Day 3, 4 and 5
8/21 – Day 3: A Suspenseful and Struggling Day
Route: Shira Cave (3845m) via Lava Tower (4600m) to Barranco Camp (3960m)
Weather: Cloudy and cold
Distance: 12.5 km | Time: 6 hrs 20 mins | Ascent: 862m | Descent: 840m
Last night, I had to get up frequently to use the bathroom. The
over-the-counter anti-diarrhea medicine I took hadn’t worked, and the problem
persisted into the morning. I worried about becoming dehydrated and the
possibility that this might jeopardize the rest of my trek, but I tried not to
dwell on worst-case scenarios and chose to focus on taking one day at a time.
Thankfully, Cindy, my tent mate, gave me some prescription-strength pills.
To aid our acclimatization, today's plan was to ascend to Lava Tower at 4,600 meters and spend time there before descending to camp just below 4,000 meters. I was concerned about tackling an 860-meter climb in my compromised condition.
It was overcast and bitterly cold from the moment I stepped outside the mess tent. Normally, I warm up quickly once I start walking, but not today—the sun remained hidden, and my hands and feet stayed cold throughout the ascent—perhaps an early sign of altitude sickness. Combined with poor sleep, my energy was low, but I forced myself to keep moving, one step at a time, hoping the climb would come to an end.
Partway along the trail, our route merged with the Lemosho route. It was our third day, but theirs was the fourth, clearly giving them a better acclimatization schedule.
After a long, steady climb, we finally reached Lava Tower. To my
relief, our porters had already set up the mess tent along with portable toilet
tents. As we ate lunch, the sun broke through the clouds. My stomach was still
unsettled, but I managed to hold out until I
reached a proper toilet. Despite how I felt, my blood oxygen
level registered above 90, which was surprisingly good.
After lunch, we began a steep descent, and I kept reminding myself to be extra careful not to slip. As we made our way down, the landscape gradually changed. Tom, our guide, pointed out some strange-looking plants called giant groundsels (Dendrosenecio kilimanjari), found only on Kilimanjaro. These unusual plants have thick, upright stems topped with big, green leaves. Tom explained that the leaves protect the plant’s core from freezing mountain nights, while the dead leaves wrapped around the trunk provide additional insulation against the cold. They flower and produce seeds just once in their lifetime before dying. Even the plants here must be remarkably tough to survive such harsh conditions!
Eventually, after a long series of winding descents, we reached Barranco Camp. The wind was already strong when we arrived, and after nightfall, it became ferocious. Our tents flapped loudly through the darkness, and by morning I learned that the porters had to reinforce the tent pegs during the night to keep everything secure. It would have been miserable to get up in that cold, windy night to use the bathroom. Thankfully, the prescription pills did their job, and by the second dose, my diarrhea had stopped. Relieved that the medicine worked, I felt a renewed sense of hope for the days ahead.
8/22 – Day 4: Back in the game
Weather: Sunny
Distance: 6.5 km | Time: 5 hrs | Ascent: 404m | Descent: 400m
I finally got a decent night’s sleep and woke up feeling much better. While I felt like I had dodged a bullet, one of our teammates, who had been struggling with altitude sickness, made the decision to call for a helicopter evacuation. We waved goodbye to the helicopter as we head off in a different direction.
Today was completely different from yesterday, with the sun
shining and the wind subsiding a little. Our trek covered “only” about six
kilometers but required us to scale the Great Barranco Wall, which looks nearly
vertical and intimidating from camp. The climb involved a lot of rock
scrambling. While not technically difficult, the long stretches quickly became
tiring. Still, I felt much more like myself and was relieved to have bounced
back from the previous day’s low point—just in time for our summit push the
following night.
(Video courtesy of Kai)
Because everyone on the route had to climb the wall, the trail was crowded. Our group of fifteen, including guides, along with other hikers and porters, often hit bottlenecks at narrow sections. I felt especially bad for the porters, who had to wait patiently while balancing heavy loads on their heads.
After several false summits and plenty of breaks, we finally reached the top. There, our crew had set up tables with tea and instant coffee—it felt like such a royal treat. Spirits were high as we took photos beneath the glaciers.
Afterward, we continued down into the Karanga Valley and then up to Karanga Camp. As we arrived, fog rolled in. Our tents were pitched on the slopes, with Kilimanjaro looming in the background, appearing and disappearing through the clouds.
By dusk, the wind had intensified dramatically, with gusts reaching 30 to 40 mph. During dinner inside the mess tent, several of the poles supporting the walls came loose, and we scrambled to secure them and close the door. Returning to our tents was a struggle. Even with the vestibules fully zipped, dust blew inside, covering our duffel bags and sleeping bags until everything felt gritty to the touch. I had never experienced such a harsh combination of wind and dust while camping before.
 |
| Calm and clear moment under the foot of the peak |
8/23 – Day 5: A day of Anticipation
Weather: Sunny
Distance: 3.4 km | Time: 3 hrs 20 mins | Ascent: 511m
Today we had only a short walk to reach our base camp, Barafu, at 4,640 meters. The trail crossed barren scree slopes with no vegetation—a stark reminder that Kilimanjaro is a volcanic mountain. The sun was bright, and we walked unhurriedly, single file across the desolate terrain.
Porters and other expeditions were scattered across the open slopes. Here, porters prefer to balance their loads on their heads, walking tall and straight—sometimes even with their hands tucked into their pockets to keep warm, since they don’t usually wear gloves. In Nepal, by contrast, porters carry loads with a strap looped around their heads, resting against their backs.
Along the way, people greeted one another with cheerful “Jambo!” On one side of the trail, a tour guide strummed a guitar while his group sang along, their voices carrying across the open slopes. By now, the mountain’s melodies had become familiar to us all.
We reached camp before noon. Because our group was large and required more space, our tents were set up farther down the slope, away from the main campsite. Normally, the schedule here is straightforward: hikers eat, rest through the afternoon, have an early dinner, then begin the summit push around 11 p.m. or midnight. But today, things were different.
After lunch, Ravi, our lead guide, gathered us for a briefing. He explained that the weather had been unfriendly, with strong winds making the summit route bitterly cold and exposed. Instead of the usual midnight start, he suggested leaving at 4 a.m. This proposal drew immediate pushback. A few of the stronger hikers wanted to stick to tradition, determined to reach the summit in time for sunrise. Even for the rest of us, 4 a.m. felt uncomfortably late.
Ravi patiently explained that the coldest hours on the mountain are between 3 a.m. and 6 a.m. If we left at 4 a.m., we’d still be climbing during those hours but below 5,000 meters, where the temperatures are slightly warmer and the terrain less exposed. Those who start at midnight, however, would find themselves above 5,000 meters during those frigid, windy hours, fully exposed- a combination that makes many climbers turn back. After hearing this, and following much debate and a few back-and-forth changes of mind, the group finally reached a compromise. Instead of Ravi’s 4 a.m. plan or the traditional midnight start, we decided to leave at 3 a.m.—a middle ground that felt both safe and early enough to give us time to return at a reasonable hour.
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