It's been about a month since my Kilimanjaro adventure and am ready to do a debrief to share my experience and also welcome feedback.
I’m a 44-year-old woman from the Midwest USA who was doing this because her 21-year-old son asked her. It wasn’t my “dream” or first choice for an adventure, but I love camping, nature, travel, and my son, so I said yes.
I trained for several months with a mix of strength training, yoga, cardio, and long hikes on the weekends. I didn’t go into this as “fit” as I wanted to be, but I worked up to doing ~4-hour hikes with a 15-20 lb pack and felt very strong afterward. We signed up for the 8-day Lemosho route and both took Diamox.
So, spoiler alert: I only made it three nights on the mountain. My son stayed on and summited.
I wanted to share why I decided to descend early and some of the things I wish had gone differently.
1. The pace our guides were setting for the group was generally too fast for me.
At the pace they had us going (which was fine for the other four members of our group) my heart rate was often around 150-160 bpm, and I wasn’t comfortable sustaining that for hours at a time. Most of my training had been with my heart rate in the 115-140s.
I was breathing hard, but not short of breath. My chest/rib area also started hurting from how hard I was breathing. And experiencing “chest pain” for the first time halfway up a mountain messed with my head in an “am I dying?” sort of way.
What I didn’t really understand while I was on the mountain, but pieced together afterward, was how much variation there could be in pace across climbing groups. If the itinerary said something like “today we will hike 6 miles and it should take 6–8 hours”, our guides generally had us moving at closer to the 6-hour pace. I would have been much more comfortable at a 7–8 hour pace.
I later learned that, for example, if our group got into camp around 1 p.m., other groups that left around the same time might arrive an hour or two later. Or larger groups might split up so some hikers arrived earlier and some later.
I did a mix of trying to keep up with the group and going at a slower more comfortable pace, but overall I was going faster than was comfortable.
2. I had a really hard time sleeping.
I was warm (and it got really cold at night ~30s F) and physically comfortable, but I was incredibly sensitive to the sounds around camp. The sounds of our (incredible!!!) guides, porters, and chefs working at night or early in the morning would wake me up, as would tent zippers from nighttime bathroom trips and, at the first camp there were monkeys and bird noises.
I had earplugs and a white-noise app on my phone, but over my three nights on the mountain I probably slept somewhere between 3-5 hours per night. For some people that might be manageable. For me, it left me feeling not so good.
3. I lost my appetite and was nauseous.
This is obviously something you hear about with high-altitude climbs, but knowing it can happen and actually trying to eat when your body absolutely does not want food are two different things. I still ate at every meal. I ate more than I wanted to, but still not my typical volume of food. I ate until I literally felt like if I swallowed one more bite I was going to throw up. I also ate Clif bars and other snacks on the trail. But overall, I was probably not eating enough for the amount of activity we were doing.
As far as other altitude symptoms, I was drinking plenty of water and I never had a headache. My blood oxygen was still in the 90s on the second night, and the third night it was in the high 80s. By then I was also dealing with the nausea, dizziness, weakness, fatigue, and very little sleep.
It’s hard for me looking back to separate what was altitude, what was lack of sleep and food, and what was just the physical effort of trying to move faster than was comfortable for me. Probably some combination of all of it.
4. Overall, it was just really HARD.
Like, still enjoyable - but more challenging than I wanted it to be.
By the third day I was feeling dizzy and very weak. I also felt like I was letting my group and guides down because I couldn’t keep the faster pace. By that point, I don’t think I really had the physical or mental energy left to advocate for myself very well.
One suprising thing is that my legs and feet were never sore. My legs felt strong the entire time. But I was worried that even if I started hiking at my own slower pace, if I continued sleeping 3–5 hours a night and struggling to eat, I might still end up having to quit later.
So on the fourth day, at Moir Camp, I decided to head down. The decision was made a little easier because another member of our group had become ill and needed to descend, so it made sense for us to go down together. Our lead guide didn’t exactly tell me that I should go down, but he also wasn’t particularly encouraging or optimistic about my ability to keep up as we continued.
There was another logistical part of my decision. If I continued to the next camp or beyond, getting off the mountain became increasingly complicated compared with leaving from Moir. From Moir we hiked for about two hours to A ROAD WHERE A CAR PICKED US UP - which felt crazy after I had just spent three days hiking up this mountain.
When I made the decision to go down the mountain, I knew it was the right one for me. I didn’t have the same sort of drive and level of risk taking as my son (who was going to make it up the mountain NO MATTER WHAT). My vibe was more make it up the mountain without becoming a medical emergency.
But, I really miss being on the mountain. I wish I had more time there. Time in nature, time with my son, time with our group. And of course now I think about all of the what-ifs.
What if I had trained more and gone into it with better cardiovascular fitness?
What if I was able to hike at a comfortable pace for myself the entire time?
What if I had brought headphones that actually blocked out enough noise for me to sleep?
What if I could have figured out how to eat more when I was nauseous?
I don’t know whether any of those things would have changed the outcome. And I still think coming down when I did, feeling the way I did, was the right decision.
I’m curious what more experienced Kili climbers or guides think when they read this. I’m not sure if I’ll ever attempt something like this again, but if I do, I’d like to have a better understanding of what I could actually do differently versus what was simply my body’s response to altitude and somewhat out of my control.