Climbing Kilimanjaro: Love for nature, heroism, masochism, growth

The candle in the tent at 4,600 metres above sea level is about to die, giving in to the looming pitch-black darkness. I unfold my mummy sleeping bag and place it on the rough and inclined ground. I unzip and hide myself in it. Cold sneaks in the bag and keeps company to the attitude sickness-related nausea and headache that occupy my house of feelings. Outside it is raining. The small tent induces claustrophobic thoughts in my mind, a mind lacking any experiences in camping. I need to figure out how to rest until 01.00am, when our summit bid begins.

The march begins timely at 01:00 under clear sky. I am already tired from fixing the laces of my slightly wet category C boots. Each step is a challenge. I breathe consciously, I breathe deeply and fast. Each inhalation eases the nausea and headache, which lurk to kick in whenever my breathing returns to normal. Each exhalation is a grunt. The view of the moon-lit volcanic cone Mawenzi, located 10km east of the main cone Kibo we are at, joins forces with my companion Cosmin to give me courage to continue moving. My two fingers that were frost-bitten in a past adventure start to hurt. Only these two. I recall the words of the doctor “you may never regain your dexterity”. I need to be smart. We stop to assess the situation. We rub the fingers and the pain eases. We decide to continue. The sunrise is near. 

We arrive at Stella point, 130m vertical metres from the Uhuru peak. The photo, not exactly flattering, depicts my hardships. I hope Uhuru, which means freedom in Swahili, will free me from them. We walk the last metres in a surreal landscape featuring the volcanic crater and the remains of Kilimanjaro’s famous ice cap. We reach Uhuru and I barely have energy for the peak photo. No adrenaline boost, no tears of joy. Just focus to stay healthy and complete the mission. I have never been there before, I have never reacted like this before. No joy, no relief but a hard, determined, robotic emotional state.

During the one-week long ascent I was sporadically wondering why I put myself in such adversities. Why, instead, I did not fly to an exotic place and chill. But there was not much space for analysis and philosophising and I promised to myself to do that after I return back home. Now, it is the time to fulfil the promise and reflect on the reasons.

Is it the love for nature? The love for nature needs to be in place. It lights the fuse of new explorations. It fuels one with positive energy and motivation to dig deep inside during the long ascents. However, nature cannot be the first reason. Otherwise one would just stop somewhere below the summit, where most of Kilimanjaro’s five distinct climate zones (cultivation, rain forest, moorland, alpine desert, arctic) have already been seen and admired. I did not stop.

Is it heroism? Ηeroism means showing courage to reach a goal that benefits society. Once in a while someone is climbing Kilimanjaro, combines it with money raising for charity and seeks publicity. Well. Our “pre-metaverse” era lacks heroic role models and values, although the current developments in East Europe are changing this. Climbing Kilimanjaro is perhaps a stunt and definitely not a heroic act. It signals capabilities such as fitness, mind power and good planning. In the narrow social circle probably nobody else has accomplished it. Are these reasons to drive someone to do it? I highly doubt it, given a small amount of self-esteem. (photo by Dmitry Aleshkovskiy)

Is it masochism? Cambridge dictionary defines it as “the enjoyment of an activity or situation that most people would find very unpleasant” and provides the example “I reckon you need to be into masochism to run marathons.” Indeed most people would find it unpleasant battling with the mountain for long hours and days. However, my enjoyment does not lie in the suffering per se but from the experiences associated with the suffering. A piece of hard bread at the summit is more enjoyable than a meal prepared by a Michelin chef. During the expedition I was eating only vegan food. I was visualising the moment of eating a pizza and a burger again. Back at the garden of our lodge, surrounded by palm trees and lawn, I ate a pizza I will never forget and toasted a Guinness beer with my companion for our success. And when I lied to the king size bed of the lodge, with the two big pillows, I slept in heaven. I still enjoy and appreciate every night that I sleep on a bed and I have a toilet. To sum up, the difference to the definition of masochism is that my -and most climbers'- enjoyment in suffering is derived from the goals and side-effects of the activities and not the suffering per se. 

My last candidate reason is the loaded term “growth mindset”. It is the subtitle of the book “Think again” by Adam Grant, “the power of knowing what you don’t know”. How well do we know the capabilities and endurance limits of our body and mind? The climb to Kilimanjaro gives answers.  Having spent the biggest chunk of my life in front of the keys of a computer or a piano, and not a single night in a tent, let alone in attitude, I said to myself, get out of the comfort zone and find a way to get along. Then you can reflect on how you coped with the challenges and learn. For instance, I reflect now how from day 4 my mind focused on the practical challenges and stopped producing anything else intellectual, humour or interesting conversations. I learnt how I behave and reacted in mind-blowing new territories. I learnt more about my limits. And pushed them higher. Aeschylus wrote “wisdom comes from suffering”.  All this, in a scenery which is beautiful in a unique way and triggers unique emotions.

Overcoming adversities in mountains boosts confidence. At the same time, mountains teach humility that can prevent the dangerous, in terms of confirmation bias but also in terms of actual danger of dying, overconfidence cycles. Finding the right balance between these two poles is key. I keep the lessons in coping with changes and crises. I have been there, I can draw from there. The continuous grunting on the long summit day will always be my anchor to recall in difficult moments.  And the uniqueness of the experience fosters problem solving and rethinking of ideas that in my past would seem too distant from the perception I have for myself, unrealistic or unconventional. I know I can make them true. 

I hope you find your own Kilimanjaro,

Jannis

PS: My companion Cosmin, to whom I am grateful for initiating and sharing this everlasting experience, has written an excellent chronicle of our adventure, which he ends with “pain and discomfort are temporary, and the feeling of accomplishment follows you at each step of your life.” Read it here