Kilimanjaro Lemosho Route Day 2
The waiter woke us with hot chocolate at 6:30 a.m. I actually slept well, though our sleeping pads had deflated a bit and my hips were sore. At one point I woke up convinced it was morning—it was only 11 p.m.
Mom hadn’t drunk nearly enough water the day before, but her oxygen reading was up to 93 this morning, which was reassuring. Mine matched at 93. Breakfast was hearty: porridge (flavorless but we polished it off), toast, fried eggs, pancakes (thin and crepe-like), and fruit. I ate plenty. Mom struggled to get much down.
We hit the trail at 8:15 and didn’t finish until 4:00, with a long break for lunch. Thankfully, the crew set up the toilet tent there, which we all used more than once. Lunch was incredible: the best chicken wing I’ve ever had, cilantro soup, bread rolls, spaghetti with veggies, and fruit. I ate three helpings of the spaghetti. Along the way our guide—who’s name I finally figured out is Seraphin—threatened (jokingly) to put ants in our sleeping bags if we didn’t eat more!
He reminds me of my grandpa—quiet, but when he speaks it’s with a perfectly timed joke or sly grin. Assistant Guide Erick, still reserved, explained the different climate zones and Tanzanian tribes as we hiked. At one break, Seraphin, Erick, and our chef sang us two songs from their church: one about family and peace, the other about calling down Jesus’ glory. It was beautiful, unexpected, and grounding.
The day began in the rainforest and eventually climbed into the moorland zone. The views opened up so we could see all the way to the base of the mountain where we started. At one break, we overlapped with a large group of Kansas City Chiefs fans. A couple yelled “Go Chiefs!” so I shouted “Go Browns!” They looked stunned, then shot back: “What?! Get a quarterback!” Later, one laughed and said, “I can’t believe you admitted you’re a Browns fan in public.” I told him, “It’s getting harder to do.” Mom even got a half-serious proposal from one of them: “Give me your number and we’ll turn around and go down together.”
Not everything was playful, though. Mom struggled on the trail and doubted herself. I kept reminding her it’s all mental. She did drink more water today, but still wasn’t eating much. After lunch, the trail pitched up steeply, and she needed frequent breaks. I had my own struggles: still figuring out the female urinal thingy, I managed to pee in my pants a little once. Worse than that, I noticed how many people had left toilet paper along the trail. It was a little disheartening.
When we crested the ridge, the terrain flattened for a while before descending into Shira Camp. Seraphin said we might glimpse the summit, but the clouds never cleared during the hike. At camp, my nails and nose were caked with dirt.
After tea, we’d just laid down when Seraphin ran over—“The mountain is out!” I scrambled up and finally saw Kili’s summit cone up close and personal. Mom was napping; I debated waking her but let her sleep. Instead, I talked with Sue, Erick, and Seraphin. We chatted about routes, and Sera casually mentioned he’d climbed every one—including Machame in three days. When I asked if it was hard to go this slow after knowing you can do it that fast, he just laughed and quietly nodded.
Dinner came quickly: cilantro soup again (we actually finished it this time and we were proud!), fried fish, avocado salad, rice, and veggies. Erick urged us to eat more and more, reminding us that food is fuel. I admitted I had a slight headache, and he encouraged me to keep drinking water. By then, I’d had at least six liters. My oxygen surprised me at 94 despite the headache, and he shared that my pulse was high, probably from the cold.
Shira Camp was much more exposed, the air biting and sharp. We finally pulled out hats, gloves, fleece socks, and sleeping bag liners. Phones and batteries went inside our bags to keep them from freezing.
When I ran to the toilet tent in the middle of the night, the sky stopped me in my tracks. A canopy of stars stretched endlessly overhead—clearer than I’d ever seen. Day two ended with sore muscles, a full stomach, a throbbing head, and a reminder of why I came here: to stand small under the biggest sky I’d ever seen.