Something for all seasons

Day 2 started off with a lovely steady hike upwards. Beautiful scenery invaded the senses as we journeyed through sub tropic landscapes.  Friendly banter with decending victors puntuated the air along with trumpeting Jambas courtesy of Brad (see previous post).  The sun etched itself across the track and pole, pole we progressed.  Our mood was buoyant but as the temperature plummeted to -5C things quickly changed. Within a matter of minutes the heavens opened up: First the rain lashed us like a cat of nine tales, then the hail morphed into instruments of pain and finally as to mock us a torrent of water swept down the track forming a swiftly flowing creek.  For three hours we were battered and we didn't even know that we had fingers as our hands felt like defrosting lumps of meat and our faces shone like beacons.

Wet and tired we finally made our way to camp Horombo 3720m above sea level and tried to devised a plan to somehow dry our clothing.  The only drawback to the plan is that at -5C nothing dries and the realisation hits that you will be walking for four hour the next day in the same  wet clothes.

We awoke the next day to clear skies and a happier frame of mind and the weather looked promising for our 8.8klms walk up to Zebra rocks which stand at  4100m.  The walk was invigorating and it renewed our faith that we could conquer Kili.  One advantage of walking in altitude is that the body warms up pretty quickly and the damp clothes soon dried off with our body heat.   The walk was spectacular and the Rock's resemblance to the hide of a Zebra is uncanny.

The porters seemed to know who is boss in the Greene household. They conferred with " Mumma" about every detail ;when would you like dinner, would you like a cup of tea now ect. They ignored Brad. One porter even kept asking for photos to be taken on his phone of Mumma and him.

Life on the mountain is really back to basics. The toilets are either squat or if you are in luck; smelly old western type. There is no paper provided, so tissues and serviette became gold. No running water meant everyone was on the nose. Every morn and night the waiter would bring a bowl of luke warm water for a top and tail wash. When we were sharing a hut or it was just too damn cold , only our hands and face had a splash. You can actually hire a porter to carry a private porta loo up the mountain for you. If you need your own private loo, you should not be climbing Kilimanjaro!