East Africa - On My Own

On Bus, 03 August 2003

The tour officially ended this morning. I awoke in my tent in Kampala, said my goodbyes to everyone and left. I took a taxi into town, before catching a bus to Moshi in Tanzania. I was told that the bus journey would take 20 hours and that it would travel over 1200 kilometers of East Africa's finest roads. (Who ever said that traveling is glamorous?) I paid $30 for the "luxury" bus. I suppose by African standards it was luxurious. By my standards it was crowded and cramped.

A couple of bad movies helped pass the time as we drove first through the Ugandan countryside, then the Kenyan countryside, and finally the Tanzanian countryside. There was only one other foreigner on the bus, and they were too far away to converse with. I did talk to some of the locals sitting nearby, which was entertaining. And one person gave me their contact details in case I ever go back to Uganda, which was nice.

Tanzania - Moshi, 04 August 2003

We arrived in Moshi in the morning time. I immediately went to the Kindoroko Hotel - one of the budget hotels recommended by Lonely Planet. For $10 a night I am staying in a dingy room with en-suite bathroom. The bed looks like a buffet for bed bugs, with the person sleeping in the bed the main course. The bathroom consists of a three-walled enclosure, which is just about big enough to accommodate an adult. And in the center of the floor of the shower is a squat toilet. That's right... my shower drains into the same hole that I poop and pee into. And I love the refreshing honesty on the taps... you know how there is usually a warm tap and a cold tap, well in my bathroom there is one labeled C for cold, and another is also labeled C for cold!

After freshening up, I strolled around town in search of tour operators. Finding a trustworthy tour operator in this town is like trying to find an honest used car salesman. After talking to five different operators, I finally settled on the operator that has an office in my hotel. Not only was he the least expensive, but he also seemed like the most trustworthy. For $600, he is organizing a guide, a cook, and two porters for me. I will leave on Wednesday morning and return on Monday evening. Everything, including the price of a night's accommodation on either side of the climb, is included in the price. This is incredible considering that more than $400 of the $600 will be given to the Tanzanian government in park fees.

At present, it looks like I will be climbing alone. I had an option of joining a Spanish couple, but decided that I would prefer to go it alone rather than join a couple.

After my recent lack of sleep and all my running around today, I crashed hard until I was awoken by a great telephone call from Kim. I then resumed my slumber until the morning.

Tanzania - Moshi, 05 August 2003

Today I made flight and accommodation arrangements for the remainder of my trip. I also made some last-minute purchases before the climb and caught up with my journal.

Tanzania - Kilimanjaro, 06 August 2003
Machame Hut - 3,000 meters

As is usual for me, I was ready to leave a half hour earlier than the arranged time. And as is usual for people from East Africa, the rest of my party were not ready to go until one and a half hours after the arranged time. This is a common occurrence in this part of the world. I used the time to catch up on some of my reading.

When we finally got going, there were only four of us - a guide, two porters, and myself. I had arranged for a cook as well, but the cook never materialized. Apparently, the guide is going to double as the cook! My guide is an affable fellow, named Modestus (pronounced Modest). He has excellent English, and a third-level qualification in guiding. The porters are very pleasant, but speak very little English. Speaking of the porters... in my preparatory reading, I had been led to believe that porters typically wore flip-flops and sneakers, while their western clients wore expensive hiking boots. Well, my first impression is that my porters are better outfitted than me. I'm jealous of thier nice boots!

We finally got going at 11 am. Or so I thought. After a relatively short drive to the park gate, we were held up once again. It took a painfully slow hour to process our paperwork at the park gate. All this waiting around, meant that we got off to a very late start. I am climbing the Machame Route, which is not the most popular route (that would be the Marangu Route). But the scenery is supposed to be more spectacular on this route, it is supposed to be less crowded, and it is supposed be a better route for acclimatization to the high altitudes. Here is a route map (the route I am taking is in red):

Once we got going, we made up for our late start, making it to the Machame Hut in little more than 4 hours. As my friends will attest to, I have a reasonable fast hiking pace. It appears as if Modestus has a similar pace, so we are well suited in this regard.

The route today consisted of path through the rainforest. The scenery was very nice. However, the ground was very wet and slippery. The muddy conditions made the 10 kilometer hike a little more arduous than normal. However, I did feel strong afterwards. Along the way, one of the two water bottles in my day pack broke, soaking the clothes I was wearing. Luckily, the damage was minimal because everything in my daypack was either in a waterproof bag or a zip-lock bag.

Most of the hike was spent climbing through the clouds. As we approached Machame Hut, we finally emerged from the clouds and caught our first glimpse of the summit. The sight of the summit was, at the same time, both inspiring and frightening.

The Machame Hut is just that - a dingy metal hut housing park officials. We signed in at the hut, I conversed with some of the other hikers on the trail, and then we set up camp nearby. Thankfully, we managed to erect the tents just before the sun set because, as soon as the sun did set, it was too cold to do anything.

After day one, I feel good. I have been told that today's hike will be the most difficult until the summit attempt. And I think I handled it quite well. My only concerns are the fact that I have lost one of my two water bottles and the fact that one of my two changes of clothes are wet. Hopefully I will get a chance to dry my clothes tomorrow.

One of the side effects of taking Diamox - the medication for minimizing the effects of altitude sickness - is the fact that it makes you pee a lot. Believe it or not, I was actually glad of this side effect tonight. Each time I had to get up pee, I was amazed by the night sky. Between the lack of pollution in the sky, the lack of terrestrial lights in the area, and the higher altitude, the night sky really was a sight to behold. The night passed reasonably comfortably. Although, I did wear two layers of clothing while in my sleeping bag. I had a dull headache for most of the night, but it is nothing that concerns me.

Tanzania - Kilimanjaro, 07 August 2003
Shira Hut - 3,840 meters

I was not surprised to see that my clothes from yesterday (including my only fleece) were still wet when I woke up this morning. However, I was surprised to see a layer of ice inside my fly sheet. It appears as if the condensation from my breath has turned to ice. I didn't realize it was going to be this cold at such a relatively low elevation.

I awoke to a hearty breakfast of oatmeal, toast, fresh fruit, and a plate of scrambled eggs and sausages. To tell you the truth, the very mention of the word oatmeal is enough to make me wince. I have always had an aversion to the lumpy cereal. However, it is amazing how appetizing a hot bowl of oatmeal can be when you are freezing on the side of a mountain!

From this point onwards, we will be fetching water from nearby streams and boiling it. This will act as our drinking water while hiking. I am very glad that I have brought along my water filter because the water is not exactly clear.

Today we enjoyed a relatively easy 4-hour hike. Again, we went at a fast pace, overtaking most other people on the trail along the route. The scenery today was beautiful, as we emerged from the rainforest and walked through moorlands. Along the way, I ate a packed lunch that consisted of an orange, a banana, a raw carrot, a boiled egg, and a sandwich.

I got chatting to a few people who are also hiking along this route. There are three middle-aged English guys, two of whom are really struggling. I know this is terrible to say, but seeing them makes me feel good because I am thinking that if they can make it, I certainly can make it. And there are four Norwegians. Well, actually, I chatted with only one of the Norwegians - the other three are not very friendly. They remind me of the bartenders in The Burren (a bar in Boston that is fast gaining a reputation for its surly bartenders). Then there's an English guy (of Indian heritage) with whom I have struck up an instant rapport. Oh, and there's a very friendly South African couple. At this stage I am really glad that I am hiking on my own. I can go, unhindered, at my own pace and there is no shortage of camaraderie with fellow hikers along the trail.

In my preparatory reading, I was also led to believe that there is widespread abuse of porters. Porters are not supposed to carry more than 15 kilograms of baggage that is not their own, and the weight of each porter's load is supposed to be checked before leaving the park gate. Well, they did not check the weight of my porter's loads. However, they are clearly less than the limit of 15 kilograms. One porter is carrying my bag, which is less than 10 kilograms, and the tents. The other porter is carrying the cooking materials and food. Thankfully, it appears to me as if most porters on this route are carrying loads that are at or below the weight limit. However, there are one or two porters that do look overburdened. I find it very amusing that most porters insist on carrying rucksacks on their heads. This is the case, despite the fact that so much time and money has been invested by the rucksack manufacturers in researching the most ergonomic rucksack designs.

Because of the relatively short hike today, I had the afternoon to relax, to do a little reading, and to chat with my fellow hikers. And, thankfully, I had a chance to dry out my clothes from yesterday.

Since we left the rainforest, it has been dry and dusty. The dust is everywhere. It is really difficult to keep my hands clean in this environment. No matter what I do, soon after washing my hands, they are dirty again. This is where one of man's greatest inventions comes in... baby wipes! These moist towelettes are a lifesaver when you know you won't be having a shower for a few days. A baby wipe before eating cleans the hands. And a couple before going to bed, leaves one all fresh and clean.

Tanzania - Kilimanjaro, 08 August 2003
Barranco Hut - 3,950 meters

On the past couple of days, we have been among the last groups to leave and the first to arrive at camp. Today, we were the first group to leave and certainly the first to arrive at the next camp. The 10-kilometer hike took us only 4 hours. It usually takes between 5 and 6 hours. However, our fast pace took its toll on me and I am feeling very sick. This is such a strong contrast to how I have been feeling on the first two days. I feel terrible. My head hurts so much that I cannot walk or talk. I fear that I have reached my limit.

After resting for the afternoon, I get up and still feel terrible. I take a photograph of the summit, fearing it may be the last time I see it. It really is incredibly beautiful up here. It's just such a pity it is so difficult to get up here :-)

As I was eating dinner, I heard a couple of very load thunderous bangs. I then noticed that all of the porters stopped what they were doing and stared towards the summit. If the porters were stopping what they were doing, I know that something significant must have been happening. Then another series of thunder claps followed and a cloud of snow and ice moved down the mountain. I was watching my first avalanche. It was an incredible and very powerful experience!

After eating my dinner, Modestus told me to go back to bed and try to sleep some more. In the morning, we will decide if I will go any further.

Tanzania - Kilimanjaro, 09 August 2003
Barafu Hut - 4,600 meters

In the morning, I felt good enough to continue. I didn't feel great, but my headache was manageable. Today I followed the old Swahili adage of pole, pole (slowly, slowly). Instead of my usual stride, I took baby steps all day long. By lunch time, I was feeling good again. It looks like I just needed to slow down my pace to let my body adapt to the change in altitude and the lack of oxygen.

It took 7 hours for us to reach camp (which was about the same amount of time as the other groups). All of the sites where we have camped to this point have been in beautiful settings. This is quite the opposite. Whipping wind and driving rain conspired to make this the most inhospitable of places. When I reached camp, I just crawled into my tent and stayed there.

My headache has returned. This is the last camp before our summit attempt. The summit attempt requires almost 1,300 meters of ascent - the largest single-day gain of the entire trek (and it will be at the highest altitude as well). At this point, I am at a fairly low ebb because I am sure that I will not make it to the top.

It is 5pm. I have a large dinner, consisting mostly of carbohydrates, and the try to get some sleep. At midnight, I get up for the summit attempt. I don't feel great, but I reckon I'll go as far as I can and then turn around when the effects of the altitude get too bad. At first, every baby step is tough work. I stop every few meters to catch my breath. I couldn't have gone much more than 50 meters in the first half hour of hiking. But then I get into a rhythm. I take one breath in as I take a baby step, and then one breath out as I take the next baby step. Before I know it, I am making reasonable progress.

There is no need for flashlights on the mountain tonight, as a full moon lights up the mountainside and casts a strong shadow. Strangely, as I fall into the rhythm of baby steps and big breaths, I am feeling stronger and stronger. I feel bad for people that are making their way down after giving up. And then I come across the Burren bartenders - they are in bad shape. Now, all of a sudden, when they are suffering, they are attempting to be friendly. I help them out with some water and some chocolate, but it is too late for a couple of them and they cannot continue. There is no sign of the middle-aged English guys that were struggling earlier on the hike... this makes me a little sad.

I reached Stella Point at 5.30 in the morning. I felt good because I knew that now, no matter what, I was going to make it. I was really struggling at this stage, but so was everyone else. I had only 100 meters of ascent to go.

Then, maybe 300 or 400 meters from the peak, I stumbled and collapsed. Two fellow hikers - one of whom was suffering as much as me - helped pick me up. I had reached the limit of my endurance. Then I said a little prayer to my dearly-departed brother Brendan, asking him for help. Almost instantly, I got a lease of life and had the strength to proceed. I walked to the top faster than I had walked in days.

At the peak, I stopped for a few minutes to watch the sun rise, took the requisite photos, and then started my descent. At first, I was full of life, bounding down the mountain. But then I lost it. All of a sudden, I had no energy and no ability to coordinate myself. I had to stop. I lay down on a boulder and rested. I awoke from a light sleep a few minutes later and very slowly made my way down. I would follow this pattern of resting and wearily treading down the mountain two more times before getting back to camp.

Tanzania - Kilimanjaro, 10 August 2003
Mweka Hut - 3,100 meters

I stumbled into camp at about 9.30am and crawled into my tent. After an hour and a half of sleep, I felt great. We then packed up the tents and made some more headway down the mountain, this time descending on the Mweka Route.

A few hours later, we reached camp for the night. Mweka Hut is the nicest campground we have stayed at. It is actually like a normal campground, with actual sites for the tents. Well, it's like a normal campground except for the fact that there are no amenities. There was a great atmosphere on the way down, with trekkers excitedly talking to one another. Almost everyone agreed that it was one of the most difficult things they have ever done. And a few even said that if they knew how difficult it was going to be that they would not have done it. Still, like all great ordeals in life, it won't be long before we have forgotten the hardships and remember only the good aspects of the experience.

Tanzania - Moshi, 11 August 2003

I enjoyed a great sleep before getting up for the final part of the descent. Our only tasks before leaving were for me to sign in at the hut and for the porters to have the rubbish weighed. At each hut that we passed, the porters had the rubbish weighed. The weight of the rubbish at each stage is noted on the permit. This system ensures that the porters do not litter the mountain with rubbish. It's a great idea and it seems to work. I saw very little rubbish on the mountain. And, what little I did see, was caused by falling bags and discarded fresh food. However, I can attest only to the route I was on. I avoided the popular Marangu Route, which might be a different story. The Marangu Route is known locally as the Coca-Cola route because of the availability of Coca-Cola all along the way.

Our path to the gate descended through the rainforest. And - no surprise here - it was raining once again. However, the conditions were much nicer than on the Machame Route. The Mweka Route consists of a maintained path, as opposed to a track formed by the constant treading of trekkers. This maintained path consists of nice steps and includes ditches and water run-offs.

Once we got to the gate, it was back to the realities of East African time as our transport back to the hotel was more than two hours late. Still, it gave me another opportunity to do some reading.

Once back at the hotel, I wasted no time before having a shower. It was my first shower in six days and it felt great. Then there was the small matter of organizing the washing of my stinky laundry. After a bite to eat, there was time for another shower (I had another shower just because I could) before going to bed.

Tanzania - Moshi, 12 August 2003

Today was a lazy day, spent updating my journal and walking around Moshi. Moshi is such a small town that I kept bumping into people all day long. I bumped into the guy who organized my trip, I bumped into Modestus, I bumped into one of the touts who was trying to organize my trip, and I bumped into a few people that I saw on the mountain. I still haven't fully recovered from the climb, but I'm sure that I will over the next few days on the island of Zanzibar. I plan to do little more than read and relax while there.

Tanzania - Zanzibar, 13 August 2003

I spent the morning hanging out in the hotel lobby, reading and waiting for the shuttle to Kilimanjaro International Airport. On the way to the airport, I enojyed my last sights of the wonderful roadside life of East Africa - the colourfully dressed women carrying baskets on their heads, the young Masai warriors tending to herds of goats, the children whose arms are in a perpetual waving motion. These sights have been my companion for the past four weeks. I am going to miss them.

Kilimanjaro International Airport is a beautiful little airport. I love airports in vast expanses of land where you walk from the terminal and climb a little stairs into the prop plane. I feel that there is something romantic about such settings. The first leg of my journey takes me to Dar-Es-Salam (which, within the travelling community, is referred to as Dar-is-a-Slum). One nice aspect of the flght to Dar was the fact that we were served a lunch. The serving of meals on short-haul flights is something that no longer occurs in the States. I miss it.

From Dar, it is a 15-minute flight to Zanzibar. This is the shortest flight I have ever taken. It is even shorter than the shortest flying lesson I have ever had. The cost of my flights to Zanzibar was just less than $80. My other option for getting to Zanzibar consisted of an 8-hour bus journey, followed by a 2-hour ferry crossing. Thie bus and ferry would have cost almost $50. It didn't take much brain power to figure out that flying made more sense than taking the bus and ferry.

It is high season on Zanzibar for tourism and getting a room is very difficult. For the first time on this trip, I am beginning to get a bit of a buzz. The buzz is from the uncertainty of where I will sleep tonight combined with having a completely open plan. Oevr the course of preious travels I have come to really enjoy this feeling. I especially enjoy the fact that, in such situations, plans change by the minute.

The first thing I do is secure a room for the night. It is relatviely expensive at $60 a night, but I am staying at the very plush Mazson's Hotel. They do not have a room available tomorrow, so I take to the streets to seek out another hotel for tomorrow. As I navigate the maze of little alleyways that is Stone Town in Zanzibar, I am constantly pestered by touts. After spending quite a bit of time in places like this, I have a reasonably high tolerance for touts. However, these guys are particularly annoying. It is very dificult to shake them because they insist on walking alongside you even when you tell them that you are not interested. Eventually, I decide that the best way to stem the tide of annoying touts is to just choose one and let him take care of me. I chose a little rasta guy called Yusef. Yusef smells of booze and has the appearance of someone with a chemically-altered state of mind. But he a gentle little fellow and has a trustworthy nature.

With Yusef's help I secure a room for tomorrow night and a room for my last night on the island. He assures me that tomorrow he will help me find a room for the other nights. For his trouble, I give Yusef 2,000 Tanzanian Schillings ($2) and buy him a bottle of beer. I also use him to book a "spice" tour for tomorrow. (By the way, Yusef will also have received commissions from the hotels.) Having done as much as I could with regards booking accommodation, I decide to head to the waterfront gardens for some food. This is the place to come for food in Stone Town. It consists of a bunch of stalls, where you choose food from the platters on display and the stall owners cook the food for you there and then. I got a lobster for $2 and a plate of mussels for $1.

After eating I decide to wander around in an attempt to familiarize myself with the streets. Along the way, I pass the only bar with any life in it. After spending a few moments humming and hawing as to whether I should go in, I decide to have a beer there before retiring. I am the only mzungu in the bar. Soon I get talking to Hasnaw (a Snoop Doggy Dog look-alike but without the scoul on his face) and we hit it off. Hasnaw is proud to declare the pub as a hangout for "gangstas" and, sure enough, within moments of him saying this a fight breaks out. Aside from occasionally referring to women as his bitches, Hasnaw is a likeable enough chap. He tells me that Yusef has a known drug problem, but is trustworthy. Over the course of the evening, Hasnaw and I drift in and out of most of the bars in Stone Town. When we are almost back where we started, I decide to call it a night and stroll back to the hotel.

Tanzania - Zanzibar, 14 August 2003

When I got up this morning, Yusef was waiting for me. He walked me to my new hotel (the Coco De Mer for $30 a night) and took me to join the "spice" tour that he had arranged (for $10). The tour was fantastic. It took us to the main sights in and around Stone Town, before going to a spice and fruit plantation. On the plantation, we got to see how a wide variety of spices and fruits are grown. The spices that we sampled included cloves, pepper, cardamon, cinnamon, lemonrgass, ginger, and vanilla. We got to taste all of the spices and fruits and learnt all sorts of related information. We then went to the beach for lunch, before returning to Stone Town.

Back in Stone Town, Yusef was waiting for me. He had found two hotels with rooms available. One hotel, for $10 a night, was housed in a building that looked like it was ready for demolition. And the other hotel, for $15 a night, didn't look much better. I chose the $15 a night hotel and tipped Yusef $5 for his efforts. And then I bought him a beer after he showed me the local hangout for watcing the English football on Saturday - it is an open square in the back streets of Stone Town with a few televisions on walls (by the way, a beer costs about 75 cents).

After eating a sandwich at the hotel, I went up to the roof of the hotel and treated myself to a hoarde of chocolate, cookies, and coke that I had purchased at the local supermarket. I finished reading my book and then had a great night's sleep.

Tanzania - Zanzibar, 15 August 2003

My third day on Zanzibar... my third hotel in Zanzibar. After playing musical hotel rooms yet again, I spent the day wandering around and getting lost in the narrow alleyways of Stone Town. This place has got great character. There is something of interest at every twist and turn of the alleyways. Many of the buildings are in a state of disrepair, which only adds to the atmosphere. And you never know where you are going to find the next interesting little curiosity shop.

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