Kilimanjaro Day 4: Summit Day Eve
Pushing past the comfort of the moorland, Day 4 of Kilimanjaro takes you into the stark, barren wasteland of the Alpine Desert, a lunar landscape of volcanic dust and gravel leading directly to the base of Kibo Hut. With the midnight summit push looming just hours away, sleep is scarce, appetites vanish, and the physical toll of extreme altitude starts testing your absolute limits.
Kilimanjaro Day 4: Horombo Huts to Kibo Huts
Starting Altitude: 3,720m
Ending Altitude: 4,703m
Terrain: Steep rocky river basins transitioning into the vast, barren Alpine Desert.
The start of Day 4 was fairly uneventful, which is mountain code for we were functioning like highly motivated zombies as there was still no sleep for either of us. Our routine had devolved into a mechanical cycle of bypass the breakfast porridge, accept Martin’s routine water for a wash, and make a dozen more urgent trips to the toilet to pass whatever our insides could still purge.
True to my plan, we completely bypassed Martin's water flask fill ups and went straight to the fresh
stream behind the camp, a ten minute walk away to fill up our hydration bladders. The smell that came out of the bladders when we emptied them was horrific and the colour was not exactly what you would expect from drinking water. This was the last stream before the summit so we had the next two days on this stagnant water, I made a point of glugging as much fresh water as possible with a view that the more I drink now the less poison I had to drink later.
Despite being utterly exhausted from the lack of sleep and physically drained from the toilet marathons, the acclimatisation day had actually worked. Our lungs felt okay, our spirits were high, and tomorrow, we were going to summit the wonderful peak looming down over us.
Bypassing Stream Water and Walking the Rugged River Basin
We set off, wandering back up the exact path we had descended the day before. The terrain here is a brutal, but fun, jagged rocky river basin, imagine walking up a dried-out, ancient water channel where every single rock is loose, uneven, and trying to roll your ankle. Eventually, we pushed past the point where we had joined the path yesterday to descend, moving into completely new territory. The journey was staggeringly beautiful, with Kili’s massive summit perfectly framing every single photo shot.
"Where's this rain then, Juma?" I taunted, looking at the endless horizon of blue skies.
Juma just looked up and promised, "It will rain."
"I hope it does" I whispered to Ben "We have brought all the waterproofs with us"
We reached our lunch stop and force-fed ourselves juice boxes and dry biscuits. This was our entire diet now as we were saving the Maoam we had brought with us for the summit day push and could not stomach porridge, stews or any other meals we were presented with. We were terrified of any water that hadn't been boiled for a lifetime or treated by us, and the altitude had completely killed any semblance of hunger. Everyone was still in good spirits, though, laughing through the fatigue.
It was at this stop toilets became long drops.
“Ah well it was nice whilst it lasted” I thought as I teetered on the edge of the cavern of excrement looming below my hovering bottom.
The No-Man's-Land of the Alpine Desert and Altitude Realities
As we continued up the valley into the foothills of Kili, the landscape shifted dramatically. We entered the Saddle, the vast alpine desert section between the peaks of Mawenzi and Uhuru. It is a completely barren, lunar wasteland. No trees, no shrubs, no boulders. Just miles of dark, volcanic dust and gravel.
This posed a slight issue as both of our stomachs started gurgling in unison, signalling an imminent emergency. But in this barren desert, there was absolutely zero reprieve for a scenic wee or an emergency poo. There wasn't a single leaf to hide behind, it was a literal no-man's-land. We had no choice but to clench, pray, and hold everything in as best we could while marching forward.
About an hour away from Kibo Camp, the altitude decided to up the ante. Our walking slowed to a glacial, deliberate pace. We were forced to stop every few hundred meters just to catch our breath. It was here I realised how high up we were and that I was in Nepal altitude sickness territory now. Flashbacks from when I was 19 started to crop in and a bit of self doubt reared its head.
“Fred, how high are we here please?” I asked
“About 4400m” he replied.
“This is the highest I have been in my life now. During ABC I seriously suffered on the last day and that was lower than this so that would be why I feel bad!” I pondered.
The weather was playing mind games, too, the heat from the direct sun was stifling and sweaty, yet the second you stopped to breathe, the mountain breeze was bone chilling. The only saving grace was the view looking out over the vast plains of Kenya, stretching out endlessly below us, it was simply gorgeous, you really were on top of Africa here. Fred and Juma hung back behind us the whole way, never rushing us, letting us take everything at our own pace while regularly checking in.
"Ben, this is dire. Where is this bloody camp?" I complained whilst laughing after hours of dragging my feet up volcanic rock. I was trying to make light of how I felt but I was completely exhausted, desperate for a bush, and feeling the thin air taking its toll.
"Up there somewhere," he nodded ahead, managing a weary grin. "This isn’t much fun!"
I had to laugh. At least he was seeing the funny side of it today, a massive improvement from his sadness yesterday. It looked like our roles had officially reversed, he was on the up, and it was my turn to wallow in the trough of despair.
Reaching Kibo Camp and Facing the Tragic Food Situation
We lingered on at a snail's pace, and eventually, the path turned toward the base of Kibo Camp. This was our stark destination for the next few hours before the midnight summit push.
"Well done, King and Queen of mountain!" Juma cheered as we crossed the threshold. We did not cheer back but sat down immediately at the camp sign and offered a weary smile.
Because it was the quiet shoulder season, Fred managed to score us another massive, 6 person hut entirely to ourselves. We were so exhausted we went straight inside to prepare for the next day and packed our summit layers, headtorches, and gear into our day packs for the midnight push. When Martin brought our hot water for a wash, we didn't even have the energy to use it.
“I am just going to smell untill we get back to the hotel now” I vowed “sorry I am going to stink”
Ben nodded and agreed, there was no energy for washing anymore.
The food situation had officially become tragic. It was stew again and the mere thought of it made me sick. I managed exactly one mouthful of a potato (which was delicious to taste but made me gag) and a cup of water-treated Milo to force something other than electrolytes and water into my system.
Needing an escape from the food, I went in search of the toilets, but instead found a gorgeous, solitary rock formation nearby. I sat on top of it for a while, completely alone, watching the world go by down the valley as the shadows lengthened over Africa. I turned to look up at the near vertical mountain side we would be walking up tomorrow.
“How are we going to get up there” I wondered
Summit Day Eve: Final Briefings and the 5:00 PM Bedtime
I walked back into the hut to find a beautiful sight, Ben was fast asleep. YAY!
...And then Fred and Juma walked in twenty minutes later for our evening health checks and woke him right back up. Our vitals were still great, and the guides gave us the final briefing for the night. Up at 11pm tonight, leave at 11:30. Summit at sunrise.
We crawled into our sleeping bags at 5:00 PM, fully clothed in our hiking layers, ready to be woken up in just five hours to face the ultimate test.
I looked over at Ben in the dim light of the hut.
"Happy summit day eve," I whispered into the cold air.
“Night night Melia” he whispered back.
Top tips:
Today you enter the Alpine Desert. It is barren, featureless landscape of dark volcanic dust. It looks incredibly cool, but it is entirely exposed to the elements. Wear sunscreen, wear a buff or cover around your neck and pack layers in your day bag. The weather can turn quickly in such an exposed place.
If your stomach decides to stage a sudden evacuation in the desert, you are in trouble. You must either possess a sphincter of absolute steel or get comfortable with your partner holding up an open jacket as a makeshift privacy screen. Another reason packing your layers is a good idea!
It is easy to fall into the trap of blue skies means pack warm clothes in your big bag for the porters but the absolute second you stop walking to take a breath, the wind dropping off the glaciers is bone-chillingly cold. Keep your beanie and gloves right at the top of your pack so you can throw them on when you stop.
As you edge closer to Kibo Hut your speed will slow and you may find yourself taking a massive, deep breath for every few steps forward. Do not fight it, embrace the rhythm of the slow march.
Mountain morale fluctuates every hour. One minute you are the cheerleader saving your partner or group from despair, the next, you are the one wallowing in the trough of misery while they are having a good moment. Accept the shifts, share the burden, and laugh when it's your turn to be the broken one.
Do not wait until the 11:00 PM wakeup call to organise your summit gear. Pack your headtorch, spare batteries, summit gloves, and layers into your daypack during the afternoon while you can still think straight and sleep in the clothes you will wear the next day to save some brain power and time.
Have a game plan for summit day if it is just you and a friend or partner. What is the cut off point to calling it a day? We did not do this and I wish we had. Things got a bit sketchy on summit day and we had not discussed at what point we go back down and call it a day. Have this conversation before you reach day 5 on the hike and start making decisions when you arent thinking clearly.
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