26. Part 2 – The Descent – August 14

I have had a hard time writing this next chapter in my expedition to climb to the summit of Mt. Kilimanjaro. Getting to the top and then descending on the same day took everything I had to give, and I don’t feel that even 2 1/2 months later I have fully recovered physically, mentally, or emotionally. I had imagined the exuberance I was going to feel when I got to that sign at the highest point and was surprised by my actual response. I will try and convey the experience as it happened to me on that day.

The morning was bright with the sunlight from a cloudless sky above and a thin atmosphere that did not filter out as much of the particulate matter. We had started our ascent the night before at 11:30 p.m. and hiked the very steep 3 miles and 4,000 ft. elevation gain ever so slowly. Each step took a lot of effort, and my breathing was labored. I could see the summit sign for quite a distance ahead as our group trudged on to our ultimate destination. Jo was the first to get there with the rest of us close behind. Then, I was there. I was at the sign. I had made it in 9 hours as our arrival time is recorded as being 8:30 a.m. The tears started to flow uncontrollably. I was overcome with emotion as I realized I had made it, but not by myself. I felt gratitude to Michael J Fox himself, the Michael J Fox Foundation, my fellow teammates, the guides, all my supporters from my hiking group who condition hiked with me, to friends and church members who were praying for me and had offered lots of encouragement. I was grateful for my husband, my four children, my grandchildren, my husband’s sisters and their families, and my brothers and their families. I thought of my friend Margie who died just two weeks before I left for Africa and who was a great source of encouragement in my pursuit. It was a very humbling moment to realize how many and how vast my support had truly been. I felt small, humbled, and undeserving that I was the recipient of such an outpouring of resources, encouragement, money, friendship, and love. I also felt a calling to give back and continue the pursuit of finding the cure for PD and using my story to inspire others and bring awareness about PD to the many who do not realize the trials and difficulties that are often unseen but that those with PD live with every day. There is a plaque near the sign that has an inspiring message to the world that brought more tears. It seems like I was in this state for about 10 minutes. I had wanted to make a short video expressing my gratitude to all who had helped me. When it was my time to have a few minutes at the sign for a photo, I was still in tears and my video isn’t the joyful one I had envisioned making. Of course, I had to have a picture with my symbolic one-legged stance with my hands reaching upward. Getting into that pose proved problematic. I had trouble lifting my leg and then raising my arms over my head. You might think this was because I was tired, or because the oxygen level was low or because I was having altitude sickness. But it was not for any of those reasons. No, it was because I was wearing four pair of pants, two long sleeve fleece shirts and a heavy parka! I did stay in the pose long enough to snap the photo. Each team member got their turn to take a solo picture and then we took the group picture. It was a proud moment that all 9 of us had made it to the summit. Before starting the descent, I took time to look down in the bowl of the crater and across to the other side of the rim. It was a vast expanse of nothingness. It was just dust and ash and desolation. It was what I thought hell might look like. One cannot stay at that altitude long so after about 30 minutes I started the descent back to Barafu Camp with Matthew by my side.

We soon encountered Kristen making her way down. She was in distress with the look of terror in her eyes. She looked right at me and said, “I can’t breathe”. I noted the color of her lips and though slightly dusky not blue yet. Also, I know that if a person can talk they are able to move air into their lungs. But she said her lungs felt very tight and I knew she was in trouble. Her altitude sickness had progressed to High Altitude Pulmonary Edema. I tried to reassure her and clam her down but when a person can’t breathe it is very difficult for them to stay calm. There were two guides with her that I did not recognize from our group. Jo suggested they get supplemental oxygen for her which they did. Matthew and I continued down the mountain stopping at Stella’s point to take pictures. We were the only ones there so took several shots and then continued down the trail. Jo was ahead of me and soon Kristen passed us with the two guides on either side of her body literally carrying her down the mountain as fast as they could. I immediately had a plan in mind to help her once back at camp. I don’t know if the other team members were ahead or behind me as we were not descending as a group at this point. The deep volcanic scree made the trek down treacherous, and one could use their trekking poles like ski poles to “ski” down the slope. Matthew rescued me from falling more than once as we made our way to camp. We passed a woman from a different group sitting on a rock with her head supported and sound asleep. A guide was sitting there with her as she slept. I had full sympathy for why she was sleeping on the trail. Then we came to a place where we could see our camp way in the far distance further down the mountain. I was ready to be done with this hike! I wanted rest and food and to get out of all those pants. We were still at over 15,000 ft. elevation and even though we were descending it was very tiring. I had eaten all my energy snacks and the pangs of being very hungry were strong. I felt like a kid on vacation with her parents asking over and over, “when will we get there?” At last, we arrived at our camp after about 2 1/2 to 3 hours for the descent. I went straight for the mess tent. Jo was there but I don’t remember anyone else being at the table. I was looking forward to the nice, hot lunch that I knew would be waiting on the table when I arrived. But to my dismay there was no food except a few pieces of fruit. We waited hoping for lunch to be served but after an hour or so we went to our tent to rest. The cook staff did not know when to expect us back in camp so apparently were waiting for direction to prepare a meal. I also looked for Kristen but she had been taken straight to the camp where we were spending the night and hadn’t stopped to pack her gear. This meant someone else would have to pack her gear. I knew I should offer to help Betty, her tentmate but had no energy and was grateful that Betty’s 19 year-old youth gave her the strength to pack up Kristen’s things by herself. It was imperative to get Kristen to a lower elevation. My memory at this point gets very sketchy. I believe we rested for a few hours before getting up to pack our gear and trek to the next camp where we would spend the night. I remember thinking that I DID NOT WANT TO HIKE ANYMORE! I wanted to stay put and sleep there for the night. But we needed to get out of the altitude and further down the trail to make it out of the National Park the next day. I have no memory of hiking anymore that day even though I know I did. We must have hiked about another 5 miles and gone from 15,300 ft. to 12,900 ft. that afternoon. In less that 24 hours we had hiked over 11 miles all above an elevation of 13,000 ft. with most of it above 15,000 ft. We arrived at High Camp at dusk. When I got to the opening of my tent, I collapsed face first onto the thin mat with my dusty shoes still on my feet stretching out the entryway. Jo asked if I was going to the mess tent to eat. I mumbled a weak no. I had given everything I had that day and had no energy left to eat or unpack or move. I don’t know how long I laid there before I managed to get my sleeping bag and mat spread out. I think I took off two layers of pants and one shirt before crawling into my cocoon bag to sleep until the early morning wakeup call would put me back on the trail for one last day.