Africa pt. I: Mt. Kenya

Morning Meditation as the sun begins to hit the East face on Mt. Kenya.

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The Backstory

The desire to climb the standard North Face on Mt. Kenya started - as do most of these things - with a text. This time, the text I received came from Ryan Marsters, a climbing partner and friend who lives in Golden, CO and who I met (like most of my adventure buddies out here) through the Minions. I believe the initial text was sent to Derek and I who joins me on many of these adventures, and I quickly went on Mtn Project to dig into the objective.

The description reads as such:

"A classic, gutsy alpine climb right on equatorial East Africa. This is a bold, sometimes burly but constantly beautiful route that takes you to the roof of Kenya where jaw-dropping scenery sprawls beneath you in all directions. Any route on this African beast demands some mocksy--so quick is the word and sharp is the action. Embrace this old-school, rugged adventure of a lifetime"

I pinged Ryan back before even finishing the first paragraph: "Dude, I'm 10000% in."

And thus began the better part of a year journey to map out how we would go about tackling this burly objective. Unlike many of the climbs we've now done around the world, this one would require an additional layer of attentiveness and care that at least I was not as used to. This was not due to the difficulty of the route, but the simple fact that I had never been to Africa, had to hire a guide, or dealt with the level of logistical challenges that would confront us on such an expedition.

This trip started as described above: Ryan, Derek and I would travel to Africa and tackle Mt. Kenya and then hop over the border to climb Kilimanjaro (which I will write about in a later blog post). As with any trip, things shifted over time.

The first shift was my friend and mentor Bill Wright getting a whiff of our idea. Bill - at 63 - is still as hungry or hungrier to climb than anyone I have ever met. He immediately asked to join the trip and we immediately obliged him. Of course we wanted Bill to come along! Bill's tick-list rivals just about anyone out there, from 8,000 meter peaks, to hard trad climbs, 5.12 sport and Nose In a Day (NIAD) romps up El Capitan with Hans Florine, Bill has done it all. His wealth of experience would be more than welcomed on a trip like this, both during the planning stages as well as execution.

Shortly after this, our friend and fellow Minion David Alexander got word of the trip and wanted in himself. David is one of the most unassuming but badass crushers I have ever met. His resume is incredible. He has hit the high point in every single state in the US. That means he has not only traveled to every state, but also summited the tallest peak in each one as well, from 20,000ft Denali in Alaska to the puny Britton Hill (447) in Florida. David moved to Nevada to pursue a job in the geomapping space, but was a 'regular' Minion and always a familiar face on the trails and rock surrounding Boulder in the many years before he moved.

So, the team was finally set, right? Well...not quite.

Turns out some folks are in these things called 'relationships' where they append themselves to someone of the opposite sex and go about their life together. Weird, I know. While unfamiliar to me, every single of my team members were in one of these things. The women got word of what was sure to be a testosterone-fueled, raucous group of men ridden with summit-fever and wanted to tag along for the ride.

In all honesty - and as I expressed to the group - I was very hesitant about this. I envisioned a boys trip much like the one many of the women feared: we would be climbing until our fingers bled, running until our legs wanted to give out only to suss out the best local dive bars and crank pints of Tusker Lager until we did the same thing again the next day. Wash, rinse and repeat for 15 days and I figured we had a hell of a trip in front of us.

The introduction of women - and significant others, no less - was discomforting to me, and I actually balked at going on the trip entirely, but wound up agreeing to a group Zoom meeting in early June to get everyone's thoughts and decide one way or another.

After meeting with everyone I quickly realized this could work. I could have my mountain adventure I was craving and do it with a larger group of SOs. As adamant as I was against in the beginning, I think it is a testament to how highly I thought of all the SOs after doing our Zoom call. The quality of women, along with the fact that the main objective - climbing Mt. Kenya - would just be done by us, had me confident that everything would work out.

After much deliberation, the group was now as follows:

Myself: Most recently I am a Client Development Director at a tech/data company based out of Chicago. I am not particularly good at any one thing, but find so much joy in the doing of all those things. I live in Boulder, CO and am 31.

Bill Wright: Software engineer at Oracle/professor at CU Boulder. Bill is currently pitching his department head to teach an entire course on the book and major motion picture "The Martian" and teach his class all the science that is involved - how cool! Superior CO, 63 years old

Sherri Wright: Sherri is recently retired, but was also a SWE at Oracle. Sherri is one of only 2 or 3 (?) people in Boulder, CO who have ever "gridded' both Flagstaff and Green Mountain. This means she has summited each peak on every single calendar day of the year (including February 29th), though this of course is over time and not in the same year. An incredible accomplishment and testament to her discipline as an athlete. Sherri is Bill's wife, is 58 (?) and lives in Superior, CO.

Derek Wright: Like parents, like son. Derek is a SWE at Blue Origin. In my limited understanding, Derek writes code that helps launch satellites into space and is working on the Amazon's competitor to Elon's Starlink product. Derek lives in Seattle, WA, and is 26 years old.

Renee Bialas: Renee is a SWE (are you noticing a theme here?) working at Google and focuses on geomapping. A fun story here was that Renee killed some hyper-niche product on Google Maps that David was obsessed with using; this caused some good-natured friction when he found out during our trip and he jokingly didn't speak to her for some time. Renee lives with Derek in Seattle, WA, and 25 years old. I had never met Renee before this trip. Renee is Derek's BF.

Ryan Marsters: Ryan is a tunnel engineer (a REAL engineer) specializing in geologic hazards. Ryan went to the esteemed Colorado School of Mines and according to his LinkedIn graduated with a 4.0 GPA (I'm skeptical). Ryan became my primary climbing partner (though I am almost certainly not his) when Derek moved to Seattle. From a velocity perspective, he probably climbs more pitches in a calendar year than almost anyone I know. Ryan is based in Golden, CO and is 35.

Alex Warren: Alex is also a School of Mines girlie, and is also a tunnel engineer. In my mind they met when Alex got stuck in a cave-in and Ryan saved her life. Because for the life of me, I cant imagine anyone dating Ryan for any other reasons than the feeling of a deep indebtedness. I only met Alex a few times before this trip. Alex lives with her boyfriend Ryan in Golden, CO, aged 29.

David Alexander: David is a GIS (Geographic Information Systems) engineer. I already gave David's fun fact above, so he doesn't get one here - sorry David. After living in the front range for many years, David moved to Nevada. Aged 34.

Zoe Bernard: I found out what Zoe does when she joined the trip for the Kilimanjaro portion later on once back in the Nairobi area (Zoe was not with us during Mt. Kenya) when she said she writes about "sex and capitalism." I grinned and could practically see the hair stand up on Bill's neck and knew we'd be in for some good bouts on the pros and inevitable pitfalls of capitalism. I think Zoe is my age and lives in LA. Zoe is David's gf.

From left to right: Sherri, Bill, Renee, Derek, Myself, Alex, Ryan and David. (Zoe did not join for Mt. Kenya). This was taken at the Sirimon Gate entrance to the national park with a starting elevation of 8,694 feet.

I included occupations and ages/locations here because I wanted to emphasize what an incredibly unique and eclectic bunch we were (minus all the nerd SWEs), and how powerful the mountains can be in their ability to mesh together disparate individuals.

Now that we had our team together we started going through the laborious task of finding the right guides. My opinions on guides, generally speaking, went as follows: "Why the hell do we need guides to do a hike?"

While it felt ridiculous to have to get a guide (both Mt. Kenya and Kilimanjaro legally require them) I begrudgingly accepted this reality and immediately started texting friends who had adventured in those areas searching for the fastest guides possible. I'll skip over many of the details surrounding this, but suffice it to say Ryan led the charge and did it with an incredible amount of tact, patience, and efficiency. Communicating and negotiating with guides across the world and who speak English as a second (or third) language is trying, to say the least, and we really owed Ryan a huge debt for his tackling that.

The other main point of discussion that I will only briefly touch on here was logistics outside of guides, order of operations for climbs, and the actual route we would climb.

We had heard from a local Boulder crusher Maury Birdwell (I think Bill talked to him?) about a the North Face route on Batian, with the start being the Southeast Face of Mt. Nelion. I'm pretty sure Maury solo'd it with Alex Honnold a few years before us, so with that in mind and hearing how badass the route was, we doubled-down and decided this was it.

Much of the planning now was gear related. How can we be as light and fast as possible? Who is putting what in their packs for plane travel? How many ropes do we need? Did we want multiple 60's? Could we get away with single 70s? Do we need ice axes for the potential glacier travel? What groups do we want to climb in? For the group in three, how do we want to set up our simul system? How many pair of rock shoes do we bring? Just one pair of TC pros to save weight? How much food and gels should we bring from home, knowing we probably can't get GU and Honey Stinger in Nairobi? Do we rappel from the notch to get onto the main route, or do we go around onto the glacier, as one guide mentioned being a possibility? If we do rappel, we would need to ascend that same rope after since the climbing is too difficult. How many ascendors should we bring? Jake, have you ever even ascended a fixed line before, you absolute plebeian?

LOTS of discussion and back-and-forths ensued here. We decided on the following agenda:

Fly to Nairobi. Den-->Pairs-->Nairobi. Both flights were nearly equivalent in terms of duration at 9 hours each. From there, we would get to the Gate and hike up to Old Moses Hut-->Shipton-->Austrian Hut (High Camp)-->summit Nelion via the SouthEast face-->Jump onto the North face of Batian--> eventually descend to Bandas (bougier cabins).

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Mt. Kenya

Now that we had our team, guide, and logistics set, we were off!

We all arrived in Nairobi and made it to Severine Cottages which were far more luxurious than anything we imagined, but felt undeserved at this point in the trip since we had only been traveling and didn't feel as though we earned such nice accommodations.

Sherri and I, with Renee in the background, outside our cottages. We were thrilled at the luxurious level of these accommodations after so much traveling.

We got in around 2am and had to pack and be out the door by 6 or so, so needless to say we did not get a ton of sleep that night. Packing here was a unique experience for pretty much all of us: since we would have porters shlepping our larger packs, we focused on what we would want to bring in our day packs, and less about what we would be giving our porters to carry. Since they were carrying all of our gear, I - with only a tinge of guilt - included my larger hardcover book I had been reading, as well as a small flask of whiskey (for David and I), and a few other treats I normally wouldn't bring due to weight issues.

Above: An overview of the 276 square mile Mt. Kenya National Park. This puts it on par with some medium-sized US national parks. For reference, Yellowstone is nearly 3,500 sq miles, whereas Zion is 229 sq miles.

On December 19th we began the long drive to the Sirimon Gate where at least the physically demanding part of our adventure would begin. The travel itself was jarring and immediately eye-opening. I have spent time in many poverty-stricken places before, most notably during my homeless stint on the streets of Skid Row during college, as well as when I volunteered at Mother Teresa's Home for the Dying in Kolkata, India. It's hard to describe, but this seemed a different level of poverty. The slums and dilapidated buildings soon blended into one another as we went passed through village after village.

Simply put, the infrastructure was completely dilapidated. Incomplete construction projects consisting of poured concrete and makeshift frames adorned the highway, but torn banners and signposts indicated they hadn't been touched in years. Sticks - literal sticks - were used as scaffolding for workers to stand on as they built rare second stories. My dad would have been aghast at the lack of building code. For miles and miles there would be silence and then someone would point "Oh my god, look at this one," and I'd crane my neck to see more stick-scaffolding on a crumbling building. Little did I know at the time, but the drive we would take after Mt. Kenya from the Severine cottages to Moshi, Tanzania would be far, far worse.

...On a more funny note, the zoning laws in Kenya (and Tanzania) were hilarious. We tried finding the funniest combination of businesses we could. Some that were top tier included "Butchery & Hotel" "Spa & Butcher" (ask me about the Moshi spa story that Ryan dragged Alex and I to another time), and "Hotel & Feed."

We made it to the gate (picture of us a little above where I put the team description) and started organizing our belongings for what would be our first hut of the trip: Old Moses Camp. At one point the group excitedly pointed to the lawn while we ate lunch at a group of baboons prowling around.

I did not laugh.

I do not like Baboons. Or monkeys. Or orangoutangs or any of the other evolution-gone-awry offshoots of those freak animals. I don't like thinking about their big teeth or that they use their arms to walk or how they would howl from the woods as we hiked. And I certainly didn't like looking at their grubby little eyes fixating on my lunch. I think Justin Bieber was right in leaving his pet monkey in Germany when he did.

Our guide on Mt. Kenya. He ran a 62 minute half marathon. This equates to a 4 minute 43 second average mile time. Unfortunately this was pretty average for the village he was from, and not enough to build a career in running in Kenya.

After our hot lunch at the gate (we thought this was ridiculous...a hot lunch before a hike? Well, by the end of our trip we would get used to it: almost every meal we ate on both Mt. Kenya and Kilimanjaro was a hot meal outside of summit day on Kili) we trekked up a fairly boring, paved road to the first hut: Old Moses Camp.

An overview of our huts. We started at The Sirimon Gate, would trek to Old Moses (largely road), then up to Shipton and then Austrian Camp (high camp), summit Mt. Kenya and descend ~14 miles to the Mt. Kenya lodge.

We arrived and took a look around, and I thought 'd quote Bill and his writeup when talking about our hut and general sleeping conditions:

"We arrived at the hut -- a dim, depressing, concrete bunker. We'd spend three nights in such structures. It's nice to have shelter and lots of tables and chairs, but I much prefer the tents we were going to be using on Mt. Kilimanjaro."

I couldn't agree more. Though I thought I would favor the general warmth and ability to move around in a hut, by the time we hit Kilimanjaro I was thrilled to hear we would be sleeping in tents and not huts.

They weren't dirty or anything, but confined and dark, as Bill mentioned, and the lack of privacy was challenging. Having my own tent on Kili was a dream. I could talk to myself in peace once again without fear of judgement.

At the hut we hung out and immediately started playing cards. I introduced the team to the game of "Golf" on this first night and it became a game we frequently came back to throughout the trip. This night Bill also got into a heated climate change and energy discussion with a German guy who had the audacity to lecture us about our governmental energy strategy. A german! Lecturing us! Pot, kettle brother.

We would revisit this topic time and again given the recent approval of Bill's brother, Chris Wright, as Energy Secretary of the United States. Generally speaking, I loved having these discussions and appreciated the different points of view that different parties brought. That's one of the best parts about travel in general; hearing differing viewpoints from people you wouldn't normally interact with. Living in Boulder, CO, I generally find talking to more conservative folks refreshing, though I don't identify as one myself. But especially on a topic like energy, there is so much misinformation and, frankly, delusion (see: anything related to nuclear), that I enjoyed hearing Bill's retorts to the German's various points.

Us inside the hut. I would swear off instant coffee after this trip, but during would lather it in hot cocoa to make it a bit more palatable. Lots of cards were played, and Derek did a lot of losing.

On December 20th and from Old Moses Hut we continued hiking up to Shipton Hut which sits at 14,000ft. This hike was very enjoyable, and provided a lot more geographic diversity than the first saunter up to Old Moses. I was hiking alone for a while with Audioslave blasting in my headphones when I turned the corner and saw for the first time the snow-capped peaks we would bagging in just a few days. I was psyched! I gesticulated wildly to the group behind and began hollering. There should be a word for that; the feeling that overcomes you when - after many days of travel - you see the objective peak in plain sight for the first time.

Actually...I did a little research here. (Side note: Remember when 'research' meant something other than asking ChatGPT to give you an answer? Hey Google, YOU DROPPED THE BALL). What's the term for monopolistic tech company that gets lazy and let's a startup eat away at their market share?

Anyways, this is what I discovered:

​The profound emotion of first sighting your long-sought peak after days of travel can be encapsulated by the Swiss German-inspired term "Gipfelerlebnis." This neologism combines "Gipfel," meaning "peak" or "summit," with "Erlebnis," translating to "experience" or "adventure." Together, they convey the profound sensation of encountering the summit after an arduous journey.​

Etymology: "Gipfel" stems from the German word for "peak," while "Erlebnis" derives from "erleben," meaning "to experience."

Wow, I love it.

So, full of Gipfelerlebnis, I shouted and waved to Derek who joined me and looked up with astonishment at the summit. I couldn't help but think it looked a bit like the Tetons.

Photo by Bill. Our first view of the beast! I wanted to drop everything and run. What's a few more pounds for the porter, right?

We stopped for lunch...and a long stop it was. I'm going to focus my guide discussion for my Kilimanjaro recap, but let's just say I think the guiding companies are more used to catering to older, flatlander groups than a team of athletes from Colorado. I don't mean for that to sound pompous, I think its just the truth. The amount of selfie-sticks littering the trails on Kili more or less confirmed this for me...

The lunch was a hot lunch. We stopped by a creek and the porters began gathering all the cooking instruments while laying out a blanket for all of us to sit on. It was hilarious, actually, to eat a hot lunch. In all my years of climbing and hiking I honestly can say I don't think I have ever done that. As it turned out, the lunch itself was absolutely delicious. There was a vat of guacamole, fresh chapati, and a beef stew which I greedily slurped down.

The problem with hot lunches is that you get tired. I fell asleep on my pack and felt like a pouty, tired12 year old when Derek shook my shoulder to wake me up and start hiking again.

Chowing down creekside.

Derek hiking after lunch, surrounded by Giant Groundsels (Dendrosenecio species). I thought they were so cool and felt Alice-in-Wonderland-esque (could also have been the wild mushrooms I kept eating).

A few hours later we made it to Shipton Camp (14k ft.). I was psyched, and things started to feel real. When we first got to camp the mountains were socked in, but by twilight they started to rear their heads and we got the best view yet of our peaks.

A large Giant Lobelia plant with Mt Kenya in the background.

Looking back towards the Shipton hut and David.

An extremely rare cold lunch and one of the saddest sandwiches I ever did see. Ryan, laughing, and making the most of it. I would call him babooshka because of his headress during this trip.

Once at Shipton we settled into what would become our regular routine when we would get to camp:

• Unload our stuff and pick a bed.

• Nap, if one wanted. Since we hiked fast and the distance between camps wasn't long, we would typically arrive in the afternoon, so there was plenty of time for putzing around.

• Play cards (golf) or read books. In this case, I brought a book, funny enough, on the Eiger, Extreme Eiger, which chronicles the history of the the mountain, but most notably the early North Face attempts (I'm still obsessed with that mountain and want to go back). I also brought two books on tape (I realize that phrase dates me). The first was Matthew McConaughey's Green Lights, and the second Stieg Larsson's The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. I quickly picked these while driving in the van when Derek suggested I download some before losing service, and was so glad I did. Green Lights was funny and full of surprising wit and wisdom, and GWTDT was one I've read many times before, but is one of my all-time favorite books and so I threw it in. Dark, though. So, so dark....

• Chat with the other folks at the hut and hear their backstories.

• Journal. I did a lot of journaling and it felt really good throughout the entire trip. I used the same journal Mary Powers gave me when I was a teenager (!) and have kept more brief, bullet-point like takeaways during trips; just enough to jog the memory to write a fuller, later blogpost. It is embossed with my initials and features trails on the AT.

The next morning was Saturday, Dec 21st. That was the first night I slept really poorly, and I don't think anyone in our group slept particularly well. Sleeping at 14k feet is hard, and as tired as you are, sleep seldom comes with the depth that you want (and need).

A groggy team breakfast in Shipton hut. While the food wasn't always the best, nothing could more aptly describe the mentality towards meals than "quantity over quality."

The team atop Lanana. The guy on the far right was named Daniel, another German guy who sort of randomly just joined our group for the entirety of Mt Kenya. His dad was a long-time corporate lawyer and died early without having chased any of the dreams he often spoke of. Daniel pivoted, shunning corporate life and choosing that of a vagabond. Given how often he stopped to smoke a cigarette, I was impressed with his fitness. He was kind and I liked him.

That morning we started around 9am and hiked up a steep trail en route to bag our first real summit, Lanana, at 16,355 feet. There was a sign up there that said it was home to the highest via ferrata in the world, but we all sort of doubted it....though, maybe? Approaching the summit, David and I broke out in a sprint. We quickly stopped and started laughing...ahh, yes, altitude. I didn't really feel it up until this point because we were hiking so slowly, but running was a quick reminder we were, in fact, over 16k feet.

After tagging the summit we began the descent to our high camp: the Austrian Hut at 15,750ft. If we thought we slept poorly at the 14k ft. Shipton Hut, we were in for a rude awakening at the Austrian hut.

We got to the Austrian Hut and were herded like cats into the very back room of a 4-room hut. One door led to the entrance (major fire hazard, tried asking for a manager to discuss code but was met with blank stares), and then you had to pass through each other room to get to ours in the back.

The problem with being in the last room was that airflow was nonexistent here. On top of that, we were right next to the longer, rectangular room where the porters would cook dinner. They were cranking propane and we quickly all felt a bit dizzy from inhaling the fumes for so long. Finally, we were all likely a bit dehydrated from the days activities.

While not the best hut, this is where things started to get really exciting. I like hiking, and I think during this trip remembered just how valuable backpacking can be in and of itself. But I was in this trip for the climbing, and was stoked to get the ball rolling.

The guys who would be embarking on the 23-pitch rock climb in the morning decided to pack bags then and there, navigate to the the base of the climb and then leave a large trash bag full of all our gear to be able to go fast and light in the morning. We also used this time to check out the approach, the route itself, and even solo the first few easy pitches to get a sense of how things would go and try and see where the route would wander.

In Bill's writeup he notes: "We headed up to the start of the North Face route (20 pitches, 5.8). This route ascends to the second-highest summit, Nelion. To get to Bation we’d have to descend to the notch between the two peaks (leaving a fixed line for our return) and scramble up to the very summit."

He goes on:

"It had taken us only 35 minutes to get up there. We found the start and a few of us scrambled up the first 5.2 pitch. The terrain above looked complicated but moderate to easy. Most of the route was 5.6 or easier and we could envision at least the first few pitches. We had about 1200 vertical feet to climb, not counting the descent, re-ascent to Batian (and the return to Nelion). That sounded so manageable, even with the altitude. After downclimbing back to the ground, we stashed all the climbing gear in a big trash bag to protect it from any moisture. This turned out to be prescient, unfortunately."

In the distance, Nelion, with Batian obscured in the clouds just past it.

After dinner all nine of us went to bed on two bunkbeds that each (uncomfortably) slept 4 across. I barely slept a wink. The same was the case for everyone else in our group.

Now, unfortunately I had gotten up to pee at one point in the middle of the night and gone outside, and what awaited me was my worst nightmare: snow, and lots of it. It was coming down sideways to the point I had to make sure I was peeing in the right direction so as not to blast my fancy new Black Diamond insulated pants (best purchase....I wore these around the camp every night, slept in them, and even started Kili in them when it was frigid).

As I relieved myself I looked up to at the blurry stars (pre-LASIK) and prayed a silent prayer that the snow would stop, the sun would come out and we'd be flying across dry rock in the morning. I laid back down for what seemed like 5 minutes before my alarm started blaring.

We awoke on Sunday, Dec 22nd and, unfortunately, the mountains and weather had different plans than us, and the snow stuck to the rock like ductape on a nalgene.

David, Bill and I scrambling up the first pitch the day before the climb.

Now the morning of, Derek at the base looking up with an increasing amount of dread and doubt.

None too pleased.

Regardless, we began the hike to the base over wet talus, loose rock and a long screefield. It was slow going in the dark with our headlamps battling wind, fog and snow. Eventually we met at the base and started to talk things over. In my fervor, I immediately suggested climbing it. We're here. Let's go slow. Hell, I'll lead. One shot. Go time.

Ryan and David were the detractors. Bill was more gung ho on climbing, and Derek seemed somewhere in the middle. We discussed for quite some time, maybe 45 minutes or so, as we continued to look up at the route, discuss our options, and feebly try and get service to check weather forecasts. It was, really, a masterclass in communication, hearing differing views, gently pushing back and offering alternatives, and mapping out our next course of action. Ultimately, we decided not to climb it for a host of different reasons, some straightforward (it's wet) others less so (timing/communicating with the girls, retreat plans, etc.).

We absolutely made the right decision, and I was aligned 100% with the team. And while I may have agreed, I was still devastated. We were holding out hope that the next day, a weather day we had factored into our itinerary, would clear up, but I thinkn I knew we were done. In fact I cried a little bit when no one was looking. Planning a trip for the better part of a year and dreaming of summiting each night before bed only to have your goals shunted because of some snow after traveling 7,000 miles is heart wrenching. I wanted that summit. I wanted that climb.

But...I also want to climb well into my 60s. And I also want to make it home and climb there. As the saying goes, there are bold climbers and there are old climbers. I will choose old 100% of the time. Over the years and from many of the folks I climb with in and around Boulder I realized that the act of bailing is actually a mountain skill. I had never considered that before I was probably 25, but it is a skill as important or moreso than tying a figure 8. Know when to go. Know when to quit. Live to try again.

With this in mind, but still full of caffeine and energy we wound up summitting a neighboring peak, Thomson Point (16,388ft) we had spotted the day before as a concession. We snapped a few pics and I tried to keep my chin up. While on the summit Ryan got a signal for weather for the next few days and it looked bad: it was confirmed we wouldn't be getting to the top of Batian this trip. We then went all the way back to our gear stash one last time and then finally back to the hut where we met the girls for a team debrief.

Wet rock. The possibility of verglas up higher where it was colder was a definite possibility, and there is no getting around that stuff.

We got back to the hut and were overjoyed to find the girls were doing well, as they were getting hit pretty hard with altitude sickness the night before we left. Most notably this included Sherri, who was clearly suffering in silence. Sherri, like my own mother, is tough as nails. I never heard a single complaint come out of her mouth the entire trip even though she was hurting at times, though I wasn't surprised in the least.

We eagerly packed up the hut, let the guides and porters know our new plan, and began hiking down, now thrilled at the notion of getting into some thicker air.

But we had a full day ahead of us: it would be 12 miles before we got to the lodge with the promise of separate rooms, hot showers and cold beers. By this point my mood had turned. We had done all we could, had a blast summiting the peaks that we did, and spent some incredible time in the East-African alpine. What an incredible experience.

We started hiking down pretty quickly, but stopped at an incredible lake with something like a 1k+ ft. wall surrounding it. I thought of my friend Peter and how he would have loved to base jump off the point below:

The backpacking out was some of the best I ever did. The geographic diversity was incredible as we went from high alpine back down to jungle, with everything in between. Me being me, I got a bit restless and wanted to pick up the pace a bit. David agreed, and we grabbed a porter who was down to do a near-run and we jogged out the last 8 or so miles until we saw the Promised Land. But rather than one filled with milk and honey, it was hot showers and iced cold Kilimanjaro Beers that awaited us.

Elephant footprint.

An African Cedar. Based on the trunk size, it was estimated to be around 400 years old.

The cabins and surrounding land here was lush and stunning after a rainstorm.

David and I ran into camp, quickly showered (it was cold, oh well), and then threw on our comfy camp clothes. We then both booked it to the bar to have a few well-earned pints of the good stuff. Man...those tasted good.

There we met a Swedish guy who had been hiking in the area with his daughter. He had met a Kenyan woman, married her, and then moved to Nairobi for a while, eventually splitting time between there and Stockholm. As usual, we got questions on Trump which I quickly changed to outdoors-related things and we chatted away until eventually the rest of our group arrived, tired but as cheery as ever.

We ate dinner that night and then all retreated back to the bar area where we binged on the newfound glory of having internet access and checking messages, scrolling through pictures and laughing with one another.

I went back to my room after and did a lot of journaling. Even without summiting, I was filled with that deep joy that only comes from doing something physically strenuous in the mountains. That, combined with being without a phone for a week is my ultimate recipe for joy. Everything is so obvious in the mountains. Questions I had about my career or relationships or next steps I needed to take became clear as day. Worries I had about all of the above melted away. Presence was found, and I sank deep, deep into. And it felt so good.

I chatted and laughed with David and the German in our room for a bit before finally drifting off. And for the first night since Moses camp, I slept like a rock.

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On the morning of December 23rd we had breakfast and then did the traditional 'tipping ceremony' for the guides and porters, where we give them a fat wad of cash to the most trusted individual in the group (usually the chef, I thought this was so funny) who then distributes it evenly to everyone involved. I thought it might be awkward, but it was actually a very pleasant and fun experience. We gave more than was required or customary, and they graciously and happily received. In turn, they sang to us the traditional, guide-inspired hakuna matata song that was so catchy and would be stuck in my head for days to come.

Eventually we packed the Land Rover to the brim, piled in and headed back to the Severine cottages. Next up: Kilimanjaro!

Final Stats:

Miles: 35.65

Elevation Gain: 10,784ft