Failing with style on Mount Kenya

by Marco Plebani (South Africa)

A leap into the unknown Kenya

I first saw Mount Kenya in an old black and white picture, showing severe, black spires covered with snow. That picture aroused my curiosity, making me realise that even in Africa there may be peaks with an alpine flavour to them. My first attempt at climbing the mountain failed before even starting when, in January 2019, a terrorist attack narrowly missed my climbing partner Evan days before I joined him in Nairobi. They sieged the hotel where he was staying, with all our climbing gear in it. The next chance of climbing Mt Kenya was to be in September. Evan was caught up with work, so I resolved to do what my mom would always tell me not to do: trust a stranger from the internet. This is how I came to know Vivek, a professor of engineering with extensive experience in Yosemite and the Alps. When Vivek and I met in person in Nairobi we both had lingering questions on whether we were going to work as a team or even get along as individuals, but there was no time or point to indulge in such doubts. In the morning we left Nairobi headed to Mt Kenya National Park. We started walking along a tarred road through the Afromontane Mist-Forest, with its trees covered in festoons of lichens. Then the forest ended and the bushy, drought-adapted fynbos began: I noticed Scabiosa flowers, Protea plants and other vegetation similar to that of South Africa. Our attention kept going to the weather. The day started cloudy, then opened up. The night was full of stars. In the morning, the tents were covered in frost. We left the fynbos behind us and entered the high-altitude grassland dotted with giant Lobelia and Senecium trees, first sparse, then abundant. We arrived to Shipton's Camp surrounded by the clouds while an alternation of drizzle, snow and fine hail hit us. On our third day on the mountain we hiked up Point Lenana. That morning I wretched and almost passed out because of the cold, but after some time and a hot tea I felt well enough to hike. Summiting Point Lenana was an exercise in pace: at first, to ascend slowly; later, to keep going up in spite of the altitude. The path meandered up scree slopes of pale orange gravel where nothing but lichens grew. The summit was surrounded by maze of jagged ridges, peaks, and pinnacles, and no-one was there but us. We shook hands, and as I did so I was almost overcome by the emotions. Perhaps it was my response to a very tiring few months. Mountains make you put things into perspective and, in that moment, surrounded only by sky, clouds, and cold rocks, the emotional mess that my life had been in the recent past hit me with overwhelming clarity. Perhaps it was just the tiredness, the cold and the altitude. As we descended, the clouds closed in and dry, sharp snow started to fall until it covered the slope. The following day we moved camp slightly higher, ready for our main goal: climbing to the summit of Batian peak the day after. In spite of an evening snowfall we decided to proceed as planned, waking up at 3:30 am for our siege to the summit. We started climbing together, almost running up the rock while placing only the occasional piece of gear for protection. We were in the zone, high on excitement, almost believing that we were going to make it… Until the weather came in. Soon enough we were freezing our butts off on a ledge, a few hundred meters below the summit, surrounded by clouds. Our drive faded. The days of feeling cold, the weather, the shorter and shorter fair weather windows turned us off. We opted for bailing. That moment marked the beginning of the end of our adventure on Mt Kenya, at least for the time being. The dramatic views and otherwordly sights still danced in our memory. It is hard to admit for someone with the mind of rock climber, goal-driven and relentless, but it is possible to bail from a climb and still have a good time.