The World Race is a big adventure, but 13 Racers on the July 2012 H Squad decided to find an even bigger one. At the end of their month in Tanzania they set out to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro, and it turned out to be even crazier than they were expecting. Meghan Tschanz shares the story here:
If you watch the people on my squad, you can easily identify the ones who have just climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro, the tallest free-standing mountain in the world (19,341 feet tall). They are the ones with split lips, intense sunburns, and goofy smiles. The ones telling story after story about how foolish we were to climb the tallest mountain in Africa, knowing full well that they were ill-equipped for the journey.
The first three days were easy enough. Day one began by eating a delicious lunch at a little restaurant outside the park, where we gorged ourselves and speculated how the hike would go. Some people thought it would be very difficult, while others, like me, thought it would be tiring but doable. I figured I was from Colorado and had been on enough crazy backpacking trips with my father to be prepared for whatever was to come next. Honestly, when I look back on this, I realize how stupid I was.
After we ate lunch, we hiked through the rainforest and took some pictures of monkeys. We got to our cabin and once again stuffed ourselves, remarking on what a great decision it was to hike Kilimanjaro.
Day two also began with a big breakfast – they sure were feeding us a lot. I vaguely began to wonder if this trip would require copious amounts of energy, but dismissed the thought as I hiked through the beautiful shrub-land to our next set of cabins. Sure, we were hiking a lot – about 12 km every day – but I definitely had this in the bag. I made sure to drink a lot of water like the guides said, averaging three liters a day. There was no doubt in my mind that I would own this mountain.
Day three began with a big breakfast again, this time at around 12,000 feet elevation. I was feeling really good about myself as I continued my climb, which made perfect sense, because I am from Colorado. We took time to have dance parties on top of various rocks. We were having a grand old time, unaware of the horror that was about to befall us all.
We arrived at Kibo Hut (15,500 feet elevation) pretty cold and tired. Our hearts were beating a little too loudly for comfort. All we wanted was to get some sleep because we knew we would be leaving at midnight to hike to the summit.
After eating dinner, I laid in bed, putting forth all my effort into trying to sleep. But my mind was racing and my heart was pounding. I had the sneaking suspicion that no one else could sleep either.
Before we knew it, it was 11:00pm, time to prepare for the summit. It was so cold and we were all totally ill-equipped for the summit. Living out of a backpack for a year doesn't leave much room for mountain climbing gear. I was about to summit Mt. Kilimanjaro in a pair of leggings and yoga pants, brilliant.
I looked around and Charlie was wrapping his underwear around his arms for extra-warmth, while Kelly, K.J., and Matt stuffed their sleeping bags under their jackets. I considered this idea but decided against it, thinking surely that was overkill. Instead, I settled for using my sleeping bag liner as a scarf.
An hour later I was sure that I was getting hypothermia: all of the feeling in my feet was gone and my hands were frozen around my poles. My hands were frozen in a c-shape and were completely useless for anything I tried to do.
When it came time for breaks, I had to ask a guide to unfasten my bottle, unscrew the lid, and place it in my hands as I slowly tried to aim the water into my mouth. But I refused to let anyone know how miserable I was. Of course, I had this in the bag. I was from Colorado and I could do anything for six hours.
Two hours later, I couldn't see anything, my water-bottle was frozen solid, I couldn't breathe, and people were vomiting around me. We had been hiking for five hours and the sun was still not up. The guides keep on telling us we were close, but it felt like we were making no progress. I am pretty sure I was hypothermic. I start to panic and push back tears. This was for sure the stupidest, most miserable thing that I had ever done.
All I wanted to do was rest, but when I rested, the cold attacked like a rabid lion. I wanted to walk faster to keep warm, but the guides kept saying "pole, pole" (slow, slow). How could I walk any slower? I had the urge to push the guide out of my way so I could show him the way to warm up. Then I realized that when I went faster, I really couldn't breathe, leaving me nauseous and light-headed.
Finally, after climbing some boulders of death, we were only just ten minutes away from the first summit. Katy yelled "We can do this," and I believed her.
Kelly, Chuck, Ashley, Katy and I reached the first summit – Gilman's Point – as the sun began to climb over the clouds. I felt delusional, but at the same time joyous. We saw the rest of group down below us, about a half an hour from summiting. We debated waiting for them but decided to cheer for them instead and continue onto the real summit, Uhuru, before we really did become hypothermic.
19,000 feet really has a way of making you hate each breath you take. I was exhausted and my poles dragged behind me because they were attached to my gloves. All my effort went into the next step. The others wanted to take a break, but I knew if I stopped I wouldn't get up again. I trudged ahead of them behind Chuck. I arrived at Uhuru, miserable, breathless, and freezing.
I made it! I sat on top of the world at 19,341 feet. I was there for about fifteen minutes before I decided I needed to get off this mountain as soon as possible. I decide that I will never, ever, ever, ever do anything like this again.
Ashley and I ran the whole way down to Kibo, drank some pineapple juice and passed out in our beds. I woke up once in a panic having no idea where I was, then I remembered I had just climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro and fall asleep again.
Three hours later, it was time to hike 9km more to the next set of huts. Caleb informed us we had been hiking for 15 of the past 17 hours. Once again I ran down the mountain. When we got there I slept harder than I had slept in my life. We woke up at 7 am and hiked the last 20 km to the bottom of the mountain, but not before a group of us stopped at a waterfall.
After lunch I decided it was all worth it. The misery somehow made the summit more beautiful, the trial somehow made the journey worth it.
I couldn't have done it without Christ, indeed he was the name on my lips the whole way up. He was my strength when I thought I had nothing left.
Kelly reminded me of the verse, Romans 5:3 that says, "We also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope."
That mountain did more to my heart than it did to my body, and that is saying something. I am filled with this hope that I can really do anything through Christ who strengthens me.
And that the next mountain I face, no matter how insurmountable it seems – I will climb, like Kilimanjaro.
