The Climb Part 2: The Summit
After arriving at camp on the plateau in mid-afternoon at the top of the breach wall we spent the rest of the day resting and trying to stay hydrated. We all had some level of headache and as long as you did not exert yourself too much the lack of oxygen in the air was not too noticeable. It had started to snow shortly after we finished the day’s climb and those who were not in their tent sleeping gathered in the kitchen tent. During the course of the trip we had whiled away many hours with the porters learning and playing card games. I remember at one point Victor got out a pulse oximeter and had us take a measurement of the oxygen in our blood- mine measured 70%. Wow!
The goal the next morning was to be at the summit at sunrise so we were planning on starting at 5 am. Looking over at the steep vertical slope that marked the path for the last trek to the top I could not see completely where it would lead. The blowing snow and gray featureless cloud that enclosed the peak hid our final destination. All I knew was that it was 900 feet up the snow covered wall in front of us. I slept poorly that night, most likely due to a combination of the altitude and the excitement of what the morning would bring, so getting up at 4 am was easy for me. We ate breakfast, gathered our gear and got ready to start. While we were summiting the porters were going to break camp and by skirting the mountaintop descend to 10,000 feet where they would wait for us later in the day. For them the climb was over.
It was dark and even though we knew it was there we could not see the last obstacle in our path to reach our destination. We all had headlamps on and that would be the way we would navigate- by following the light in front of you. Unlike yesterday, this morning as we started our ascent there was no gentle slope that allowed us to develop a steady climbing rythym. As soon as we hit the slope it was necessary to start using switch backs in order to gain any ground. Led by Victor, who was carefully defining a safe path up the mountain, we slowly made progress. Once again my world became defined only by the footsteps in front of me. My only focus was on moving forward and trying to gather oxygen from the air around me. The snow was deep and it was necessary to raise my foot six and sometimes ten inches to get out of the current footstep and move to the next. I hoped we were not going to have to goose-step all the way to the top. The 900 feet we had to go stretched invisibly in front of us and I was glad I could not see how much remained. Even though I knew it was a shorter climb than we had done the day prior, it still was hard and the mental battle that I had fought and won the day before resumed as if there was no break in the action. The only difference was this time I knew we were close. Just a few more steps, relatively speaking, would get me to the top. We climbed for what seemed like hours, stopping every fifteen or twenty minutes to breathe; it was that hard. In actuality it was after only about an hour and a half when we crested a ridge and saw before us a half mile gentle walk to the sign that marked the highest point on the mountain. It was the summit. I was so happy, exhausted, and thrilled to have conquered the mental challenge that tears were rolling down my face. We were, for all practical purposes, at the top.
View from the summit
I looked around me as the darkness of night gave way to the gray textures that announce an approaching dawn. The top of the mountain seemed a plateau of some sort, but not completely flat. It was a barren white landscape dotted with black and gray as boulders or parts of the mountain itself stuck through the snowy blanket that covered the peak. It was bleak, harsh and beautiful.
As we approached the sign and the crowd gathered around it we got in the line that had formed to get the obligatory photo documenting the achievement of the climb. I glanced at the other people who shared the summit with us that morning. What I saw was a mixture of young and old from all over the world, exuberantly celebrating the fact that they, too, had made it to the top. I knew exactly how they felt. I felt I could hardly contain my joy and sense of accomplishment. There was a bit of a frenzy around the sign, everyone had brought some token or the other to get a picture with and some were taking quite a bit of time, forcing the crowd to wait. Others got a picture and simply got back in line. When it was our turn we darted in and got a group shot and got out of the way. It was hard to imagine that there was a line here at 19,200 feet, but there was.
Crowd around the summit sign
After snapping the picture I stepped away from the sign and the restless line of eager tourists and looked around me again. Dawn was breaking and streaks of red, orange and yellow light were crawling across the sky. Looking across a deep cleft I saw a glacier clinging to the side of the mountain on the other side. As the sun hit it pale blue reflections danced along its surface, moving in time with the Earth as she turned her face toward the sun. I was spellbound at Mother Nature’s movie which was unfolding before me; a play of light and ice and color changing instant to instant as different parts of the glacier were illuminated. I glanced around behind me to the crowd at the sign. Did they see this too? I was surprised to see them all focussed on the picture taking, completely missing the beauty in front of them. I wondered then, what was the end goal of an adventure like this. Do you climb the mountain merely to get the picture to prove that you have done it or do you climb the mountain to see the views and gain a different perspective of our planet? I decided for me, at least, while the picture was nice, the chance to dwell on the peak and watch the world unfold beneath me as dawn advanced was the reason I was there.
Glaciers in the distance
I moved away from the crowd, off to myself a bit, and turned a full circle, slowly taking it all in as the slow creep of light marking the coming day moved across the landscape below me. There were other glaciers to see, also involved in the dance of light and color as well as nearby peaks, none as high as where I stood. It was a clear day with no clouds concealing the valley and lower slopes of the mountain and I could see for miles in all directions. Looking down across the valley it was hard to believe that we had climbed up from those low heights in only a week. I recalled that I had flown on planes at this altitude, about 19,000 feet, and this time as I saw the patchwork quilts of fields spread out below me I was not on an airplane flying over, but standing on a mountain at that lofty altitude. It was scarcely imaginable but the evidence of my eyes was undeniable. I was able to stand there for about 30 minutes before Victor informed us we had to start down.
I reluctantly turned from the expansive views, reined in my wandering thoughts, lost in awe of seeing the world from this perspective, and turned my attention to starting down the rock strewn path that would lead to our camp and the end of a great adventure!
Beautiful post that brings back great memories for me. Thank you. I have not looked back at my journal from my Kili climb ten years ago. You’ve just inspired me to do so.