Exhilarated. Exhausted. Ecstatic. Emotional. Multiple superlatives described my feeling upon reaching the summit of Mount Kilimanjaro—Uhuru Peak, elevation 19,341 feet, highest point in Africa and highest freestanding mountain in the world.
I had dreamt of this achievement for a number of years. However, I thought I had “aged” out of reaching this bucket list item. After some research, I learned that the average age for successfully hiking Mount Kilimanjaro was thirty-seven; however, there were climbers over age seventy, with the oldest being eighty-nine. So began the quest of celebrating my sixty-fifth birthday by taking on this challenge in 2024. Plus, as a lawyer who has been practicing nearly forty years, I viewed this adventure as a great way to recharge and re-energize.
After several years of planning and training, the dream commenced for real by traveling to Tanzania in late June. After two days of acclimating and participating in community service projects in the city of Arusha, our all-woman team (eight were age thirtyish, one age forty, and then me, the “old lady” of sixty-five) was ready to go. My nine new “daughters” immediately started calling me Trail Mama. Our US guide was a twenty-six-year-old guy undertaking his first solo guided trip up Kilimanjaro, although he had made numerous summits since his teenage years. Plus, we had four lead Tanzanian guides who touted hundreds of summits under their belts. We proved to be in excellent hands.
We start our seven-day trek at the Machame Gate (6,800 ft. elevation), trudging up a muddy and winding trail in the shambas and montane rainforest boasting monkeys and numerous songbirds. After six hours and 3,000 feet of elevation gain, we reach the Machame Campsite (9,840 ft. elevation). Our wonderful Tanzanian porters transported our tents, sleeping gear, clothes, food, water, and other necessities up the mountain so we could enjoy a hot dinner after a challenging first day.
On Day Two, we spend six hours hiking out of the rainforest up a steep ridge, then through open moorlands and across a large gorge to reach the Shira Campsite (elevation of 12,450 ft.—another gain of 3,000). We’re now about as high as Humphreys Peak, which is the highest mountain in my adopted state of Arizona. On Day Three, we have a long climb to Lava Tower Ridgeline to reach 14,800 feet of elevation, followed by up and down trekking for eight hours to settle at Barranco Campsite for the night. The nights are getting colder and colder as we climb higher, so I appreciate having a hot water bottle to put in my zero-degree sleeping bag while camping on the frozen tundra ground. The early morning hot tea in my tent literally brings tears of joy and thanks. Many members of our team (including me) have a sleepless night, worrying about what awaits the next morning.
Day Four begins with much trepidation of hiking across the Barranco Valley and then having to climb up the treacherous Barranco Wall. The best advice from our guides: Don’t look down, and just hug the wall. Yeah, right. Happily, we all successfully navigate the Wall and continue to climb into and above the clouds. After five or six hours of trekking across the Karanga River Valley, we arrive at the Karanga Campsite (13,400 ft. elevation).
Day Five involves only five hours of hiking (3,000 elevation gain) up the ridge to Kosovo Campsite (16,076 ft. elevation). Summit Day looms large, and we need to prepare both mentally and physically for an early morning push to the crowning achievement.
Summit Day begins at 3:30 AM, with hot breakfast and final instructions/encouragement from our guides. We’re wearing literally every piece of warm clothing we brought along as we don our headlamps and cautiously make our way up the steep trail. We welcome the breathtaking sunrise at 6:30 AM, as well as the warmth accompanying the sun. There are many moments where I can’t catch my breath, or my heart is racing, or my headache is splitting from the high altitude. But I’m Iowa Stubborn and keep telling myself, “If you think you can, you can. If you think you can’t, you’re right” (something instilled by my junior high social studies teacher). We hit the first official summit (Stella, elevation 18,885 ft.) after nearly five hours. We celebrate and take countless photos. The crown jewel—Uhuru Summit—awaits at an elevation of 19,341 feet. An hour or less to go.
A recent snowstorm requires us to don micro-spikes on our hiking boots to traverse the ice and snow on the final ascent. Then, in a blink, we’re at the summit. We did it. It truly was an unreal feeling, and it took me several days to fully realize my accomplishment and that of my team. Only 60–65 percent of those who start the Kilimanjaro climb ultimately reach the summit. (Unfortunately, one of our team members had uncontrollable headaches and shortness of breath, and was unable to reach the summit.)
After our summit accomplishment, we quickly descend nearly 7,000 feet, reaching Millennium Campsite (12,700 ft. elevation). Our descent off the mountain takes a different route than our ascent. Summit Day, although providing great elation, lasted twelve hours and expended most of our mental and physical energies. We complete the final descent on Day Seven, slogging through the muddy rainforest to exit through Mweka Park Gate. Our Tanzanian guides and porters celebrate our happy descent with lots of food, dance, and song.
Was it worth all the training, physical and mental “torture” of seven days on the mountain? Absolutely. Would I do it again? No way—unless perhaps I were age thirty again. But at age sixty-five, I’ll rest on my laurels and bask in the glow of my Kilimanjaro Official Summit Certificate. And I can enthusiastically state that I was indeed re-energized to get back into the practice of law again after recovering from the adventure.