Dana Colomina

Lara and I made it to the top of the little waterfall faster than the rest of our group. I was actively panting, but felt strong and proud that we were apparently the two fittest people of the group. Nevermind the fact that people were fully on vacation so probably not physically extending themselves to their limit; that did not matter to us. Our newly blossoming friendship tripled in closeness once we made it to the top and turned to each other to say “should we hike Mount Kilimanjaro?” 

The answer was an easy yes. It’s pretty clear to me because the average person that hikes Mount Kilimanjaro trains for such a thing… being 5,895 meters high (19,340 feet) and about 68 kilometers (about 42 miles). But naturally since we had hiked that little waterfall faster than everyone else in our volunteer group, we were perfectly equipped. 

Lara, like myself, is a quick decision maker. She is hard-headed and determined. She also does not retract ideas, neither do I. Soon enough, literally the following week, we were renting gear for our six day hike to the summit of Mount Kilimanjaro and back down again. The guide met up with us at the rental shop, and at that point asked us if we wanted altitude sickness medicine – something that the majority of people take. We said no.

Once we were all sorted, it was time to get on the bus – Lara, me, two guides, and 13 porters. We arrived at the beginning of the hike, the speaker already playing. I was tracking the hike on Strava, completely neglecting the fact that I would not have a wall charger for six days and I could not possibly waste my battery pack yet. 

Once we reached the end of day one, we were at about 10,000 feet up and the energy was high. Again, Lara and I went pretty quick and sat down in the tent the porters built for us for dinner. We were instructed to eat more food than normal since we were burning a ridiculous amount of calories. I had recently learned that your digestive system is the first to shut down in moments of physical stress… and as luck would have it I was not hungry. I repelled food. I remember sticking a piece of bread in my mouth and it practically disintegrating before my pharynx could even flirt with the idea of bringing it down. To my dismay, I wasn’t allowed to leave the table until I hunkered down and ate, which took just shy of what felt like a lifetime. I was also very dizzy. Something about me is that when I feel anxious my first symptom is becoming dizzy. This should’ve been the end of my concern, but rather I was scared I was already experiencing altitude sickness. This did not bode well for me but it was time for bed and I just put myself down and would deal with it in the morning.

Day two began with the guides waking us up around 6:00 am and telling us breakfast was ready. I still felt dizzy but just accepted it, because what other option did I have, and this time I was hungry. I took major advantage of my body’s compliance and shoveled food into my mouth. Soon later, we set off and I remember thinking that it was going to be a big issue if the dizziness persisted – this would only get worse with altitude. 

Believe it or not, though, I soon learned that our bodies actively adjust as you’re in motion and in about an hour or two I felt completely fine. It still boggles my mind that you can feel quite unwell while expending more energy continuously and eventually your body just submits to the circumstances and you feel alive as ever. To celebrate this liveliness, Lara and I took so many pictures that day, the views were beautiful and already some of the most grand I’d ever witnessed. After plenty of music, water, candy, and granola bars, we eventually got to the top of that day’s hike – around 13,000 feet. 

Although I felt literally on top of the world for about four hours that day, once we got to that campground I rechanneled anxiety and fear. This time, I do think it was largely the altitude. Another factor that affected me was the uneven ground. The tent was on a slant so when I went from lying down to a seated position, I felt like I was going upside down on a rollercoaster. Despite this, I just continued existing. Basically my distraction was hanging out with Lara outside of the tent until bedtime (by the way our phones had no internet this whole time), taking pictures, and looking at the stars. We talked about everything and became each others’ safe space. It was like becoming immediate roommates on steroids since there were literally no digital distractions. We made friends with the porters and guides to the extent we could considering the language barrier. That was our life. 

Day three I woke up dizzier than ever. Without really telling anyone, I became genuinely concerned that at some point I would need to be taken down by a porter. Can you imagine the humiliation of not making it to the top of the mountain? But at the same time, I’m not in the business of dying just to uphold my sense of pride. Regardless, we set on and I just said I needed to go slow. This worked as a cover at first, but it soon became clear that I was really not feeling well as I was stopping to sit every five minutes for some candy or water. I finally mentioned that I was extremely dizzy, like, actively seeing stars and spots in my vision for over 30 minutes. 

I spent the following hour or two suffering and staring at the ground. Any movement or head swivel felt like I was being sent into oblivion and required an immediate sit down. To my surprise though, the same thing happened as the morning before. From one minute to the next, I was completely fine. My head was clear and no longer heavy. I was now in the mood to sing to the songs that were playing and hike at a regular pace. 

Later that day, we arrived really high up – around 15,000 feet. This was to acclimate our bodies to the altitude, although we would come back down later. We sat in a tent to eat lunch up far above the clouds and started chatting about oxygen levels. Lara is a nurse and told us that if a patient is ever seen with an oxygen level below around 95, they are immediately sent to the ER. Our oxygen, including the guide’s, was hovering around 80. We just laughed it off and moved onto the next topic. 

We went back down to around 13,200 feet to sleep that night. We passed some odd trees that were shaped funky and looked out of a Dr. Suess book. We were practically running and jumping down rocks and dirt paths to get to camp quickly for dinner. It was such a highlight feeling as though we were at camp or something, just so unattached from the world, laughing every time someone tripped or danced funny to a song that played. I felt so free and like I was in my own space and time, rather than part of an operating society. 

Day four commenced strong. We were now at what felt like a low elevation, a mere 13,200 feet. This was the day we would make it to base camp, around 15,400 feet up. This was about to be a brutal day because at no prior point were we quite that high nor there for long, let alone to sleep. Sleeping at elevation proved to be non-conducive to existing as a normal person. 

I actually was fine for a while. But at one point the rocks got steeper, the sun got brighter, and I was depleted. I became wildly flustered and angry. You know when your mood just flops and you need out. Well I obviously had no out, given the circumstances. So I continued, in a piss ass mood, dizzier than ever, wondering if it would just be better to die (I was feeling dramatic). 

Eventually, what felt like twelve billion years later, we made it to base camp. I beelined to the tent and just melted there until dinner. Here is the catch – this was the precursor to summit night. We got to base camp around 4:00 pm that day, and were departing for the summit at midnight that night. The devil couldn’t find me so he brought me this. 

We were all nervous about if we would make it, but at this point we just had to make ‘when’ and not ‘if’ statements. We were speaking in absolutes. We were not retreating to the base now. We ate dinner, in the usual state of peril and dizz, and tried to nap until 11:00 pm.

11:00 pm rolled around and I entered a full state of delusion. Lara and I basically were just bouncing around like little girls making each other as deliriously excited as we knew how. It was pitch black being the middle of the night, and below freezing temperature. We were wearing two pairs of fleece leggings and ski pants on the bottom, and five layers of shirts, fleeces, and a ski coat on top. Of course ski gloves, balaclava, headlamp, ski socks, and hat throughout. It was cold. 

The first two or so hours actually went amazing, we were nearing 17,000 feet and feeling good. I was just thrilled that I didn’t feel horrendous already. Then suddenly, I am not sure if it was the dirt, squiggly path, or the massive steps we were required to take while balancing with our walking sticks – my body had enough.

There came a point where ‘dizzy’ felt like a blessing. I didn’t care about being dizzy anymore, that was my new normal. I rue the day I ever complained about feeling dizzy. I started feeling extremely nauseous. They say that if you reach a point where you are experiencing all symptoms of altitude sickness at once (dizziness, nausea, headache), then you need to call it. I, for the first time, felt two out of the three. 

At this point, it was Lara and I motivating each other, with our guides obviously, and I was continuously stopping because I felt so unwell. The issue with stopping all the time is you not only make no progress, but you also become cold quickly. I spent several hours wasting away in what felt like the worst condition of my life, so naturally I began sobbing. I was sobbing because I couldn’t throw up but I really needed to throw up. I was sobbing because I just wanted to be done but I was in the middle of a mountain, roughly 18,000 feet up in the middle of the night with only one person I knew. In a country over 9,000 miles from home. I couldn’t even call my mom. At that moment I was like this is how people die I think. 

That’s when Lara became my hero. She crouched down and met my eye level and told me to stop crying and pull it together. We were going to make it to the top but only if I stood up. That truly snapped me back into it almost immediately and I just accepted the nausea. 

We started begging our guide for a timecheck because it felt as though we had walked for our whole lives. After some disappointments due to false timing optimism, we finally saw a massive incline and our guide told us that Stella Point (the pre-summit basically) was up there. Stella Point is at 18,900 feet. At this point it looked like we were on mars. After all the timing complaints, the timing actually could not have been better. We have a couple of pictures of Lara and I sitting on rocks far apart from each other on this huge incline just slouched over, deadpan, in a sort of orange haze, looking like pebbles on the eroded mars terrain. 

As we neared the top of that incline, the sun began to rise. It gleamed over the horizon and we were staring at the portal into the universe. I started to tear up because I could finally see a glimpse of the land we had covered and the breathtaking mountain we were summiting. 

We took a moment to be present with the sun and then continued on to Stella Point. Something about altitude makes you more emotional, I heard, and it makes sense because I began to cry again. Lara’s phone somehow had data and I sent my parents a message. I remember gazing out over the horizon with the glaciers in the distance and it did not feel like planet earth nor had I ever felt so accomplished and proud. The symptoms practically subsided at this point. 

Soon after, our guide reminded us we needed to reach the actual summit. We started walking and what should have been around 15 minutes turned into an hour because now we were actually dying. Both Lara and I latched arms with our guides walking at the speed of a snail. We slugged along in silence for a brutal hour and eventually made it to the real summit. Cue the blaring headache – a new symptom. I actually do not remember much about the top, it’s a blurry memory that I don’t think I had the brain capacity at the moment to retain. But I do know that I did it.

We soon ran down the mountain, as quickly as we could, with the miracle of a rapid decline curing my headache. We then descended over the next day and went home feeling unstoppable. I would be lying if I said I’m not still riding that confidence wave.

Perhaps I remain too confident about what I am capable of, but I think our bodies can do more than others or even ourselves often give them credit for. Be impulsive and do the difficult, ridiculous thing, sometimes with no preparation. Might as well see if you can.