Since I now live surrounded by mountains that I love and climb frequently — I am re-posting 2 posts about my young teenage adventures climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro in Tanzania. It has taken many years to get off the prairie and the desert to return to the mountains, but to be in the Front Range of the Colorado Rockies is now certainly worth it. I love the feeling of reconnecting to that younger self, who carried the then recently published Hobbit in her pack to read in camp at night.
A photo above of me at 14 in the blue anorak at the summit of Mt. Kilimanjaro in 1968….long story really. The one below is of my brother and I after we arrived home to Dar es Salaam, after 12 hours by African bus. We are wearing our wreaths of everlasting flowers that the guides give you if you make the summit — and you can see that some 50 years later, my wreath is a bit faded, but not bad for such a venerable award.
It’s one of my life wishes to see Mt. Killimanjaro.
It’s beautiful. Absolutely breathtaking every step of the way. And “breath-taking” in that the route goes from sea level to 19,300 ft (at Uhuru Peak) in a mere three to four days. It’s not the hike up, it’s the altitude sickness that usually knocks climbers out. My brother (in the hat, sitting down next to me) threw up about every ten feet of that final ascent — something we never let him forget — as he dragged himself up to the summit. But we were youngin’s then and didn’t know any better!
awww, and here I thought it was from 2008…
Fab photo though!
Hugs
U.
So good to see you back, even if it is sporadically. Life does get busy, full, overwhelming sometimes…but I’m glad you are not packing it in.
Ah, 1968 that was a good year (to be born) 😉
Hey Carl,
Really, 1968? Ah man…so you only know Paul McCartney as a member of Wings?
I figure I’ll be hanging around for a while more — and it’s good to know I still have readers! I am definitely hoping to get a lot more done next year.