From California to Kilimanjaro

by gwendolyn alley (United States of America)

A leap into the unknown Tanzania

After cooking breakfast in my VW van at 9265' Minaret Pass in the Sierra Nevada California, I called Roof of Africa Adventures owner Protus Mayunga and joined the Kilimanjaro climb organized by my Burning Man friend Tony Fletcher. I wanted to be on a BIG Mountain like Kilimanjaro, the highest freestanding mountain in the world, the highest point in Africa, a climb I'd wanted to do since I was a 12 year old girl. During a presentation, my teacher made fun of my desire to climb Kilimanjaro, burying this dream deep in my heart. But a week after that phone call, there I was, on a plane to Tanzania, and the following week I was a third of the way up the mountain on a rest day that included hiking to 15,000'. When I did the Pacific Crest Trail, I'd been to the top of Mt Whitney 14,494'. That was in my 20s. In my 50s, altitude still got me high. Imagine my disappointment when everyone wanted to turn around at Zebra Rock instead of continuing up to the 15,000' saddle. Tony was too, so we convinced Protus to let us go. Well, us and two guides, Protus's nephew Lucas and Bernardus, who had previously been tasked with keeping up with me as I wasn't much of a fan of "pole pole" (Swahili for "slow slow"). We four goofed around and took photos at the saddle, and we referred to Lucas’s guide book and knowledge about the plants that somehow survive at that altitude. It felt great to move fast downhill where we joined Marie, Tim and Steve at the 12,200’ Horombo Huts and lazed in the sun listening to Tim read Hemingway’s “The Snows of Kilimanjaro.” Even though we were in our 50s and 60s, we all made it to Kibo Huts above 15,500’. At midnight, freezing cold with fresh snow on the ground, Lucas lined us up: Marie with her steady “pole pole” pace, last minute me, Tim who had suffered from altitude sickness the day before, and then marathon runners Tony and Steve. Completing our crew: guides ready to lead us up and bring us down. Nearing the summit, taunts of that teacher hit me, and I broke into sobs. But I persisted and made it to the top where I collapsed into Marie’s arms, knowing she'd understand what it meant to carry sexism and misogyny for so long and so far – from coastal California to Kilimanjaro. Back at Kibo, Lucas jokingly asked if I wanted to go back up, and I surprised him by answering YES! Instead, as we descended I got to know him better, and he got to know me too learning I had a blog “Wine Predator” and taught college. We discussed how blogging could help promote him as a guide and make a living for his family. On our return, after a night out with Tony and Tim, Lucas and I made plans to work on his blog. From my hotel, we crammed onto a “Dalla Dalla” where I was the only pale face; soon we landed at a coffee house with internet. As I teach my college students every semester how to blog, this should have been easy. But we didn’t have access to a computer lab or wifi, truly making it more difficult for us than climbing Kilimanjaro. After hours at the coffee house, we bumped along a rutted road to his two room home which he shares with his wife and daughter: I’d been invited to dinner as a thank you. His wife’s cooking is famous, and led Lucas to fall in love. She cooked tilapia in the traditional way outside their rooms; the smells were intoxicating and after one seductive bite, I fell in love too. Today Lucas and I are Facebook friends. He sees posts about the meals and wines I write about, the mountains I ski on. From my house, I see the Pacific while he views Mount Meru where giraffes, elephants, hippos and lions make their home. From our homes half way around the world, we are friends because I made a leap into the unknown and made an unexpected local connection.