Massi & Ardavan Farmanfarmaian
Snowflake School is raising money for Snowflake School For Children With Autism
Participants: Ardavan & Massi Farmanfarmaian
Story
Dear All,
I MADE IT. I know what you think! That it was not too difficult a climb and it is done by a large number of people every year…etc.
My answer is: Do not be fooled. Climbing the Kilimanjaro was the HARDEST THING I have ever done. I have now the utmost respect for anyone who has attempted the climb it so far. The Kilimanjaro is a gigantic volcano. In fact, it is the tallest free standing mountain in the world. It has several different kinds of terrains, mostly arduous and difficult to negotiate. It compels you to stay at high altitude for the duration of the trek (at least 6 days, mostly above 3,600 meters), and are therefore constantly exposed to the elements: the heat, the glacial cold (especially at night), the wind, rain, hail and snow. It demands that you face enormous amounts of discomfort, lack of hygiene, less than acceptable-quality food and lack of sleep and adequate rest. Most of all, it is the altitude and the lack of oxygen that force you to push your body to its limits.
It is impossible to attempt a Kilimanjaro climb, and to enjoy it, without long term advance physical preparation. Altitude sickness pills come in handy of course. But even with that, and the state-of-the-art equipment you carry with you, you still never know if you will be able to make it. Along the way, your body constantly clamours for relief. It wants you to stop, to let go and abandon the quest. But your mind battles on, despite the exhaustion, despite the cold, despite the weather. It becomes clear that it is not so much physical strength that will get you to the top, but more importantly mental strength.
The summit “day” is the hardest. You hope for the weather to be clement, to start with. But then, from the moment you are awoken at 11:30pm, you have to battle with the extreme cold. You work feverishly in pitch darkness to get ready, knowing full well that anything could happen on the way up and that defeat could be one of them. You try to visualise the path ahead: climbing steeply from the ridge on which your camp is perched at 4,600 meters to nearly 5,900 meters. That’s a whopping 1,300 meters of climb, in the thin air of high altitude, in the dark. You start walking at 12am and press on, nevertheless. Soon you realise that there is no way you can face what’s ahead but to attack the vast dark unknown one step at a time. Your head-lamp illuminates a couple of feet in front you and your gaze just focuses on the next stone that you need to reach. You pant heavily, lifting your legs becomes increasingly difficult as you rise, and you monitor your body for signs of altitude sickness. You need to make rest stops more and more frequently, taking in hot water each time to remain warm, hydrated and to keep that looming headache at bay. The hours pass, the steps become interminable and you begin to wonder how much more could this possibly go on. You body aches for you to abandon the ascent. You look up for any sign of the summit. But you can not see anything. You continue to press on. A sense of mission takes you over. You repeat to yourself: “I’ve come here to achieve something. I have come here for a purpose. And that purpose must be fulfilled”. So, you ignore the nagging pain in your abdomen; you ignore your headache; you ignore the blisters. Your fingers are numb from the cold. You are coughing regularly. Your sinuses are hurting. You can’t breathe properly… yet, you continue to climb.
And then, very suddenly and unexpectedly, the terrain becomes flat! You are at the Stella Point (the crater rim). It has taken you 5 and half hours to get there. You can, finally, thankfully, be jubilant. Another 45 minutes of walk, a gentle one this time, and you reach the summit, the Uhuru Peak (freedom peak). Smiles, hugs, thanks, hand-shakes, photos and then, a sense of wonderment follow. You feel truly victorious. This is a major achievement, you tell yourself, otherwise I would not have suffered so much to get here! Now you can begin to celebrate, and as the sun heralds a new dawn, you start appreciating the beauty and the majesty that surrounds you. You proudly stand by the sign marking the peak and gaze to the east as the sun begins to rise above the horizon. Then you realise: you are so high up that you can actually see the curvature of the earth. It is an amazing site! But soon, you must head back down because it can be lethal to stay at such altitudes for too long.
I wish to thank all of my donors for your generosity in sponsoring my Kilimanjaro Climb. I am proud to have done it, not just for myself but mostly for the cause that I took on for this Journey: the Snowflake School for Children with Autism. We shall be posting some photos of the climb on the school’s website. I hope you will enjoy them.
Thank you.
All the best,
Ardavan
Ardavan