Sunday morning we packed up all of the gear we would need for the mountain and drove 40 minutes to the Machame gate where we started our climb. Unfortunately, it was drizzling--not such that we were wet but such that we were hiking through the clouds and mist with limited visibility. I suppose if you had to have that for a day, the first day was the best since the 5 hours we spent hiking was through a dense jungle that would have offered limited scenic views of the mountain.
The jungle, on the other hand, was almost more beautiful in the mist as we walked along a ridge with steep ravines on either side. The higher we got, the thinner the trees became, and at the end of the first day, we emerged from the canopy of the jungle and camped in the cloud forest. The 'forest' lived up to its name since we spent the night and the whole next morning trekking through clouds and missing some supposedly picturesque views of the mountain (I'm really hoping this is our last day of rain.)
As I type this, we are at our campsite for night two. Sam says it looks like some type of refugee camp. We have climbed to 12,800 feet and are above the tree line so the tents for the dozens of people camping here are pitched on the rock around a bunch of shrubs and cactus-looking plants. We also are seeing sunlight and the summit of the mountain for the first time, which is pretty amazing.
So far, the climb has been the easiest trek I have done in my life. The biggest frustration has been following our guide at the same pace you would take to help your 90-year-old grandma cross the street. The most winded we have been to date was this morning trying to stuff our sleeping bags into the sacks that I swear shrunk overnight. The second most grueling feat has been trying to change/maneuver/unpack and repack in cold and rain and minuscule tents. We all agree that the act of camping is so far burning more calories than the trekking itself. We have two tents that sleep one person comfortably, but two people less so. The boys are taking the turn with the single. So far we are managing just fine but I fear it will become increasingly difficult the colder it gets. Jared's biggest grievance so far is the fact that I insist on drinking (i.e., sipping my lukewarm, diluted crystal light from my camelback) about 3 times as much as he deems necessary, which has resulted in numerous bathroom stops along the way that obviously take longer for me than the boys. I still say that he has been breathing heavier than I and can use the 2-minute breaks.
The porters here are pretty incredible. They carry full backpacks plus additional sacks on their heads (we estimate about 100 pounds each). They also have a fashion sense of their own. Winner for the best porter was wearing daisy duke jean shorts over tight black leggings with blue jean gaiters. He also had a pink backpack and a radio playing the latest Swahili hits.
The porters, who don't need to acclimate, walk at a more comfortable pace thus arriving at the site about an hour before we do to pitch the tents and start preparing food, which has been pretty good considering we are half way up a mountain. Lunch has been 'sandwich surprise' (today our sandwich had cucumbers, carrots, egg, peanut butter, and green pepper). Dinner last night was warm stew and warm drinks, which hit the spot as the temperature dropped at night and we huddled in the 'dinner tent'.
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