{"id":351,"date":"2015-04-27T00:44:36","date_gmt":"2015-04-26T21:44:36","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/jacob.zikusooka.com\/?p=351"},"modified":"2015-04-27T03:09:17","modified_gmt":"2015-04-27T00:09:17","slug":"memoirs-of-rwenzori-see-you-at-the-top","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/jacob.zikusooka.com\/?p=351","title":{"rendered":"Memoirs of Rwenzori: See You At The Top!\u00a0"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"The<\/a>\u201cIf you\u2019re not living on the edge, you\u2019re taking up too much space.\u201d – Jim Whittaker, the first American to summit Everest<\/p>\n

Fresh and still panting from another win at the Boston Marathon, a Kenyan long distance runner was asked what his secret is. Without batting an eyelid (and with a characteristic Kalenjin accent), his reply: I run. I run. I r-u-u-u-u-n. And then I win. I felt like this guy today, only I was trekking. And isn\u2019t life like that? To win, you just have to start. And keep at it. And finish.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The climb from Bujuku hut to Elena and on to the Margherita peak was precipitous;\u00a0<\/span>so sharply inclined as to be close to perpendicular<\/span>. Even at this gradient, it was everyday the same for our amazing support crew – Cooks and Porters. Even then, it was painful to see\u00a0Vincent (our head cook) thermos flasks in hand,\u00a0going over rock and crevice while doing a most precarious balancing act. This was nazi-type torture, I mused to myself. Transitioning from the Heather to Alpine zones came with its own set of challenges. From high altitude swamp to moss covered rocky ground and to ravines, the ascent was treacherous. Climbing up four and a half kilometers above sea level heralds a sudden drop in temperature. The air starts thinning, and so does the vegetation. You are literally competing with other living creatures for oxygen. Here also,\u00a0the weather patterns are erratic and\u00a0the danger of contracting Hypothermia becomes real. My bad knee was taking quite the beating; the nkoni<\/em>\u00a0(walking stick) effectively became the second leg. Now conspicuously stacked at the back of a book-shelf in my study, I smile and wonder what was driving me on every time I glance in it\u2019s direction. I suppose the human spirit is always proved transcendent when pushed beyond it\u2019s confines. Trudging on, enveloped in a cloud most of the way, we went off the beaten path and approached Elena hut by way of Mukandege and not the more frequently used\u00a0Scott Elliot Pass. Here, we took a break and were treated to awe-inspiring views of Mount Speke and Baker but not Margherita. No, there was a higher price to pay to behold her majesty.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

After what seemed like an eternity, we hunkered up craggy rocks on all fours and made our entrance to the Elena hut \u201ccompound,” a flat 500 square-foot rock patch mid afternoon on Thursday, April 10th 2014. This was going to be our launchpad for the Margherita ascent. I felt a little like the intrepid Don Quixote on his final conquest. Having dispensed with the daily debrief, the guides implored us to have an honest self evaluation and if we had any inkling of altitude sickness to declare it so that an evacuation to more habitable terrain would quickly be\u00a0arranged. This, I reckoned, was a fair request to make; the biting cold, coupled with howling wind and very thin air were a stretch to even the fittest of us. As if this was not a mood dampener\u00a0enough,\u00a0our guides went on to inform us they still had to monitor the weather to decide if the climb to Margherita was going to happen when morning came. IF? Having come this far, this was going to be a very bitter pill to swallow. Thinking about it then (I was a few months away from turning 40), it\u00a0occurred\u00a0to me that my 30’s had made me so goal-focused that even\u00a0now, all my being was about\u00a0getting\u00a0to the top of this\u00a0mountain. It didn\u2019t matter how I got there. I had to get there.\u00a0It dawned on me that the desire to attain can become oppressive and like Been-Around<\/em> Solomon noted,\u00a0a “vexation of\u00a0spirit.” Even with perfect preparation, which I was already so short on, there was this one thing I could do nothing to determine or change – the weather.\u00a0<\/span>As with many other\u00a0aspects\u00a0of life beyond this mountain, I had to look to Providence.<\/p>\n

While I unwound and took in views of our new surroundings, a middle aged lady – an American paramedic stationed in Rwanda, came by the camp on her\u00a0\u201cevening stroll.\u201d She nonchalantly relayed to us her experiences of climbing the other mountain peaks – Baker and Speke and that she was summiting Margherita the next day to\u00a0complete her circuit. As she made her way back to her camp (managed by\u00a0Rwenzori Trekking Services, the other alternative to Rwenzori Mountaineering Services), I marveled at her sheer willpower and fortitude.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

We had a GPS tracker that had been set to send periodic updates to our wives\u2019 email addresses\u00a0specifying our location.\u00a0More than ever, our wives now had reason to be talking to each other. The daily changes in place\u00a0coordinates must have been a comforting re-assurance for them.\u00a0With all the climbing equipment – boots, crampons,\u00a0ice axes, hard hats,\u00a0harnesses, etc\u00a0checked and ready for our use the next morning, we hit the sack.\u00a0By this time, it was snowing and temperatures were hovering around the minus seven centigrade level. This was going to be the most uncomfortable night for me. My Comfort Zone<\/em>\u00a0sleeping bag was going to be put to it\u2019s final test. It failed.\u00a0Miserably. Even\u00a0with several layers of sweaters, jackets, thermal pants and whatever else I could get my hands on for warmth, I just could not get myself to sleep. With ear plugs to keep the sound of the howling wind to a minimum, I lay still in the hope that I could\u00a0retain\u00a0the little heat my body was generating but that too fell to the four corners. In quiet desperation, I mumbled a prayer. \u201cHave mercy on your suffering servant, O Lord!\u201d I believe that earnest plea was granted because morning came quickly and I heard a knock on\u00a0our rattling shack door at 3am. It was time to\u00a0prepare for the climb. The overcast skies had cleared and the green light for the climb was on.<\/span><\/p>\n

Hard on the heels of my most uncomfortable night, the stage was set; this was going to be not only my longest but also most trying day. It was a full moon, against a backdrop of an ominous peach black as we started out from the camp. Our head and, now flickering, hand torches lit the way for us. The incline going up bare rock was so steep\u00a0that it had to be done with both hands and feet. At one point, we had to propel ourselves on using a rope that had been hooked to a higher gradient – about 15 meters\u00a0above us.\u00a0We hiked another one and a half hours on slippery rock to the\u00a0Snow-line and the first\u00a0glacier.\u00a0It is at this point that the crampons (metal plates with spikes to aid our ascent on snow) are fastened to\u00a0climbing boots, ropes knotted and harnesses applied. After being roped with Josephat and Titus (with me at the rear) we immediately embarked on a 20 meter vertical climb up the ice that left me wondering again what I had gotten myself into. Another two hours of concentration – leaping over crevasses and digging in our ice axes and crampons as we methodically put one\u00a0foot ahead of the other. With a limp and mostly bent over, I had to be careful not to sprain my spine; I had slipped two discs in a diving accident two years earlier. In all these\u00a0maneuvers, visibility was at near\u00a0zero.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Still enveloped by fog, the sun\u2019s warm rays\u00a0started to come through once we hit the Stanley Plateau, a sight for sore eyes. We crossed the plateau onto the Margherita Glacier via a rocky gorge.\u00a0Unlike the Stanley Glacier where our chief\u00a0occupation was to break\u00a0into hard ice with our axes, the Margherita Glacier job description can be summed up in two: Skill and Hard Labor. It\u2019s uphill all the way and one has to use the ice-axe for traction, being careful not to fall out of line. Falling out of line greatly\u00a0increased the likelihood of falling into a crevice; these abound and are mostly\u00a0concealed by snow. And that can be fatal. All the men took a fall either going up or coming\u00a0down. In moments like these is when you appreciate skill. When it was my turn (and I did take my fair share!), Josephat was quick to wedge the metallic peg\u00a0(attached to our climbing rope)\u00a0quickly into the ice to prevent my free fall down the snowy terrain, very possibly to my demise. Once at\u00a0the top\u00a0of the Margherita Glacier,\u00a0hoping for the much\u00a0anticipated\u00a0\u201cplain” trek up to the summit, I was in for a rude shock when Josephat pointed us in the direction of ropes dangling from the top of a 90 degree rock front. We looked on in disbelief as he demonstrated what we had to do: harness ourselves to the rope and\u00a0abseil (glide down) the full 20 meter distance on belayed rope. Alas! The stuff that was my fancy growing up. I used to read about such adventures in the National\u00a0Geographic<\/em> and Reader’s Digest<\/em> as a kid. A wide-eyed kid. Here I was living it now!\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Now comfortably on clear territory but nonetheless still up all the way, the\u00a0shocks were about to start rolling in, fast and furious. It all started with a\u00a0member of the rear-guard. Did I mention there was only two of us in the rear guard? Clear blue\u00a0skies over us, banter and laughter abounding, Titus\u00a0announced he\u00a0could not go on.\u00a0Without warning. Just like that. I was dumbstruck! I asked\u00a0that we take a break so he could think this through. After 15 minutes of nerve-wrecking silence, he affirmed his decision. I was\u00a0shellshocked.\u00a0I just could not believe we had come this far and he could not make the last 2 hours to the summit. I was gutted to the bone. Even when the other men had accepted his alibi for not making it for the climb, it was me that had finally talked him into accepting to come.\u00a0I felt a personal\u00a0responsibility towards my friend.\u00a0This was my lowest point during the entire climb. Leaving a man behind is a heart-wrenching\u00a0experience that makes one question the validity of a dream. I had to quickly shake off the sadness and get on with it. 30 minutes into my now solo climb, I met \u00a0the American paramedic and her team on the way down. Without asking after her climb, I congratulated her on summiting. Her response sent a cold chill\u00a0down my burning spine: she had not made it! She had stalled right at the foot of the peak. Margherita was not going to yield her beauty without a fight. I steeled myself and\u00a0trod on. And went past the perilous glacier to the\u00a0foot of Margherita. And on to the peak. And finally the signpost welcoming me to the highest point in Uganda. Date: April 11th, 2014. Time-check: 12:20pm. I gave thanks and praise. I savored every moment of the 40 minutes I was up there. I was not going to stay only the prescribed 15 minutes. I had earned this one. Nobody was going to hustle me. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

If I thought the descent from the mountain was\u00a0going to be as easy as stealing candy\u00a0from a\u00a0baby, I was in for another shocker. My knee must have wailed long and uncontrollably all the way down to\u00a0the base camp. I just did not hear it. The day\u2019s climb that should have taken a lead time of 8 hours ended 14 hours later. My guide and I were caught up in a blistering snow storm that lasted two hours. To keep from frostbite and contracting High Altitude Pulmonary Edema, we had to\u00a0keep going in circles. Snow-blinded and\u00a0exhausted once\u00a0the storm had subsided, we lost our way. Finally, by a long winding route, we arrived back at Elena camp after night had fallen – drenched to the bone. And nursing several bruises from the countless falls on the icy, slippery and sharp rocks.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u201cIf you\u2019re not living on the edge, you\u2019re taking up too much space.\u201d – Jim Whittaker, the first American to summit Everest Fresh and still panting from another win at the Boston Marathon, a Kenyan long distance runner was asked… Continue Reading →<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":353,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[1],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/jacob.zikusooka.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/351"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/jacob.zikusooka.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/jacob.zikusooka.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jacob.zikusooka.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jacob.zikusooka.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=351"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/jacob.zikusooka.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/351\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":358,"href":"https:\/\/jacob.zikusooka.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/351\/revisions\/358"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jacob.zikusooka.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/353"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/jacob.zikusooka.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=351"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jacob.zikusooka.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=351"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jacob.zikusooka.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=351"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}