I gave it my best shot, but the mighty Kilimanjaro won

The night of December 31, 2019, had finally arrived. We had travelled up the slopes of Mt Kilimanjaro for five days and we were preparing for the final onslaught – the gruelling eight-hour ascent to Uhuru Peak, more than 1 200 metres above, covered in ice.

Just before midnight on New Year’s Eve, we started the slow trek. It was a bitterly cold and freezing night with temperatures dropping to below -6 degrees. The strong wind did not help matters, cooling it down even further. There was not much of a moon, making visibility difficult, and all we had to rely on were the tiny headlamps of the dozens and dozens of climbers.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J7DhFavYsjg&feature=youtu.be&fbclid=IwAR3jcJx3XmBryjQlOqMdYlupDrFVHqzH_6uLjGtAXU9UNy1nfcSduPUJHsY

In the darkness, I struggled to find my footing up the steep and slippery rocky trail. An hour after hour I struggled upwards, with the cold weather and wind battering my fatigued body. I could feel my fingers getting numb and I realised I was unable to hold on to the cold and hard rocks for support. The air was constantly getting thinner, and it became an arduous task to force enough oxygen through my lungs.

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With almost three hours of climbing left to reach Stella Point, the last point before the summit, I could feel the strong, cold winmy freezingds lashing at  body like waves against the majestic boulders of the mountain. A lot was going through my mind at that stage and everything I had heard about the people who had previously tried and tragically failed started swirling around my mind.

It was at this point that I realised that I could not continue any further and I decided to stop and hang on for dear life. I tried to look up the steep mountain and all I could see were tiny specs of lights that looked like moving stars in the dark. It was only when I looked down that I realised that what I thought were stars were in fact the tiny headlamps on the heads of climbers. For the climbers below I was probably one of those distant stars dimly shining down on them.

I held on firmly to the rock I was leaning on and said a little prayer and asked for divine intervention as my fingers seemed to have frozen and I was unable to move them. I numbly stood still, almost as if I was waiting for a miracle. It was then that I saw my fellow climber and friend, Anton, approaching from below and walking slowly towards me.

From where we started at Barafu Camp it was already almost 4 700 metres above sea level. The height I was on was roughly 5 400 metres. I probably had less than 500 metres to ascend, but all my energy was exhausted. The thin air, almost deprived of life-giving oxygen, made me extremely cold. Even though I was wearing two pairs of just about every piece of clothing that could keep me from freezing to death, I was freezing.

I just stood there, numb with cold, and too scared and unable to move. I thought of what had happened to South African racing driver Gugu Zulu, who met a tragic fate in 2016 doing exactly what I was attempting to do. The memories of how Zulu was rushed down to try to save his life were just too ghastly to contemplate.

It felt like I had been standing there, stuck to the side of this huge mountain, for ages, when I suddenly noticed Anton’s weary face glowing barely centimetres from mine.

“How are you feeling?” he asked. I just nodded my head, indicating with tears running down my cheeks that I could no longer continue. As the shock and fear of imminent frost-bite began to hit home, I decided to confess my fears for my life and told him I could not take it any longer.

Although Anton looked surprised, he said: “We did not plan this expedition to return home in coffins. No life is worth risking. This is not a race.” He continued: “You’ve taken up my challenge and managed to get this far and if you feel you cannot continue, I understand.”

Later on, back at the hotel, we philosophised about the events of the past week and realised that it was a fitting way for it to end. Our project was not about individual achievements. Many people have conquered Kilimanjaro and thousands more will do so this year. Our project was not about reaching summits – it was about going out there and climbing mountains. You always do your utmost, but it’s about the journey. We wanted people to embark on their journeys, not shy away from them. Like me, on occasions you won’t reach the summit, but the trip will be memorable.

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I am glad I backed down when I did, otherwise I could easily have been yet another tragic statistic among the many fatal accidents that have occurred over the years to enthusiastic climbers trying to conquer this gigantic mountain in Africa.

As they say in ki-Swahili; Asante Sana!

I say Shukur to Allah for bringing me safely down and saving my life.

Things could have been a lot worse.