Just in case you think I've abandoned my blog, not so. I have been working as quickly as I can to get pictures edited and ready to upload. Between the three of us, we have literally thousands of images of the climb and the safari, and I am awaiting the arrival of still others from our climbing partners in other cities. They will be woven into the story of the climb, tales of our safari, and what has happened since we've been home. Trust me, it's a big story to tell, and it will be better with the visuals.
My African tan has begun to fade. I am now able to stay awake until 10 p.m., but not a minute beyond. Showers and running water have once again become the norm rather than a luxury, and my fingernails have finally given up all traces of Kilimanjaro dirt. A nagging cough still lingers as a secondary effect triggered by the HAPE.
The necklace in the photograph is an ebony elephant carving with an elephant tooth and is tangible proof that I did more than dream of Africa. (Don't worry, no elephant was harmed in the making of the necklace. The baby elephant loses the tooth at about one year.) It was given to me by one of our safari guides upon our departure from Kilimanjaro airport. Whether sporting tangible evidence or not, Africa is on my mind constantly. I can't wait to show you the people, the animals, the scenery.
In the meantime, I will share with you this personal treasure. Since you know the outcome, I'll just preface the video below with a few more details as follows:
After a routine acclimatization hike to 16,000', we returned to camp at 15,000' feeling strong and ready to push higher the next day. Sometime after midnight I was awakened by what sounded like a critter rummaging through plastic bags in my tent. I listened intently, trying to pinpoint the rustling noise, then realized, with each breath, the crackling sound was coming from me. My eyes shot wide open, staring up into the darkness of my 29 degree tent, trying to deny what was happening. I knew instinctively it was HAPE: High Altitude Pulmonary Edema. It meant the end of my climb, as the only cure is to get down to a lower elevation. I had been coughing up what I thought was a slight sinus infection that moved into my chest. In the light of day I would see the small pile of white tissues next to my sleeping bag, all stained pink. Before departing on my six-hour hike down to the evacuation point, a good number of our 76 porters gathered to give me a musical farewell that I will never forget. Though painfully disappointed at the time, back in town I ended up having a Tanzanian experience that I could not have purchased through a travel company. I will share that story later. As the porters expressed over and over again as I turned away from the mountain and a personal dream: "Kilimanjaro will be here when you come back."
My African tan has begun to fade. I am now able to stay awake until 10 p.m., but not a minute beyond. Showers and running water have once again become the norm rather than a luxury, and my fingernails have finally given up all traces of Kilimanjaro dirt. A nagging cough still lingers as a secondary effect triggered by the HAPE.
The necklace in the photograph is an ebony elephant carving with an elephant tooth and is tangible proof that I did more than dream of Africa. (Don't worry, no elephant was harmed in the making of the necklace. The baby elephant loses the tooth at about one year.) It was given to me by one of our safari guides upon our departure from Kilimanjaro airport. Whether sporting tangible evidence or not, Africa is on my mind constantly. I can't wait to show you the people, the animals, the scenery.
In the meantime, I will share with you this personal treasure. Since you know the outcome, I'll just preface the video below with a few more details as follows:
After a routine acclimatization hike to 16,000', we returned to camp at 15,000' feeling strong and ready to push higher the next day. Sometime after midnight I was awakened by what sounded like a critter rummaging through plastic bags in my tent. I listened intently, trying to pinpoint the rustling noise, then realized, with each breath, the crackling sound was coming from me. My eyes shot wide open, staring up into the darkness of my 29 degree tent, trying to deny what was happening. I knew instinctively it was HAPE: High Altitude Pulmonary Edema. It meant the end of my climb, as the only cure is to get down to a lower elevation. I had been coughing up what I thought was a slight sinus infection that moved into my chest. In the light of day I would see the small pile of white tissues next to my sleeping bag, all stained pink. Before departing on my six-hour hike down to the evacuation point, a good number of our 76 porters gathered to give me a musical farewell that I will never forget. Though painfully disappointed at the time, back in town I ended up having a Tanzanian experience that I could not have purchased through a travel company. I will share that story later. As the porters expressed over and over again as I turned away from the mountain and a personal dream: "Kilimanjaro will be here when you come back."
Iwalani
