Volcanic Skiing (Kilimanjaro - Day 6)

So it turns out there is no elevator down from heaven. What goes up must come down.

First up is 3 hours of "skiing" Kilimanjaro style - which is basically semi-gracefully sliding down volcanic sand. A forced one way path because it's impossible to climb back up, I take extra care not to drop anything. My earlier concern around how we will come back down is finally addressed.

Getting back to camp for a late lunch, we rest, pack up, and continue our descent for 3 more hours, to make the next day a bit easier. My head is giddy, intoxicated with the experience, the extra oxygen, and this view.

—

Another 7 hours of descent the next day. Passing through sand, rock, mud and what I'm convinced was a million stairs, 3 of my toes may be permanently stubbed and my knees are now twice my actual age. It will be a week before my feet fit into closed toe shoes again.

But I'm still riding the high from being on top of the world. Or maybe my theory of mountaineering induced brain damage has legs.

I met this Swiss woman at the peak. This was her 7th Kilimanjaro summit. Her total climb round-trip was 3 days, accompanied only by one guide, no porters. She was spending the night in the summit crater. That's extremely challenging, as she had to carry a tent and all supplies, not to mention the blood oxygen consequences of spending 24 hours in that thin atmosphere.

Sure enough, we crossed paths again the next day, near the bottom of the mountain where she overtook me. Despite being nearly twice my age, it took her half the time to summit and come back down.

I asked her why she did it - surely she must work for National Geographic?

She shrugs. "I don't know. I'm just a tough old bat".

Damn. Goals.

At the bottom I say my goodbyes to the crew, before I'm whisked away to the next adventure, a safari in the Serengeti.

Driving away, I look through the back window. I see the whole mountain for the last time. Hazy, it looks like a watercolor painting in the sky. It's larger than life, a scale hard to comprehend. Eternally stoic, far above the trivial matters of us humans. It was here before us and it will remain long after we are gone.

Was I really up there? Was it all a dream?