This Canadian Survived Mount Kenya

After a 3 week hiatus from my life in Ethiopia, I’ve realized how hard it was to get back into the swing of things, “Ethiopian Style”. The morning after I arrived, I took some time to explore Addis, alone, to really quiet myself down. I was a bit apprehensive to take the minibuses because I knew my Ethiopian Flea friends would be waiting for me. More than anything else, I had this weird feeling that I missed a lot in 3 weeks, and the city had changed completely. Would I be ok?

3 weeks hardly seems like a long time, but when a city like Addis Ababa is developing exponentially, I wouldn’t have been surprised if I came back to McDonald’s, stop signs and finally, efficient service at cafes. Anyhow, things have not changed that much. Life here is the same, and work, well work is work.

I just finished exchanging some “Welcome Back formalities” – giving triple and sometimes quadruple cheek kisses to every single coworker of mine. It feels good to reclaim my territory and be back behind my desk (which was absorbed by a coworker of mine without my consent). It feels good to not live out of a backpack. It feels good to catch up with great friends. It feels good to be recharged and ready to go!

As for my vacation, what can I say? Kenya and Mauritius were beautiful blessings…

MOUNT KENYA
Famished. Blistered. Bruised. Exhausted. Spiritually rejuvenated. That pretty much sums up my ambitious 6-day trek up Mt. Kenya, the second highest point in Africa. 6 days of extensive walking in Jurassic Park-like terrain, sleeping in mice-infested huts, dreaming of that illusive shower on day 6, intense bonding with friends and porters, and being in absolute awe of God’s creativity; has confirmed that all things are possible if you draw on God’s strength.

Since young, I have had practically non-existent asthma and heart murmurs. Yes, the sporty Susan who was on pretty much every sports team in High School and a couple in University has some health conditions. Except for the occasional irregular breathing and rare chest cramp, these conditions never bothered me (at sea level). I had forgotten that they even existed! That is, until I started gasping for air up at around 10,000ft.

By the third day, I felt like every breath I inhaled could’ve been my last. I had to take short breaks not because I was tired, but just to keep my breathing under control. My lungs were getting anxious and I gasped for air like I was convulsing. I couldn’t control my irregular breathing patterns and my knee-cartilage problems were slowing me down. I really hated myself because I could see I was dropping off from the main pack and dragging the group down. I’ve never been at the back of the pack for anything, and I guess God was really challenging my will and patience. And, what better way to learn about patience than at the back of the pack, staring at your friends’ backs.

Joseph, our assistant guide, would always say, “Polay polay..”, which meant slowly slowly in Swahili. Jenn would remind me to focus on my breathing patterns when she heard me gasping too quickly. Wow, I never knew how difficult it was to control my own body. I had to train my body to believe that there was plenty of air to fill my lungs, and that innate-survival-anxiety had no place on the mountain. I still can’t believe I made it.

Our group was quite ambitious. Not only did we have our sights set on the 4985m summit, but we also wanted to “Grab the beast by its horns” as Lonely Planet puts it. It seemed like a shame to not attempt the summit circuit. The summit circuit was a brutally intense 9-hour trek around the highest peaks of Mt. Kenya. We had to climb and painfully descend numerous steep and jagged “hills”. At times, the terrain high above the clouds were as sharp as slate, the gravel dunes were traction-less, and the boulders covered in snow were dangerously slippery.

By the last ascent of the summit circuit day, I had totally lost all sense of balance and my entire body felt like jello. I watched my fellow climbers slowly make their way up a sheer gravel wall. Slowly, they zigzagged their way up because it was so steep and traction was at times, absent. I had fallen off the pace again, but luckily God had placed one of His angels by my side, my porter. He literally held my hand and yanked me up that never ending gravel hill like I was his stubborn mule/donkey. He was incredibly supportive like my friends that were waiting for me atop the ledge, looking down at our hut that we had left early in the morning. I was so exhausted that I talked myself into believing that I couldn’t and wouldn’t make it. I just kept on thinking about the moments just before…

… our group started that last ascent, Jason waited on a ledge for me so that we could have a moment in prayer. I struggled to control my breathing, but during our prayers my asthma let up miraculously. Imagine that, praying while sitting on a ledge high above the clouds. We prayed, and then to my surprise, my porter who only spoke Swahili and very little English decided to say a word of prayer too. Talk about having a spiritual connection?!

“God’s strength, His strength, draw on His strength..” that’s all I could think of. Before I knew it, I joined the rest of the group at the top! We started the summit circuit as a group, and finished it as a group! It was a beautiful moment, and a momentous one for me.

Barely able to rest because of the busy mice activity in our bunks, we woke up at 2:30am, just a few hours later from our exhausting summit circuit trek. It was time to conquer the summit in time for the sunrise. It sounds incredibly amazing, but the climb up the walls of the peak in pure darkness was extremely dangerous. We had a couple of headlamps and flashlights, but the dim light hardly illuminated the endless rocky trail. The cold thin air escalated my breathing irregularities. The freezing gusts of wind were bone-chilling. We were all starving because our early breakfast only consisted of tea and biscuits (probably to prevent us from vomiting). In the darkness, I could barely make out the outline of the summit, it seemed so far away and impossible to conquer. What did I get myself into?! Why did I pay for this bootcamp?! Once again, my porter pushed and pulled me up the mountainside. My feet had no traction and with every step I took I could hear gravel slipping and falling into what seemed like an abyss. “Don’t look down…*gasp*…. polay polay……*gasp*….breathe breathe……*gasp*….God’s strength…strength…” was what I chanted to myself. Half way up the mountain, Jason took over from my porter, and yanked me up the mountain. The passages from the bible that he recited to me as I struggled up the cliff were empowering. I knew God was speaking through him. I knew God had placed me with this amazing group of people because He knew with their support, I could do it. Slowly but surely, Team Canada conquered the summit of Mt. Kenya. And, not a moment too soon just in time to witness the golden sun rise from the horizon and cast its warm glow on our numb faces.

It was so beautiful! But, now we had to climb down…all the way…to the bottom…aiya! Seriously, what kept me going was the thought of the warm meal waiting for us down there, somewhere. As we descended further down the mountain, I began to regain my energy and my breathing became normal. I was so relieved!

My toe nails are still black and bruised from the painful decent and my left knee still aches from chronic cartilage problems. But man do I feel rejuvenated! I couldn’t have planned a better Mt. Kenya expedition! God blessed me with good health, amazing weather, great friends, competent and compassionate guides, and the challenges along the way that made this expedition so unique and special. ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING IS POSSIBLE! Thank You!

Ok, I think this entry is long enough. So, I will continue with my African Adventures next time!

 

 

Filed under: Africa, Canada, Ethiopia, Life, Photography, Thoughts, Travel, Addis Ababa, Canadian, Ethiopia, flea, Kenya, mountaineering, Mt Kenya, Mt Kenya photographs by Susan Wong, trek