Train More Than You Think You Should
A full nine months before we headed to Tanzania, Andrew had us on a training schedule. It consisted of one hike a week (on Saturday mornings for us), a weekly Body Pump class at the gym for general strength, swimming for cardio and lung capacity, yoga, and the stair climber at the gym. I thought he was going way overboard, but I’m so, so thankful he did, now that the climb is over.
Specifically, our weekly hikes were key. Three out of four Saturdays a month we’d do a random trail in Austin, but we ended up repeating River Place Nature Trail almost every week. It had the best ups and downs we found in town. The fourth Saturday we’d do the full, ten-mile loop around Lady Bird Lake to build up our stamina (we also biked there and back for some extra oomph). We carried daypacks with water on each hike, but the packs were much lighter than what we ended up climbing with. One thing I’d do differently is to add more weight to the pack to get used to it.
Rest Step
Dustin, our American guide, introduced us to the concept of rest step early in the hike. He said it’s something people do on much harder hikes (Mount Rainier all the way up to Everest), but that it would be helpful any time we were tired and going uphill. It was a little awkward to me, and it involved locking my knees, which I’m fundamentally opposed, but I gave it my best effort. You take a step uphill, plant your stepping foot, and then as your other leg follows, you lock out your standing knee. The idea is that your knee and hip in the standing leg take your body weight as your other leg steps so your muscles don’t tire as quickly. You don’t just do it once; you’re supposed to walk that way, on each leg with each step, for long uphill stretches. It felt really clunky and weird to me, but when Dustin would holler, “rest step!” I’d try my best to obey. I don’t know if it really helped me all that much, but knowing that a professional guide who has gotten people up much harder mountains than Kili believed in it was enough to keep me trying.
Pressure Breathing
This was the second trick Dustin introduced us to. Like rest step, he said people do it on harder hikes but that it would be valuable on Kilimanjaro when the altitude made breathing difficult. It’s really simple and easy to do, as long as you don’t mind looking and sounding like a lunatic around other hikers. You take in a deep breath and then exhale in at least three sharp, fast, audible breaths. It’s supposed to open up your lungs more and allow the bronchial tubes and lung surface to take in more oxygen. Andrew, Dustin, and I all randomly did it throughout the hike, and as soon as we heard one person exhaling loudly, we’d all join in. It was silly but also fortifying. I don’t know if it physically made much difference, but at 18,000 feet, it’s mostly a mental game anyway.
Meditation Tactics
Which brings me to a trick I brought with me to the mountain: meditation. I mentioned doing yoga as part of our routine training. Every Sunday we’d go to a yoga class at the gym and our instructor offered a short, guided meditation at the end of the hour session that people could stick around for it they were interested. I’ve always been curious about meditation, so I stayed every week she offered it. The most basic part I gleaned was to focus on my breathing, even to the point of thinking, “inhale, exhale” with every breath. She also gave us a little mantra to say to ourselves when our thoughts started wandering: “Not now, I’m breathing now.” Very basic stuff, but it got me up Kilimanjaro.
Around the second hour of summit day, I started hurting hardcore. I needed to focus on the basics to keep my mind off my misery, so I tied my breathing to my walking. One step with the right foot = one inhale. One step with the left foot = one exhale. (Yes, we really were walking that slowly!) And I actually thought to myself, “inhale, exhale,” with each step. When you’re making your brain say that, it can’t wander to other thoughts, like how cold it is or how much the mountain sucks or how you want to lay down and take a nap even if it means you’ll get hypothermia. Inhale, exhale. I literally thought that for hours on summit day. Hours. And when I couldn’t sustain that, I’d go to, “Not now, I’m walking now.” I’d feel exhausted and think of a nap, and I’d make myself say, “Not now, I’m walking now.” People would start singing loudly and I’d start to get angry but make myself say, “Not now, I’m walking now.” It all sounds very basic but fluffy at the same time, but if you actually commit your brain to the thoughts, it helps. At least it helped me.
Emergen-C (or any equivalent product)
I loved these little packets of magic on the trail. I was first introduced to them as a hiking aid on the Inca Trail, when one of my trail-mates gave me a packet to add to my water after I puked on the side of trail. When Andrew and I were planning for Kilimanjaro, we knew we would be using water-purifying tablets during the entire hike and that they would make our water taste funky. So I stocked up on packets of the pink-lemonade flavor to cover the taste. I also knew from the Inca Trail that altitude sickness is exponentially worse if you don’t drink enough water, so I didn’t want to give myself any reason to not stay hydrated. Toward the end of the hike I was sick of the packets and found the water tasted just fine without them, but they still got me through many days when I’m sure I wouldn’t have drank enough without them.
Diamox
Get altitude-sickness meds if you’re going hike Kilimanjaro! Just do it, even if you don’t think you’ll need them. It is so much better to have them and not use them then to get five days (and thousands of dollars) in and have to turn back because you’re ill. I started taking them on the second day at the lowest dose so I could add to it if necessary. And it was necessary. By the third day I was taking the lowest dose in the morning and again at night. Andrew stuck with the lowest dose once a day the entire time. Give yourself enough wiggle room to adjust for what your body needs. There’s no shame in taking it; altitude sickness is a beast. When we got back to our hotel in Moshi after the hike, we met a woman who had also just returned with her group. She told us that she made it to summit day, hiked about an hour, but then had to turn back because her altitude sickness was so bad that she was hallucinating trolls and other creatures on the trail. We commiserated and said we couldn’t have made it without our Diamox, to which she responded, “Oh, yeah, I had the pills with me but I didn’t want to take them.” What?? It seemed crazy to Andrew and me, but to each their own. (Except no, don’t be that lady.)
Vocabulary
 |
| Mysha morefi! |
Cabisa = all of it (“Laura, how much bread do you want?” “Cabisa.”)
Mogie moto = hot water
Ahsante (sana) = thank you (very much)
Jambo = hello
Zurie = good
Baya = bad
Karibu = welcome (to a place, food, etc.)/you’re welcome
Pole pole = slowly
Rafiki = friend
Lala salama = sleep well
Mysha morefi = long life (“cheers”)
Good luck to future trekkers!
