The Relentless Traveler

One of the Seven Summits for My Seventh Continent

When I was 15, I set a goal for myself– to reach all seven continents by the time I was 30 (because, ya know, 30 is so old). And this past June, I made it. I was 31, not 30, since some torn tendons and ligaments in my foot delayed my Antarctica trip a year and, therefore, pushed back Africa a year. But, hey, I was pretty darn close. And it was even more amazing than I had hoped.

Africa had always been at the top of my bucket list, which is why I saved it for last. I had considered many ways of experiencing Africa for the first time– a safari through Botswana, the Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe, and wine country in South Africa sounded like a pretty good plan. But I knew I wanted to do something epic to commemorate my achievement of reaching all seven continents. So, instead of a luxurious glamping trip filled with food and wine, I opted for an 8 day climb of Kilimanjaro and a safari through the Serengeti with REI. And I couldn’t have been happier with the outcome.

My sister Diana and I made our way to Kilimajaro Airport in early June to take on the first climb of the season on the Lemosho route. Lemosho is a popular route, famous for its beautiful views and its lengthy trek, giving you the best chance of acclimatizing and making it to the summit. And while I am an avid hiker, I was nervous about this climb. It is, after all, nearly a mile higher than any mountain in Colorado. Would I be strong enough to make it? Would I get altitude sickness? Excitement and fear swirled around within me. I didn’t want my epic seventh continent adventure to be an epic failure.

But, as we arrived on Tanzanian soil late in the evening, that fear seemed to dissipate. Instead, I was nearly in tears. This was the moment I had worked so hard for– the moment I stepped foot on my seventh continent. I had made it. I had experienced the beauty of Europe, the wonder and solitude of Antarctica, the wild of Australia, the culture of South America, the excitement of Asia, the serenity of home, and now, I was stepping foot onto the beautiful continent of Africa. For a moment, I just took it all in and forgot about the upcoming climb.

The next day, we met the rest of our group–10 amazing individuals from across the country who were also drawn to this beautiful mountain. And we met our lead guide and assistant guide: Kibacha and Omur. We received a lengthy safety briefing and they checked all of our gear. And we were so ready to get started.

The first day of the climb was quite easy and short. I think it existed simply to build our confidence. We stopped periodically in the rainforest and watched monkeys jump from tree to tree. And when we arrived at camp for the first night, we were met by 70+ (!!) porters, waiters, cooks, and assistant guides who were there to celebrate with us. We danced, we sang, and we ate like royalty. Thank youuuuu, REI.

As the days progressed, the hike was increasingly more difficult. We climbed high and slept low to acclimate, and stayed true to our guides words of wisdom of “pole pole” or “slowly slowly”. The days were filled with fun, laughter, labored breathing, and beauty as the landscape changed from rainforest to moorlands to alpine desert, and summit. And every night, we would congregate in the mess tent, eat wonderfully prepared food, drink peppermint tea to settle our stomachs, take our vitals, and send a lot of “emails” (the words our guides adorably used to mean “going to the bathroom”), since altitude medication seems to make you pee every 15 minutes.

My favorite day of the climb was the day of Barranco Wall. This 800′ cliff seems to go straight up and requires a bit of scrambling and fancy footwork. This, of all of the days, is the one that people seem to get most nervous about because it is the biggest obstacle to overcome other than the summit itself. But I had an absolute blast on the Wall– it felt like we were climbing through an adult jungle gym on our way to the top of the mountain. And our amazing guides seemed to effortlessly help us find our footing and make it successfully to the top.

As we made it to basecamp at 15’980′, we were given a few hours to rest before starting our summit attempt at midnight. The winds were howling and it felt like our tents were going to blow right off the side of the mountain. Paired with our nerves, I don’t think anyone got a wink of sleep. It was below freezing and I wore several shirts, pants, socks, and gloves in order to stay warm for the hike. I looked and felt like the Michelin man.

As we started the summit climb in the middle of the night, with only headlamps at the footsteps of those in front of us to guide our way, we quickly realized that this was going to be more difficult than we had anticipated. The unusually long rainy season in Tanzania this year created three feet of snow and ice beneath our feet and prevented us from being able to stop and take breaks. Where there wasn’t ice, there was deep scree. Even the guides were not used to these conditions, but they were far more sure-footed than us. We used our trekking poles to stabilize our positions and prevent ourselves from sliding back with each step. On top of this, we had strong, cold winds blowing on our faces. As I had already come down with a terrible chest cold, the wind made it feel like I was breathing out of a tiny straw. And we had 3361′ to climb. Thankfully, Sayid, one of the assistant guides, stayed with me as I went super “pole pole” in order to catch what little breath I had, and make it to the summit at my own pace.

As I made it to the top, I saw the sun rise above the clouds and illuminate the peak and the massive glacier to the side. I saw my sister waiting for me at the summit. And I couldn’t have been happier about my decision to climb Kilimanjaro. The view was unlike anything I had ever seen– almost otherworldly. We quickly took pictures to commemorate the occasion and started on our way back down the mountain.

But, what we didn’t know was that going down the mountain would be even more difficult than climbing up. We had already been hiking for 7+ hours, our water had frozen, and we were too high in elevation to eat anything, so we had to muster the rest of our strength to make it back to basecamp through deep scree, steep cliffs and ice. But when we made it back, we were met with smiling faces and fresh juice to refresh us. We then had two hours to rest before we had to continue down another 3500′ in order to make it to a safe altitude.

As we finished the climb and made our way off of Kilimanjaro, I was struck by how profound this experience had been. I had pushed myself to do more than I thought possible. I made new friends with incredible people. I saw stunning landscapes that seemed to come out of a storybook. And I stood on the Roof of Africa looking over a beautiful country full of beautiful people.

I truly couldn’t have picked a better way to commemorate my seventh continent. Kilimanjaro, you are in my heart forever.