The Story, Part 4- the summit!!

Ohhh, lets just jump right in.

Day 5 on the Mountain- Summit Day!!

Today was certainly a whir of emotions and events.

Frank woke us up just before 4 and asked us if we wanted to try to summit. Dad hadn't slept at all and we barely ate anything last night so we probably should have said no... but we didn't. We got up and dressed in the warmest clothes we had. It was freezing cold outside and this angry wind blew at the tent. But stepping out and looking up at the stars was pretty incredible. I've never seen anything like that night sky. It looked liked it had been sprinkled with powdered sugar. I still had a throbbing headache due to the altitude and my stomach was queasy. I forced down some hot chocolate, crackers, and a little fruit and then we said a prayer all together. Sifuel and Frank told us that we'd be okay and we semi-believed them. 

Within seconds of starting, the tears in my stinging eyes froze on my cheeks. The water in my camelpack froze. The snot in my nose froze. It was pitch black and we could barely see in front of us. We wore headlamps so that we didn't lose our footing. I wore mittens the size of pillows and the thickest coat I've ever put on my body along with about 10 layers and I was still shivering. I admit, I was hating life for the first little bit. I wasn't feeling well or strong, my headache was getting louder (does that even make sense?) and my legs were shaking. We were hiking across huge frozen boulders covered with ice and it was really scary. I kept slipping. Freezing cold and miserable, I began a continuous discussion with Heavenly Father.  

"Father, I can't do this." 

"Yes, you can."

"Okay, maybe I can... but I don't want to."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I really don't. It's too hard, I don't have enough energy or strength. I want to turn back, I want to be done. I'm scared of falling or hurting myself or not being able to breathe, I can't do this. I can't. I don't want to and I can't."

"Lizzie?"

"What?"

"What makes you think you're going off of your own energy and strength?" 

Just around the time that the pale pinks and lavenders began to smear across the skyline, my mind was flooded with names and faces of people who love and support me-- people who promised to include me daily in their prayers while I was gone. I thought of my Mom's faith particularly and I realized that I really wasn't doing it alone. I had access to the faith and strength and energy of others. Tears filled my eyes at the thought... then promptly froze. But despite the cold, the altitude, the precarious footing, the lack of sleep and energy, the sore muscles and shaking legs, and even despite the temptation to give in to fear, I began pushing forward with renewed purpose. Right then, the sunlight spilled over the horizon in a dazzling display of color and warmth. We turned off our headlamps and continued in daylight. 


Quite frankly, I don't remember many specific details from the next 4 or 5 hours. The terrain got progressively steeper and more rocky and the air continuously thinner the higher we rose yet I felt like for me it got easier and easier-- like I wasn't really breathing with my lungs or moving with my own legs. It was unreal. I kept praying and feeling comforted and hopeful. I felt like I had prepared to get here and now that the task was greater than I was, the Lord was recognizing my preparation and helping me realize a dream that meant a great deal to me. 


Even though I don't remember much, I do remember a few things. 


First- a moment of true despair. 17,500 feet. Up a crazy steep incline. Bathroom break. Still freezing cold. I laboriously hike off to the edge of a cliff so I can't be seen by all the men (I was the only girl in sight). My hands were numb and tingling at the same time (is that even possible?) and my grip on the toilet paper wasn't the best. In the middle of it all (my nether-parts frozen in the frosty wind) I lost hold of the roll and it bounced merrily down the incline and off the cliff. That, my friends, is the definition of true despair. I couldn't do anything to change it so I just sat up there and laughed. 


Second- I took one small dose of Diamox to help me with my breathing at such a high altitude. It helped my headache and nausea as well but Diamox as two interesting side-effects. First, it makes carbonation taste SUPER funky. I realized this at the top of Stella's Point (45 minutes from the top) when Frank gave me a Red Bull. Now, I don't usually drink Red Bulls but an energy drink was exactly what I needed in that situation so I downed it. It sparkled and burned on the way down my throat. It felt like a drink made of pop rocks and flames. Second, Diamox makes you tingle, especially your fingers, toes and face. It felt like every part of me was asleep all day long. My face was the weirdest. I don't know if you've ever felt your face tingle but it is a little disconcerting. 


Third- When the trail got especially rough, I got in the "work-out zone" meaning that I shoved my ipod headphones in my ears and sucked it up. I am immensely grateful for each and every spin class I ever attended. I noticed that some songs deeply affected me, sometimes to the point of tears. In such a mentally and physically vulnerable state, emotions tend to run high and close to the surface. The remix of the song "I Got Soul But I'm Not A Soldier" for instance impacted me deeply-- I listened to it 9 or 10 times in a row, whacking the frozen ground with my hiking poles to the beat of the song. Everything from Lion King Broadway made me cry. It was hilarious and I knew it at the time, I couldn't stop laughing or crying the whole way up. Thankfully everyone was so intent on the task at hand and so concerned with their own feet that they didn't really notice my sniffles, chuckles and passionate conviction-filled steps. 


Fourth- We passed the huge group from Scotland. I mentioned Mary, the one with the sore throat I gave the lozenges to. It was one of the steepest and most discouraging parts of the trail when I saw her again. She recognized me and took off her sunglasses to reveal eyes full of gratitude and thanks. She seemed close to tears. "I've been looking for you in camp to say thank you! I can't thank you enough, I don't think I would've been able to summit today without those lozenges." Little warm and fuzzy moment to keep me going. 


The climb up to Stella Point was incredibly difficult for me. The weights tied to my hands and feet that I began to feel at about 16,000 feet were now huge boulders. It honestly felt like I was carrying an 80 pound pack up a never-ending hill while breathing out of a straw. It was essentially straight uphill in shale and gravel- it was hard to maintain footing and there were a few times I almost tumbled down the hill Princess Bride "Aaaas Yooooou Wiiiiish" style. 


At the top of Stella Point my breathing was really rapid and shallow. I could barely talk, which made sense because we were over 19,000 feet in the air. Stella Point is on the edge of the crater and is only about 45 minutes from Uhuru Peak- the actual top. I had to sit on a rock and catch my breath for quite a while. It was freezing cold and very windy. We were surrounded by incredible glaciers hundreds of feet high. Spectacular.

Glaciers near the top. These were enormous. 

We dropped our packs and continued without them. Sifuel stayed at Stella Point to watch our stuff and Frank continued with us. I was hesitant. I knew the top wasn't far and that the rest of the climb wasn't anything like our journey up to Stella Point (the path evened out quite a bit) but I had just tackled an incredible distance and altitude and I wasn't sure how I was going to get there. Every step seemed to take all of my energy and those boulders attached to my legs and arms were growing heavier and heavier.  Even sitting and resting I was breathing like I had just run a 5K at a dead sprint.  My heart was racing. 

Frank (left) and Sifuel (right) at the top of Stella Point. We were getting ready for the final ascent. 

The last 45 minutes were the hardest for me. The incline wasn't bad and the trail was fine but I simply couldn't breathe. It was a scary feeling. It took me ten minutes to walk 100 feet. My breathing was raspy, shallow, and quick. Dad and Frank helped me by holding on to my arms and helping me walk. I couldn't quite believe that we were almost at the top. It seemed unreal. I was scared by how hard I was breathing and how tired my body was. We were hiking through a thick cloud and we couldn't tell exactly what was ahead. But then I saw it... the sign. 


The sign that says "Congratulations, you are now at Uhuru Peak." As soon as that was in focus through the fog I began to run. Somewhere in my body was this store of extra energy I hadn't tapped in to and I was filled with adrenaline. On my ipod was "How Firm a Foundation"- my theme song in so many ways and at so many different parts of my life. 


Fear Not, I am with thee, oh be not dismayed. 
For I am thy God and will still give thee aid.
I'll strengthen thee, help thee, and cause thee to stand
Upheld by my righteous omnipotent hand. 


The tears started right before I reached the sign. I fell to my knees- this moment symbolized so much to me. It wasn't about merely hiking to the top or climbing one of the tallest mountains in the world. I knelt there clutching the sign and cried and cried- out of gratitude, triumph, joy.

Happy tears at the sign. 

My Dad and I had made it to the very top of Mount Kilimanjaro. 

We did it!!

There is more to say, especially about the trip down which had it's own set of adventures and wasn't nearly as easy as I had imagined. There were some unexpected twists and turns but that will be in the next segment, along with wrap-up thoughts on what it all meant to me and why. Stay tuned!