Climbing Kili: Day 1 - Machame Gate to Machame Camp

Elevation (m): 1830m to 3100m
Elevation (ft): 6000ft to 10,200ft
Distance: 18km
Habitat: Rain forest

We woke up the next morning to grey skies and a steady drizzle that would remain with us all day. Still, our excitement was palpable, and we took it as a good thing when, finishing our tea and coffee in the restaurant, we saw a sportily dressed, energetic young fellow bound up the steps to the second floor of the hotel and rap on our doors before we even had a chance to flag him down. We would soon find out that this was our guide, Robert. Later that day we would find out that he is only 26 years old, and our assistant guide Gilbert a mere 22, making me the oldest member of the core team at the ripe old age of 28. Robert and Gilbert addressed me as "Shikamooo" for the remainder of the trip - the respectful way to greet an elder in Swahili.

(Robert on the left, Gilbert on the right)

Robert ran us through the list of gear to be sure that we had everything we needed to survive the next seven days, pausing only slightly when we told him that we needed to rent gaitors, trekking poles, sleeping bags and a down jacket (when we asked how much it would be for the rentals, he told us he wasn't sure, as - and I quote - "Most people come prepared"). We stopped by the Bushmen office to load up everyone and everything else we needed, then it was off to Machame Gate.

Of the many routes one can take up Mount Kilimanjaro (Marangu, Machame, Rongai, Shira, Lemosho, Umbwe), we settled on Machame for a few reasons: 1.) It’s known as the “Whiskey route,” as opposed to the “Coca-Cola route” (Marangu), as it is a longer, more difficult trail and requires that you sleep in tents instead of huts, upping the, “We’re so hardcore” factor, 2.) After ascending 740 meters on Day 4, you come back down to almost the same elevation that you started at that morning, which helps in acclimatization and increases your chances of summiting (decreasing the hardcore factor), 3.) You come down a different way than you go up, varying the scenery, and 4.) It is less trafficked than Marangu.
Once at Machame Gate, we pulled on our ponchos, slapped on our gaitors, filled up our water bottles and camelbacks, adjusted our poles to our respective desired heights, registered our details, had our last sit on a "tourist toilet" (flush toilet), and waited while the porters balanced the luggage - each porter being allowed to carry only 20 kgs. When all was said and done, we had a team of 12: Robert, Gilbert, our cook Musa, and 9 porters, three for each of us.
We do not, unfortunately, have a picture of the gang at the start, as we anticlimactically didn't realize we were actually starting the hike. Thinking we were just walking ahead to the "real gate", Kay, Matt and I took off full speed ahead. Gilbert gently gave us the "pole pole" instruction (pronounced pole-ay pole-ay, meaning slowly slowly), and it was the first and only time he needed to do so. Winded within the first few minutes, we never again ventured above a snail's pace until the descent.

The terrain on Day 1 was rain forest and mud - lush and green and brown and wet, with welcome pops of color brought to us by the Impatiens kilimanjari. The going was slow but pleasant, even with the rain, giving us a chance to catch up on life and chat with Robert and Gilbert.

We stopped on the side of the path for an unceremonious lunch under umbrellas, where the three of us had our first experience with fried egg as a burger topping. Other box lunch goodies included 2 pieces of fried chicken, 2 bananas, 2 cakes, 3 cookies, and a mango juice box. They had accidentally packed only 2 lunches instead of 3 and kept apologizing, but we couldn't even finish 2 boxes between the three of us.
Upon arrival at Machame Camp, the rest of our team was no where to be found. As Robert and Gilbert ran around yelling for our cook ("Muuuuuuuusa!" Musaaaaaaaa!"...an arrival-at-camp theme that would carry through for the remainder of the trip), Kaylan, Matt and I finally internalized how wet, cold and pruned we were. My fingers felt like they were about to fall off, the front of Matt's shorts were soaked and there wasn't a spot on Kay's legs that wasn't covered in goosebumps. We hadn't, for some reason, worn the rain pants that we purchased specifically for this state of affairs.

Lesson of the day: When it's raining, wear your rain gear. Camp was as wet as we were. As we went to change into dry clothes, Matt and I discovered that our waterproofing strategies weren't so waterproof - slightly more embarrassing for Matt, as this is his area of expertise at work. The clothes in the packs our porters carried up ranged in wetness from damp to ring-outtable. It would be days before they'd be dry again.

We warmed up with popcorns (the pluralization intentional), mugs of Milo (energy giving chocolate powder) and a few rounds of Farkle (a dice game) in the mess tent before dinner, then nearly cried for joy when Samson, world's jolliest waiter, brought us pumpkin soup as our supper starter. We slurped happily and devoured the rest of dinner (battered tilapia, vegetable stew and Irish potatoes) with an equal enthusiasm. We had a minor run-in with a pre-historic looking bug the size of my fist, but nothing that Kay's shrieks, Matt's swatting abilities and my laughter couldn't handle.

We retired to our tents after dinner. Teeth a'chatter, I pulled on my hat and snuggled into the dry spots of my sleeping bag. A word of advice to anyone planning to make the trek: Bring a pillow...