Open Our Eyes: My Trip to Africa

"Don't need much to be happy, 
Four walls and a roof overhead, 
Books and food in my belly, 
Cool sheets upon the bed" 
-- Mary Chapin Carpenter

It began as a dream hatched earlier this winter, gaining momentum through the spring, spurred on via late-night texts with friends, wandering around the Internet, and holding fast to the belief that life is so beautiful and so short and that we should not waste a single day.

The ocean at dusk ... where dreaming occurs.

The dream was this: I wanted to go to Africa to see mountain gorillas and to climb Kilimanjaro.  I can't claim I had any great insight as to why I wanted to do this trip other than to say I've always been fascinated by mountain gorillas and have had a couple good friends who have climbed Kili and highly recommended it.

At first, I was going to go by myself.  Over the years, I've done lots of solo travel and have never been put off by it.  In fact, there are times I prefer it.  That said, I've grown to really enjoy having company on the adventures I've done as the synergy creates lasting memories that solidify and enhance relationships.  So, it was with delight that my friend of over 20 years, Mike Saad from Wisconsin, decided he was going to go with me.  Mike did a lot of work-related travel back in the day and thus accrued tons of air miles which he graciously used to score us business class tickets for several long legs of our journey.  Thanks, Mike!  The only fly in the ointment was that flight scheduling was more restricted and we had a couple huge layovers, a small price to pay for the money we were saving and the pampering we were receiving sitting in business class.   

This was one powerful trip, a spiritual journey of awareness and recognition.  I could write a book about all that I saw, all that I did while I was there.  Instead I will distill the trip down to as brief a chronology as I can without losing the meaning of all that I experienced.

July 17, 2012

Sarah Quesen and I left her house early in the morning and she dropped me off at the Pittsburgh Airport.  After a quick flight to New York City, I blundered into Mike at JFK Airport.  We hung out in the Lufthansa Business Class lounge eating lots of pretty finger food and sipping Americanos.

July 18, 2012

We had a long flight to Frankfurt, Germany followed by an even longer layover.  Fortunately, we were at least treated to things like massaging seats, personalized movies and entertainment, and a topnotch food and drink service (thank you, Sky Chef).

The massive A380 jumbo jet we flew to Frankfurt in.

Next, we had a brief pitstop in Khartoum, Sudan before departing for Addis Ababa, Ethiopia.  Upon our arrival, the 7-hour time difference and nonstop travel had caught up to me.  Bleary-eyed and beat, and with lots of confusion surrounding getting to and determining our gate, we settled into an Ethiopian Airlines prop plane for the jaunt to Entebbe Airport in Uganda, site of a bloody hostage-rescue mission back in the 1970s.  We arrived around midnight, found our tour company liaison who took us away to a hotel, or "guesthouse", near the airport.  True to my problem with getting fitful sleep even under the best of circumstances, I had slept about 5 hours in the two days it took us to get here.

July 19, 2012

My breakfast was a most excellent swedish pancake with peanut butter smeared on top and black coffee, strong as Hell.  Our guide and best friend for the next several days was one James Mwere of Kampala, where he lives with his wife and two children.  James is one of the nicer guys you'll ever meet and his skills as a tour operator and guide for Gorilla Tours were completely invaluable.  I couldn't have imagined pulling this trip off without him.  We settled into a van to begin a 9-hour slog to Kisoro in the extreme southwestern part of Uganda.

Typical motorist scene in Kampala ... controlled chaos.

As we left Kampala on a dirt road, we passed massive Lake Victoria.  Overburdened motorcycles, which served as taxis and were used to haul goods, weaved in and out of lanes and berms in a constant and chaotic game of chicken.  We passed a sea of shantys, people selling piles of fruits and poultry, and occasional armed soldiers manning checkpoints.  As we got further out of Kampala, the road became progressively worse.  People were walking everywhere, sometimes with goats and cows (I note it was very unusual to see anyone overweight in the time I was there).  As our journey became increasingly rural, we passed fig, eucalyptus, and coffee trees which eventually gave way to acacia and banana plantations punctuated by the odd patch of pineapple or papyrus.  Once in awhile we would spot zebras, malibu storks and the grey crowned crane, national bird of Uganda, milling about in the fields.

After we had a huge buffet lunch in Mbarara, our drive took us through several rural villages where people were hawking food and goods alongside the road.  When we stopped at a gas station, a couple young men approached our van with skewers of some roasted mystery meat, which I politely declined to purchase.  Unfortunately, I made the mistake of snapping a quick picture of the two men with my iPhone as they were getting ready to depart and one of them became upset.  James warned me that many rural villagers do not like having their picture taken ... unless they are paid!  So, with James acting as an intermediary, I convinced the two young men that I deleted the picture from my phone and the tense situation ended.  Lesson learned.

Chilling with guide extraordinaire James Mwere. 

The landscape became increasingly hilly and beautiful the closer we got to Kisoro and the weather became dreary.  When we arrived, there was lots of activity near the town center with a large UN refugee camp alongside the road.  There is a civil war going on in Congo, which was only a few miles away, and displaced residents were streaming across the border to avoid the conflict.  Suffice it to say this didn't exactly instill us with a safe, secure feeling.  We holed up for the night at the Tourist Hotel and believe me when I say Mike and I had no intention of leaving the place to go for an evening starlight stroll.  

July 20, 2012

We hit the road at 6 AM and had a misty one-hour drive on a harrowing, rough road to Bwindi Impenetrable National Park.  

A mother and her family came out of their hut to chat with us alongside the road.

Once we arrived at the park, wildlife rangers briefed us on what to expect and then we were assigned to a specific area of the park with two armed guards, a guide, and two trackers.  It was an initial two-mile hike through dense, steep rainforest where, at first, we were on a clearly defined trail that climbed to the top of a ridge-line.  From here, Mike and I could see 360 views of terraced sides of mountains dotted with small clumps of banana trees.  However, then the trackers discovered fresh gorilla sign and we left the trail, hiking straight down a steep slope into vegetation requiring the use of machetes.  In not too long a time at all, we got into a group of gorillas!  Just like that, a dream of mine was realized.  I was going over a mental refresher of the rules of gorilla watching: no sudden movements, no staring, don't get too close and show submission, charges can happen, etc.  The first few gorillas were perched and feeding in the trees.  One little fellow walked out onto a limb, looked at us, maybe 50 yards away, and began to beat his chest; he was just adorable!  The highlight for me was getting about 10 yards away from a sub-adult hunkered down in the brush stripping and eating bark off a twig.

Mountain gorilla!

All told, we saw 6 in the hour of contact we were allotted by the park, including a large silverback who screamed at us when the trackers got a little too close.  This is one of those instances where words really cannot describe what was a truly amazing experience.  Many times I've heard my students describe something as "awesome".  A TV show is awesome, or a pencil is awesome.  With all due respect, not really.  Seeing a mountain gorilla in the wild?  Now THIS ... this is awesome. 

On the hike out, we were attacked by a swarm of African wasps.  Honest to God, this was no frigging joke.  One minute I was pausing to eat a sandwich on the side of the trail and the next minute, the air was filled with the hum and swirl of wasps.  Before we had a chance to react, they were on us.  I was stung many times all over my face, neck, arms, and even down my pants (no wisecracks, please).  Instinctively, I broke into a full sprint down the trail, my injured hip and months-long hiatus from running notwithstanding.  The two armed guards running behind me were screaming at me to tear off my shirt as I motored on down the trail; I was just covered with dozens of them.  I pulled the shirt off, balled it up in my hand, and continued running until the attack abated.  The guards helped pull some straggler wasps out of my ponytail and a porter from another tourist group helped me remove them from my balled-up shirt.  Mike bore the brunt of the attack, his back covered with red welts from all the stings.  What a frightening experience!      

Driving back to Kisoro from Bwindi, we took some pictures and stopped to eat a meal of goat, boiled bananas, and rice in a rural village.  When I hit the bed back at the hotel, I was emotionally drained.     

July 21, 2012

We headed to the so-called Batwa Trail at 7:30 this morning.  The Batwa are an African pygmy tribe that were forcibly and sadly displaced from their lands in 1992 due to the creation of Bwindi.  The trail was set up to allow visitors to hike in the rain forest with Batwa guides and to see how the Batwa lived, hunted, built fires with sticks and tinder, and to visit their huts and shrines.  Mike and I were accompanied by several members from the tribe clad in their traditional clothes, some toting spears.  It was an up-down hike through an area with a lot of volcanos.  All told, we were on the trail for about 1/2 the day.  Periodically, through a translator, we would stop to see or discuss something or to have the Batwa demonstrate, for example, a hunt for Cape Buffalo.    

Mike and I with a volcano in the distance along the Batwa Trail.

At the end of the trail we visited a massive cave and underground chamber that was historically used for Batwa ceremonies and assemblies.  Shortly after this, we were treated to a big dance display by easily over a dozen of the tribal members.  You just couldn't make this stuff up; it was totally fascinating!

Just prior to departing, Mike and I handed out notebooks, pens/pencils, and candy to the tribe that we had picked up the night before in Kisoro.  I have strong, mixed feelings about this episode of our trip.  On one hand, I was honored, and humbled in my feeble effort to give back something to the tribe in exchange for the wonderful experience Mike and I just had.  However, to see a near-riot for a piece of candy, or tears of joy from someone receiving a notebook, well ... that was disturbing to me and has caused me to think over my perspective on what constitutes happiness, and how I view material wealth.  More on this in a future blog post ...     

A fire that warms up December,

The sound of a thaw in the eaves,

Sometimes it's hard to remember, 

How tough we are to please

Hanging out with the Batwa. 

We climbed back into the van and headed back to Kisoro and then prepared for the next leg of the journey, a venture into Rwanda 

I love this picture.

It was about a 30 minute drive to the Cyanika border crossing.  James dropped us off as he had to deal with paperwork and permits required to operate as a tour guide.  Mike and I had to check in with Ugandan and Rwandan officials, and were also screened by armed Rwandan guards.  

While we were waiting for James, I looked around at all the people carrying their clothes and a few possessions with them.  I looked at the young kids begging us for food and money.  People that had no concept at all of $3 coffee drinks at Starbucks, of gym memberships costing as much as some of these people might make in months.  Standing next to Mike, staring out at the no-man's land of the border crossing, I said, "Look at this.  We need to open our eyes."  Once again, my perspective was forever changed.  

Rwanda is an interesting country.  Frankly, I found it to be cleaner, more orderly and nicer than Uganda.  You would hardly know a horrific genocide took place here in the 1990s, at least until you notice the occasional mass grave alongside the road.  Rounding out the day, we drove to Musanze to the Hotel Muhabura and had dinner with James before hanging the mosquito netting over our bed and retiring for the evening.

July 22, 2012

This morning we hit the road at 6:30 AM and drove to Volcanoes National Park.  Similar to the experience in Bwindi, we were assigned two guides, an armed guard, and three trackers by park officials.  On this beautiful morning, it was an easy, uphill walk for about 1.5 miles into a dense stand of bamboo.  Eventually, there was some movement in the treetops and a group of rare golden monkeys materialized.  Marvelous, elusive animals, but difficult to photograph, they never sit still for long, darting back-and-forth throughout the bamboo.  We were there for about an hour patiently waiting and I eventually managed to get several close up photos of them among my many photographic misfires. 

Why, hello there, Mr. Golden Monkey!

Afterward, we headed back to our hotel, had lunch, and then went and did a little gift shopping in the town.  Crossing the border to get back into Uganda was once again an exercise in the gristmill of bureaucracy.  Once we arrived back in Kisoro we stayed at the Traveler's Rest Motel, made famous by the inspiring Dian Fossey.

July 23, 2012

Today was a travel day back to Entebbe Airport.  We had also picked up another passenger in Kisoro.  As I had many hours in the van to think, here are some more impressions I formulated and scribbled into my Moleskine.

What I first noticed about these two countries was the sheer population density.  Every bit of space is accounted for and occupied by something.  Every bit of material, be it twigs, twine, scrap metal, etc., is recycled and never wasted.  The poverty I regularly observed was almost unimaginable; I have never seen anything like it in the US and I am uncharacteristically without words to even begin to describe it.  How fortunate and spoiled we are in the US, with our ability to turn on a faucet and obtain potable water, to turn on our computer and be on the Internet in seconds.    

To be transparent and honest, I greatly enjoyed this portion of the trip but felt mildly tense and on edge most of the time.  I was concerned about leaving behind a young woman back home I was starting to date at the time, about an Ebola virus outbreak in the very area we were traveling through, the situation in Congo, bootleggers driving around at dawn and dusk, remembering to take my malaria medicine, and the unsettledness of often being the only two white men for miles and miles and hours and hours.  Communication with the outside world was difficult as my iPhone, also doubling as a camera, needed constant recharging from my portable GoalZero solar panel in areas where cell tower reception was far from a certainity.

In one of the villages we passed through on our drive, we bought some roasted maize from some street vendors, a purchase that would later come back to haunt us :-(  We also stopped at the Equator to spend some time shopping for gifts at some stores.  Nearing Kampala, there was a huge thunderstorm that caused some flash flooding in the streets.  We did not arrive back to the airport guesthouse until late evening.

July 24, 2012

It was an easy, short afternoon flight to Kili.  Guides from Zara Tours picked us up at the airport and we were whisked away via a small bus to the city of Moshi, Tanzania.  As was the case in the previous two countries, I was taken aback by the stark difference and cultural contrasts with respect to my spoiled lifestyle in the US.  Gazing out from the bus window, we passed mile after mile of flat arid land where the Masai tribe lived in small, crude huts and tended to cattle.

Once in Moshi, we were taken to the Springlands Hotel and cautioned not to wander outside the gates into town :-(  Mike and I busily assembled our gear and were introduced to our guide for the Kili climb, Sylvester Modest.  Sylvester, his wife and two kids live in Moshi and he's a true veteran on the mountain.  I found him to be warm, authentic and liked him immediately.  As he clearly laid out the trip itinerary, he informed us that an assistant guide, a cook, and four porters would accompany us.  Wow!  Mike and I finished packing, ate dinner, and headed to bed.                

July 25, 2012

This morning was when it finally hit me.  Holy shit!  I was going to climb one of the Seven Summits, the Roof of Africa, Kilimanjaro!

We did lots of running around packing this morning at the headquarters.  It was hubbub of activity and climbing parties preparing.  Mike and I, Sylvester and the rest of our team piled into a van for the 45 minute drive to Kili where we registered at park headquarters.  We started hiking around noon on the so-called Marangu Route.  The trail was a bit rocky, on this chilly and overcast day, and ever climbing through a lush rainforest.  Personally, I thought it was easy and straightforward.  Sylvester again and again emphasized the need to walk slowly, or "poli, poli", as they say in Swahili.  Around 2, we took a brief lunch and then quickly resumed our day's journey.  Finally, we stopped around 4 and made camp at Mandara Huts (~9,000').  

It was about this time that I started to feel a bit sick.  At first, I dismissed it to the high altitude and all the travel over the past week.  But then it got worse until I felt chills and joint soreness, a slight fever, and started having to make repeated dashes to the bathroom, a glorified hole cut out of a plywood floor.        

The accommodations the first night on Kili.

Having spent 4.5 months living in a tent on the Appalachian Trail, I was almost embarrassed staying the night in a comfy hut with a bunk bed and a hot multi-course meal prepared for me.  In any case, after getting over my guilt, I prepared my gear for the next day, ate dinner and lay down in my bunk bed early to read and write and listen to some Alison Krause.  Unfortunately, my sickness was now full-blown and I curled up in my sleeping shivering.  Now I was worried as thoughts of having to abandon the climb entered my mind.  What the Hell could this be?  Then it hit me.  Food poisoning!  (Re-read entry for July 23, 2012).  Aargh!  Given my self-diagnosis, I took some Ibuprofen and Imodium and hoped for the best as I drifted off to sleep.      

July 26, 2012

This morning, we left at 8:30 and had a rather disheartening slog through clouds and drizzle.  As with the previous day, the grade was steady and mildly climbing.  Near the trail, it was apparent the vegetation was starting to change and dissipate.  Other than that, we couldn't see a thing all day; kind of depressing.  We arrived at Horombo Huts late afternoon, sitting at about 12,300'.  The place was a bee's nest of activity with climbers gathered here from all over the world.  

As far as my physical condition, the food poisoning was still hanging on.  I switched to eating the Kind Bars I had fortunately packed with me and  avoided or only minimally consumed the "exotic" food we were served (e.g., millet porridge and cucumber soup).  Unfortunately, now there was another problem: Mike also had come down with food poisoning :-(  

As the sun sank, the sky cleared and we could finally see the snow-covered top of Kili below the shimmering stars.  This buoyed my spirits.  Today was special for another reason; it was my so-called Independence Day.  July 26th, my Independence Day, is a day of deeply personal meaning and self-reflection that I observe every year, 11 years running now.  I'll talk more about this in a future blog post but suffice it to say I observed my special day and basked in its glow ...  

All in good time,

Somehow I find, 

Days that still shine with light,

All in good stead,

I'm safe and I'm fed,

With dreams in my head,

Good night

July 27, 2012

Today was the day where things started to get a bit more serious given the high altitude and terrain.  We began the ascent up to Kibo Huts (~15,500'), the last set of huts before a summit attempt.  Mike was quite sick; specifically, he had severe diarrhea, was looking peaked, and the high altitude only exacerbated his condition.  Sylvester and I were becoming increasingly concerned and occasionally shot each other sideways glances to monitor each other's facial expressions.   On the other hand, I was actually starting to feel a bit better.  

We crossed through the moorlands with their clumps of senecias and the crater summit of Kili was now gloriously in full, sunny view.  To our right, as we approached the saddle, Mt. Miru was as impressive in stature, what with its rocky crags and spires.   

Assistant guide Joseph (L), myself, and guide Sylvester Modest (R).

By the time we got to Kibo Huts, Mike was barely able to stand and was wiped out.  I think all of us knew Mike's climb was over but none of us could acknowledge it.  Once inside the hut, Mike, after consulting with Sylvester and a couple other guides, decided to abort the climb and descend back to Horombo.  He looked at me and I looked at him.  I asked, "Do you want me to go back down with you?"  He replied something along the lines of, "Absolutely not!  You climb this MF and I don't want to hear another word about it."  Honest to God, I was so choked up as I watched Mike gather up his gear and began to head back down the trail with the assistant guide.  

I was now on my own.  For whatever reason, and I am not being a drama king here, it seems at most of the important times of my life, great and awful, I am standing alone for whatever reason.  And now the Kili climb was going to be no exception.

I lay down around 3 PM and took an hour nap.  A porter woke me up to have afternoon tea with Sylvester.    We both agreed to leave for the summit around midnight and so I took an early dinner and retired around 7 PM.  Many international climbers were leaving and entering the huts, talking loudly, slamming doors, so it was hard to drift off to sleep but eventually I did.    

July 28, 2012

I got a few hours of sleep, woke up at 11 PM, took my Diamox, and nervously had some tea and cookies.  Sylvester and I walked to the door, whereupon he gave me a hug, and we commenced the summit attempt at midnight.  When I am doing something like a big climb, I don't like to take breaks or to chat.  It was pure marathon mode now and I felt physically and mentally prepared. 

In the moonlight glow, the first 1,500' ascent of climb was straightforward.  Another party was behind us and their guides were loudly singing a song in Swahili.  Jambo, my friends!  Hakuna matata!      

The next 1,500' ascent was the watershed moment of the climb.  It was straight up a steep avalanche chute of loose, slippery rock with no real switchbacks.  I concentrated on pressure breathing and rest stepping.  As this was the highest altitude I had ever been at, my heart rate began to race and take off on me but I was able to focus on my breathing and bring it back under control.  My throat was sore from panting in the cold, dry dusty air.

Kili is often portrayed as an easy climb.  I love what Alan Arnette says on his blog:

"If you are in great aerobic shape, it can be "easy" on a perfect weather day and on the normal routes.  But as with most of the extreme altitude climbs, Kilimanjaro can have brutal summit weather with temperatures at 0 F and if the winds are blowing, the wind chills can be very dangerous.  Climbers die on Kilimanjaro.  Also, remember this is almost 6,000 meters, 20,000 feet so AMS is always a risk as is HAPE or HACE."

In the darkness, I dialed up my "summit song" on my Ipod Nano, Mary Chapin Carpenter's "Don't Need Much to Be Happy": 

Don't need much to be happy,

A friend to soften a fall,

And something to show for my labors,

After all I had to learn to be grateful,

I had to learn how to see,

Mistakes that might have proved fatal,

Are gifts I now receive 

The last push was challenging but Sylvester and I gained the crater summit rim at 4 AM.  It was very windy and cold, so we paused only briefly to drink some hot tea before continuing up another 700' of climb along the crater rim to the top, arriving at 5 AM.  Yes, it was an emotional experience.  As I stared at the large, green sign that stood atop the summit, I could only simply think of my friends, and of the gratitude gained by realizing yet another dream.      

It was so windy and cold, Sylvester and I put on every stitch of clothing we had.  We went for a walk to one of several glaciers on the summit, drank more hot tea, and did calisthenics to stay warm as we had to wait for the sun to rise to take any usable pictures.  Finally, at 6:30 AM, we snapped some gorgeous pictures and then hauled ass off the summit.  Sylvester broke into a descent that more closely approximated a run than anything else.  It could not have been more than two hours to get back to Kibo Huts.  

Dawn breaks on the Roof of Africa.  Kilimanjaro summit view looking towards one of the glaciers

We paused to nap and eat because we were tired but I was up again at 10 AM as I could not really sleep.  We then pushed on another 10 km to Horombo arriving at 2 PM.  There, Mike and I reconnected.  He felt much better and was fully recovered from his bout with food poisoning.  I regaled him with the story of the past 24 hours and we headed off to grab some dinner.  There was a spirited game of UNO between clients and guides afterward but I snuck away around 8 PM to my bunk ... with the smile of gratitude still on my face. 

July 29, 2012

This day consisted of a simple push down the mountain the whole way back to the park entrance to check out.  Sylvester treated us to a nifty lunch at a cafe just outside the gates.  Early afternoon, we finally left the mountain and drove back to the Springlands Hotel.  After Mike and I cleaned up, Sylvester joined us for a celebratory dinner.        

July 30, 2012

In the morning, Sylvester graciously acted as a tour guide for a quick shopping trip to Moshi.  As we parted ways, I could tell Sylvester was actually moved as I told him I would never forget him.  

We left for the Kili Airport in the afternoon and I mentally steeled myself for the grueling series of flights back home.  The first leg took us via Ethiopian Airlines to Addis Ababa.  Next, we flew on to Cairo, Egypt where we had a 9-hour layover (gulp!).       

July 31, 2012

Via Egypt Air, we made the flight back across The Pond to New York City, landing at JFK Airport early evening.  A taxi then took us to Laguardia Airport where Mike and I finally parted ways.  There was to be one last surprise on this trip: my US Airways flight back to Pittsburgh was cancelled.  (By the way US Airways sucks!)  Frankly, I was really disappointed by this.  So, on my bar tab, I had to scramble to find and get to a hotel in Queens for the evening.      

August 1, 2012

My flight left Laguardia in the morning and I arrived back to Pittsburgh.  Sarah and her husband Conrad kindly picked me up and I finally was able to swing my Honda Fit south back to Morgantown.  While I love to travel I have also realized as I have gotten older that I love coming home, too ...

The feel of my hand being taken,

Driving at night all alone,

The breeze on a warm summer evening,

And coming home ...