Kilimanjaro My experience climbing to the summit of the 19,341 foot “roof of Africa” was a great adventure with my 62 year old father that made me realize I can succeed in everything if I work hard enough. Nothing I had accomplished before contained even the slightest trace of verisimilitude to this almost alien climb. Climbing Kilimanjaro was an unforgettable experience that I love reflecting back on. I not only cherish the exultation of reaching the summit, but I also look back fondly at miserable moments of the trip such as sitting inside a muddy tent as a slightly better alternative to standing in the misty rain or becoming a worldlier person by socializing with our Tanzanian guides and porters. I hope I can reflect on the wide range of
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It was the poorest town I had ever seen. Everybody was busy working, and yet they were living in poverty worse than almost any unemployed Americans.
We spent most of the ensuing two days checking over our gear, practicing with strange things like crampons for ice climbing, and adjusting to the new time schedule. We learned that although we did not pay for a private trip (which would have cost a fortune), we had one due to the irrational fear of Ebola, an epidemic in West Africa thousands of miles away. Our head guide told us he was worried about Tanzania’s economy because of Americans fear of Ebola. “Africa’s a big place, not one country.” We also started taking Diamox (a drug that helps with altitude acclimatization). It had the unpleasant side effects of making our fingers tingle and increasing the amount of times we had to go to the bathroom which would become more unpleasant in freezing nights ahead.
The following day, an army of twenty porters and two guides arrived in a monster high-wheeled truck to take us to the base of the mountain. Looking at our team of perfect specimens with bulging muscles, my confidence soared. I felt we were leading an army into
It was the poorest town I had ever seen. Everybody was busy working, and yet they were living in poverty worse than almost any unemployed Americans.
We spent most of the ensuing two days checking over our gear, practicing with strange things like crampons for ice climbing, and adjusting to the new time schedule. We learned that although we did not pay for a private trip (which would have cost a fortune), we had one due to the irrational fear of Ebola, an epidemic in West Africa thousands of miles away. Our head guide told us he was worried about Tanzania’s economy because of Americans fear of Ebola. “Africa’s a big place, not one country.” We also started taking Diamox (a drug that helps with altitude acclimatization). It had the unpleasant side effects of making our fingers tingle and increasing the amount of times we had to go to the bathroom which would become more unpleasant in freezing nights ahead.
The following day, an army of twenty porters and two guides arrived in a monster high-wheeled truck to take us to the base of the mountain. Looking at our team of perfect specimens with bulging muscles, my confidence soared. I felt we were leading an army into