The following account of our 2006 Kilimanjaro Climb and Safari were written by Chris, one of our participants.

Chris had established an email correspondence with a young woman named Jordan, who worked in the office of the company we worked with, prior to the trip. As a result, Jordan accompanied us on the trip. She was delightful. Will she become the first woman guide on Kili?

Another Side of the World

I did not have a lot of expectations for this African trip... I came to climb the highest thing on earth that I could climb without technical skills. I expected to arrive in Africa and not have to worry about the nuts and bolts of getting to the climb or back to the airport. I knew there was a safari later, I didn't give a rip, and given a choice of whether to sign up for that or save some mula, I probably would have forgone that part... sure glad it wasn't optional! I knew the first day was to be some cultural exchange dealie, but I didn't give a rip about that either. I knew there was to be some filler activity for the couple of days on the mountain us original Breachers would be missing. I also knew that I'd have to meet and interact with a bunch of other trip participants. Cripes, I'm shy enough and such a loner that prospect alone was way more intimidating than the prospect of trying to walk up to the top of Kili. So imagine my surprise when from the moment I deplaned at Kili Intnl until the moment I finally had to say a somewhat tearful goodbye to the final handful of trippers and the guides at Amsterdam, I found myself utterly enthralled and engulfed by Africa and the incredible womyn I was traveling with!

It began with the Shira Women's Coop. Well O.K., actually it began our first night in Arusha when my assigned roomie was the wackiest woman on the trip. She left me an utterly defenseless pile of laughter. Our visit to the Shira Women's Cooperative the following day continued to set the stage for one of the most life changing experiences I've ever had. During the bus ride there, I sat next to Marian, one of the guides for this journey and president of the adventure tour company I was traveling with. In a non-intimidating way she was somewhat probing and seemed genuinely interested in me and my story, and shared a bit of her own story as well. O.K., whew, there's two people on this trip that I feel totally comfortable with! At the coop, the Shira Women's warmth, easy laughter, generosity, honesty and eagerness to share their lifeways with us truly melted me, washing me clean of pessimism and negativity. I loved that we worked side by side. The Shira women taught us a new way to deal with tons of garlic and how to pound that garlic into powder using their traditional tool, a thigh high mortar and with a pestle the size of a log. The feast they laid before us brought tears to my eyes...an incredible abundance; tropical fruits including finger sized bananas, mangos, pineapple and breadfruit, a thick stew type dish and ugali. These women are so precious!

By the time we were on our way to Kili the following day, oh yeah, that's what I had come for... I was totally gone, having completely reverted into a child of wonder. I loved meeting the porters and guides that would be assisting us throughout our climbing days, and happily tried out my newly acquired and stumbling Kiswahili. I truly appreciated their patient way of correcting my speech and answering my myriad of questions. And best of all, my new Afrikan friend Jordan was climbing the mountain with me! So no shit, there I was frolicking in paradise!!

Every moment on Kili fed my soul and made me stronger. I had read that climbing Kili is a walk through every environmental zone on earth, but until I was there, breathing in and breathing out, I didn't really grasp that concept in a real way. I appreciated that we had some options on our ascent. The day hiking to Lava Tower with a smaller group was magical. Throughout the afternoon the clouds rolled in shrouding the tower and surrounds, but then would briefly part for only a moment showing a clear vision of this awesome, fierce place. It was like being in the land lost by time. I was totally amazed that whenever I asked John our guide about some bird or plant or wildflower he could almost always name it, often adding some extra quirky little information.

The final ascent to the summit was magikal. Nearly full moon, no headlamps required, I learned a new Afrikan proverb, ninong nguvu (sp?)- meaning "we are strong enough." We would periodically repeat that to ourselves and each other throughout that long night. It was like moving through a dream. After climbing up a ways, I gazed down on glowing snaking Chinese dragons, other summit teams moving up the mountain through the night. For the most part, our team was utterly silent, only the heavy breathing of life could be heard. In this dreamtime, a strong team moving more quickly could be heard gaining upon us. They were singing their way through the night with gusto, an African call and response. I sang heartily with them as they passed, it was all I could do to keep myself from falling into their faster pace and joining their ascent. Emmanuel, one of our guides, laughed a belly laugh, I felt like he had seen my soul. Later he briefly sang some call and response with me, laughing all the while. It was then that he named me mountain lion. I was honored. I flashed on the Hemingway quote about the frozen leopard found on the crater's rim, "no one has explained what the leopard was seeking at that altitude." I no longer remembered what I sought at that altitude either. A day later, Emmanuel would give me a second name, mwanamke kichaa... crazy woman.

Finally standing on Stella Point, I hugged my Afrikan friend, tears of exhaustion flowed freely from her beautiful brown eyes. Though she seemed incapable of going on to Uhuru, anywhere on the crater rim is considered a summit. My new friend, whose dream I had only recently come to understand, was the first womon of her Chagga tribe to climb Kilimanjaro. I was so honored to have been present during her journey. I walked, danced the final bit to Uhuru alone, singing a simple song, a tune that has haunted me for years whenever I've found myself embraced by extraordinary beauty. In the past it was only a tune, now a kind and precious womon had taught me the words. I was able to spend time on the peak, off to the side, by myself. In those moments my past fell away and my future un-planned itself until finally there was only me sitting quietly at peace, breathing in, breathing out. As I stood to leave I saw the happy faces of our group waving me over for family pictures, and then to my utter astonishment, I saw my African friend frolicking on the summit. Huge hugs, smiles and laughter all around.

I continued to spend the time after breathing in all of Africa that I could possibly hold. Descending from the summit alone until quite near our camp was like drifting through dreamtime. In the days following, during our Maasai village visit, I was totally absorbed. Again and again I felt the underlying heart beat ninong nguvu - we are strong enough. Safari days were wonder days full of grace and beauty and laughter and easy warm comradeship. I have breathed the breath of Africa. I have been buffeted by her cold winds and caressed by her warm breezes. She has licked me clean like a newborn lion cub. She is now part of my bones and blood.

So that's my story, and I'm stickin' to it.