I couldn’t bear to look where we were going. It all looked the same: greyish-brown sand and rock, just like I had seen for the last four hours, unresponsive, and, I dare say, boring. Even though I had been walking for what seemed like ages, I seemed to be no closer to my destination. One. foot. in. front. of. the. other. How long would this go on? Had I sold myself a fake dream? Would my body give up before I made it to the top?
I could feel my legs screaming “up to here, and no more!”, the blood coursing through my veins made an audible pulse against my temples. I had run out of water. Who runs out of water at the point when you need it most? That’s suicide! One of my friends was far ahead of me, easing his way through, or so it seemed to my oxygen-deprived brain. Another was a little behind me, demonstrating a lot more perseverance than I was feeling. I just needed to keep on putting one of my leaden feet in front of the other and make painstakingly slow progress towards the peak.
During these solitary moments, I had enough time to think about why I was doing this in the first place. The reason was quite simple, and perhaps selfish: I only really wanted to stretch myself — to extend myself beyond where I, physically, mentally, and spiritually, had extended myself before. The basic principle I was working on was that, rather than setting New Year’s resolutions every year, I can embark on big challenges that would help me grow in all kinds of ways, and indirectly help me to improve on specific areas where I want to see growth — the principle of “obliquity”, made famous in economist John Kay’s book by the same title.
“Obliquity is the principle that complex goals are best achieved indirectly. This book explains why the happiest people aren’t necessarily those who focus on happiness, and how the most successful cities aren’t planned (look at Paris versus Brasilia). And if a company announces shareholder return as its number one goal, perhaps we should beware: the most profit-orientated companies aren’t usually the most profitable.” (from the book’s back cover)
Now, I’m a pretty cautious person, so I usually do a lot of research to make sure that, in doing a challenge, I do not bite off more than I can chew. Kilimanjaro happens to be one of the easiest of the big mountains to climb. Make no mistake, it is definitely not a walk in the park, but it does not require the kind of technical skill that many big mountains need. An amateur can do it with some mental and physical endurance. My friends and I made it even easier by adding on an additional 2-day detour to help with acclimatization. Adjusting to the altitude change is the single biggest factor determining success in climbing Mount Kilimanjaro.
And so when the climb started, I was as excited as a little boy about to embark on his first trip to Disneyland. That excitement turned to wonder as the reality hit when we started walking on the mountain and could see it waiting for us — a real mountain with real earth and plants, and real views — wonderful views at that. The wonder was soon replaced by a realist’s resolve as I encountered the first few difficulties. And now I was a little bit desperate…
Every step was a Herculean effort (I am sure Hercules would beg to differ, but that’s how it felt at the time) accompanied by voices in my head. Oscar Optimist said, “as long as you put one foot in front of the other, you will get there” but he was quickly interrupted by Lizard Lazy saying, “There’s no shame in stopping now. You’ve got this far already”. I had to silence Lizard. He kept coming up with things like “This is boring. It’s the same old, same old, and you’re not getting any nearer.” Oscar Optimist found a way to shut him up. He used the zigzag in the slowly ascending path as an opportunity to turn back, look how far we’ve come, and simply whisper, “thank you, Jesus!” Enough iterations of this, and gratitude started replacing despair at 5000m above sea level.
And so, having gained the upper hand in this mental battle with myself, I could finally see that the peak finally was within reach. I was within 10 minutes of summiting! I, a grown man, was choking with emotion when I realized that within a few minutes, I would be standing at the top of Africa’s highest mountain, above the clouds — 19340 feet above sea level. Tears of gratitude threatened to fill my eyes, I wanted to give a triumphant shout, but what actually came out was a hoarse croak that made Hesbon, our Guide look behind him to see if I was ok. I was definitely ok — I just couldn’t believe I had made it. My hoarse croaking did not do justice to the cacophony of feelings in my soul: Immense gratitude for having the strength to endure the difficult times so that I could experience the utter euphoria of reaching the summit; regret for not having my family with me at such a moment; shame that it wasn’t easier to get here, but mostly pride. Pride in having conquered self-doubt and fear, pride in having something I could look back to as a reference point when I needed to draw on reserves of strength and perseverance.
So it was that on 28th February 2012 at 14:15 hours, I reached the Uhuru Peak of Mount Kilimanjaro!
Here are the 5 lessons:
- Do not discard
- Haraka haraka haina Baraka
- Enjoy the ride
- Hunker down
- Huddle up
If I had climbed Kili and not learned, or relearned for some, these lessons: it still would have been worth it. I think, however, that the mountain always has different lessons for everyone. These were mine: They are nothing out of the ordinary. Just common-sense stuff that sticks more because the context in which they were learned is unique, and at a time when my body and mind are all very alert, almost at the end of their resources, and therefore at their most resourceful.
1) Do Not Discard:
Nothing compares to a dream fulfilled. Discarded dreams can leave a slightly stale taste in the mouth, but nothing brings back the juice of life like a dream fulfilled. This was one dream that was easy to discard as too frivolous, or too expensive, or requiring too much preparation. I am glad I did it. I am glad I experienced the adventure, that I was humbled by the immense power of the natural forces that formed the mountain, and that still ravage it in the form of wind, rain, and extreme cold. I am glad I did not discard.
2) Haraka haraka haina baraka:
This is a Swahili saying, which basically says “going too fast is not a way to blessing”. Climbing Kilimanjaro helped me to see again that some things, in fact most things, can only be done slowly. You cannot the rush the baby to sleep. You just can’t. One step at a time. Even “overnight successes” have had to move one step at a time before the night when their success suddenly came.
3) Enjoy the ride:
Getting to the top of the mountain was a strange experience. It was a moving experience because of the significance of it, on the inside, but externally, there was nothing really special about this barren piece of real estate with a signboard on it. I even momentarily entertained the thought, “is this it?” and, tellingly, on the way down we were already talking with my friend about the NEXT adventure. Such is the nature of human achievement, and what makes it very necessary to enjoy the whole journey rather than have too much of a fixation on the end-point that you fail to notice the wonderful sights on the way.
4) Hunker down:
Day 3 of the climb was a difficult day for me. We had hit the kind of heights where my body was struggling to adjust to the rarefied air. My breathing was labored, I was drinking copious amounts of water (as advised) and taking oral rehydration salts to help my body hydrate as fast as possible. But it was still difficult to keep going. The one thing I found that helped me the most was to just keep … putting … one … foot … in … front … of … the … other … and telling myself that as long as I did that, I would get to my destination. This was no time for grand visions of what could be, I did not care about the summit — I could not. Just the next step. And the difficult phase did eventually pass.
5) Huddle up:
I would like to say that I climbed Kili on my own, without any help from any other soul, but I would be the biggest liar in the world if I said that. In fact, I had so much help that it’s no wonder I managed to get to the top: My climbing mates, Darren and Devin, were a constant source of support, bad jokes and shared tent flatulence; Sifuel and Hesbon our guides, our porters, and our magnificent cook. My wife and daughter literally walked the journey with me from when it was just an idea. My friends and family were all sending me messages of encouragement. There is no such thing as a self-made man, and how much better it is when there are many involved in your story!
