The Northern Circuit Trek of Kilimanjaro: The Journey.

arrival: Karibu.

[Visual: Qatar airplane in distant background on tarmac. In foreground is a cement walking path and mowed grass. Blue sky with dotted white clouds].

We arrived in Moshi, Tanzania after thirty-six hours of travel by way of Qatar. Our first glimpses of Tanzania were foggy, overcast as the plane appeared to be landing in the sparsely-treed savannah. Fortunately, we touched ground on a paved runway and trickled out of the plane in a sleepy, relieved crowd. The Qatar Airways 787 appeared strangely out of place on an otherwise deserted tarmac at 730am.

Just seven hours before we had been absorbed in the excess of Doha Int’l Airport. We had a 2am meal of spinach salad and herbal teas—served in carefully chosen ceramic saucers at Harrod’s. The endless shops of colorful scarves, Gucci, saffron, fine chocolates, etc., mixed in with usual staples like McDonald’s felt to be the most extravagant & dizzying 24-hour shopping mall. We hid for most of our eight hour layover in a women’s only “quiet room” where we could rest in oddly designed, rigid reclining chairs.

“Karibu. Welcome,” said the Tanzanian man at the outside airport desk with a bright smile, rousing me back to the moment. The stress of passports, vaccine cards, visas took hold as I mumbled a brief hello and handed him my documents. I slipped into my usual default of transactional interaction, but this guy wasn’t having it.

“Where are you coming from? How was your flight?” He genuinely wanted to know.

I had researched extensively on the details, as the visa-on-arrival option was the best due to a dysfunctional online system. The process was only mildly confusing—requiring shuffling through several different messily-formed lines. The airport staff were joking & laughing with each other & passengers as though we were all familiar, new friends. There was a palpable lightness. In an airport.

We were greeted warmly by Deo, a driver with our company, Peak Planet, at the exit before he transported us the thirty minutes to the Stella Maris guesthouse. We were received there with bear hugs from the staff. “Welcome home. You are welcome.” There was a breakfast spread of pineapple, crepes, lentil pastries, papaya, Nutella, Milo, and fried eggs. My plate was full.

Kassina and I drank coffee and ginger Kilimanjaro tea on our balcony after the meal. We looked down at the jungle garden below where there were lemurs roughhousing, a hornbill cawing (“like a baby’s cries” per Kassina), and a tiny grey-black striped cat slinking.

It was a warm and kind Karibu. Welcome.

Day 1: Moshi to big tree camp

[Visual: Fishbowl-wide photo of montane forest. Green ferns, grasses on ground with tall trees. You can see the sunshine peeking through the trees. On the right side there is a porter with a grey backpack & sleeping pad as well as a horizontal load on his head. Ahead of him on the trail, there are several more people with loads on their head further away from the camera.]

The day before our true “Day 1” we adventured on a coffee & waterfall tour before arriving late for our trip briefing. There we had met our guides Msuri (like “Missouri”) and Rodgers. They reviewed logistics & checked our gear to make sure we were properly prepared. I had gone to bed in pure exhaustion, but awoke with a fresh, robust energy.

The crew picked us up in a spacious van & we started the drive to the Londorossi National Park Gate. The guys were open, eager to answer questions, play music—a curious mix of modern Tanzanian beats, Dr. Dre, Abba, and Celine Dion. This line-up or some variation was the norm throughout our journey. There were casual zebras & giraffes in the grasslands out our van window, like seeing mule deer in Montana. The lilac to deep blue-purple of Jacaranda trees burst forth from the otherwise muted landscape. As the van ascended up a well-maintained dirt road, farmland transformed to montane forest.

We arrived at the bustling Lemosho trailhead after formalities & paperwork at the Londorossi Gate. The porters had to wait in lines to weigh gear & surely deal with other dull logistics we were oblivious of. There is a lot of waiting in Tanzania. Sometimes you aren’t sure what you are waiting for, but the pace is different. Locals often say “This is Africa” and they said that in Ghana too. But in Ghana there was more wait, wait, hurry! whereas in Tanzania I rarely ever felt any rush. Pole pole.

We started our trek after a nutritious lunch of white rice, tender chicken grilled with an amber, tangy sauce (lentils for Kassina), freshly boiled carrots & zucchini. Our first wildlife sighting in the forest were thumbless Black and White Colobus monkeys jumping between dense, high vines. Kassina & I dubbed them “Monkey Skunks” which also became our group name. Msuri taught us that these monkeys seldom come down from the trees.

We plodded ever so slowly up through the East African Camphor wood trees (mkulo in Swahili) before arriving at Big Tree camp. This first camp was buzzing with multicolored tents & conversation. We arrived to an afternoon snack of popcorn and ginger tea—displayed on a plaid tablecloth-covered dining table. The crew introduced us to our usual camp set-up. The mess (dining) tent, camp tents, and toilet tent were all clean & prepared.

Later that evening we were treated to a surprise cassava vegan cake for Kassina’s birthday. It was the most luscious cake & required no oven. In just our first day we discovered the cook, Patrick, was an alchemist in the kitchen.

Day 2: Tree camp to Shira I

[Visual: Boulders in foreground, shrubs (Heather & Erica) in foreground and background on a wide plateau. Backs of two hikers (Kassina & Msuri), Kassina wearing khaki pants & carrying bright green/yellow backpack, Msuri wearing khaki & grey pants with grey backpack. A few hikers further in the background going up. The top of the photo has fog. Overcast skies].

We started our day with a breakfast of something savory & leftover cassava cake. We were one of the last groups to leave congested Tree Camp, as it felt deserted with only one or two tents left to be dismantled. Along our path, we abruptly crawled out through the clouds of the towering forest into the heath & moorlands zone. The mists came & went, affording us glimpses of sunlight.

This was a day of stone steps and mini-traffic jams through Erica & Heather shrubs (my “friend” shrubs). The pole pole pace was already frustrating & creating a gait that aggravated my hip. To our relief, Msuri & Rodgers soon allowed for us to pass some of the slower, larger groups. It felt easier not to be caught in the shuffled march. We emerged onto the vast, dramatic Shira plateau just after mid-day.

We ate another hearty lunch of beef, veggies, french fries, and green pepper soup. Shira I camp was still teeming, but spread out along the plateau and not so clumped together like Big Tree. I met one of the Park Rangers, who carried an AK-47 and wore a hot pink coat and aqua colored rain pants.

I woke up that night shivering. I have been truly frigid in my life, like the kind of cold where you feel panic. Like the Death Eaters have come & you can never feel warmth again. I thrashed around to unroll my stuff sacks and find all of my layers. In my bewildered, half-asleep brain I forgot that my headlamp was on my head, causing a frantic burst of neon light to bounce off the tent walls. Kassina woke up startled “What is going on?!” I could hardly respond & focused on slowing my breathing.

I’ve always worn thermal layers at night, but not too many layers as to avoid sweat. Well, that lesson went out the window & my new lesson was to wear all my layers to bed…We awoke to a layer of hard, chalky frost on our tents and the ground.

Day 3: Shira I to Shira II

Giant Groundsel (*Dendrosenecio kilimanjari).* [Visual: Two large groundsels. The “trunk” is brown, almost fuzzy but harsh looking and the plant consists of multiple large bright green leaves almost looks like construction paper. The foreground has some blurred out plants with “old man’s beard” (lichen) and the background is a tree-covered hill].

We detoured through cloudless, straw-colored fields, speckled with Pepper & Yellow Everlastings (Helichrysum newii) to Cathedral Point (aka Shira Cathedral) at 12,700 ft (3872 m). The path was more gradual than the days prior. Msuri mentioned the majority of groups bypass this route & head straight to camp. This resulted in a day of solitude for us.

From Cathedral, we could easily see the caldera (collapsed volcano) that is the Shira plateau. We surfaced above the clouds, peering through the gaps to see the forest jungle below on the Moshi side of the mountain. Uhuru Peak, the summit of Kilimanjaro, still appeared so distant.

The four of us (Msuri, Rodgers, Kassina, and I) continued on the gentle path, passing by Giant Groundsel whose Latin name, Dendrosenecio kilimanjari, surely doubles as a wizarding spell. The clouds moved high & the mists dropped in as it started to lightly hail as we neared Shira II camp. Maike & Ondeska (who had already dropped our duffles in camp) met us on the trail to carry our daypacks. We were thankful. It started to pour rain & Shira II was just a soggy blur as we took cover in our tent.

For an hour or two it was damp & dark as we chowed on banana stew and cooked sweet carrots. The sunshine was fierce to burn off the mists in late afternoon—resulting in an otherworldly art display of depth & sky. The campers & porters on the skyline appeared as though they could step right onto clouds.

[Visual: In the bottom, foreground are some olive green tents, bright yellow toilet tent (sorry, but gives you a good idea of the camp set-up), a man with grey shirt and black pants standing on a ledge/rock and looking out. 3/4 of the upper photo is all late afternoon, sunny blue-white clouds].

Kassina napped in our tent while I explored close to camp. Shira Peak was much closer than earlier in the day, and flaunted a white sprinkle of new snowfall. The peak was behind me, as I nestled into a semi-dry perch of rocks above camp. Wet, black lava rock shined through it’s white-green and orange hued lichen. The skies kept morphing, teasing me as soon as I looked away only to remold again.

Day 4: Shira II to Lava Tower to Moir Hut

[Visual: Photo has a sort of 70s theme, no filter but somehow it looks like it was taken from an old slide. Looking down on a crowd of hikers and porters with loads on their head. Everyone wearing differently colored clothing. Walking on a trail, landscape has many boulders, lava rocks. Further in the background you can see lava tower, although difficult to point out in the photo. In the background is Uhuru Peak (main Kilimanjaro summit) with small bits of snow/glaciers on the right side].

The trails were more lively again, though not cramped, as we made our way to a popular side route for acclimatization called Lava Tower at 15,150 ft (4617 m). I didn’t feel the elevation at all, and in fact, quietly did ten pushups in our mess tent to Kassina’s amusement. The Lava Tower spot was bustling & the lunch set-up was extensive, with full mess tents and the toilet tent. We were expecting an outdoor picnic!

We descended down the same path before splitting off toward Moir Hut. It was peaceful again with only our group, as this trail began the true Northern Circuit piece of the trek. There were only two other groups camping at Moir Hut and nowhere near our tents. The transition of the moorlands to the alpine desert was subtle, but apparent to us as the crew needed to hike farther to fetch water.

[Visual: Left lower is metal bowl with chickpeas soaking. To the right is a orange/red propane tank with stove top and a pot of chopped onions, green peppers, and carrots. Another pot is covered behind that on another grill. Vertical aligned photo. You can see Patrick’s blue ski pants].

This was a special late afternoon where we were received in the kitchen tent & spent quality time with the crew. Rodgers translated our questions & theirs—ranging from family and hobbies to religion. The porters had a cozy sleeping situation in the back half of the tent. We saw Patrick’s solid kitchen set up, including loads of tinfoil and propane tanks.

Dinner was interrupted by a chilly, showy sunset before we began our nighttime routines.

Day 5: Moir Hut to Buffalo Camp

[Visual: Foreground is shale: large, big broken pieces of tan/grey/black rocks that goes up 1/2 way into the photo. Kassina & Msuri hiking on trail, you can see Kassina’s bright red coat and green backpack. In the background is Uhuru Peak and large, sweeping clouds with some blue skies].

The banana stew from Lava Tower hadn’t set well with me. My stomach was a mess. But still, I tried to stay well-hydrated and not whine. We ascended through the alpine desert of sharp, dark grey shale pieces until the trail leveled. Most of the day was hushed walking with Msuri in the lead. Walking meditation. The silence was welcome.

I still could not get over the clouds. We were above the clouds or engulfed in them & as the only three people walking in that spot, at that time in the universe. When the mists parted, Shira Peak was on our right. And I found it semi-funny, semi-aggravating to have this mystical experience while trying not to vomit.

We arrived at Buffalo Camp early afternoon. It was the least established, as though the crew had just found an edge of the mountain to set up. Our group was the only one, which felt rare, striking. The lights of Kenya were visible to our north as the darkness set in.

Day 6: Buffalo Camp to Third Cave Camp

[Visual: Yellow daisies (‎*Stoebe kilimandscharica*). Macro photo of yellow daisies—have about 8 petals and the middle is also a bright, shiny yellow. Green serrated leaves with a leafy brown/purple base. These were inside a cave, although cave is not pictured].

Kassina and I woke up extra early to Humphrey tapping on our tent door for the sunrise. We could clearly see Mawenzi Peak with its dark, serrated edges.

Although this was the mildest, shortest day—it was my hardest up to that point. I felt poorly, as did one of the porters, Norman, who was having unrelated symptoms. He notified us that he needed to leave the group & descend on an alternative path to meet the re-supply crew & catch a long ride back to Moshi.

We arrived at Third Cave camp early & most of the crew settled in their tents for a nap. After our usual clean up with a bowl of hot water, Kassina & I set off to explore around the camp. The temperature shifted dramatically from chilled mist to unrelenting sunny heat. We left a pile of coats on a rock so we could climb up through some sharp, sticky bushes to a crawl-through cave.

Kassina continued down the Rongai Route path, which criss-crossed ours, as I found solace in a yellow daisy (‎Stoebe kilimandscharica) filled cave just below our tents. Shira Peak was just above us & appeared somehow small, unintimidating. Later that afternoon, Kassina & I sat with Humphreys on a low cliff near camp for our usual tea & popcorn snack.

We finally received our trail nicknames from Rodgers— “Lentil” for Kassina & her love of Patrick’s lentil pastry puffs, and “Eggs” for me as I ate plenty throughout the trek.

Day 7: Third Cave Camp to Kibo Hut

[Visual: Rodgers carrying large orange pack with oxygen tank and solar panel charger. “Lunar landscape”—grey/brown sandy path with various sized boulders, lower part of Uhuru Peak on the right, Kibo Hut structures ahead which are brown/black buildings with green roofs. Puffy clouds in sky].

Our route described this day as a steady ascent through a “lunar landscape”—and that it was. The sky was bright, tranquil. The route to the summit looked simple enough, mostly a path of scree. There was not a hint of snow from our angle of the peak. My gut wasn’t back to normal, but at least stronger.

We hadn’t seen anyone outside of our group since Buffalo camp, with the exception of one porter traveling past Third Cave camp. So, Kibo Hut was like arriving to a remote city. We peeked into a basic structure with bunkbed-packed rooms for porters, a pungent one-room kitchen that made my stomach churn again, and more elaborate, newer huts for those hikers on the Marangu (aka Coca Cola) Route.

Charles, our special porter/tent master, had found a campsite below the structures and sheltered from the wind by towering boulders. Kassina & I both took turns near the handwritten wi-fi sign where the signal was strong enough to send out a few What’s App messages.

I tried, and failed to nap as we were also situated near one of the many zig-zagging paths to Kibo Hut. Guides shouted lightheartedly in a mix of Swahili and English. We ate an early dinner & Msuri prepped us for the summit. I tried again to sleep, but now it was Kassina’s turn to be wide awake. We were on opposite sleeping schedules, which is always a challenge as tent-mates. In the end, both of us perhaps got in an hour.

Day 8: Kibo Hut to Summit to Millenium Camp

Portal to another world. [Visual: First light, sunrise, bottom half of photo is black shadow of Mawenzi Peak below. Then shades of reddish-purple, orange, light yellow, and pale to deep purple].

I wrote in my journal about the summit: “That was hard.”

Humphrey was shaking our tent door at 10pm—We rapidly packed, drank coffee and teas, and forced down a few plain cookies. Although my gut had improved, it was not fully settled and I took some Pepto Bismol. We started to hike sometime between 1130pm and midnight—the first group through the now quiet & dark Kibo camp. I wore all of my layers, feeling suffocated and weighty in all the synthetic & down. My backpack was bulky with four liters of water that the guys insisted was necessary. Msuri carried my pale purple travel mug of tea. At some point, Rodgers took my 1L Nalgene bottle to carry.

Msuri led, followed by Kassina, myself, Rodgers, and Humphrey. We didn’t talk much. The path was frozen but still consisted of loose pebbles, causing brief backwards slides. This was far more arduous than any scree climbing I’d done before due to the altitude—but I felt tough early on. We stopped an hour or two later inside a shallow cave, looking down at Kibo Hut where headlamps flickered—indicating that others were now waking up. After the drawn-out process of peeing off-trail in the boulders, in the blackness, removing & replacing layers—we resumed.

The next five-ish hours was scree climbing in the darkness. But my sense of time was muddled & therefore my memory too. The previous day we had seen the various tan-brown scree paths to the ridge—the paths appeared so frank, straightforward. The mountain hadn’t deceived me, but my mind had underestimated it.

The bobbing light of headlamps was causing me motion sickness. There was enough moonlight to turn mine off. It was below zero with the wind chill—the breeze was gratefully light, but still cutting. I tore off my balaclava early on, as it choked around my neck. I pulled my thick buff over my face & it soon became wet from open-mouthed breathing. I pulled it off to breathe clearly & my face became numb. So, it was like that for five hours, trying to pull the material on and off, on and off—my down mittens over my thinner gloves resulting in poor dexterity.

I had an intense urge to vomit around 18,000 ft (5486 m) as a rough guess of the elevation. Perhaps it was lower. My mind started chattering—maybe this was my ceiling & I couldn’t go on. My layers were so leaden, my feet numb, the scree mind-numbing. Deep breath. If I ignored the suffering & the tedium, the nausea would pass.

My brain distracted by silently explaining the night in limited Spanish, no matter how many words missing or wrong past tense. My body needed to keep moving and I refused to complain out loud. Somewhere around this point, Msuri offered to carry my water and I did not argue—handing over three liters of frozen liquid to a man already carrying his own load. I was deeply grateful.

The acute sensation of illness eventually dulled to milder waves of nausea. Even if we paused, my feet marched in place. I had to move forward right behind Msuri, who kept climbing. Any full pause, and I might have been stuck in place. The guys tried to carry Kassina’s backpack for her, but she declined. She needed to do it herself. And we all understood that, the guys did not persist. A couple hours earlier, one individual client with one guide had passed us. The client wasn’t carrying anything at all.

“That’s the ridge, just there” said Msuri. We reached that ridge called Gillman’s Point around 5 or 530am. The relentless scree had finally ended. I was ecstatic—we would make it to the summit. Kassina, Rodgers, and Humphreys arrived shortly afterward. We took blurry pictures in the dark by the sign with our headlamps.

We proceeded on the crunchy, rocky path along the ridge line. Dawn pierced orange-flaming through the eastern horizon, bleeding color onto the soft cloud layer below. To our west, the waning moon was beaming pale over the Uhuru summit. The air was still frigid, but the sunrise brought our group new life. Capturing these moments well in photographs proved mostly futile due to bulky gloves & momentum forward to the summit. But the moments were extraordinarily beautiful.

This doesn’t do it justice. [Visual: On the ridgeline like the last photo, but a bit lighter now. You can see the path, rocks in the foreground and a glacier on the right middle of photo, although it appears quite small from this angle. Below is Mawenzi Peak again, appearing much lower and just above the peak is the sun starting to rise up out of the clouds. Below the sunrise and Mawenzi is a soft cloud cover. Above the sun is orange, yellow, paler yellow progression of sunrise].

We passed the famous Stella Point sign without stopping. There were few people scattered high on the mountain this early in the morning. And after an uncomplicated hour plus, we arrived on the final summit ridge at roughly 630am. The times are all rough estimations as it was better not to keep track.

The summit sign had a tiny congregation lined up to take photos. I stopped on the crater rim before the sign: Below was the desolate moonscape of the crater itself, beyond and behind me walls of corrugated white-blue glaciers, and 360 degrees of now-early morning sunlit clouds beneath.

My cheeks were wet and the view became blurry—The fatigue, discomfort, beauty, and pure, uninhibited joy of the moment manifested in choking sobs. Rodgers was trying to explain the geology & realized I was crying. I clarified—“No, I’m not sad! I’m so happy!” He gave me a hug. Rodgers’ friend, another Tanzanian guide, came to greet him & also gave me a hug. I laughed, feeling mildly ridiculous & overly emotional.

I know Kassina went through her own experience, but these are private, big seconds, hours—impossible to process in the moment they are occurring. We didn’t really talk, but we hugged too. After our group took obligatory summit photos, we were being ushered to leave. After all that work, it was disorienting to feel the first haraka haraka (quickly, quickly) pressure. I almost forgot to collect dirt from the summit for an old friend—I found a ziplock bag for the purpose and awkwardly collected a small handful of hard earth.

We skiied down the scree on a different path than the one we had climbed, passing many groups ascending in the light. They saw their path above them & perhaps that was worse than the path being shrouded by night. Kassina appeared carefree, donning her fashionable, polarized wraparound sunglasses as she slid down the mountain. Humphrey was now in the lead & he too seemed happy, exhausted. I tried to match their energy & succeeded for a thousand feet or so until another wave of nausea hit me unexpectedly.

We paused for a rest on the scree slope, removing layers as the high-altitude sunshine pounded down. Humphrey offered plain cookies & an African Frutti juicebox. The juicebox was all I could handle, and the thickened tropical punch flavor was welcome. My long underwear, fleece pants, and hiking pants were sweaty, heavy, cutting into flesh around my already aching stomach. There was no privacy, no way to remove layers easily. And the guys were pushing us along.

I felt irritable, sick, and finally lost my temper a few hours later as we passed through a sprawling basecamp on the ridge. I had been carrying my own water again since the summit. The backpack felt unnecessarily burdensome. Humphrey was carrying Kassina’s pack down. And suddenly I felt envy too.

I threw my pack off on the ground. I insisted that my water be dumped to lighten the load and took out my water bladder. Kassina, Rodgers, and Humphrey stood by as Msuri initially protested but then dumped most of the three liters of water from my Camelbak to the ground. The water landed in an unceremonious puddle.

The water had been fetched & hauled by our crew the day before. Msuri himself had carried it part of the way up when I felt weakest on the climb. One of the guys clicked their tongue as though to say—what a pity. Shame washed over me swiftly.

Anything I felt in that moment did not justify my childishness. Everyone was drained, not just me. I walked next to Kassina for a while, letting my mind settle. She was calm. I let the rawness of the time pass before apologizing to everyone individually. It was not my finest moment. Later, maybe the next day, it was Msuri that graciously reminded me, “We are all human.” Still, I did not feel I deserved such a benevolent response.

We passed through the upper camps and paused again near a quiet helipad site. I ate a few dry pieces of bland cookie, realizing this was the first food I’d eaten since 10pm the night before. It was probably around 9am. We kept hiking down. Down. Down. The descent can be the harshest & when it felt as though we would walk beyond the desolate alpine desert to the end of the earth ahead of us—we saw Ondeska, Viktor, Maike, and Alfonz hiking towards us with shouts of encouragement. They took each of our daypacks and blessed us with lively energy.

Viktor & Alfonz belted out Celine Dion from the top of a boulder & she continued to sing from Rodger’s speakers the rest of the trail down.

Our celebratory cassava cake. [Visual: Cake wrapped in tinfoil. Off-white frosting with “Congratulation MT (or M) 5895” in orange, drawn brown outline of mountain with powered sugar (?) for snow and the words “Karibu” in brown].

I finally took off my unnecessary layers. Kassina and I didn’t bother washing up properly. We both collapsed into our tent, the door open wide to allow in a light breeze.

Day 9: Millenium Camp to Mweka Gate to moshi

[Visual of the jungle: Green grasses, ferns curled up in a ball, red hot poker flower on the right which is a stalk with bell flowers starting from large bells to smaller bells hanging downward until the top where the bells are upright. Lichen-covered tree trunks in the background and a magical, misty fog].

The morning was disjointed. Everyone seemed to be functioning on their own timeline. But finally we said our goodbyes to the majority of the crew who would depart as soon as they arrived at Mweka Gate. The tipping ceremony was compulsory, awkward as we read off each crew member’s name & their tip amount for transparency.

The listed 7100ft (2164m) descent through the lush rainforest and fog was magical, teeming with life—The lichen (old man’s beard) covered vines, elephant trunk flower (Impatiens kilimanjari), ladyferns & tree ferns, Sycamore trees, various rainforest bird calls, and red hot-poker flowers. Msuri, ever the naturalist, listed out the common (English or Swahili) & Latin names fluently.

It was t-shirt weather again as we made our way down a dirt road, flanked by coffee and banana plants. Mweka Gate was startling with it’s manicured lawn & polished but mostly empty visitor center building. We used a real flush toilet & running water for the first time in over a week. That’s always novel upon return from an extended camping trip.

Patrick cooked us our last meal, served to us outside at an artist’s co-op on the outskirts of Moshi. He celebrated the end of the trek by drinking banana beer out of a traditional gourd with handle. I bought a few, intentional items like whole bean coffee wrapped in cloth material with a distinctly Tanzanian design. Kassina was hassled to purchase paintings, bracelets, or any number of goods. We stayed too long & were relieved to finally head back to Stella Maris guesthouse.

We said final goodbyes to Msuri, Rodgers, and Humphrey and were presented with an adorable sheet of paper that served as a certificate for climbing Kilimanjaro. I’ve climbed many mountains but this was a first! Kassina & I both took extra lengthy, hot showers. We needed our space, recovery. My dinner consisted of two tiny glasses of red wine and a chocolate GoodRx bar on the outdoor patio. I was too weary for anything else & slept wonderfully that night on a soft, full-size bed.