Kilimanjaro Day 4 – Tuesday August 19
Tuesday morning’s walk saw us ascend from our protected valley, to walk across numerous lava ridges across a dry, dusty moonscape – assuming of course that the moon looks like this – I don’t know, I’ve never been. And after a few hours we reached our next camp at Lava Tower Bivouac (4,550 metres, 14,930 feet) again in time for a hot lunch. I’d guess that the Lava Tower itself is a volcanic plug, formed when magma hardens inside a vent on an active volcano. Erosion then weathers away the softer rock around it leaving the plug standing out like a sore thumb.
While walking across the plateau Kibo had always appeared somewhat distant and something for the days ahead. Today’s walk had changed that altogether. All of a sudden we were a lot closer and it was there, towering above us, very close and very real. There was a palpable intake of breath as we collectively realised what lay ahead. We were by then on the lower slopes and the slopes of the peak appeared ominously sheer. We knew we’d be ascending via a different, more accessible direction, but from where we stood, gazing fearfully upward, it looked utterly daunting.
After lunch, there was a steep and spectacular afternoon walk on the rocky lower slopes of the Western Breach, which took us as far as the ruins of the old hut at Arrow Glacier (4,800 metres or 15,750 feet), and another part of the acclimatisation procedure, which was a blessing otherwise we’d have been bored shitless if we’d had to sit around camp all afternoon. And the Garry’s gave their oxygen systems a test this afternoon, prompting young Jarrod to comment that “Well, at least you don’t look like someone with emphysema,” which, of course, they did. They sounded like it too, with the periodic hisses from the oxygen tank. Not that Terry and Martin would give a toss about that if it helped get to the top.
The Arrow Glacier itself seemed to be in a rather sorry plight. Glaciers always look crisp, clean and white from a distance, and dirty brown close up, but this one appeared particularly forlorn. Christopher, who has been climbing Kili for fifteen years, could recall a time when it was probably twice the length it is now, and covered a much larger part of the Western Breach. Apparently some research has indicated that the glaciers could have retreated entirely from Kili by as early as 2020. Other research suggests they may have more time, but all agree it is not long. Whether this is due to climate change as a natural cycle of the earth, or global warming accelerated by western consumer culture, it is pretty sad that the ice fields Ernest Hemingway once described as ‘…wide as all the world, great, high, and unbelievably white in the sun…’ may soon be no more.
The retreat of the glacier has made the Western Breach more accessible, but also more unstable. The quickest of all routes up Kibo, it had also become one of the most dangerous and saw three American climbers killed in a landslide in 2006, triggered by the glacier releasing previously icebound rocks, and worsened by the looseness of the scree. This was another reminder that although there is no technical climbing involved in the ascent this is still not a mountain to be taken lightly.
Thankfully our route from this point took us no further up the Western Breach, but back to the safety of the Lava Tower camp.
There was good craic around the camp and a genuine camaraderie had built up amongst us, as I’m sure it does in most groups. Twelve blokes together, all of a similar ilk, no tossers, or “No French” as one unspecified source put it, and a genuine desire to help each other to the top. Any mention of an ailment was met with offers of pills, potions and balms; any request “Has anyone got any…” met with numerous positive responses.
And no shortage of piss-taking. Around dinner this evening, Linus’ description of Sweden cuisine included meatballs, gravlax and herring. Jarrod, unaware what a herring is, enquired whether that is a bird. Without missing a beat, Linus wryly replied, “Yes, a small one that swims under the water”, in that stereotypically ice-cool Swedish way. And I’m sure all this camaraderie helped to make things a whole lot easier. I’d read other accounts of people climbing Kili and being in groups with various whingers, whiners and wankers, none of which can contribute to your positive mental attitude. (There is a self-published e-book available on Amazon called Twelve Men, Ten Women and One Knobhead on a Ruddy Great Mountain. I hadn’t read it.) The fact that no one was winding anyone else up, there were no arguments or disputes, and no smarmy asides, made for a bunch of happy campers. Either that or I was just naively oblivious to what the other bastards were saying behind my back.
Go to Chapter 9: Up the Barranco Wall