Thursday, February 23, 2012

Reflections of the Ocean (Thoughts on a Plane)

Reflections of the Ocean

First of all, this is not my race report.  That will be on mine and Steve’s blog:, which I believe he is currently working on.  This blog, however, is on my realizations and reflections. 

*I promised I would write more about what I learned in Africa and so on, but I really don’t feel like getting into all of it, and I think most of it is hidden in my other blogs.  There are simply two things I would like to touch on.  One, there is definitely something to about putting yourself in unfamiliar place or situation, and conquering it by yourself.  Basically, it’s just putting yourself out there and having an adventure.  I’m definitely not saying it has to be done on a grand scale, but I do think that going into unchartered territory alone can enhance your life.   It is not about finding yourself (your always you, aren’t you?), but learning more about yourself.  Learning is the key to growth.
Second, although this is one in the same, I definitely came home with a bug…but not the type of bug that I was worried about that would need to be dug out of my skin.  I have the travel bug.  I now have a yearning to go visit other countries, meet different people, and learn their cultures.  It is an unbelievable learning opportunity, and a beautiful journey.  It is worth buying a used car, the smaller house, the regular cable package.  Having nice things is good, but buying superfluously is often a wall to getting the most out of life.

Here is what I was able to reflect on in the waters of my destiny at Destin Beach:

Okay, that came out very over-the-top, but it sounded good in my head.

*On the flight down to Destin: 2/17/12
(With my dad and Steve, to meet Sandi for the race and 3-day vacation together)

I am watching Steve talking, again, to the passenger next to him, for the whole duration of the flight.  It amazes me.  Last week, it was an older gentleman.  Today, it was a younger man, just a freshman in high school.  He was able to relate to each one and took the opportunity to learn from them.  In doing so, he was also able to make the feel dignified (in who they are) and happy.  This is just a small example in a myriad (as I using that right?) of hundreds of others.  In a possible psychic experience, I had the strong feeling that he may not be at Kent for many more years, maybe two.  I believe he has a bit more to finish up there and a few more important engagements and interactions, but he has more to do at a higher scale.  I am now realizing that it is probably one of my roles to get him there.

*On the flight home, (de)parting from Sandi: 2/21/12

“I lied, Sandi could be my neighbor and I would be happy.”

(A few days earlier, me, Sandi, and Steve had been discussing Asheville, currently at the top of my list of destinations to move to.  Sandi said it was a place she was considering as well.  Me, in what I thought was standing up for myself, but was really a selfish act, told her I’d shoot her if she moved there.  I guess I just wanted to be first, after already seeing her living in a place I had previously dreamt of.)

To give you more of the scene:
Me, Steve, and my dad were about to get on our connection flight to Chicago.  Sandi had another few hours until her flight left for Colorado Springs.

Today, I realized how strong the bond between me and Sandi is.  Out of nowhere (at least to bystanders) we hugged, and instantaneously started crying.  As much as I tried, there was simply no holding back my tears.  I think my dad was looking back and forth between the two of us and didn’t know what to do. 

The cord connecting the two of us was again going to be stretched across thousands of miles.  The main difference this time was that we didn’t know when we were going to see each other again, and it could be a long time.  Plus, I feel our connection had grown stronger over the past few days. We (or at least I) became more aware of our differences and similarities, and accepted them.  Somehow in the last 6 months, I believe we started to look more alike again, especially when we wore similar clothing, which we did unplanned, and neither of us cared. 

I realized I may never be the runner she is, and that completely doesn’t matter.  In a team, each person (or in this case, twin) brings her own strengths and talents to the table, and running is one of her many (she also happens to be the “dreamer” and creative one).  We our finding our balance, and I am accepting my role.  Despite the fact that she lives too far, we still make a kick-ass team.

*Still on the flight home to Cleveland:
Reading “The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People” I realized that for so long I have been fighting for “independence”, or against “dependence”.  In reality, if I really want to become more evolved, I need to be working towards “interdependence”. To me, this means looking at things not as “me” but as “we”, understanding that while I can do many things on my own, I would be limiting myself and the world if I didn’t realize the importance of others and the greater effectiveness of working as a team.  The positive impact I can have on the world will be magnified with the help of others.  That if I let Steve and Sandi (specifically) help me, and I learn from them, I will be a better person.

(Part of what makes the world beautiful is its’ interdependence.  We just need to go back to the grounding principle of love.)

*”A thousand mile journey begins with the first step”; A 100 mile run begins with the first stride (or: not with the first stride, but the initial belief in oneself.  I guess it depends on how you understand the metaphor)

*Again, still on the flight home to Cleveland (Did I mention we had 3 connections?)

Steve often jokes that he is a strong man because I, his girlfriend, can beat him in an ultra.  I agree.  It does take a very strong and secure man to deal with that.  Even more, from the time we started dating, he knew he couldn’t be first.  Service to others would always be first (Now I know many people put God first, but to me, this is one in the same.  I believe God is everywhere, in all of us.  Therefore, by serving others, I am praising God.)  Plus, I am a twin, and we have a bond that cannot be broken.

The order of my top 3 may not always be the same at all times, or they may be equal and all tied for first.  But, in a way, it’s really all the same.

Until next time,

Rach J

(Actually, next time will be quite soon because he is anxious to get our blog out, which has diligently worked on the past two days.)

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Africa (Blog ?): Week 3 & Last 3 days

Africa (Blog ?): Week 3, Plus Last 3 Days

I ended my last pre-Kili blog at the end of week 2, after an interesting ride home from Marangu on the Daladala.  Shortly thereafter, the next part of my story takes off:

As previously mentioned, most of the other volunteers we in Zanzibar, leaving me, Jamie, Jessica, and Logan.  Logan, being more of a person who keep to himself, left us shortly after dinner. 

Ironically, the 3 of us left were probably the most like-minded, with similar dispositions. I found that Jessica has much older boyfriend who was divorced and had 3 kids…sound familiar?  Anyway, I will save you most of the conversation and turn to an “umbrella” program Jessica and some past CCS volunteers would like to start in Tanzania.

Jessica’s goal is to create an agency that would connect many of the local non-profits and become a resource center for not only them but for people who would like to volunteer in the area.  It would be a way to share information and best utilize donation, data, and volunteers.  In addition, it would also dually serve as a volunteer program for local street kids, based on the idea of empowering youth through their own abilities and helping the community at the same time.  This is just a very brief summary, but Jessica’s determination and commitment was contagious.  Instantly (and after asking quite a few questions to be sure) I knew I wanted to help and be part of the mission.  Perhaps there could be a partnership with a compassion program back home?

It was in this talk that I had my déjà vu moment.  Now, I’m not sure what déjà vu means to everyone… I believe it is mainly described as the feeling that something has happened before.  For me, it is a little bit more than that.  When I have a déjà vu moment, I flashback to something that seems like an old dream to me.  I felt like I had dreamt that moment, sitting at the table underneath the large pavilion in Tanzania and talking with Jessica and Jamie.  However, it might just be more than a dream.  Maybe I had planned, or charted that event myself… For me, that déjà vu moment meant I was on track.

Sunday was low-key day.  After a 9 mile run, I got all my lesson plans together for the week and had more interesting conversations with Jessica and Jamie.  I learned much about the education system in America, Canada (Jamie is Canadian), and France (where Jessica’s bf is from).  In the afternoon, the 3 of us stopped at a small shop down the street, and I had the local beverage: Fanta.  (I was able to drink half of it, before the extra sugar in the drink became too much).

Tuesday proved to be the day that brought me closest to tears. We visited an orphanage, which really was much more of a large family.  They welcomed us in their house with song and thanked God for their blessings.  I was overcome with the amount of love in the room.  The father had a light in him that could not be put out.  His wife and many children were nothing short of beautiful.

It was the next day I learned how little I knew…

My CCS group went on a day trip to Arusha and first was on our list was a trip to ICTR, the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda.  Call me ignorant (I did), but I had no idea what this was.  Then I started to hear things like genocide, women and children, 90’s, and United Nations.  Apparently, there was a mass genocide in Rwanda in 1994, and I had absolutely no idea.  How could I have not learned about this in school?  As it turns out, the trails are still going on, but should be ending this June.  The trails have turned out to be a turning point for the United Nations, declaring that no matter how powerful someone’s position may be, they can be tried and punished for wrong doing.  Furthermore, I learned that a music artist, comparable to Michael Jackson, had been tried and found guilty for lyrics that promoted violence and killing. 

 Just being in Africa opened my eyes to another world, but this really helped that sink in even more.  I never claimed to know a lot, but now I know how little I really do know.  It’s not something to be ashamed about, but a good realization of the “box” I lived in and motivation to keep exploring and seeking information.

Friday was the last day of my volunteer placement at Step Up Center.  I can’t say I was exactly sad.  While I very much appreciated the experience, I was so glad it was over.  I loved the kids.  It was great to learn what a school in Tanzania was like.  But, I never felt especially useful or beneficial to the kid’s, or had any clear idea as to what was expected of me.  Still, I did what I could and was happy to break up the monotony of the day for some of the kids.  I also now assuredly knew that I did not miss my calling as a teacher, but working with kids in a program setting would be perfect.  The class sang a goodbye song to me, and a little girl Margaret gave me her blessing my kissing me on the forehead.

That afternoon, I found a trekking company, booked and paid for my trip up Kili, and got my gear ready to go for the next morning…

(Kilimanjaro Climb, blogs already posted)

After summiting Kilimanjaro, I thought my adventure would be over.  I even wrote all the way to very last line of my journal.  However, this proved to be untrue, I still had a little bit more left to do.

As mentioned in my last Kili blog, I was then posed with my the problem of finding a place to stay for the reminder of my time.  With some searching and the help of Steve who had much better internet access than I did, I found what seemed to be a nice, cheap hotel.  The fact that it was about half as much as the other hotels only scared me a little.

After getting my hair braided at a salon by the CCS house (I was only planning on getting part of my hair braided, but there was a bit of a communication difference), I took a taxi to the Babylon Lodge in Marangu.  It ended up being very nice and perfect for what I needed.  My room was actually more of a blue cave, though very clean.  I even had a little patio outside, and the hotel restaurant was a 20 second walk away.

That first evening I walked into the main part of town and bought a bunch of the popular miniature bananas from a woman on the street.  I felt like Frances from Under the Tuscan Sun, Africa version.

The next days I re-did the hike I had done a few weeks back with my friend Jamie, which had been very pole-pole.  This time, by hiking and running (still on very sore quads), I was able to do it much faster…though I had forgotten how big of a hill it really was!  The rest of the day I spent walking around, revisiting one of the waterfalls, and talking to some of the staff (my favorite was a young man, working hard so he could finish his education and move to New Mexico to be with his brother) and a woman from California currently working with a non-profit agriculture group, who had spent much of the last year in East Africa.  To celebrate my last evening, I also made sure to order Banana Wine J  I really wish they had it back in the States!

The next morning, after a short but beautiful run down a winding road of rolling hills, breakfast at the hotel, and another walk around town for more bananas, I headed back to the CCS house for lunch and to see the other volunteers for the last time.

It was without any trace of sadness or hesitancy that I left Tanzania.  I think this surprised some of the others.  Most people leave with many mixed feelings.  Of course, it was a little bitter-sweet.  I was leaving a place that had taught me so much and gave me many wonderful memories.  But I had done what I came to do.  I volunteered, I learned about a new culture, I threw myself out into the unknown, I made strangers into friends, I explored, I conquered Kilimanjaro, I even stayed at a hotel by myself and bought bananas off the street!  In just a few short weeks, I had grown.  I became more confident in myself.  I’d be going hope with a refreshed enthusiasm for all that I had a waiting me, and a trust in my ability to succeed, whatever my path may be.
Simply, I was ready to go home.

Now, there are many sayings about “home” and I think each of them holds a truth for an individual person.  The quote that holds true to me is “home is where the heart is”.   My heart was with my loved ones back home, and I missed them.  Especially Steve…I may or may not be saying that because I know he will read this and complain if he doesn’t see his name.

As I left the CCS house it started to rain.  I took this as a good sign.

The was about a 40 minute drive to the airport and I was chatting with another volunteer who was going to Zanzibar for the weekend.  There were animals lurking on the roadside, and my drive was driving a bit too fast, as usual.  I was taking in the view for the last time, when there was a large THUD from the front of the van.  My driver hit a donkey.  I’m still very upset from this event.  Without even looking up the possible meanings of this event, I know this was a bad sign.

Why do I know this?  Because I had a 12 HOUR LAYOVER, WHILE SITTING ABOURT THE PLANE. No, I am not exaggerating.  It really was 12 hours.  8 ½ Naples, and 3 ½ Rome.  I heard they were beautiful places with very good coffee and ice cream, but I will never know unless I go back, but right now, I don’t have very good memories of them or a yearning to go back.

After missing my connecting flight that was supposed to get me back to Cleveland at 1:50 pm, we arrived at the Washington Dulles airport around 8:00 pm and I was passed around by about 8 different people which lead to a small breakdown and crying to Steve on the phone.  I knew it would be okay and I’d get home in the morning, but with less than 3 hrs of sleep and stuck in a small vessel of people for over a day, I just couldn’t help it.  After a few minutes and some time to get over it, I went back down the stairs to the Ethiopian Airlines office.  There was more waiting, then a certificate for free food and accommodation provided at a nearby hotel.  I would at least get 4 hrs of sleep that night.

Cheerfully (and a bit sickly), I walked through the airport and through security the next morning.  I think a few people were taken aback by that.  Before 9:00 o’clock my flight was on its way, and in less than an hour I was in Cleveland.  I dashed out of the airplane, with a few strange looks my way I’m sure, and with a walking speed just short of running, I wound my way through the airport and past the last round of security.  Right where I knew he’d be, Steve was waiting for me.

I will stop there before it gets too mushy.  Yes, one of my bags was lost somewhere, but I didn’t care.  I was too happy.  I spent the remainder of the day catching up with Steve, then going to my mom’s house for a small Superbowl party, where I did my best not to fall asleep in my food.  I could not have come up with a better day.

Next….time to start the next Adventure J

Friday, February 3, 2012

Kilmanjaro: (Day 3 & 4) Reaching the Summit

Kilimanjaro: Day 3

To start this entry off, I am going to be brutally honest with you:  I miss Steve (and all my loved ones of course).

I realized that this is a very uncharacteristic and girlish thing for me to say, but, I have been away from the Love of My Adventure 3 ½ weeks now and am sitting alone in my tent, reading a book that includes some miserable relationships.  Plus, despite the fact that I am smelly, hairy, and dirty that silly man would still find me attractive.

Okay, enough of that…

Before I go on with today, I want to take a quick step back to last night.

It can be very boring being in a tent by yourself, especially when all you want to do is reach the Roof of Africa.  At one point, I even started to doing Pilates moves in my tent.  Eventually, I ventured out again into the chill for another “call of nature”.  On my way I found the other Umbwe American.  Happy to find someone else who clearly spoke and understood English, we shared our days adventures and quickly resumed our running and athletic conversation from the previous day (He was a decathlete at Auburn).  While this helped pass the time, it was also a long enough time to chill me to the bone.  When I got back to my tent for dinner, my guide chided me and said I needed to stay in my tent to keep warm.  He promised tomorrow would be no worse (I was unconvinced).  Even in my 5 layers, I was cold.  I began to worry. As “tough” as I am, climbing twice as fast as average, cold me a BIG baby.  Soon after dinner I crawled into my sleeping bag and remained in the fetal position for the rest of the night.  Until I had to pee of course…the moon, stars, and planets were quite beautiful.

Speaking of nature’s call…the bathrooms at today’s camp are especially nasty…especially the one I’m next too.  My guide and porters were nice enough to put my tent next to a small cliff for covering, and I can’t smell the fumes from inside my tent, but “whew!” when I venture out.  I’ve opted to use the farther bathroom.

Today I unzipped my sleeping bag at 6:20.  Shortly thereafter, my very nice porter/waiter (Mwenga) alerted me that the mountain was clear and insisted in taking my picture.

Again, I was ready to go too early and patiently awaited breakfast reading and shivering in my tent.  Again, they gave way too much food.  I took coffee, toast I slathered with PB&J, a small banana and a slice of avocado, which left another piece of toast, and egg, hot dog, and a large piece of an avocado.  My guide told me I didn’t eat a lot…do I look like I’m 215 lbs?  Maybe with all my layers.

With the sun shining, we finally started the day’s hike.  Dhahri told me today would be a much more gradual climb, which it was, after we got done scaling the side of a cliff.  It was a blast (despite still feeling slightly disoriented), and we passed everyone in front of us. A few times I did have to remind D that I had short legs.  Once in awhile D paused to speak with another guide, always inquiring about each other’s climb.  He always had a slight smile as he mentioned Umbwe and our ascent plan.  Soon, it was only us and the miraculous porters (who, in my head, began to refer to as demi-gods).  By the end of the section, I was able to remove 3 layers. 

Awaiting us next, to my surprise, was a “gentle” downhill path.  I wondered if my legs even remembered how to walk downhill. After a few steps, my legs caught on and we relaxed into an easy stroll until we had to use some caution on slippery spots of melted snow. 

Right before Karanga Base Camp, there was another climb, with 2 options.  One was more gradual with several switchbacks and a line of porters.  The other was steeper and I only saw two porters.  In a few moments I quickly considered my options and decided to continue on the steeper route as we had done from day 1.  We were the first client and guide to reach camp, in less than 2 hrs.  Luckily, our plan was to skip this camp.  After a half hour intermission, giving our porters enough time to catch up (they left after to finish cleaning up camp) and me enough time to get cold, we continued uphill to Barafu Camp.

Now this was actually a gradual (compared to the last 2 days) uphill.  However, “pole pole” was just fine with me.  We were now at an elevation where there was no vegetation except for moss, a few short weeds, and “forever” flowers (okay, that  might not be the technical name, but it’s something like that).  Everything else was rocks (and some litter…err) though still beautiful in its own way, especially when the clouds intermixed with our footsteps.

For the first time, I actually started to get a bit tired and sleepy.  My stomach was also rumbling.  I took this as a good sign, that I was working hard, and maybe I’d get some sleep that night.  At a short stop for water and a bathroom break behind a rock, I told D that the only reason that I might be a bit jealous of men is because it must be way easier to go to the bathroom there.

We made it to camp by 12:45, signed in, took some pics, politely sipped the very sugary coke handed to me, listened to some black-eyed peas, and awaited the rest of our troop.  These poor blokes were tired, and with good reason.  I told our chef, who is not much bigger than me, “pole sana!” (I’m very sorry).  D told me they are happy this is only 4 days, but I know this is still quite a bit more aggressive that what they are used too.

Once in the privacy of my tent, I decided to “freshen up”.  I changed my socks, underwear, and sports bra, used some deodorant, and cleaned my hairy legs with hand-sanitizer and lotion (I had already brushed my teeth as my tent was being put up).  I then put back on all the dirty base layers I had hike in that day.  To get even cleaner, I brushed my hair and applied rinse-less shampoo to my frizzy and pony-tail indented locks. “Ahhh, it’s good to be clean!”  I was then presented with another much too fancy lunch of watermelon and oranges, a chicken leg, a warm coleslaw type dish, and fresh French fries (they looked good, so I ate a few), and some sugary Tang-like drink.

Since then, I have basically read another few chapters, ventured out to the far bathroom a few times (fresh feeling gone) and am “patiently” awaiting tomorrow’s summit plans.  I would have been eager to go now if it was not so cloudy.  I even have all my cold gear lined up and ready to go.  Until then, the rest of the day will be reading and possibly finishing my book, dinner, bathroom trips, and trying to stay warm (so far I am succeeding).

Until tomorrow… After my final ascent and complete decent!

Rach J

(It was also on today’s hike I finally accepted my non-traditional path my life is supposed to take.  Before, even knowing this was wrong, I felt guilty not having aspirations to work a 9-5 jobs plus overtime, the norm of our society.  But that was, to me, not living life as an adventure.  Sure, it is a life-style for many, and it might work just fine for most people, but that is not what my life is supposed to be.  After this trip, I’m not exactly sure where my life will take me.  What I do know is that it will be a wonderful and beautiful Adventure.) 

Kilimanjaro: Reaching the Summit, Day 4

I’m still slightly upset about the monkeys.  I only kind of saw the back of one, through the trees.

Oh, and I MADE IT TO THE SUMMIT!  I was on the “Roof of Africa” at 5,895m…for about 1 minute before I said lets had back down before I freeze to death.

Rewind, back to the beginning. 
I got about 1hr of sleep.  Not because I was cold, but partially because wake-up time was 11:30 p.m. and it was too early for me to sleep much, partially because I think I was allergic to the sleeping bag or sick with a stuffy nose and sore throat, and partially, well mainly, because I was too excited about summiting my first mountain (the ones in San Diego do not count).

Then I realized that my first summit would be one of “The 7 Summits”.  To most people, this was probably not the brightest thing to do.  But hey, I am a Nypaver twin, and somehow, it works out.  (Go back to June 2010 when Sandi runs her fist trail and ultra race, Mohican 100, and well, you know the rest.)

So like a kid waiting for Santa, I waited for my wake-up call.  When it finally came, I was basically ready, having slept in most of my base layers.  I simply added toe warmers to my 2 pairs of regular socks and 2 pairs of Smartwools, put on my oversized rented hiking boots and XL women’s winter jacket that could fit 2 of me, and secured my headlamp. But of course, I “had” to have something warm to drink first and a snack, so they brought me cookies and hot water.  I opted for a Powerbar instead of cookies, and made a way too strong cup of coffee (neither of which settled well).

By 12:00 am, we were off.  Already we could see a trail of hikers going up.  D predicted this would take us 6hrs, our longest hike yet.  The first part of the trail involved us scaling up large, sloping rocks.  I walked on top of them like a newborn calf.  Then came a path of deep crushed rock, with some much bigger rocks to climb over.  Soon my oversized jacket became much too warm and in the way, so I gave it to D.  He took off his thinner windbreaker to stuff in my pack (which we were meant to take turns with) and he put on my jacket, which fit him well.  He also stuffed my super warm gloves in his pockets that I didn’t need quite yet. 

Of course we passed everyone in front of us, and I clumsily followed D, sniffling and trying to stop the waterfall coming out of my nose.  Then the wind picked up.  It really picked up, as in it was nearly knocking me sideways.  If I had an umbrella, I could have Mary Poppinsed my way down to Moshi.  I was glad I was carrying the pack for extra weight. 

With the wind came the cold.  I figured I could wait 10 more minutes before and find the cover of rock before switching jackets back.  This never happened.  I ended up tucking my chin and mouth into my jacket, barely looking up, which was good because for the first time, the top of the mountain seemed distant.  With my numbing hands and feet, doubt also crept in.  There was a chance I could freeze before reaching Uhuru peak, and my footfalls were already wobbly.  I tried to remain positive, I knew I could make it, but this was hard.

Nearer to the top, D noticing my much less enthused responses, helped me put on his windbreaker and threw hand warmers in my gloves. This helped a little, but I couldn’t help but think how foolish I was not to take back my coat and gloves.  Now all I could do was keep moving.

After an eternity of walking, okay, maybe less than 5 hrs, we reached Stella Peak.  I gave D a big hug, full of relief.  He then informed me the Uhuru Peak was still a bit away. 

As we walked towards the highest point on the mountain, we passed the crater.  It was full of snow.  Some people sleep there. Crazy.  I wouldn’t do it if someone paid me a million dollars.  I’d be dead anyway.

Still, looking back, I wish I could’ve gotten a picture.

Another eternity later (15-20 minutes), we finally saw the sign for Uhuru Peak.  I gave D another hug, climbed to the sign, and waited to get a quick picture of me at the highest point in Africa.  Unfortunately, D couldn’t get the flash to work.  In my sleep deprived, oxygen deprived, frozen drunken-like stupor, I couldn’t help him.  All I have for proof that I had reached the summit is a dark, blurry picture of me bundled up next to the barely visible sign, plus a certificate.  I knew my body couldn’t handle much more abuse, I had pushed it all the way up, and I told D it was time to go back down.

Looking back, I really wish I had more pictures and had seen sunrise, but then would I be writing this from a hospital bed now?  It took me the rest of the morning to convince myself that I did not cheat.  I, Rachel Nypaver, had reached the “Roof of Africa”, via Umbwe, on my 4th day!

On the way down we passed quite a few people still going up, murmuring “have they already reached the summit?” probably more so wondering why we didn’t stay for sunrise than impressed.  But yes, we had been the first to summit that day. 

I was then blessed with a beautiful sunrise, as me and D gleefully “skied” our way down back to our tents.

The next part of the game plan involved 2 hrs rest, breakfast, and a quick decent down the mountain.  I got 1 hrs sleep and began to clean up my things.

Before I even finished eating breakfast, D was at my tent ready to “rock-n-roll”.  Knowing I was a runner, my guide and porters planned to go fast…I foolishly thought running was even a possibility, which is not, unless you’re a superhuman porter.  Forgetting D had done this, the Mweka Route, a thousand times, I decided I could keep up with him as he flew over the rocks.  I could not.  I stepped on a rock on top of a rock, which I knew was unsteady, and took a nice fall on my left side.  I was lucky no ribs were broken.  Lesson learned.

The further down we went, the hotter it got and vegetation grew.  Before I knew it, I was sweating in the jungle (where I kind of saw the monkey).  In 1 day, just 4 hrs, we had passed through 5 eco zones!  Way before we finished the final finish line (or huts), my quads were talking to me, now they were screaming and nearly popping out of my thighs.  I was tired and happily satisfied with my journey, although it was hard to believe I was already done.  It seemed like just an hour ago I was taking my first steps uphill.

After stopping at the Bushmen house, tipping my guide and porters, I shocked everyone at the CCS house (who worked there or was an old volunteer) with my presence. I was not supposed to get back until Thursday. I briefly but enthusiastically talked to my friends about the climb, but I was longing for a shower, bed, and contact with my loved ones at home.  However, before I could Baba Flugence told me my extra days were not part of the CCS program (which is understandable).  Now, I had already been planning on staying a day or 2 in Marangu to run and explore, but now it was not just an option.  It was find a hotel or pay more to CCS.

I am a big girl.  I’ve just stayed in Africa for 3 ½ weeks by myself (albeit with friends, actually a family of friends) and I just climbed a mountain…but this is still a bit of a worry.

But that’s okay.  Like always, I will figure it out.  It is all part of the Adventure.

Safari Njema.

***Note: Yes, everything did work out just fine.