That’s some mountain

Niki Bannister

This summer, my father, Wayne Bannister, and I conquered the

legendary Mt. Kilimanjaro in Tanzania, Africa. We had previously

climbed the Grand Tetons in Wyoming and hiked every weekend when I

was home from college. But nothing quite prepared me for all of the

emotions I would encounter: excitement, fear, doubt and joy.

After flying to Kenya and experiencing a spectacular safari, our

journey to climb the mountain began. We drove early in the morning

toward Marungu, Tanzania. This country is a distant and mysterious

place to most people. But it will always have a special place in my

heart. It is there that I was able to discover myself on a mountain.

Mt. Kilimanjaro stands 5,895 meters in the sky. It’s one of the

seven summits and has long lured many with its breathtaking hike

through the elements.

Day one: Our group set off with our guides from Nale Moru (1,950

meters). It was a half day’s walk through farmland and forest to

reach first camp at the edge of the Moorland Zone (2,600 meters). The

guides explained that it would be important to walk “pole pole”

(“slowly slowly”) up the mountain because of the altitude. The key to

having a successful climb was to let your body adjust.

Day two: We progressed to “second cave” at 3,400 meters. From

there, we could see the eastern ice fields on the rim of Kibo, the

highest of the three volcanoes and our final destination. After

lunch, we trekked toward the jagged peaks of Mawenzi and reached camp

in the late afternoon at a sheltered valley near Kikelewa Caves

(3,600 meters).

Day three: It was a long and hard hike to Mawenzi Tarn (4,330

meters). Here you could see the superb panoramas of the plains across

the border in Kenya. The night seemed to wrap itself around us so

that you could almost reach up and grab the stars from the sky. I’ve

never seen anything like it.

Day four: We left our attractive campsite to cross the lunar

desert of the “saddle” between Mawenzi and Kibo to reach Kibo

campsite (4,700 meters). It was like Grand Central Station there.

Before, we were one of a few groups on the trail and it felt like our

own adventure, just the mountain and us. Now, it was 100 others and

us.

Day five: The final ascent began at midnight. The rest of the

evening was quiet, with everyone contemplating if we would be able to

make it. This part, by far, was the steepest and most demanding part

of the climb.

When we headed off I tried to keep my spirits high, but my stomach

had butterflies. I didn’t know what to expect from me and from the

mountain. The trail was a series of switchbacks through loose

volcanic scree to reach the crater rim at Gillman’s Point (5,685

meters).

As I write this, I can barely describe it. Picture looking up and

seeing an endless vertical succession of shadows with single lights

moving slowly back and forth. Then, listen to the shuffling and

scraping of the boots on the ground. People were breathing heavily

and getting sick. Some even turned back to go down the mountain. I

just kept on going. I told myself to keep pushing to the next rest

stop and to take one step at a time.

I dug deep and found the drive to do it. I went the last few

hundred feet to Gilman’s Point with the sun slowly rising. It renewed

my hope and energized me.

Many people stop at this point. But I couldn’t have gone all that

way and not tried to make it to the true peak.

From there, it was a three-hour round trip along the rim to Uhuru

Peak (5,896 meters). At this time, the rest of our group was

exhausted and decided to go back down. It was just my dad and I.

Along the way, there were times I doubted I would make it. But as

we passed others who had gotten there, they just smiled and simply

said congratulations. It made me feel like everyone up there was

connected in some way. Once the sign came into vision, I began to

cry. I cried because I was exhausted physically and mentally.

It was amazing that I could do this and to do it with my dad. Time

seemed to be at a standstill up there. The few moments that I spent

up there felt like a lifetime filled with happiness, triumph and joy.

The whole day lasted 15 hours. We came to camp at Horombo (3,720

meters), and day six consisted of a sustained descent to the National

Park gate at Marangu (1,830 meters).

This was simply a trip of a lifetime that I was able to make at

the young age of 20. I am forever grateful to have been able to do

something so metamorphic.

Fittingly, Uhuru Peak means freedom peak. After conquering it, you

have a sense of freedom from all that you thought was impossible and

it gives you the strength and motivation to venture out and try

anything.

Now, I’m back in the real world. I’ve taken all that I’ve learned

on this trip and I’m applying it to my life as a pre-med student at

the University of Illinois in Urbana-Champaign.

* NIKI BANNISTER is a resident Newport Beach.