This is not an easy post to write. Fear not, I’m OK. The cold virus finally reached a tipping point where I had to end the expedition, but I was able to walk out on my own power and am now comfortably recovering in a hotel in Nairobi.
The plan for the day was an easy hike up and over the 3rd highest peak of Mt Kenya: 16,355’ pt Lenana. For those who aren’t climbers, this is the trekking summit. It has a very short Via Ferrata at the summit (really just 7 or 8 ladder rungs), but it’s a true summit with great views. It’s about 2300 vertical feet above our camp (the Shipton Hut), and only about 700’ above tomorrow night’s camp: the Austrian Hut at 15,700’, which is the high camp for technical ascents of the true summit.
What followed was an eerily familiar discussion: the guide wanted to start hiking at 3:00 AM in order to watch the sunrise from the summit. “What time is sunrise?” “6 AM” “How long do you think it will take me to get to the summit?” “You, 2.5 hours”. “OK then why start at 3 AM”. “Because it’s beautiful”. This time I explained that I really didn’t want to be on the summit at dawn and we settled for a civilized 7 AM start. Apparently, seeing the sunrise from the summit is a thing that the guides like to do. It’s part of their brand. On the way up, we passed about a dozen hikers descending who had done just that.
I’ll give Steve credit, he did accurately predict our timing. It took us 2.5 hours of leisurely hiking to get to the top, where we enjoyed a warm hour in the sun. We were alone the whole time. The weather was so clear that we could see Kilimanjaro 200 miles to the south (a rare event, according to Steve).
We then walked down the easy ridge to the Austrian hut in under an hour, and our hiking day was complete. Now I had, in theory, 36 hours of rest before the climb itself. I crawled into my tent and took a nap.
In the afternoon, both my climbing guide, whom I had not yet met, and the owner of the company, both conveniently named John, woke me up. They had hiked up that morning. I must have presented a memorable visage of health and vigor to them, as I think they decided on the spot that I wasn’t going to the summit. Admittedly, I sounded terrible and couldn’t stop coughing. In a nice diplomatic way, they asked if I wanted to descend immediately. I pulled out my pulse-ox meter and showed them that my O2 saturation was 95%, and that I was not dying of any high altitude illness. However, the ultimate decision was made. Through mutual consent, I was going to Nairobi tomorrow morning. The climb was over. As much as I want to deny it, I knew that I was too sick to do the climb.
So, one more day and night in a flapping tent, and then an 8 mile, 4.5 hour walk down 5700 vertical feet to the trailhead where we started. In the end, I completed the circle route around the peak… woohoo. Once the decision was made to go down, I think my body stopped pretending to be strong. While I felt fit on Pt Lenana only hours ago, I suddenly felt exhausted. And that night I suffered a sleeping injury: I must have coughed while my body was out of alignment as I woke up with a tweaked back. Oh well. I could still walk out. My body just wasn’t going to do it the easy way.
After the hike and then the 5 or 6 hour drive in a taxi whose seats wouldn’t pass muster in the US, I stumbled into the Holiday Inn like a zombie, skipped dinner, and woke up the next morning wondering whether it really is a bad cold, or am I just tired? Two days later I still don’t know the answer. I’m tired, and I’m still coughing, and my ears have yet to equilibrate. Maybe it was a bad cold. That’s two expeditions in a row where I’ve gotten a cold that’s worse than anything I’ve had in Jackson since before Covid. Hmmm.
I don’t have the flu. I don’t have a fever. Mercifully, I don’t have the spins like I had on Everest. It’s just a head and chest cold. I like to think that I recover from colds pretty quickly, but empirical evidence states that’s not the case, at least in the third world. I have no idea how I got it. We were outside for a week on Kilimanjaro. I can’t see how I could have gotten it there. Dan didn’t get sick. Could I have acquired the cold on the plane (which admittedly was a ca-cough-ony)? I wore a mask on the plane, and that was more than a week ago… could the latency be that long? I don’t know. I really don’t know what else I could have done to protect myself. It’s just a bummer.
Well, I have another 2 nights to recover here in Nairobi and then I’m on a plane to Japan. I should be fine. I’ll post a photo essay of Mt Kenya in the next day or two. It really is a lovely place. It’s not empty, but it’s quiet and pretty. To a tourist like myself, the flora and fauna are much more interesting than on Kilimanjaro, and the mountain feels more intimate. There are lovely lakes and tarns scattered about, and the rock walls make me wish I had spent a week here in my 30s just to climb a few routes.
For now, it’s in my rear view mirror. On to the next…
Tom
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