Kilimanjaro Lemosho Route: Day 4
Moir Hut to Lava Tower
I woke up feeling ten times better than yesterday, though my oxygen reading was still only 88. (Mom’s was 89.) To get ahead of dehydration, I chugged 20 grams of Gatorade protein before breakfast. Probably a mistake—it killed my appetite. My body flat-out rejected the porridge, but I managed a hard-boiled egg, two slices of toast, and some mango.
As we packed up camp, Hans (the camp attendant who’s name I’d finally learned) asked if he could open our duffels and set up our mattresses at the next site. He’s so sweet and always looking out for us. I gave Seraphin an Excedrin for his toothache. He grinned and said, “God bless you!”
The crew gathered us together and sang. Then we shocked them: Mom and I had prepared a song to sing back. Seraphin asked, “Why didn’t you conserve your energy?!” but I could see he and the whole crew were tickled! We told him this was what kept us occupied on yesterday’s hike. The porters filmed us, laughing and clapping. Their joy was infectious.
Then it was uphill immediately, a steep climb out of Moir Hut. The pace was so slow and steady it actually felt good to me, but Mom was visibly struggling. She even signaled to me that she might be done. Erick noticed and stopped us for a break. I suggested she lead to set the pace, but she refused and insisted on the back. So I led the group instead.
At one point, I sneezed. Seraphin smiled and said, “Do you know why?” I guessed “Dust?” He shook his head. “No. It means Kilimanjaro is watching you.” I asked if that was good or bad and he shrugged. I whispered, “I love you, Queen Kili. Please take care of me.”
When Lava Tower finally came into sight, I felt confident until I realized how many steep, rocky climbs stood between us. I needed both poles just to stay upright. As the trail dragged on, a headache crept in and built with every step. I told myself it was normal at this altitude, but the final incline up to the tower was brutal.
At the top, we ate lunch: mango, ramen-style noodle soup (we were grateful it was not cilantro again), vegetable pies, and a dry chicken breast. I had more appetite than I expected, though still not much. Rain pounded on the tent mid-meal, so we layered waterproofs over down jackets. When it stopped, I joked that my Grandma, my weather spirit, must’ve blown the rain away.
Lava Tower to Baranco Camp
Leaving Lava Tower was a knee-crusher: slick, wet rocks and steep descents. I had no idea how the porters managed with their loads. My knees and ankles screamed, but at least it was a change from the relentless uphill grind.
The landscape shifted as we entered the senecio forest—towering alien-looking plants that snapped me out of my headache haze. Still, every time I thought camp was near, it wasn’t. The trail teased us endlessly until Barranco Camp finally appeared like a mirage. We cheered, snapped photos, and trudged the last stretch.
At camp, I signed into the register and then bolted to the toilet. After ibuprofen and a nap, I felt slightly better, though my head still throbbed. Dinner was cilantro soup (again… kill me!), toast, big elbow pasta with veggies, and pineapple. Swallowing hurt, maybe heartburn from too much flavored water? My oxygen was 89, Mom’s 88, Sue’s 82. Oddly, Sue’s low reading comforted me; she’d been strong and unbothered the whole trip, so it was nice to see that everyone’s was dipping a little.
Seraphin reassured me: headaches are common at Lava Tower, and usually improve once you descend. “Clean your mind, mama!” he joked to Mom.
When he pointed out the Barranco Wall looming above camp, my stomach flipped. In photos it had looked big. In person it was massive. But Seraphin promised it was easier than it looked, and many climbers end up calling it their favorite part. I clung to that. I love a rock scramble.
Barranco was busier than any camp so far—we’d merged with the Machame route. From here, we could even see the city of Moshi twinkling below. Before bed, we asked Emmanuel, the waiter, for hot water in our bottles for our sleeping bags. The crew thought we were brilliant. Really, we’d just stolen the tip from a Facebook group.
As I zipped into my bag, hot water warming my feet, I thought of tomorrow. I was excited, but worried. For me, for mom, for the summit. The wall loomed, but so did the promise of an afternoon of rest. And that sounded heavenly.