How Do You Climb Kilimanjaro?

One step at a time (and lots of training)

BY MARY RUTH HARRIS

LAST DECEMBER, I CLIMBED

Kilimanjaro. Most of it anyway. My story of (almost) climbing the tallest mountain on the African Continent starts with my father who left us too soon. He was 58 years old when he died of a heart attack. He was in top shape, and losing him so early cast a shadow over my view of fitness and health, sometimes asking “what does it matter?” But my dad would remind me that being in good health is essential for experiencing the world with whatever time I have. When I was invited to climb Kilimanjaro it was daunting but something I knew my dad would want for me.

Getting Ready

I contacted nutritionist and trainer Jeff Sproul of PureFitness and Nutrition. When I said the word “Kilimanjaro” he responded with a prescription for weekly sessions of strength training and nutrition check-ins that kept me accountable and on track. Sproul offers a lowkey, non-judgemental approach to fitness. And I’m proof he can work with anyone—a middleaged mom (like me) or youngsters who want to run Spartan races.

I also fell back on my yoga practice. Core Power Yoga has some of the best yoga instructors and attending those classes provided a lot of necessary perspectives, flexibility and meditation material that would be invaluable on the most difficult portions of the climb.

I had been paired with World Wide Trekking by a colleague, who had trekked with the outfit before. Traveling with a local guide, Dean Canidale (WWT’s lead guide and founder), and my local friends made it feel safe to go. So off I went, carrying a worn photo of my father and I standing on top of a peak in the Wind Rivers, smiling and wearing unintentionally matching flannel and khakis. That image kept me going.

On Kilimanjaro

There are five different ecological zones to pass before reaching what is affectionately called “the roof of Africa,” Kilimanjaro. Over the next few days, it was misty. The clouds seemed to rise straight from the ground, swirling above us, behind us and around us. I couldn’t see ahead. I couldn’t see below. I asked our guide, Dean, to move the clouds so we could see the landmark Kilimanjaro Lava Tower. Magically, he waved his hands and they did! (But Dean also started the Human Outreach Project, a non-profit that gives back to locals in the communities he visits around the world. He specializes in miracles.)

Generally, I have a hard time asking for help. When we scaled the Breakfast Wall (the most technical part of the trek), I was struggling but still stubbornly resisted. At one point, I couldn’t see above me and felt panic rising. At that moment our guide Happiness (yes, that was her name) said, “Mary, take the hand of Happiness.” I took her hand. Her hand was strong, warm and soft. We smiled and my fear retreated. I climbed up.

Comes The Wind

The wind was trying to tell me something. It was trying to say something so much so that it rolled over my tent one night. It kept on howling and beating dirt and grime into my clothing, eyes, ears and nostrils. It made it hard to communicate, walk or breathe. It brought frustration. On the highest camp in the middle of the night, the wind made machinery-like metal noises as it hit the tents and shook them violently for hours.

I remembered a Core Power Yoga class in the night while the tents shook. The class put me into a position called warrior three where the body is stretched out long horizontally, and one leg is standing firm vertically. As we held the pose and sweat dripped from my body, the instructor said “Mary! You’re making the T like tenacity, do you have tenacity? Do you know what it means?” Gasping, I said, “I don’t know?” She walked by and continued class. Those nights on the mountain, in the wind, I truly learned what it meant. And wind, it turns out, has greater tenacity than us mere humans. After several days, Dean made the hard call to abandon our summit attempt. We slumped back down never setting foot on the top of Africa’s roof. Once home, it was hard to explain what it was like. I had a lot to recover from and reflect upon. I called Christine Stockham, LMT, NBT-HWC, the founder of Harmonic Alignments, LLC. Not just a masseuse, she is an integrative bodyworker. I scheduled a 2-hour customized treatment session. She has many techniques, and she is magical. The massage, aromatherapy, and more, let the air out and helped me start understanding the experience. I still don’t know what the wind was trying to tell me. I’ll wonder for years to come. I’ll consider the vision, purpose, trust and direction I learned from my father and how it helped me find the tenacity to turn away from something I wanted so much.

Author

Mary Ruth Harris has lived in Utah most of her life and for the past 22 years in Salt Lake City. With a background in medicine and a passion for healthy living, Mary loves experiencing and writing about anything that will add to wellness and well-being, hers and yours. An avid cyclist and trail runner, she writes about health, beauty, fitness and athletic training for Salt Lake magazine.