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In the spirit of Team With a Vision's support of athletic
independence and success for blind individuals, and its work to raise awareness of their
capabilities, Bill Raeder, president of National Braille Press,
is preparing to climb Mount Kilimanjaro. Located in Tanzania near the border of Kenya, Kilimanjaro is the
highest peak on the African continent. Here is Bill's log.
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KILIMANJARO!
From Sea Level in Boston to Africa's Summit
Bill Raeder's Training Log
April - September 2005
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To Go or Not to Go...
Phone conversation with Erik Weihenmayer:
After completing the substance of the call, "well, Erik, got any projects going?" "Well," says Erik, "I'm putting together a mixed team of blind and sighted climbers to go up Mt. Kilimanjaro in the late summer." "Oh!" says I, showing evident interest, with lots of questions. "How old are you?" says Erik. "Sixty-nine." "Well, I know that people in their 70s have climbed it. You ought to consider coming along." Yikes--what a challenge!
(Email to Erik Weihenmayer, April 26)
Hi Erik,
I was much inspired by our phone conversation. The idea of trekking up Mount Kilimanjaro with you was indeed very intriguing, very inviting, even if only to the 13,000 foot Shira Plateau. Questions and thoughts quickly arose: just how much training would that take? How would I indeed react to thin air; I have no experience with it? I must try Erik's technique with two trekking poles on some local trails. I may likely find that two trekking poles is not the way to go for me. (I have only two fingers on my left hand and a prosthetic hook for a right hand.) How the heck does Erik hike over uncertain footing and uncertain paths at the same rate of speed or greater than his sighted companions? And I say this as one who treks down familiar sidewalks, and some unfamiliar ones, at a speed equal to or greater than many of my sighted companions.
Then suddenly I realized that on Saturday, August 27 we have scheduled the Raeder Family Clambake, of which, of course, I am the principal host. So: so much for this particular trip to Kilimanjaro. Kilimanjaro may have been too ambitious anyway, given the amount of training I presume would have to take place in four months.
But! I don't want to let the inspiration go. What did you say about the Inca trail in June of '06? Any thoughts, suggestions, or advice? I sure would like to be on your email list for such activities.
All the best to you, Ellie, and Emma,
Bill
P.S. Yikes, Erik. I just read your email and learned that the Raeder clambake does not indeed conflict with the Kilimanjaro schedule; must now re-think again!
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Erik's email to me, just referenced, laid out the mission of the Kilimanjaro expedition, "to climb the mountain as an integrated blind and sighted team of about 20 to 25 people", as well as giving details of the itinerary (six and a bit days up the mountain, nearly two days back down, August 30 to September 10, 2005), details on immunization and health considerations ("mosquito repellant--malaria stinks"), extensive equipment list, arrangements list, and TRAINING! Erik had already said on the phone that I should walk uphill every day from now until then for at least an hour per day.
I knew in my heart that I had decided to go, and started telling everybody, to confirm the decision. I called Jeanne and asked if she'd like to come. She thought I was kidding, but later when we met and I enthusiastically talked about it, she said "if you're going, I'm going." (Jeanne Flannery and I have been seeing a great deal of each other since we re-connected last October at our 50th high school reunion. She had been my prom date.)
Training Begins
I started training, at first thinking I would continue my morning short regimen of calisthenics, take a half-hour walk at lunch, and climb stairs in my apartment building in the evening. There are five flights of stairs, with each round trip representing 53.3 feet up and back down. The first evening I did 24 round trips, 120 flights, 1,280 feet of altitude gain. Not bad, I thought--all I need to do is double or triple that per day for six days straight. Yikes! By June 9 I had increased my capacity to 29 round trips in an hour, better than 1,500 feet--a breakthrough milestone.
It's Official!
The National Braille Press Annual Meeting was held on Tuesday, June 7. Paul McLaughlin, chair of the Board of Trustees, announced (without forewarning me) that Bill Raeder was going up Kilimanjaro. I guess he had cottoned on to my telling everybody, but I hadn't intended going this far. Later, at the board meeting, one trustee asked, "Bill, are you really going up Kilimanjaro?" to which I said "yes, I'm committed"--to which another board member quipped "you should be committed!"
...Then I took a two-week-plus vacation in Spain with my daughter Diane. Guess what happened to my training program. It shifted abruptly to the late-night dinners in sidewalk cafes, and much tasting of wine. Many nights lasting 'til 4 a.m.
Our First Real Climb
While in Spain, my son John purchased for me and installed a treadmill. I was having a great deal of difficulty finding the time for training, time being a greater consideration than the energy and stamina (so far, anyway). The treadmill right next to my bed would help. In no way did I continue the full rigor of my morning calisthenics, noon walks, and evening stair climbing. All I had been able to get in before Spain was stair climbing two or three times a week, and the same for the morning calisthenics and mid-day walk.
Back from Spain I had only one week to prepare for our first real milestone. Jeanne and I, with the escort of my son John, had planned on climbing Mount Washington, 6,200 feet, the highest mountain in New England, stretching to the great altitude of the foot of Kilimanjaro, the same altitude at which we will begin our Kilimanjaro ascent. I was concerned about the rough, stony trails on Mt. Washington, which I had experienced significantly as a young man. Jeanne has had three back operations for ruptured disks, and has arthritic knees, and I must figure out a system for finding my footing and keeping to the mountain trail. A friend of a friend of Jeanne's, experienced in climbing, advised not Mt. Washington, but Mt. Eisenhower, Edmands Path--coincidentally also advised by a friend of mine. So...
Mount Eisenhower
We started the ascent up Edmands Path at 1:00 p.m. on Saturday the 2nd, with 2,700-plus vertical feet, about three miles, ahead of us. The trail was extraordinarily rough, strewn with boulders left by the glacier, ranging in size from football to bushel to refrigerator--mostly about bushel size. The footing was very rough, and the going was very slow, using my two poles "Erik style." I led; John and Jeanne followed, giving me occasional oral guidance, "a little left, a little right, right foot up a big one...." Much of the time, actually, there was silence, leaving me to feel my way. Our progress was one half mile per hour, and time ran out. We had to turn around at about 2,100 feet gained over two miles, in about four hours, before we had to turn back to assure getting down before dark.
Mount Washington
So the next day, July 3, we tackled Tuckerman Ravine Trail, which John
assured us was easier underfoot. Not only that, John was planning to go up Tuckerman's to ski in the ravine, and it would be mighty fun for both Jeanne and me to see him; I had skied the same ravine some 45 years earlier. Although Jeanne found the trail to be significantly smoother, and was quite prepared to make the 3,000 foot ascent to the ravine, I found the footing essentially as rough as on Edmands Trail the day before. So again the ascent was slowed, not by lack of stamina or strength, but by dis-ease of footing, and Jeanne and I had to turn around and descend after only achieving a third of the goal. John proceeded on to go skiing.
On the way down, a climber passing us said "good-looking pair of Limmers you got there." He was referring to my climbing boots, a make known well to many of the high-end climbers in this Presidential Range. They were hand-made and custom-made to my feet two or three decades ago, and I was mighty glad for these boots--especially on the descent of Edmands Path, where John had said "in the interest of time, Dad, rather than using your poles, how about putting your hand on my shoulder." Clearly we could travel faster that way--and did--but I had far less time to find my footing, and there was much twisting back and forth, at hazard to my ankles. The same was true coming down Tuckerman Trail (although less so) when, for portions of it anyway, I took Jeanne's shoulder or elbow.
The descent over such rocky terrain was grueling, hard on Jeanne's knees and hard for me to find my footing when hurrying to beat sundown. Later, I said to Jeanne, "wasn't it great that it was so much fun?" She said "yes, second only to bamboo splinters under your fingernails. ... You sure do know how to show a girl a good time."
For all that, Jeanne and I were both satisfied that the "Mt. Washington trip" was a success. We had climbed on two successive days, and knew that we had the stamina to go a third day. We hadn't achieved the 3,000 feet per day that I'd had in mind, but we had achieved enough, and in no way can the trails on Kilimanjaro be as rough underfoot as they are on Mt. Washington. Bring on the Colorado 14,000-footer planned for the first weekend in August with Erik!
After hard work comes relaxation. The evening of the 3rd, we watched the fireworks display put on by the Mt. Washington hotel--Jeanne and I from the street level, John from high on the mountain, just under the summit. Then on a moonless night, with light only from his headlamp, John hiked down about 1,500 vertical feet over the steep ravine wall to his campsite. The next day, Independence Day, while John was skiing in the ravine, Jeanne and I took a refreshing swim in a cool mountain stream at Jackson Hole, including sitting under a waterfall. We happened to be just two or three hundred yards upstream from where, at age 16, I had swum when working as a kitchen hand and truck driver for the resort hotel Wentworth Hall. That evening, back in Boston, we reconnected with John and watched the esplanade Pops fireworks concert from the National Braille Press roof. What a weekend!
Really Getting Down to Training
I set the goal, or at least the ideal program, of training six times a week: four or five on the treadmill, perhaps one climbing stairs in my apartment building, and on Saturdays a trek through the Blue Hills--a wonderful 7,000 acre tract of wooded land with well over 100 miles of hiking trails, on the southwest edge of Boston. There's not much elevation here, maybe 500 feet gain, but there is a wonderful variety of trail conditions underfoot, some at a pretty good incline and rocky--similar to Edmands Path, but of course for only a short distance. I figured days one and two should be moderate workouts--an hour on the treadmill, getting my pulse rate up to 70 or 80 percent of my maximum; day three a hard workout, perhaps an hour climbing stairs, getting my pulse to 80 to 85 percent of maximum; days four and five repeating one and two; and day six the long trek in the hills. All of this, of course--or at least most of it--would be with my backpack on, with increasing amounts of weight, from 10 to 20 pounds, and a lot of it with my mountain boots on. For this I needed to know my maximum heart rate. I was unwilling to accept the rule of thumb, which is 220 minus your age, making my maximum 151. The real way to find out is to have a stress test, so I asked my doctor to prescribe one. The result was a maximum heart rate of 175, but with some irregularities when I got much over 150. This did not cause serious medical alarm, nor did I consider it serious to my training, because 150 is over 85 percent of my maximum, and I didn't expect to be in that range.
I never did reach this ideal level, and settled in for about four sessions a week, sometimes five, with one of them being at the more intense level. I simply found that it was too exhausting, not at the moment of the training session, but during the entire days and weeks. I slept more, moved more slowly, felt weary, and had less vigor, even at the four-day level. Nonetheless, I soldiered on, recalling that I once heard of an experiment conducted by the army. Could they get recruits in shape in two weeks by working them harder, instead of the usual four weeks? They found the only effect on the recruits was that they worked harder, became more exhausted--and got in shape much sooner. This may be apocryphal, but the principle seemed reasonable to me, and my doctor did not disagree.
Mount Quandary
Eric very thoughtfully invited us all out to Colorado to climb a "14er" the first weekend in August. I say "thoughtfully" in two senses: first, it was a real kindness of Eric to organize this trek. One of several truly experienced people Erik lined up to climb with us was Charlie Mace, who was on Erik's Mount Everest ascent team as a cameraman for the award-winning documentary "Farther Than the Eye Can See." Erik was also thoughtful in that he was thinking some of us might need this test of a climb in thin air, and that it might be, for some of us, a wake-up call to a more rigorous training program. Jeanne and I scheduled ourselves to arrive in Golden, Colorado (Erik's home town) Thursday evening August 4, to have at least one day at about a mile high before the Saturday climb. Golden is a charming town, with a number of interesting features--such as the Colorado School of Mines, a geology museum, an extensive railroad museum, and the beautiful Clear Creek running right through town, providing whitewater kayaking, fishing, and a wonderful setting for a park in the middle of town. The main street, Washington Avenue, has numerous bronze statues of everyday scenes: a little cowboy and cowgirl, a bicycle leaning against a lamppost, a buffalo, and a miner coming down from the hills with his donkey, proudly holding a gold nugget for all to see. We stayed at the Dove Inn, an upscale bed & breakfast run by Bill and Annette Lyttle, whom we recommend and would love to visit again. That evening we ate at one of the best fine dining restaurants we've ever encountered, and on Friday evening we ate at Tony Rigatoni's with the 16 people who had come for the trek. It was great to meet and get to know other members of the team, none of whom we had met before other than Erik, his wife Ellie, and five-year-old daughter Emma. We came away from that evening and the following day's trek thinking "what a great group of people." Erik presided that evening, but not the next day on the mountain. He had, a week earlier, torn a muscle in his calf, and would have to lay low that it might heal properly in time for Kilimanjaro.
The Saturday schedule was: meet in the parking lot at 5 a.m., drive an hour and a half up to the trail head at 10,900 feet, hike to the summit (or, at least for some of us, toward the summit), and back down to the trail head by 1 or 1:30 before the usual afternoon thunderstorms kick up. Lightning is a real hazard up top. Someone said more people die by lightning in Colorado than in any other state. (Google says not true: Florida ranks first, Colorado tenth.) We needed to be prepared for warm--indeed, hot sunshine, and also cold, and possibly rain. Mount Quandary, at 14,265 feet, is only a few hundred feet shorter than Mount Whitney, at 14,491, the tallest peak in the southern 48. (Mount McKinley, the highest peak in North America, is 20,320 ft.) The oxygen level at 14,000 feet is precious close to half that at sea level, where Jeanne and I hang out. We had by now talked with a number of people who had climbed Kilimanjaro, and had learned a little bit about climbing and thin air. Jeanne was rightly concerned that we did not have enough time to adapt: coming from sea level to five or six thousand feet for one day, driving the next day to nearly 11,000 and climbing to 14,000 or better, is fairly abrupt. Jeanne, unfortunately, felt the effect of this early on our hike--nausea, headache, and a burning sensation in her breathing. She persisted on and gained about 1,800 to 1,900 feet before having to turn back. I was very fortunate with regard to thin air, and felt no effect that day. The next day, however, I did feel unduly tired, perhaps the effect of thin air. My problem was slow footing over a rocky trail. I had thought that the trails were going to be significantly smoother than I had encountered in the White Mountains, but silly me, why indeed are they called the Rocky Mountains? The slow footing prevented me from summiting; and at about 13,200 feet, Charlie, Joe, and I turned back. It was already after 1:00, black thunderclouds were beginning to lower, we had run out of time. As we approached the cars at the trailhead I began to feel raindrops.
What had I learned? I'm a three-square-meals-a-day person, and don't usually feel much inclined toward between-meals snacking. The preferred program on the mountain, however, is to snack regularly, say once an hour, rather than having a significant lunch. Charlie and Joe kept at me to have some food. I resisted, but finally realized that if I were to truly have a significant lunch, as usual, I would find it a bit uncomfortable getting up shortly thereafter for a strenuous hike. And after all, Charlie and Joe know a heck of a lot more about mountaineering than I, so I adapted my approach to eating on the mountain to theirs, and am now planning lots of snacks for the hike on Kilimanjaro.
The second thing I learned, or at least conjecture about, is that I am a lot slower on rough turf than most. I am unable to effectively use two trekking poles to guide my footing, like Erik and other blind climbers do. On the way up I used the technique that Jeanne and I had developed in the Blue Hills: I used my left trekking pole as usual; the right trekking pole is looped over Jeanne's wrist, and I hold the tip in my hook three or four feet behind her. This gives me a sense of direction, though little communication about her steps and footing. On the way down, I used a different technique. With my hook I latched onto a strap or loop on Charlie, Joe, or Craig's pack, and followed them more closely, continuing to use my left-hand pole. The advantage of this technique is that I could feel through their body motions something of their footing--long step down, jog to the right, etc. This provided for a faster descent. The disadvantage, however, was that I was too close to them, sometimes stepping on their heels, or even occasionally sticking my pole in their boot. They never complained.
Ascending and descending are different. 
On the ascent, I can raise my foot, place it, and adjust the placement of it before committing my weight to it. On the descent there is no opportunity to feel the footing and adjust before committing the weight. This may make it faster, but more hazardous and uncomfortable. I did fall about four times on the way down. Nothing serious, hardly more than simply sitting down on the trail, but I had no such problems on the way up.
Well, how did the Colorado trip go? Jeanne, in her usual optimistic manner, says "I'm pleased with what we did. I'd like to make it to Kilimanjaro's crater rim [the mountain is an old, extinct volcano], and I'll do what I can to get there, but if I have to turn back, or even if I just put my foot on the mountain, I will be very happy that I have had such a great adventure." I agree with her, but on the other hand suspect that the intensity of my desire to make the crater rim is greater than hers, and I come away from Mount Quandary even more daunted by the challenge I have set myself--daunted not so much by energy and physical fitness, as by time and slowness on the trail of finding my footing. Will there be enough time to make it at my pace? Maybe I find the energy factor a bit daunting, too. Imagine our summit day: as now scheduled, we will get up at 12:00 midnight, at our 16,200 foot campsite. After six straight days of strenuous hiking and climbing, we now thrust--or perhaps drag ourselves into a seventh, climbing another 3,000 feet or more, about what we attempted at Quandary, for six or seven hours--or in my case, maybe nine to ten hours--to the top. All of this, of course, will be in thin air, approaching only a third the amount of oxygen as we find at sea level, and in icy, arctic conditions. Then, after celebration, pictures, and snacks, we head back down--all the way down to 10,800 feet, well more than a vertical mile and a half lower--a long, long way.
Inoculations
Jeanne and I together visited Dr. Marcus. Wow, what a thorough and informative review and advisory session we had! We had expected to be there perhaps an hour, and sat with him for almost three. He was thorough in his analysis--"were you in the army?" "yes...inducted in '58." Referring to the army's inoculation schedule at that time, he concluded that I wouldn't need that, and perhaps only a booster for this. I ended up with five inoculations for yellow fever, pneumococcus, polio, hepatitis A, typhoid, and a prophylactic prescription for malaria. Jeanne, having prepared for extensive travel over the last decade, required less. Plus, we both got prescriptions for Diamox for altitude sickness, and a general antibiotic to keep in the backpack in case of serious diarrhea.
He was equally thorough in his non-medical advice--isometric exercises on the long flight out, detailed cautions on food and water (salads are the worst, fruit that is peeled is good), details on preferred fabrics for each of three layers of clothing (imagine, silk undies), and the most important advice of all: keep your seatbelts fastened! The roads are horrible, the automobiles and trucks are in serious disrepair, and the drivers are poorly trained and reckless! More people are killed on the road than by all these diseases combined.
Outfitting
What a list of recommended gear Erik provided! Here's a sampling of items: sleeping bag rated for 0° F; closed-cell/open-cell combo sleeping pad (what the heck does that mean? the REI clerk didn't even know); "burly" boots, well-insulated for the top, and lighter "approach boots for up to 15,000 feet; camp shoes; water bottles; a variety of trail food; a pee bottle (recommended by Erik, "saves getting out of the tent at night"); rain suit, top and bottom; and a wide array of clothing for a wide array of climates, rainforest at the bottom, and arctic conditions at the top (need for the final item is abundantly clear); large mega-sized expedition duffel bag--in addition, of course, to the backpack. Porters are hired to carry the duffels.
Jeanne has "been in more sports stores than in all her life--even when her five kids were in the athletic phase of growing up." She's been doing the learning and research for the two of us. We are renting the sleeping bags, at $45, and the sleeping pads. Beyond that, we've had at least two major excursions to the outfitter, at $300 or $400 each, and a number of minor excursions--and I still don't have my silk undies. More to go.
A Bit of a Setback
On Friday, August 19, just two weeks to the hour before starting the long hike up the Machame trail, I fell on the stairs down into the Boston subway, and broke a rib. "Yes, you've broken it," said the doctor, "but no punctured lung or other damage, and it's in a good position to knit. We don't provide a cast or any other treatment for such things, other than to help you with the pain." "What about Kili?" "In two weeks the healing will be well along; good luck."
Alas and alack, it's highly likely that this will slow me down even more, especially on the rocky trails on the high mountain. It would seem now that there is a good likelihood that I won't be able to summit, but let's not make any decisions now, let's see how it goes. It does all the more turn my attention less toward the challenge of summiting and more to the full enjoyment of the adventure, the beauty, the remarkably varying ecological zones we will be traversing, and the history and culture of the people. Isn't all that of far more lasting value than the egocentric act of summiting? We striving Americans can be so focused on the challenge of summiting. I've not given up on the notion, but there is so much more, and I'm looking forward to it.
August 29
We are off! Thirty-two hours door-to-door from Boston to Arusha, including 7 hours advance of our clock for time change. Met Joe Wodiuk at our change of planes in Amsterdam. Jeanne and I left a day early for extra rest and jet-lag recovery.
August 31
Wonderful day at Ngorodoto Lodge! A most elegant hotel with Presidential suite and Presidential Suite. Picture of us in front of charming little cottage to follow. In the morning we had the most fortunate encounter with a church choir group from two days' travel away, that had come to video tape their group in this setting. Much fun listening to their music and intermingling with them. A great photo opportunity missed was Jeanne holding the tiny black infant with Jeanne and mother smiling. Jeanne was actually video taped dancing with the group. In the afternoon a wonderful tour of the presidential suite and the coffee plantation. Fresh coffee beans right off the plant have no taste whatsoever. Their one-hundred-year-old-plus machine for stripping husks off the beans is still in operation.
Erik and the rest of the team have just arrived. Most warm greetings from those we met in Colorado.
Tomorrow--more rest and tour of Arusha. Friday morning: Up the Machame Trail. Click here for the itinerary as Erik last conceived of it.
My broken rib is still a major concern. I am prepared to make it only 3 or 4 hours up the trail with the need then to return, or to return after the first night scrabbling around in a small tent, but I am also prepared to make it to Barafu Camp or beyond. Stay tuned, and let's hope that the satellite phone works, as it did not this evening.
This comes to you via hotel internet connection.
Onward and upward,
Jeanne and Bill
Thursday September 1, 2005
Kilimanjaro minus one day. At two-hour organizational meeting this morning, Nickson Mushi, the African guide and organizer of the trip, explained the expected conditions and guidelines for the eight days on the mountain. He has organized 8 African guides and 72 porters to take care of the 28 of us on this international mixed team of sighted and blind climbers. Eight of us are blind, one is from as far west as Japan, and one from as far east as Austria.
In the afternoon, many of us traveled an hour to the primary school in Moshi, 
which is integrated--900 pupils in all, 32 of whom are blind and 10 of whom are partially sighted. We were pleased to find that the school has in its mission productive blind people who have equal opportunity, that they teach and use braille, and that they have blind and sighted faculty members. It was disheartening to find that they had 6 Perkins braillers for the students, all of which were in disrepair and unusable. I intend to help them remedy this when I get home. It was a big day for the school to have such a great international visitation with Erik Weihenmayer leading a mixed team of blind and sighted people up Kilimanjaro to demonstrate, in part anyway, the abilities of blind people. It was inspiring to us to hear speeches from the members of the staff and officials of the Tanzania League of the Blind, but most especially to hear the many children, each individually practicing their English by announcing to us their name and home town.
Tomorrow at 8 a.m. for the Machame trail head.
Friday, September 2
Great excitement on the way to Machame Gate--just before the gate one of our buses went off the road, and it took the strength of all mountain climbers to pull it out of the ditch. At the gate, there is a significant requirement for each of us to sign into the park, filling out a form with much detail and signing.
Jeanne and I met our two special porters we personally hired to carry our day packs and assist us. Manuelle with Jeanne could speak little English, Nemith with me spoke next to none. But a great and helpful pair they turned out to be!
The trek started easily, but soon turned into long muddy hike through the rainforest. One companion described it as a replica of a Tarzan movie set (oops--should be the other way around). 
A canopy covered us almost all the way, with few spots of open sky above. I encountered a hanging vine, truly reminiscent of Tarzan. There was much hanging moss and hanging vines throughout. Huge fern trees were of great interest, one with a trunk a foot across. One teammate spotted a monkey. The trail had many open culverts diagonally across it to control drain water and prevent washout. Each of these had to be negotiated by us blind trekkers. They are an easy step across, but I missed and stepped into a number of them. Lunch was amazing. img src="/nbp/images/company/porter-rockytrail.jpg" align="left" alt="A porter carrying a heavy duffel bag">Table and chairs were set up and box lunches set out with hamburgers and tiny bananas the size of your index finger. Jeanne calls them plantains, but Moses here calls them bananas.
The porters are absolutely remarkable. They had marched out ahead of us, carrying all the overnight camping equipment, food, emergency equipment, and all our personal heavy stuff--one 35 lb duffel bag for each of us. They arrive at lunch breach location before we arrive, then after we have finished lunch, they pack up, pass us on the trail, and set up camp for the night before we arrive. As we entered camp, the sang a welcoming song for us--in Swahili, of course.
After a long, hard 12-mile hike through boot-sucking mud up nearly 4,000 feet, we were assigned a tent. Thank the Lord for Nemeth and Manuelle for bringing our 35 lb duffels, and unpacking and laying out our sleeping pads and bags. I had forgotten how small a pup tent is! For me, scrabbling around in the tent, trying to keep track of equipment and clothing--water, anti-malarial pills, Tylenol for my broken rib, trekking poles... I did change my shoes to keep the mud out of the tent and that alone was an effort sitting on the tent floor. We were much surprised at how cool it is here only three degrees south of the equator. I put on an extra heavy wool shirt/jacket; some put on down. After finding the latrine and finding our way to the mess tent, we were greeted with a superb three-course dinner and lots of tea. Believe me, after this, we had no energy or desire to do anything but hit the sack. No energy to look for, never mind fiddle around with a satellite phone.
Saturday, September 3
The day of real rock climbing!
The trail was steep and technical (low level technical), but there was no more mud. The big feature here was the tight space available around huge boulders on narrow ledges. The experienced climbers called it a 5.5 maybe as much as 5.6 in some places on the Yosemite scale. Erik says there are three categories of falls: annoyance, hospital, and death. After crossing through one tight spot, Scott, my guide and one of the truly experienced climbers, said, "Bill, that was a death fall back there." Another experienced climbers, one of the blind members, said if some of these difficult spots were of longer duration, we would certainly roped in with protection equipment and it would no doubt be considered a 5.7 difficulty. Photos to follow.
Another feature of this day was the expansive views. We had ascended out of the rainforest and into the heather zone, and during the long day's trek progressed into the moorland zone. Clouds drifted in and out. When out, we could see forever. (Jeanne says no we couldn't, but it is your blog and what can you see anyway.) (I appreciate her sense of humor.) Well, we could see across to distant mountains, and on one occasion we could look up to the magnificent peak of Kilimanjaro to our north.
This second night, we camped at Shira Camp, having ascended to over 13,000 feet but then coming back down slightly to camp. We have a beautiful picture from our tent door of the Kilimanjaro peak. We have had the great experience of seeing the sun both rise and set over the Kili peak from 13,000 feet up on her side. Here at the equator the sun both sets and rises quickly compared with our experience at northern latitudes. By 7 p.m. or earlier all our teammates, except us blind folks of course, were wearing head lamps. Hiking on the trail gave my rib no trouble, but scrambling in the tent and sleeping on a thin pad was truly uncomfortable. The trek had been hard and several people showed signs of altitude sickness, fatigue, and other illnesses. One team member came into camp significantly after sundown assisted by several porters and a guide.
Birthday! Andy Holzer, an extraordinary blind mountain climber from Austria, had the most amazing coincidence of meeting Erik Weihenmayer in the Dolomites while tied in with protection equipment on a difficult ascent. Neither of these two great mountain climbers had had any notion that the other was there. Today was Andy's birthday. Sabina: please know that he is well, in good spirits, climbing high on schedule.
Sunday, September 4
At breakfast, four of us decided to go down--Jeanne, Craig, Sam, and I. We had learned the night before that vehicles could make it to the Ranger Station at the Shira Plateau--a short lateral traverse from our camp. I had done well on the trail and felt very good about it. Several spoke of my performance as awesome. I was one of the early teammates to reach lunch site and to reach camp. But frankly, the experience scrambling in the tents and sleeping on the pads was painful to my rib, and the vision of arising at midnight on summit day to hike six hours in the dark, then at least several more hours before reaching the summit, and then to descend over 8,000 feet to our scheduled camp site seems grueling and daunting. I had truly enjoyed two days' hike, and was happy to quit while I was ahead.
A couple of examples of "African time": On the way up to Shira Camp, I asked Nemeth "how much further?" His answer was "half way." An hour and a half later I asked again. His answer was "half way."
Sunday morning, we asked Nickson, the African organizer of the trip, "how far to the Ranger Station?" His answer: "40 to 50 minutes." Our response: "for you, or for us?" He said, "40 minutes for you, 20 for me." It took nearly 2 1/2 hours.
At noon an land cruiser arrived suitable for carrying about six of us, so it was a mighty tight fit for 10 people and luggage (some of the porters had come down with us). It was a long, bumpy road to the foot of the mountain and the park gate, where reverse registration and signatures were required. Another hour and a half to Moshi, where we were to meet Nickson's driver to take us to Arusha and the Impala Hotel. After a long, long wait in Moshi, we finally arrived at the Hotel desk at 7 in the evening--10 hours from camp.
Monday and Tuesday, September 5-6
After much rest and touring of Arusha, we are all fine! On Tuesday one more team member, Giovanni, came down, having had trouble with his breathing. We also had a report that another team member had fallen, hurting his leg, but is continuing on.
Wednesday & Thursday, September 7-8, 2005
[This was transcribed from a message left on voicemail, using the satellite phone. As you can see, the phone connection was not the most reliable, but you can get a sense of what Bill is experiencing on his trip.]
Jeanne turns out to be a marvelous person to travel with. She is so capable of fully engaging herself with the people. We had already seen that at the Ngorodoto lodge, where she intermingled with the church choir group that was there videotaping their choral presentations. Yesterday we saw that again here at the hotel, where the pastoralist group was holding a conference. This is a group of tribespeople working with a Canadian charity to educate girls, and they meet with --- Jeanne ----- back and forth, and Jeanne -- [was so taken?] with the African -- that is so colorful. After a few smiles, the woman actually came and talked with Jeanne, and we had a most engaging time with this woman, a young woman from the Ngorodoke tribe [not sure of tribe name]. And she is in community college, married with one small son two years old, and --- African traditional dress, and after much -- Jeanne describing her intrigue with the women's dress, the woman actually offered to sell it to her right off of her back, -------- now sporting --- 
The bottom piece is a huge wraparound skirt, --- piece is a wrap around the shoulders, -- top of the skirt to fully cover the body. ---- Marguerite, the African woman, --- Jeanne the dress ----- picture of the two women standing --- turns out the bottom ----- and ----- from time to time. -- in another picture in this thing in two -- ankle, and the other with a hooded part going right to the ankle, in the same -- as the women were wearing -- ended up buying this dress, right off of the woman's back. She didn't take it off in the lobby, but brought it to us the next morning. -- skirts ----- hotel. -- We engaged ourselves with this woman and learned a lot about their tribe's life. They are -- people, they do migrate, ------ very poor state, and this Marguerite that we met is very much interested in getting the young girls in particular into school, and is devoting her life at this point to going from village to village to talk with the women and the people in charge of education in the village, to encourage the education of young tribesgirls. Marguerite even asked if we would read her paper--she has to report back to the charity in Canada, and was concerned that her English --- improvement, and would we help. Well, we read her paper, which is a great ---- intimate level of the work that is going on here at the grass roots, and her --- well written, well organized, well phrased, succinct, -- there was only one suggestion that Jeanne had in improving it. So -- to have met, through Jeanne's engagement, this charming, dedicated, sincere, very pleasant young African woman in this tribe. ---
The next experience yesterday with Jeanne's marvelous ability to engage herself with the people was on the street --- We had been warned -- safari -- that we're working with -- that when going out -- if you -- one of the hawkers ---- one of the other hawkers will ---
[The satellite phone was abandoned. The story resumes here through a more reliable means of communication...]
The earlier transmission cut off as Jeanne and I were being surrounded by a group of hawkers--there were at least 15 or 20 of them. One, Francis, who spoke good English, took charge and became our guardian, telling us how to say "no, thank you" (hapana asante) and offering to lead us out of the mass of street hawkers--to his quiet shop, of course, where we could see and buy anything we wanted. There was, between him and me, a memorable bargaining session over carved ebony pieces. He started by not responding to my query "how much," but rather by saying something like "let's see what you end up wanting, and then we'll bargain." For a carved water buffalo, he finally said 45,000 (about $45), to which I refused to even counter-offer. He came down to 35, at which I said 12. After about a six-step bargaining session, including my leaving the store twice, at which he stopped me on the steps to the sidewalk with a significant counter-offer, we settled at 26,000 shillings for two pieces. We of course then became the closest of friends, and here is a picture of us in his shop. [picture, taken on film camera, to follow] He then guided us back through the city, and after several blocks I became concerned, remembering Moses's admonition that those friendly people during the day become your enemies at night. I indicated to Jeanne that at the next corner we would make terminal gestures of thanks and good-bye, which we successfully did.
At the hotel dining room, Jeanne brought to our dinner table Glenn from California, to introduce me to him and the project he's working on, Free Wheelchair Mission. The founder, a Bob Mann-type of mechanical engineer with strong human compassion, had seen the horrible conditions of paraplegics in third-world countries, and turned his skills to designing a wheelchair--durable, simple, practical, sturdy, and, most of all, inexpensive. It starts with that very inexpensive mass-produced thermoform plastic stackable patio chair that we can all buy for about $5, to which he adds mountain bike wheels and tires, regular wheelchair casters, and a frame of his own design. I sat in one, and was truly favorably impressed. At a Chinese factory, they are made by the thousands for $28 apiece--$41.17 delivered to the third-world country. Glenn had a container full (550) in Dar es Salaam, that he was now getting transported to Arusha. He showed us a video clip of a 25-year-old man who had lost the use of his legs simply because of his skin infection around his knees that was untreated and developed serious complications. He scooted around on his butt, pushing himself backwards with his hands. To leave his house and go anywhere, he had to cross a ditch, which was indeed an open sewer. What freedom and relief that wheelchair gave him. Glenn told of bringing 1,100 wheelchairs to Peru, where the locals said "of what use? Nobody needs them." They agreed to bring at least 30 out to the countryside and advertise--7,000 people showed up in need. What a worthwhile project. Click here for their website.
Another street incident: in and around the hotel there were a number of guards armed with rifles. We approached one for permission to take his photograph. After a little exchange with his not-very-good English, we realized he was asking $5 for the privilege. We said no, and he of course immediately asked "well, how much would you offer?", calling after us with his bargaining when we left, deciding to forego that picture.
Summit Day
On Thursday the 8th at 0000 hours, those of us who had come down early gathered at the hotel bar to salute and toast our companions on the mountain as they were getting out of their tents to start the ascent. They divided into two groups: the slow group started out at 12:30 a.m. in the total darkness except for their headlamps; the fast group started an hour later, on the long, hard, 3,400-foot ascent in thin air--well less than half the oxygen pressure we have here at sea level. Eric had taught me and others the pressure breathing technique to partially offset this thin air condition. At the tail end of exhaling, add two or three extra bursts of pressure to more fully exhaust the lungs, giving more capacity for fresh air when inhaling. Many on this ascent would take only a step or two before pausing to take several breaths.
All 23 of our team who had not come down early summitted. Most of them did so at about sunrise. Some experienced significant altitude sickness--not surprising, at 19,342 feet. Scott, no doubt the most fit among us--he engages in extreme marathons like the 100-mile race up and down mountain foot trails earlier this summer, which he completed in 22 hours--spent only a few minutes on the summit, and had to get down fast. All experienced the exhilaration of the extraordinary accomplishment, and the excitement of seeing the glaciers atop Mount Kilimanjaro, only two or three degrees south latitude from the equator.
They then dropped back down to the new campsite above Barafu camp, where they had tented the evening before. They rested in their tents for a couple of hours, and continued the descent to Millennium camp at 10,800 feet. On the way, however, Eric saw the possibility of going even further, despite the already very long day. After conferring with the group, it was decided to drop down to Mweka camp to make the next day's final descent to the wedding even shorter.
Wedding Day
Koba was one of the five blind team members to summit. His bride Miki also summitted. They are both from Tokyo, and planned to marry at the Mweka Gate immediately after the team's descent. 
Jeanne and I arrived at the gate dressed in our new traditional African garb, along with Sam and Hans from Arusha, to greet and congratulate our teammates and to attend the wedding. Miki and Koba where whisked off to be dressed in elegant African garb. One of the Africans immediately set to to make Koba a new pair of sandals out of the traditional material in these parts, used tires. A group from the Chagga tribe came in singing and chanting, with stomping of feet, and Koba and Miki ceremoniously marched in and took position. Then came a group from the Maasai tribe, with their singing and chanting and stomping. 
There were toasts and speeches from Eric, the best man, Sherry, matron of honor, and others. Bride and groom then married themselves by exchange of rings. Then gifts were presents, one a Maasai spear, heavy, with a long blade for killing lions. The impromptu finale was all teammates forming the two lines of a gantlet run, with trekking poles arched overhead, under which Miki and Koba passed, first forward, then back. The feast that followed started with a champagne toast, and was complete with good food and red wine. A splendid and most memorable affair. They were now married, but would have another reception back in Tokyo for family and friends.
Visiting a Second School for the Blind
Saturday, September 10
After a long bus ride into the country, we arrived at the arid grounds of Longido school, a neat and orderly government primary school. Over 700 pupils were taught there, 30 of whom were blind or visually impaired. They showed us the as yet uncompleted new school building, that they hoped we might help complete. Desks and benches were already laid out. The children sang and marched around to the beat of a drum. We were escorted to the lunchroom, where hot meat, gravy, vegetables, and fruit, were offered for our midday meal. I thought this an unfortunate drain on their meager resources. On the way in, everyone washed, or at least rinsed, our hands under a trickle of water. 
The food would be eaten by hand. I was the only one in the room to have a fork, since the member of the staff who helped me through the line and seated me with my food could see that with only two fingers, I might have difficulty. A few speeches were made, and our gifts were presented--white canes for the children, children's braille books, braille paper, talking clocks, and $1,000 in cash. Most of the ten Perkins braillers they had were out of order.
Clearly, we who are blind in the United States are fortunate to be here, for the advanced services, technology, and attitudes.
Interest in the Blind of East Africa
At dinner after our descent from Kilimanjaro led by Paul Polman, inspired by the character, initiative, and enterprise of Douglas Sidialo, our blind teammate from Nairobi, Kenya, and inspired by the visits to the two schools for the blind organized by Doug, and at which he spoke eloquently, we took the occasion of our great sense of communion with each other and with the blind of East Africa, to initiate steps to organize a continuing charity founded by Erik Weihenmayer's 2005 Kilimanjaro ascent team, and dedicated to raising philanthropic support for the benefit of blind East Africans.
Safari!
September 11-14
Four of us from the team--Sherry and Carl Kronenberg, Jeanne, and I--went on this four-day safari in a Toyota Land Cruiser with our skilled and personable guide Jamanne. 
We were fortunate in this, the dry season, to see 28 species of large mammals, including all of what are considered the big five--elephants, lions, leopards, water buffalo, and one rhinoceros. The next five would be giraffes, hippopotamuses, cheetahs, wildebeests, and zebras. We saw nine kinds of antelopes, including two gazelles and the impala, three kinds of monkeys, baboons, ostriches, eagles, geese, hyenas, jackals, crocodiles, and a mongoose--even a chameleon, who indeed changed colors as he came out of the grass and crossed the sandy road before us. What an array! And what a phenomenon to find that almost all of these animals seemed almost totally unperturbed by our presence--many were within a few feet of us. 
We visited Olduvai Gorge, where Louis and Mary Leakey discovered early man. We visited a Maasai village of eighty-some people, where we actually sat inside a hut smaller than a one-car garage but with a roof so low that one could not stand upright, in which lived two parents and their five children. We visited the Ngorongoro crater, which is the largest unbroken caldera in the world, nearly 20 kilometers in diameter, and home to an abundance of animal life. There we were engulfed by a sea of probably well more than a thousand wildebeests. It is here that we finally saw our rhinoceros--a black rhino; white rhinos are found in Kenya.
Homeward
Our 26-hour trip home, from Arusha's Kilimanjaro airport to Boston's Logan, included a seven-hour layover in Amsterdam, long enough for us to have a canal tour of the city, to walk the streets, and to enjoy good Dutch coffee and pastry.
We are proud, Jeanne and I, and excited to have climbed over 13,000 feet on Mount Kilimanjaro, to have been part of a most magnificent team of people on this great ascent, to have an ever-so-brief association with warm and friendly Africans, and to have had the safari experience. What an adventure! No question--the adventure of a lifetime.
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