It usually takes either 5 or 6 days to climb Mt Kilimanjaro and it’s quite an undertaking but that’s not to say anyone of adequate fitness won’t be able to do it. We met a guy from Ireland in his 50’s who almost made it and the youngest ever to climb it was 9!

Whilst it is possible to arrange everything yourself, even hiring porters that congregate at the park gate and extra clothing just opposite; we didn’t have the time or desire to do the leg work ourselves. It was also doubtful if it would offer much of a saving unless you had a desire to heavily customise your trip, like if you wanted to use on of the less walked routes. In Africa, more than anywhere else, foreigners (especially whites) are charged often a lot more than locals for things and since mountain climbing is preserve of tourists it attracts quite high prices anyway making it much better for a local company to organise better prices and pass the saving on to you.

Being young people living in the 21st Century our first reaction was to check climbing packages online, to not only gauge prices but to see what we should look for. The guidebooks we had (even though only a year old) quoted widely inaccurate prices throughout our trip so we had already resigned ourselves to having to spend at least US$900 each. Luckily since we went in a group of 4 and did some pretty strong negotiating (plus we used the same people for our Masai Mara safari) we managed to get it for that price (the most I heard people pay was £900 which at the time was twice as much and they didn’t even get most of the perks).

Negotiating has to be the main point of this post. People don’t always like it but it proved to be very useful and if you’re in Africa you’ll negotiate on pretty much every purchase anyway. By avoiding websites and talking to real people we could negotiate a package that suited us and at a great price. I can guarantee that booking it in a travel office in Edinburgh wouldn’t be nearly as good or cheap! Talking to locals and company staff also helped us get our climbing gear (don’t rent at the gate as it’s extortionately expensive) and chatting with people that had just returned, either successfully or not, bagged us stuff like energy tablets and sunscreen.

This isn’t a replacement for reading a guidebook but is our experience and I wouldn’t change the way we organised any of it. One last thing to remember is that your tip to the various members of your entourage should be at least 10% of the total cost so bear that in mind. We had 11 people split between the 4 of us! The proportions are different between guides, porters and everyone else but it’s important not to forget the effort they put in and the tiny pay they receive from the companies. Without them you wouldn’t have made it!

“Pole Pole” (slowly slowly) was the method suggested by Stanley for the climb along the Marangu Route and after a gentle upwards stroll through rainforest we arrived in Mandara Hut (altitude 2774m). Mandara is a basic place consisting of a number of A-frame wooden huts in a clearing with the largest A-frame being the dining hall. Meals were initially quite good (compared with what we’d been eating before) although usually came in oversized portions. The Milo wasn’t destined to last long with the amount that Bridget and I used.

That night was cold and the following morning was our introduction to the shower problem, basically if you showered you’d quickly turn into an icicle. It’s was either bed baths or nothing. We were given 2 bowls of hot water between the 4 of us so Craig and I decided to let Bhav and Bridget use them since we were going for the “authentic mountaineer experience”.

The second day was an easy hike up through the clouds to Horombo (altitude 3720m) where in the evening it really got cold. We were there for 2 nights as the next day was our acclimatization day. The French couple we had started off walking with didn’t have the acclimatization day so headed off early. Our extra day was spent climbing up to Zebra Rock (4000m), a natural rock outcrop of a black igneous rock discoloured with white marks forming the stripes. The day trip allowed us a view of the following days exercise; the trip to Kibo hut (altitude 4703m) and the summit. Up until that point I wasn’t sure I’d make it but it didn’t look nearly as bad as I thought it would.

The higher we went, the slower we walked. The last of the path to Kibo Hut was almost flat but by various peoples admission you’d almost get out of breath walking from your bunk to the bathroom less than 50m away.

The “hut” wasn’t the small A-frames we were used to but was a brick building with smaller for porters nearby.

We arrived around 2 pm and the plan was to sleep (we had our packed lunch en route) till we had to get up at 11 pm. In the end I managed about 30 minutes of a doze but after dinner we tried again and I slept really well.

By the time 11 pm came it was very cold (I was in my sleeping bag wearing all the clothes I had walked there in). I had to quickly scramble to put on more clothes to retain heat. In the end I had 10 layers on my top half for the climb and 4 on the bottom! The guide, Stanley (one of the 3 coming up the mountain with us) had a good laugh about my jacket (The smart dry clean only one I used to wear to work) so I decided to put a shirt on underneath purely for effect.

Feeling tired, decidedly amateur, slightly nauseous and grateful that they’d let me climb when everyone else was wearing “proper climbing kit” like fleeces we set off from the hut for the long walk upwards.
It was about 12:30 am and there was quite a few people in front of us lightning up the bottom of the scree slope with their head torches. It was at that point I started to agree with our guide and his “Pole Pole” (pronounced like the é in café) method but they seemed to think we were ok to rush up. We must have overtaken every group including the 21 Spaniards. This was the most challenging part of the mountain, what with the scree being like walking through sand, the thin air making us breath 4 times faster than normal and it being the steepest part so it was understandable if people give up. We soldiered on however. It really did feel like climbing a sand dune whilst breathing through a straw. The zig zag route up the slope helped but frequent stops were required more and more often the higher we got.

Gillmans Point (altitude 5685m) was a welcome sight, marking the end of the scree slope. It took us about 4 hours to get there (the sign said 5 hours!) and by that point most people were running on reserve energy (the chocolate and energy drinks still in my bag due to my uneasy stomach). The remainder was proof of how the lack of oxygen makes everything so much more difficult.

From Gillmans Point to the summit it was much flatter and would usually be considered a gentle stroll at sea level but became a stumble of 5 steps followed by a break to catch my breath. The final 20m up the gentlest of slopes was absolute murder. Eventually we made it (Bhav having found some energy and getting there first). I threw my walking pole and bag down and sat on a rock to get my breath and look at the sunrise that had just broken. We’d done it; we’d climbed Mount Kilimanjaro and managed to do it at the perfect time. The narrow band of light slowly turned from the deepest purple to bright orange and besides our group there was only 4 or 5 other people there to enjoy it with us.

The plan to drink champagne/Bacardi/vodka (I didn’t bring anything alcoholic) didn’t happen as after the climb we were too tired and despite the sunrise it was still at least -15C.

We must have stayed for less than 15 minutes at the summit before we started our decent. Jeandre (A South African guy that had been adopted into our group) started feeling a bit the worse for it so was sent on ahead.

Being able to see the slope we’d just climbed really emphasised how far we’d climbed (and if I’d been able to see what we were doing earlier I might have found it a lot more difficult). It took us over an hour to slide our way down the scree (imagine skiing but without the skis) and we were pretty tired when we got back to Kibo Hut. After breakfast (the cook had obviously stopped trying) we had to rush back to Horombo Hut eventually arriving at 4pm.

The following morning with people complaining of blisters and everyone else looking forward to getting off the mountain, we set off on the easiest stretch back through the rainforest to the gate. From the gate we went to Arusha then caught the transfer bus to Nairobi. Due to the traffic and terrible roads it was after 9 before we got back to the Nairobi Youth Hostel.

Dinner that evening (we snacked at the Total Garage round the corner from the hostel) was eaten at an airport café. We’d expected Nairobi airport (for our flight to Cairo), with it being the main entry point into one of the most popular tourist destinations in Africa, to be a lot busier.

The menu was basic but catered to a western palate. After the lack of choice in mountain food it was what we were looking forward to; having a choice in what we ate. It wasn’t long before we all came to the conclusion that the waitress didn’t really have a clue. Eventually we all managed to order food they actually had but it wasn’t until we came to pay for it that we had problems. Mine was simple; the logical construction of “ham and cheese sandwich”. Supposedly this meant ham OR cheese and not both as is the norm, so they charged me double for having both. Trying to tell her about propositional logic and the differences between exclusive and inclusive OR wasn’t going to work and they threatened to call security. Unfortunately it seems to be standard procedure in Africa to hold waiting staff accountable for any short fall in money and mistakes. So out of sympathy for the waitress I gave in knowing that I didn’t her wage would be docked the price of a sandwich.

The hardened mountaineers at the start of their climb

Horombo Hut

“This mountain climbing lark isn’t difficult!”

Zebra Rock

First view of the summit

The highway to the summit

The nutters that camped next to Kibo hut

Jeandre and I celebrate at the top

You haven't climbed Mt Kili till you are in a picture like this

Sunrise at the top of Mount Kilimanjaro

The hotel in Arusha was surprisingly decent for what little we’d paid for the whole trip and if you forget about the strange lack of water in the pipes and the fact that I broke the shower when trying to fill the toilet, the room was quite nice.

In the afternoon we tracked down some equipment for the climb since we hadn’t come all the prepared (I did at least have some thick socks!) and in the evening we met up with Craig who we hadn’t seen since Zanzibar.

When the plane arrived Bhav and I were the only people waiting. The plane was a 13 seater Cessna but any hopes of having it all to ourselves were dashed when we walked closer and saw 3 others inside. The reason for the odd numbered 13th seat was due to their being no co-pilot. Unfortunately the best seat in the house was already occupied but we could at least get the 1st row. The flight to Tanga was quite short at about 20 minutes but we certainly enjoyed the view.

The luxury of the plane wasn’t matched by the next form of transport, another overnight bus this time to Mombasa in Kenya. Our taxi driver from the airport suggested we should get a bus in the day time due to “banditry” but we didn’t want to waste more time and money.

It took about 2 hours before we arrived at the border, where Bhav got into Kenya for free whilst I was charged US$50 for the privilege. We arrived in Mombasa after midnight and slept on a coach.

Our escape route from Pemba

Welcome to Tanga

There were 8 people on the boat split up into 2 groups. My buddy was Bhav and we had Raf, the company owner as our guide. The first dive was an underwater mountain listed in the guide book as one of the diving highlights in the country and it certainly didn’t disappoint. There was a profusion of life everywhere requiring you to almost prioritise what you looked at.

After a 1 hour 30 min surface interval spent on a nearby white sandy beach we went for a second dive which was a wall dive. I didn’t enjoy the second dive as much as the first but that could have been partly due to the unfamiliar equipment (gear listed psi instead of bar).

It was also cool to be out diving with Bhav who I’d met exactly a year previously (in Australia).

The new location of Swahili Divers (we found they’d been there a year but my Rough Guide was old) is right on the coast in the middle-of-no-where surrounded by farmland. Unfortunately with us being essentially a captive audience in the wilderness we had to pay rather a lot more than we’d been accustomed to. In the end though we were just glad to get anything and the luxury was a welcome bonus.

Bhav and I were too tired to do much that afternoon but we went out for a sunset kayak with an American guy which was cool.

We had heard from a few people that the beaches to the east were quicker to get to and not too developed. The beach was definitely worth the ride in the daladala and it was good to get away from the pushy souvenir sellers!

When we got back to Stone Town we tracked Craig down to a hotel not far from ours. He got a bit of a surprise when we just walked into his hotel room (which he’d already managed to furnish with 2 young and blond German girls).

Bhav and I had bought tickets for the overnight ferry to Dar but after talking to Craig about the diving in Pemba (he’s now totally in love with diving) we decided to try and change our tickets so we could take the overnight ferry to Pemba instead.

First class accommodation on the MV Maendeleio was far better than the last few times we’d travelled overnight. Aircon, almost comfy seats and reasonable peace and quiet made up for the worst toilet I’ve ever seen. I was glad I went before we left the harbour, it wouldn’t have been pleasant in the open sea!

Our transport, a Daladala

Italian speaking kids on the beach in Bwejuu

Relaxing on the beach in Bwejuu

Traditional Dhow off Zanzibar

Omani Fort, Stone Town, Zanzibar

The narrow streets of Stone Town

After lunch (which was for me at least, one of the best meals so far) we headed off to the beach via the old slave caves. The caves were where they hid the slaves after the British colonial administration abolished the trade on the island. The small part of the cave we saw was nice but certainly nothing on the ones in Malaysia.

When we got back to Stone Town we headed to the Anglican cathedral which had previously been the site of the slave market (the whipping post the slaves were tied to is now the alter). Below the church are two remnants of the trade, small rooms where the slaves were kept in horrible conditions.

Cocoa bean

Anglican Cathedral

Slave Monument