Day 7: Denouement–Millennium Camp to Mweka Gate

Out of the Void

One year ago today, we ended our momentous journey on Mount Kilimanjaro. Holy smokes.

Sadly, after all the ado from prior entries, I regret to report that our last day of [down]climbing was pretty boring. It felt anticlimactic after all the drama of the prior six days. It was like Ferris Bueller at the end of the movie coming out in his robe and saying, “What? You’re still here? Go home. It’s over.”

Wow. Five months of hard training and anticipation. And it was about to truly be over.  In an instant.  {But I wasn’t ready for it to be over–see below and other posts!  Yes, Ferris, I’m still here!!!}

We got up, left camp, and started what should have been a 3-4 hour walk from Millennium Camp down to Mweka Gate. It took me over six hours. That was because the trail went down through lots of rocks and step offs, and my short legs and bad knees don’t excel at downclimbing. It didn’t help that I spent 20 hours hiking the previous day on equally bad terrain.  That’s all I’ve got to say about that.  I only got one picture coming down the trail, and it’s pretty unremarkable:

But what awaited us at the bottom was lovely: more singing and dancing by our African staff, and good food.  We said our goodbyes and left some of our belongings for our African friends to put to good use.

Then we hopped on the bus, returned to Mount Meru Hotel, and showered for like six hours. Following the mass detox, we had a nice awards ceremony and dinner. Here is my official certificate:

Then I think I went to bed, eager for four days of safari and four in Zanzibar. But those tales are for a different day.

On a medical note, my breathing difficulties continued for at least a month following the climb. Kili really did a number on my lungs!

Thank You, KiliSistas

My goodness.  Could I have climbed with a more fabulous group of people?  No. No.  NO. Our group was together solid for seven days on the mountain, and I don’t remember hearing so much as one nasty word from anyone.  We were always pamoja–together.  Everyone encouraged everyone else.  No one competed.  I will never be able to repay my KiliSistas for the support and encouragement they gave me in what was definitely one of the most difficult situations in my life.  Geez, Vonnie in particular, how many times did you have to kick my ass on Day 6 as we “cruised” down to Millennium Camp?  (Don’t answer that question!)  Amils, you always had my back!  We made it!

Thank you, Jeff Evans, for a Hellatrip!  And for awesome tasteless jokes (my favorite) and overall ornery behavior.  This is what makes these types of adventures possible and memorable!  I know that some were betting against my not making the summit, but you believed in me, and goddamnit, I’ve got photographic evidence that I reached 19,341′!  Fuck yeah.  THEM nuts!!!

And thank you Heather Thomson for concocting this crazy idea to climb that freaking mountain and for letting me be part of the team.  I think we can both agree that it had a positive impact on my life.  I’ll never ever forget it!  Come back and climb again.  We’ll do Meru this time. Hell, everyone’s invited!  REUNION AT BADGER’S!!!!

Finally, it goes without saying that none of us would have completed the climb without the competent assistance of our professional guides, chefs, and porters.  I dedicate my summit and my freedom to you–RG3/Smiley/Larick–who carried my freaking fully-loaded pack almost every hour of that trip.  Without a single complaint.  And with constant encouragement and a smile.  “Step up.”  Step down.”  “Monkey business.”  “Watch your step.”  Asante sana milele na milele! Nakupenda sana.

Let’s dance!

Dirty Freedom:  Embracing the Void

So that leaves me with an opportunity to ruminate about the last year of my life following the climb. I looked at my earlier posts talking about my reasons for climbing, especially T Minus 11 and Counting: Don’t Fear the Void.  Check out this section in particular:

Revelations and Lessons

On most of my training excursions this summer, there has been some sort of revelation or lesson learned, either about the world in general or about myself. At Mount St. Helens, for example, I learned that I CAN do a Class 3 scramble over a boulder field.  I hated it, but I can DO it!   Gazzam Lake was no exception in terms of revelations and insights.  Not far from the trailhead, I ran into two graffiti-covered water towers that I didn’t even know existed.  I snapped a couple of photos, but in my haste to get to the hike, I didn’t look very closely.  Then, on the way back through, I stopped to get a better look and take a “posed” photo, which resulted in this gem:

It wasn’t until after I took the picture and was reviewing it for Instagram upload that I noticed I had managed to place my head right beneath where there were some words.  I squinted to read them and finally made out, “Don’t fear the void.”  Hmmmmm….  This struck me as very profound, as I had chosen to pose in the photo as if I were standing on a ledge, frightened to even more or look down. Remember, I have a healthy fear of heights, which will be tested vigorously on Kili.  It was if I were receiving an intergalactic message of encouragement and hope!  “Go, Badger, Go!  Don’t fear the void–you can make it.”  (Just don’t look down. . . .)

According to Webster’s, one definition of “void” is a “completely empty space.”  Despite my Type A, completely obsessive, anal-retentive over-researching of Kilimanjaro and “what could possibly go wrong,” it occurs to me that THIS is what scares me most about Kili:  the completely empty space that is the UNknown of what it’s really going to be like to be in Africa, trying to climb one of the tallest mountains in the world.  (Actually, the first word that came to mind after I read the phrase above was “chasm.”)  The adventure looms large in front of me, but it’s really just a great big void, generating excitement, trepidation, and WAY too much adrenaline. According to this graffitiist, I shouldn’t fear it.  Well, okay then.

Wow.  This message was profound to me then, and it is even more profound to me reading it over a year later.  I’d forgotten about it until just now when I was reviewing old posts.

It wasn’t just Kili that was the void.  It was my life.  Just as Kili scared me in terms of having to face my fear of heights, She also taught me to face some of the other fears in my life–mainly that empty space that is the UNknown of what it’s going to be like to live the rest of my life. What lies in store for me?  I don’t know.  She also taught me to grab life and ride hard.  Geez.  It’s hard for me to even get my head around that.  Like KiliClimb2016, my life adventure now looms large in front of me, a big “void” generating excitement, trepidation, and yes, lots of adrenaline.  But I shouldn’t fear that void, right?  Well, allrighty then.  Of course I fear it!  But . . . .

RG3 always says life is a safari, with both ups and downs. Yeah.  True that.  I embrace that life safari, and I will try to live each day fully, as if it were my last.  I will climb every freaking hill, and I will descend into (and out of) every valley.  I will survive. By eating cobra, of course:

Source:  Badger Eating Cobra

The closing words of my “Don’t Fear the Void” post are also as relevant today as they were then–in fact, even more so.  I have to be gently (or not so gently) reminded about living in the present more times than I care to admit:

In closing, my goal is to make the best of this life and live more in the present instead of in constant anxiety about what the future holds.  [My friend’s terminal] illness reminds me of that again.  Don’t worry about what the next minute, hour, month, or year might bring–enjoy and appreciate the good NOW.  Go and pet your cat/dog/fish/badger, hug your family members and tell them you love and appreciate them, compliment a total stranger, and most importantly, love YOURSELF.  It has to start there.

The More Life Changes . . . .

As for life changes, there have been many.  Here is a pretty good list, some good, some bad, some a little of both:

• I lost 42 pounds (see pic below). Notice any difference? Both photos were taken in July, but one is 2016, one is 2017.  This just happened because I left so much stress behind in the United States–no dieting here.
• 

I don’t even recognize myself in Marion Rohe Kaufer’s (Marion Photography, Tucson) photos of the Honey Badger, one week post-return (gracias, Cara Mia!)

On the tough side:

• My mother died unexpectedly
• I left my law partnership in Seattle
• I opened my own law practice
• I moved to Tanzania
• I had a few serious health issues, including severe food poisoning in July (no, that’s not the reason for the weight loss!)
• Other enormous changes that are private

It has been fabulous; and it has been awful.

Which brings me back to Dirty Freedom. Heather Thomson came up with that “hashtag” and theme for our climb, and it is so apt for me! It took a painful slog up a dirty mountain, with no showers or much personal hygiene for seven days, culminating with a painful summit of said mountain at UHURU PEAK, to break me out of an unhappy existence and to start living. If you read my last post about summit night Days 5 and 6–Summit Night: Kosovo Camp to Uhuru Peak to Millennium, you know “uhuru” means “Freedom” in Kiswahili.

How completely perfect. I found my own dirty freedom on Mount Kilimanjaro. In so many ways.  I continue to find and embrace that dirty freedom as I learn to live on a different continent, 9,000 miles away from where I was born.

Life will never be easy. But I’m going to do my best to live fully, with no regrets. I will take it day by day. I’ll admit that moving to Africa took some major Badger cojones, and it seems a little crazy, but I want to Live. Experience. Breathe. Dare. Love. Chill.  Kick Some Ass now and then.

Come visit me in Tanzania. You won’t regret experiencing this beautiful place and all it has to offer.  I know people.

-Badger OUT.  #KiliClimb2016 MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.