The Story, Part 5- Finishing, videos, and wrap up

So we made it to the top.

Excerpts from the journal:

Day 5 on the Mountain- Summit day continued

Standing atop Mount Kilimanjaro is an emotion in and of itself. I can't think of one that would adequately describe the feeling. It was a mixture of excitement, relief, and victory. I gave my dad a big hug and then went to go sit on a cliff that looked out over the crater that formed the top of Kilimanjaro. A good friend gave me a great piece of advice before I left. He said "Do something significant at the top. It doesn't need to be significant to anyone else but you, but do something." I thought all the way up about what I wanted to do and decided around day 4. While sitting there on the cliff trying to catching my breath, I selected the two biggest rocks that I could find. 

I named one fear and one doubt… then I hurled them off the top of the mountains and watched them smash and shatter as they rolled off the cliffs below. That was why I climbed [read on to find out what I mean] and so that was my significant act at the top. We stayed at the top for about 45 minutes. A thick fog began settling over the peak, covering the ground and draping over rocks and boulders. The air became even colder and wetter. It was time to go.

The cloud we were in got thicker as we headed down. My breathing was much better, probably because I wasn’t exerting nearly as much while going downhill. However the trek down was much more dangerous in my opinion. We were weak and tired, my legs were shaky and keep in mind that all I’d really had to eat were some cookies, an apple, and a few bites of a Snickers bar. I had been drinking quite a bit but my stomach was virtually empty. I also didn’t realize going up how steep the trail we had just completed really was. We were going down sheer rock faces—steep ones—and I had to be extremely careful with my footing. Dad’s headache was back so I was concerned about him as well. We got off of the boulders and essentially started ski-sliding down loose gravel and dirt up to our knees. Since we weren’t sure what was under the gravel and dirt, I was worried about having my ankle or knee caught on an unseen rock. An injury at this point would be really bad. Falling or tripping would be equally dangerous. Downhill is also a lot harder on your joints. My ankles were in good shape because of my boots but my knee had been giving me problems the whole way up and it was starting to ache. It was a rather stressful situation.

An hour into the downhill, Dad had to stop and rest to try to get rid of his migraine. We were still exposed at and a long way down. The fog was getting thicker and the cold air stung my red cheeks. We took it slower but I could tell that he wasn’t feeling so hot. I felt okay, but really tired. Frank took my dad down one way that was apparently gentler and longer and Sifuel took the other route which was ambitious but quicker. I was hiking in front of Sifuel and listening to music to distract me from my knee, whose ache had now turned into a throb. The fog was now so thick that I couldn’t see more than 5 feet in front of or behind me. I lost sight of Sifuel. I took out my headphones and called his name. No answer. I called louder and with more sharpness in my voice. Again no answer. Taking a deep breath, I turned to face the trail. It now seemed completely incomprehensible. This trail was nothing like the clear well-kept trails down in the rainforest. This was jagged and unclear, muddled by snow, ice and boulders. I couldn’t tell where I should be going and at this point in the hike down direction was crucial. Guessing and taking the wrong path could lead me precariously close to the edge of a cliff or lost in the fog. Panic rose in my chest as I called Sifuel’s name again. I heard nothing but the wind whipping between the rocks around me. 

I thought about staying where I was in case Sifuel had simply fallen behind me and needed to catch up. But I felt like I needed to keep moving in order to stay warm. Thinking back to the last several minutes, I  also realized that I might have been hiking alone for a while and that I wasn’t sure if I had already taken the wrong path. If that was the case, sitting and waiting surely wasn’t an option. I closed my eyes and said a prayer out loud, pleading for help. I felt like I should continue to move but to literally move according to the spirit. I chose one path over another and spoke out loud "Father, I'm going down this way. Stop me if I shouldn't." I began down, then felt unsure so I traced my steps back and chose the other path. "Okay, so I'll try this way. Let me know if that's unwise." If I felt okay about it, I kept going. This continued for five  minutes or so when I heard my name being called by Sifuel, who was somewhere in front of me. I called back and worked my way towards his voice. He didn’t seemed panicked but was obviously a little concerned. Apparently he go an emergency phone call and was headed from another guide asking him what to do with an evacuation situation. He couldn’t move from where he was because he would lose reception. He had called down to me and asked me to wait and he thought I had heard him but couldn’t see me through the fog so when he began again, he couldn’t find me. 

I immediately recognized this as a literal representation of the hymn “Lead, Kindly Light.” Lead, kindly light, amid the encircling gloom. Lead Thou me on. The night is dark and I am far from home, lead Thou me on. Keep Thou my feet, I do not ask to see the distant scene, one step enough for me.

Sifuel and I continued at a rapid pace down the mountain. Because I had gotten lost, Dad and Frank beat us down by a few minutes. Dad sat in the tent with his hands over his eyes looking pale. He couldn’t drink much and didn’t want to eat anything. I also didn’t have any appetite, though I was drinking plenty. The guides decided that the most important thing to do would be to get Dad out of the altitude and continue hiking down for three more hours to a lower camp. Though at the time I didn’t think we had three hours of strength left, this decision proved to be very wise.

I felt really good on the way down. I’m certain that had nothing to do with my own strength, I’m usually tired and sore after long intense hikes and this had by far been the longest and the most ambitious of my life. I also hadn’t eaten much or slept much the last few days. My Dad’s headache was worse than ever and he had slept and eaten less than I had. In spite of all that, we were able to maintain a fairly steady pace on our way down to Millennial Camp where we spent the night. Sifuel and Frank were monitoring both of us closely and Sifuel told me that if Dad’s headache didn’t get better within an hour of us arriving at camp, they would likely plan an emergency evacuation to prevent dehydration or worse. The were slightly worried that Dad might have cerebral edema (swelling in the brain caused by altitude) since the symptoms of migraines are similar.

We got to camp and Dad went to the tent to lie down. I went to talk to General and asked if he wouldn’t mind preparing some really mild foods. Dad said watermelon sounded okay. General got us some bland chicken broth, unseasoned rice, watermelon, bread, cucumbers, and apples. Dad ate a little and after he warmed up, he was doing much better. I was relieved. I ate a little and both of us drank Gatorade to replace electrolytes. Not much of a celebratory meal for two people that made it to the top of Kilimanjaro today but there will be time to celebrate later. For now, I just want to sleep. I’m finding that a little difficult for two reasons. 1) We are camping by some other victors of the mountain who I believe are drunk. They are singing. Loudly. And poorly. 2) My earplugs are in my backpack in the other tent and it is freezing cold so I don't feel like braving the night air to go get them. Sleep might not come easily tonight.

Day 6- On the way down the Mountain

We woke up this morning feeling much better. Turns out I had no problem falling asleep. As soon as I laid my head down, I was out despite the noise. We woke up to singing as well.

We still had an extra day on the mountain that we could use but we were both anxious to get off the trail so we decided to descend a day early. Our guides were pleased—they would still get paid and this meant that they would be able to get home to their families earlier. We ate breakfast and started getting camp all packed up.

Gordie brought me amazing pineapple for breakfast. 

 I wanted to get some pictures with our whole team. 

The whole Team!

We got everything loaded up and then hiked the rest of the way down. Going down the trail wasn’t super eventful. Honestly, I don't remember much. I listened to a bunch of podcasts and focused on my footing. It didn’t take nearly as long as going up since downhill is faster and because going up we took a much longer route so that we didn’t get too high too quickly. We had to weave our way around the mountain and up so we could get used to the altitude. There was no need to do that going down—it was much more of a straight shot. We were almost to the end and I was tired. My feet ached badly and my knee throbbed worse than ever. I was limping slightly when we walked through the gate, officially finishing the hike. It felt so good. I found a bathroom (with a toilet! A real one!) and splashed water on my face and neck. I also looked in the mirror for the first time and saw quite the sight. My face was dirty, red, and wind burnt. My hair was a dry frizzy mess since I had kept it under scarves and hadn’t combed it for a week. I looked pretty scary. I suddenly got really excited to take a long hot shower.

We got into another rickety bus to go back to our hotel. Again, I watched transfixed as I stared out the window at the scenes of the Mountain town of Moshi. I pulled out my camera to try to capture what I saw in video form but  obviously it doesn’t do the sight justice. 





Small children in their school uniforms lined the road and waved and called to us as we passed. I waved back. People were gathered around their small homes and they watched us as we passed. It was beautiful up there. 





I suddenly felt so grateful for such an amazing experience. I think I must have been a little delirious but I felt like I recognized these people. I just felt a great love for the people and places in Africa. 

On the ride home. Tired but satisfied. 

So the rest of my journal is pretty uneventful. I'll fill in the holes. We stayed in Arusha for a few more days before going home. We went to the markets and bought some cool things for family and friends back at home. When it was time to go to the airport, I was very anxious to get back home. I wanted my bed and my friends and my clothes and my shampoo and my food. 

Summary

The night of the first day of the hike, I wrote in my journal to answer a question many have asked ever since I decided to hike Mount Kilimanjaro. 

WHY?

Why did you do it? What made you decide that this was something you wanted to do? What person in their right mind would want to hike this mountain? My answer (slightly edited) is below:

This hike is so much more than a hike to me. It is symbolic of a lot of things in my life. Dad and I decided to go at a time when life had flipped upside down and I felt lost, insecure and vulnerable. I needed to prove to myself that I CAN DO HARD THINGS. I can conquer discouragement and despair, that with my Heavenly Father with me and with access to the Atonement, I can do all that is required of me. This mountain is going to be difficult but it is going to take me higher—literally—than I’ve ever been while breathing with my own lungs and walking with my own feet. Its going to push and challenge me—both physically and mentally—more than I’ve ever been pushed or challenged. The scriptures talk continually of “the mountain of the Lord” and about how those closest to God would often seek him after ascending up a high mount. In these conversations on top of the mountain, these individuals would receive revelation, guidance, peace and direction. In my life right now I feel a great need for all of those things. Grandpa Jones gave Dad a blessing the night before we left and said that we both need this to be a SOUL SATISFYING experience. I want this to be an outward demonstration of an inward mentality that I CAN DO HARD THINGS. Climbing Mount Kilimanjaro is hard. There are other things about my life that are hard right now. But all are doable and conquerable with help from above. Both will be overcome. Kilimanjaro represents a lot of things I want to conquer and get over. Doubt about the Lord’s promises, insecurity regarding my future, and more than anything else the mountain is a tangible example of FEAR. This is an adventure that is designed to increase faith. I think of the times in my life when I grow and develop the most- the times when my testimony is strengthened and solidified. Without exception, this happens in times of trial. I gain faith when I’m inclined, or sometimes forced, to use it. Part of my reasoning for wanting to climb this mountain is because I know it will be hard. Because I know I can’t do it by myself. Because I know that putting myself in a physically and mentally vulnerable position will yield spiritual results.  These doubts, these fears and these insecurities all need to be overcome in order for me to see clearly and develop the strength necessary to move on And so, I climb higher for more perspective and light... to be closer to deity… to sweat and cry and then to triumph. THAT is why I climb.

Looking back, that is very much what this trip was for me. I had a lot of time to think as I hiked the trails of Kilimanjaro. I had experiences on the trail that showed quite obviously that by myself I wasn’t enough, but with the help of a loving Heavenly Father who makes our interests his and our thoughts and feelings priority, it was doable. One of the most poignant examples that I have of this relates to clouds and perspective. 

Going up the trail was great at first. Ignorance truly was bliss on that first day. I had no idea how cold it was going to get or how hard it was going to be. I could only see the trail in front of me and it didn’t look too difficult. There were huge trees blocking my view of anything else so all I could comprehend was what was in front of me. I loved the surroundings, I loved where I was, I loved how I felt. As the trail got steeper and more difficult, I began to question the trail slightly. Why do we need to go this way? Wouldn’t it be easier that way? Why can’t we just stop here? Why can’t they make this part easier? Looking up was frustrating because I still could only see part of the trail and the clouds covered the top of the mountain so I couldn’t really gauge how far we had left to go. But after a good deal of work, after choosing to trust those around me and more importantly to trust the calming feelings inside that prompted faith and peace, I was able to experience something wonderful. We rose above the clouds. It was tough work getting there, especially since the air is thin and the trail is difficult, but I could look out and see a new perspective entirely above the clouds. I could see the trail and it made sense. It is difficult to argue with the trail when you’re looking at it from the top. I could see why we’d been led in one direction and not another. I saw reason behind decisions that had been made. I could see the top and where I was going and I could see where I had come from. I didn’t have anything obstructing my view.

Sometimes I get a little blinded by the trail in front of me. I take little thought for what lies ahead and am content to stay how I am. But the only way to progress and get higher is for the trail to get steeper. Most of the time I don’t understand they whys and hows associated with the path I’m currently taking, but I can trust that it is taking me to where I need to be. And I also believe that perspective is something you earn through hard work, whether it be physically, emotionally or spiritually. I had to earn that view above the clouds just like I need to work to maintain an eternal perspective. It is much harder to argue with the trail from the top of the mountain just as it is difficult to argue with the way your life has gone once you turn around and see the sense of where you’ve come from. If you had asked me five years ago where I thought I’d be in five years and what I thought I’d be doing, I can guarantee that I would’ve described a life very different than the one I’m living. But since when am I an expert at the way a life should go? With my limited perspective and narrow vision, I am in no place to make judgment calls. I can leave that to a Guide with more experience, perfection, and better eyesight. In the meantime, I should continue to work hard to gain spiritual altitude.

I will continue to fight to get to the top, for I know what resides there and I know what kind of life awaits me there. Climbing Mount Kilimanjaro taught me this. Climbing Mount Kilimanjaro helped me get over some things that I've been struggling with for months. Climbing Mount Kilimanjaro helped me realize that I CAN do hard things. Climbing Mount Kilimanjaro gave me a stronger relationship with my Father... both my earthly and my Heavenly Father. Climbing Mount Kilimanjaro taught me so much that I'm still discovering things I've learned.

Climbing Mount Kilimanjaro was amazing.