino in the distance. Much too far away to get a descent picture, but we were glad to have seen another very rare animal.

  We were all getting a little bit jaded by this time. Just like in the Cirque Du Solei, there is only so much ‘Wow’, that you can soak in. That’s why they have the comic interludes with the clowns…So while we were watching a pride of lions just outside the jeep, I happened to look down at Raven, and there she was playing a game on her IPod! I kind of freaked out… ‘There are lions Right There! Why are you playing on your IPod?!’ But I get it. We’d already seen over 30 lions, as well as thousands and thousands of other exotic animals, so she was taking a break… She was giving me the silent treatment as we prepared to start the drive back to Arusha, but then we came across two big male lion’s right next to the road. This is the closest we’ve ever been to one of these massive cats. My head was no more than 8 feet from a lions’ jaws, an easy pounce away! Totally surreal, exciting and frightening all at the same time. I managed to get Raven to paste a fake smile on her face just long enough to get some pictures for prosperity.

  We snoozed for most of the trip back, bouncing along for hours. The kids from New York were still at the hostel, so we had a nice warm welcome with games, beer, and stories. We only had one day to rest, do laundry, email, and arrange bus tickets back to Nairobi. We did a little last minute souvenir shopping, even haggling for some paintings from the bus window as we pulled out. We had opted for an early bus, so that we wouldn’t be getting into Nairobi after dark, which ended up being pointless. Our host family was out of town for the day, so we spent 7 hours in a restaurant watching sports on TV, waiting for them to come pick us up. We had one last night with them, showing them some pictures and telling stories during commercial breaks. Crap TV is still a big hit in most of the world…It’s easy to forget when you’ve been away from it for a while. The next morning we went to the National Museum, a fascinating display of East African flora and fauna, political history, and the ancient remains of the earliest humans.

  On the way to the museum, we had stopped for fuel. We gave them enough for a half tank of gas but as we drove away, Nancy noticed how little the gas gauge had risen. They happened to be good friends with the owner of the gas station, and sure enough, the attendant had shorted them 1000 shillings by not resetting the pump. Sneaky. Not only do you have to be worried about robberies and car-jacking, but you have to be on guard while getting gas! After lunch they drove us out to the airport, where we said our goodbyes. East Africa had exceeded all expectations, and would forever tempt                                                                                                         me to return.

Egypt is another place we have all dreamed of, and it was only a five hour flight away!

PS: The Nairobi airport has since suffered a major fire, and our last memories of Nairobi are now charred ruins. The first responders are under investigation after the ATM’s and bank safes were stolen while the building burned.

Kilimanjaro

  After seeing Su and Raven off at the bus station in Arusha, we started the hour long drive towards Machame gate, the starting point for my 7 day trek up Mt. Kilimanjaro. Before long, the equatorial snow of Uhuru Peak, the summit snowfield, came into view. The total absurdity of this iconic mountain is mesmerizing. The Geographical Society made a laughing stock of Johannes Rebmann, the missionary who reported a snow covered mountain in East Africa in 1848. I couldn’t help trying to snap a few pictures from the moving vehicle as we passed fields of palms, corn, and sunflowers. I started to get butterflies in my stomach as I gazed up at the highest peak I have ever even considered trying to summit. I hadn’t exactly been training for a 19 000 foot climb, and my knee had been sore ever since I had gotten carried away with the bike in Hampi, but I’m still in reasonably good shape, and more importantly, stubborn to the core, so I knew only a major injury would prevent me from summiting. General fitness levels really have minimal influence on the success rate on Kilimanjaro, because there is no way to prepare for the rapid gains in altitude. General mountaineering guidelines suggest not gaining more than 300 meters of elevation per day, but I would average 800 per day. The more time you can spend at elevation  the better, but some people just don’t acclimatize easily, no matter how fit.

Glasses case and mountain friendly sleeping bag?

  After reaching the gate, I joined the assorted groups of hikers, from other single climbers to a large group dressed in very new, right out of the box looking clothes, packs and boots. I waited and waited as the other groups started off up the trail. Eventually the office manager collected me, and I signed into the log book. Shortly after, we went up to the gate, where I was introduced to my guide, and the cook, and the three porters who would accompany us. There is no way to climb Kilimanjaro solo. You must have a guide, and the cook, and they each have a porter, which means we need another porter for all the food. That’s right…I needed a group of five people to ‘guide’ me along the trail to the summit! My only really concern was a decent sleeping bag. Our highest camp would be at 4600 meters, and it was going to be cold! The manager had assured me they would be ‘treating me like a baby’, ensuring I was comfortable and safe during the entire journey. I asked to inspect the sleeping bag they were providing, and was shocked when they produced a light summer bag, one that I wouldn’t even take on a summer camping trip in Canada! I was appalled, but was eager to get under way, so I shrugged it off, hoping the extra layers I had brought would be enough.

  The porters were still busy having their bags weighed, so the guide told me to go ahead, and that they would catch up with me. Fair enough. All the porters I had seen in Nepal were very fast, so I didn’t doubt that they would catch me in time for a late lunch on the trail, since all meals were provided from the moment I left the hostel. I started ascending through lush, semi-tropical cloud forest, enjoying the quiet and solitude. I was told that it would take 4-5 hours to reach the evening camp, so I settled into a steady pace, stopping occasionally to snap pictures of wild flowers and the dense, moss-covered foliage. I stopped for a water break, expecting to see my team any time, as I was getting hungry by now. I had brought some snacks and chocolate bars, but wanted to save them for the more challenging days to come, so I just pushed on. I was first to arrive at Machame Camp, arriving in less than four hours. I signed into the guest book, changed into some dry clothes, and patiently waited for my guide and porters. As the sun started to set, I spent time staring up at the golden light playing across the snow and rock towering above, and chatting with the other hikers, several of whom I would get to know quite well over the next six days. Finally, my guide arrived, but no porters. By 7:00, they had all arrived and set up my tent, and shortly after, produced some popcorn and tea, the first food I’d eaten since breakfast at 07:00 in the hostel. Not so confidence inspiring, but I chocked it up to first day confusion. Just before 8:00, I finally sat down to a full meal, and then tucked up into my thin sleeping bag. I woke up cold around midnight, and put on some extra clothes. There was a layer of frost on the tent in the morning, and I started to get worried about my lack of adequate gear. I had more layers that I could sleep in, but wanted to add more each night as we went higher. Luckily Rick, an American ER nurse who had been working at a hospital in rural Kenya, had a bivy bag that I could borrow. I can’t thank him enough, because it would have been a very different experience if it weren’t for the extra insulation.

  The second day was stunning. I stayed with my guide for a while, but his pace was uncomfortably slow, so I left him behind to find a natural pace, this time equipped with a packed lunch box. One of the most incredible aspects of the Kilimanjaro climb is the number of distinct climate zones you ascend through. I quickly left the dense cover of the cloud forest, emerging into a sparse alpine ecosystem. The trees were stunted, the soil much drier, and vistas of the lower slopes opened up. Soon a thick fog rolled in, imparting mystical qualities to the steep, rocky trail. I didn’t see anyone else for an hour at a time, just the occasional porter struggling slowly upwards, navigating ravines and slippery stream crossings with bulky loads balanced precariously on their heads. I was first to sign in again, before settling down to enjoy the magnificent view from Shira Camp, a wide open site facing the distant cone of Mt. Meru. A few of us gathered to chat near a cliff face, just down from the camp, and when I was finally called back for dinner, I was facing a large collection of capable looking mountaineering tents, low and stable. I then realized that my tent was a flimsy, Canadian Tire style tent, standing in stark contrast to all the others. The large groups even had large dining tents, complete with lights! As I tried to open the fly, the zipper jammed. I was trying to gently wiggle it loose when my guide showed up. He reached down and pulled the two sides violently apart, breaking the zipper beyond repair! He turned to Rick and I, shrugged his shoulders, and walked away without saying a word! Things weren’t looking good…

  Thanks to Rick’s over-bag, I slept soundly, waking refreshed and eager to see what the day would bring. After another hearty breakfast, we resumed our ascent, cresting the ridge into a boulder field of epic proportion. Almost immediately, it was clear that we were entering into the alpine desert, devoid of plant life, except for the most resilient lichens. We were heading for the ‘Lava Tower’ for lunch, a high point of 4600 meters, before dropping back down to a mere 3900 meters to the nights camp. With glaciers hanging above our heads, we skirted the base of the cone, following a faint, dusty trail that disappeared into the distance. As we approached the Lava Tower, I felt great, no headache or nausea, so I picked up the pace, curious to see how my body would respond at this elevation. I left everyone behind, striding quickly, but mindfully, up the last steep incline. Within a minute, my heart rate had settled down to a steady, barely perceptible thumping in my belly. 15,000 feet, and No Problems! As the rest of the groups arrived, I dug into my lunch box for some tasty roasted chicken, fruit, juice, sandwiches, and biscuits, enjoying the sun, basking in the feelings of contentment and well -being. After about an hour, we set off down the loose rocky trail to our third camp, nestled amongst the lobelia flowers, Tanzania’s largest flower.

  The weather had been perfect so far, which was lucky, because I had to wait an hour and 45 minutes for my porters to show up! If it had been cold and rainy, I would have been pretty miserable. Rick’s tent was already set up when I got in, first again, but he was only a few minutes behind me. Shortly after, I watched enviously as his cook brought over tea and popcorn. I found a quiet spot out of the wind to meditate, using the time to reconnect, refresh, and come to terms with the fact that my team was really dropping the ball. The porters didn’t even go up to the Lava Tower, but took a shortcut, keeping to lower elevations, as they had less of a need to acclimatize, since none would tackle the summit. I really couldn’t fathom how they could be so slow! The Nepalese porters practically run along the trails, reaching 4000 meters in flip-flops! Eventually they showed up, setting up my crappy, broken tent, and then serving up another wonderful meal. I was still warm at night, sleeping well, and the food was great, so I was still optimistic things would work out. A few of the other trekkers came over and we chatted about travelling, trekking, and the challenge of the Barranco Wall, looming over head.

  Day four starts off with the most technical section of the entire trek. It’s about an hour of scrambling up a fairly steep rock face, occasionally requiring the use of hands to pull yourself up, hug the wall, or squeeze through a tight spot. This was my favorite section of the approach, and it was over all too quickly. After another couple of hours along a gently rolling trail, we came to our lunch stop. Some groups just continued on, but my cook prepared a massive hot lunch, so I was there for an hour and a half. I suspect that they were just trying to slow me down, so the porters could catch up! There was so much food that I almost needed a nap afterwards. The final push up to the base camp is steep and barren, with stunning views of the ravines and ridges sloping away, small towns and fields below, stretching away to the horizon. As I reached the camp at 4600 meters, I was still feeling great. I did 30 push-ups, just to see if I could in the thin air. Their plan seemed to have worked, because the porters showed up shortly after me, and I changed into some warm clothes and had some tea and popcorn, the usual, delicious, pre-dinner snack. I climbed up away from the camp, just to help with acclimatization, and sat down to meditate again. After reminding myself to be patient and aware, visualizing a successful summit, and filling my lungs to capacity with oxygen and prana, I felt so alive, confident and connected.

  My guide went over the summit approach plan with me after dinner. They would wake me at 11:30 with tea and biscuits, and we would be climbing by midnight. It usually takes 6 hours up to the crater rim, at Stella Point ( 5756 meters), and then another hour to walk along the rim to the summit at Uhuru peak. At this point, I was very specific. ‘Are you sure it will take 6 hours?’ I had been taking at least an hour less than their lowest estimated arrival times for each camp, and didn’t want to start at midnight if I didn’t need to. ‘No. No. Six hours. Pole, pole  (Slowly, slowly)’. OK then, midnight it is. The sun should be coming up as we walk along the rim, illuminating the largest expanse of horizon visible anywhere on the planet! Let’s do this!

  Wake up came abruptly, after only a few hours of restless sleep. The girl in the tent next to me had been coughing all night. I left everything except extra layers, water, camera, and headlamps in the tent, checked my trekking poles, and we were walking at 0:00 exactly. The moon was approaching full, so we made good time under moonlight alone for the first hour. The trail continued to steepen as we started picking our way through another massive boulder field. I stayed behind my guide, matching his pace, step for step. The boulders were casting long shadows at our feet, so we both turned our headlamps on. I noticed how dim his light was, and before I knew it, we were zigzagging up loose scree slopes, obviously lost, as his lamp died completely! I offered him my spare headlamp, not impressed with being lost at 5000 meters, having to expend extra energy scrambling through loose, broken rock. We found the trail, but were soon lost again, fighting for breath and for footing. His only comment was:  ‘Don’t worry. Every way is a good way. They all go up!’ Grrrr. We stopped for a water break, and I put on an extra layer under my parka, as it was getting surprisingly cold. I still felt fine; no headache or nausea, so we pushed on, pole, pole. I could see lights behind us, getting closer and closer as we continued to get lost, finding ourselves in loose gravel several  more times.  I started to get some cramps, and it became obvious that I was experiencing some loss of cognitive ability. Balance became more and more challenging, and I was glad that I had kept my trekking poles from Nepal. I kept a nice slow, steady pace, tunnel vision focused on my boots, and before I knew it, we crested the rim, and the sign for Stella Point was gleaming in the light from our headlamps. We stopped for another water break, but in the back of my mind, I was starting to wonder why we were here so early. It was only 04:00, and we didn’t have far to go. Maybe there was a hut up here, where we could stay warm, and wait for the sun to come up? Another solo trekker, Paul, from Nanaimo, and his guide were suddenly on the scene. It had been their lights I had noticed earlier. We laughed at how impaired we were feeling, and rested for a few minutes before carrying on along the snowy crater rim. I became even more thankful that I’d brought trekking poles, because the hard packed snow was uneven and slippery, dimpled with boot tracks from recent days that had re-frozen overnight. The stars were unbelievable! I’ve been out on the boat in some isolated parts of the coast, out in the desert away from city lights, but I have NEVER seen starts like that! It was nearly impossible to pick out any constellations, because there were clouds of stars. The Milky Way was a bright band of light stretching from one horizon to the other. Absolutely awestruck!

  My official summit time is 04:41 AM…Initially elated to be standing on the highest point in all of Africa, I quickly realized that there was no hut to comfortably await the warming rays of the sun. ‘Why are we here so early?!’ We just got blank stares.

 ‘I didn’t come all the way up here to take a picture of a sign in the dark! I could find that on the internet! I came up here to watch the sun come up over Africa!!!’

‘Oh, no. We can’t stay up here. The sun doesn’t come up for nearly two hours!’

‘Ha! I’m not going anywhere! The plan was to be here at 6:30! Why are we HERE?!’

  Paul and I bundled up, ducking under a ledge of rock at the summit, and waited a full two hours for the sun to come up. After about an hour, the sky started to lighten, then brighten. Eventually more and more people started to arrive. Rick and his guide showed up, obviously worried. Our guides had gone back down to Stella Point, and Rick’s guide was trying to get us to walk further, to a viewpoint over-looking the glaciers, to help warm us up. We were lucky, as the wind was still light, and although we were pretty cold, we weren’t in danger of frost bite or hypothermia. I was pretty comfortable, with my Hawaiian shirt wrapped around my face, and my legs buried under my empty backpack. I had only brought two pairs of thin work gloves, the ones with a rubberized palm and stretchy fabric on the back, so I had to keep my hands in my pockets, but by the color of the sky, I knew the heat of the sun would be arriving soon. I could barely imagine what Uhuru Peak would look like without any glaciers, but I’m glad I was able to see it in all its glory. What a gift. As the sun broke over the horizon, I got up to do some yoga, warming my body, and giving thanks. I had been focusing on the Warrior on the way up; the Strength, Determination and Awareness of the Warrior. There had been moments when the voice of the Opposer had piped up. ‘Why are you doing this? What’s the point? Do you really need to keep going?’ I gently quieted the chatter, allowing my True Self to carry me onwards, past the limitations of minor physical discomfort, towards the larger goal, fulfilment of a life-long dream, and the sense of accomplishment that would accompany it. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Namaste

My soul honors your soul.

I honor the place in you where

the entire universe resides.

I honor the light, love, truth,

beauty and peace within you,

because it is also within me.

In sharing these things,

We are united, we are the same.

We are one.

  After jockeying for some photo opportunities as the sun rose higher into the pastel sky, I left as soon as possible. I literally ran down towards Stella Point, generating some body heat, and inhaling more and more oxygen with every step. The decent was brutal. After dropping down off of the crater rim, we started step-sliding down through all the loose scree we had struggled up against. Before too long, my legs were screaming, and I tried not to focus on the base camp, visible in the distance, far, far below. We were back at camp by 8:30, and I don’t think I even took my boots off, I just laid down and passed out. I slept for three hours, waking for an early lunch before packing up for the rest of the days decent. I had another four hours of walking to the last camp of the trek. We would eventually descend 2800 meters, after the 1200 meter climb to the summit. That’s right. Four kilometers of elevation change in 24 hours. Ouch. Everyone coming into camp that night wore an exhausted grimace, knees shaking, thighs burning, but each one had a contented light shining from their eyes.

  That night, my guide came and sat awkwardly in my tent.

‘So... Did they talk to you about tips in the office?’

Ah. Here we go. The tourism industry in Tanzania is an anomaly. No-where else in the world do you negotiate and settle on a price, only to have everyone involved expect a large ‘tip’ at the end. I had read that 10% of the total cost is reasonable. The guys in the office told me $5 per day for each porter, $8-10 per day for the cook, and $10-15 per day for the guide. Even at the low end, that works out to over 16%. Now the guide is telling me they want $8 per porter, and so on and so on, basically getting as much as they can, almost 30% of the original cost, as a ‘tip’. I told him I would pay them all at the gate, when we were finished the trek.

‘Oh. Well, the porters are starting another trek tomorrow, so we need to leave here by 07:00, so they have time to get to the next job.’

  I had actually paid for 7 days, but was comfortable going up in six. As it turns out, there couldn’t have been much choice, because the porters were working again on the sixth day! My sixth day, someone else’s first day…Hmm. Double dipping. Instead of reflecting on my success, enjoying the last night on the mountain, I spent the entire night trying to decide how much to ‘tip’ my team. Sure these guys work hard, but it’s a good job in Tanzania. Why should I double their wages with a ‘tip’? While not a ‘worst case scenario’, the experience had been less than flawless. Every single day, my porters were the last into camp. That means every single day my tent was up last, and I ate dinner after everyone else. The sleeping bag was a major issue, but more for the guys in the office who had sent it out. Then there was the whole no-headlamp-getting -lost scenario. I ended up paying the porters and cook in the morning, on the low side, but still a wad of Tanzanian shillings. I told the guide that I would pay him at the gate, and set off after breakfast alone, enjoying the last few hours of solitude. It didn’t take him long to catch up to me, and we started what was to be a long, drawn out, escalating conversation about tips…I tried to start off by asking how well he thought they had performed, compared to the other trekking companies. He didn’t really bite. I explained what ‘tips’ mean in Canada; how it’s a voluntary payment to reward exceptional service. Still complaining. Finally, I had to bring up the fact that he had NO Light, and that we got lost repeatedly. I didn’t need to pay someone to take me up a difficult route. I could have done that on my own. The entire trek was just following a trail, but the summit push is where the guide should be in control. And why the Hell did we get there so early?! We had a plan. Did we stick to the plan?

‘No…’

That’s right. No. When I make a mistake at work, I don’t expect to get paid extra for it.

All in all, climbing Kilimanjaro really was a dream come true. It was yet another opportunity to explore my personal limits, and gain a new perspective. It’s just a shame that this attitude of entitlement has to overshadow the accomplishment and simple joy of exploring this exceptional place.