Altitude

The air is thin up there. I have always loved the taste and feel of mountain air in my mouth and lungs. When I was a child I used to look forward to visiting the "Denver cousins" with great anticipation. I remember jumping out of a car on the heights of the rockies and bounding about like a young horse; like a distracted puppy.

My first time up high was Pike's Peak. I don't remember it much, but I've seen pictures of me in a borrowed sweatshirt that went down past my knees. My second was a little known fourteener in southern Colorado called Mt. San Luis. It was also my first encounter with and altitude headache.

The past three weeks have seen me on two volcanoes, high in a mountain range, and well over 18,000 amsl. I didn't ever think I would ever go that high into the atmosphere. Actually, it was really easy, right up until it was really hard.

We had been at sea level for two weeks, the four of us (Ants, LTool, Al, and I). And below sea level, actually, scuba diving. So, in the run up to Kili, we planned to increase elevation gradually. Actually, I just wanted to go the Usambara Mountains to see the butterflies and the rainforests, and to climb Mount Meru because it is a lovely and beguiling mountain. It so happened that if we did those in that order before Kili, we would give ourselves plenty of time to adjust to the height needed.

Most people climb Kili, and maybe see Mt. Meru as a largish peak poking out above the cloud layer, keeping the peaks of the "big one" company. They are missing out. Meru is gorgeous! A half-destroyed rim of a steep and high volcano, it rises gently at first on one side, then steeply to where the ash cone declares the volcanic life below, then by enormous sheer cliffs to the summit high above. The other side drops steeply down, down, down, down all the way back to those gentle, forested slopes surrounding the base. When I first saw Meru peek demurely out from the mists and clouds, I was struck by the jagged rock and precipice of the peak, and it's contrast with the green forest below. It called my name, and 4 years later I was excited to answer!

The rest of my group was willing to trek along with me, but Ants and Al were both itching to get on top of Kili. Just to do it, but also, I think, to test themselves against the altitude. Before you do it, there is no real way to know how your body will react. Some people feel barely a headache, some cannot pass 5000 m without life-threatening consequences. Cerebral and pulmonary altitude sickness take lives around the world every year. So, we prepared as best we could.

Meru was fantastic. The views, amazing. The mountain full of character, the forests full of life, the weather, perfect. It wasn't easy, but it was quick, and the altitude gave me nary a problem. I loved it.

Kili was a challenge. A 4-day trek to summit base camp up and down and up and down at necessarily slow paces. Much less scenery to exalt, but when the peak did show itself, it humbled me to think I might stand atop it. Barranco Wall and the cliffs atop it to the glaciers melting down in gigantic icicles stopped me in my tracks. The final bid for the summit wasn't so steep, or rocky, or anything, but it took us up and up and up... Al was the first to feel the altitude. It slowed him down. Waaaaaayyyy down. If he weren't a person of great mental strength he wouldn't have made it. Once I got to the top, I hurt. Headache, nausea, fatigue were all present. But we made it. Which was satisfying, except for the overwhelming desire to descend. And DOWN I went, as quickly as I could. Past the beautiful view of Mawenzi Peak, past the glaciers I came to see, past the spot Al almost gave up, down down down. And all was well.

I still love mountain air. But it's hard to breathe enough of it.