Willing to Try

Dedication: To anyone who has felt lost, displaced, or hurt during the COVID-19 pandemic. This next chapter is for you to?live.

Part 1: The?Origin

“You can’t change the world, but you can change yourself.” — Netflix, After Life

I do not have a good reason I wanted to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro in Tanzania. I wish I had a coherent answer prepared because I was asked this question by everyone I spoke to about my trip. The idea of flying from my home in Toronto, Canada to East Africa to spend thousands of dollars ascending a mountain was confusing for most people. Some politely shared that they would love to do the trek but could not, they had plans to spend their time and money on different initiatives: retrofitting their kitchen or a vacation that involved significantly less physical work. I did not blame them.

Mount Kilimanjaro is a dormant volcano in Tanzania, Africa. It is the highest mountain on the continent and the highest single free-standing mountain in the world. The mountain’s highest peak is 5,895 meters (19,340 feet). Its climbing experience draws tens of thousands each year as the climb can be completed with a moderate fitness level, and specialized mountaineering gear is not required. The mountain consists of five distinct ecosystems: cultivation, forest, moorland, high dessert, and summit. The first recorded people to reach the summit were German geographer Hans Meyer and Austrian mountaineer Ludwig Purtscheller in 1889.When I was on Kilimanjaro, locals assured me that Africans had been completing the journey up the mountain way before Western history books hit the record button. I believe this and honour the memories of those who accomplished it, but history does not acknowledge. To learn more about Mt. Kilimanjaro, you can check out more information here with National Geographic.

There were a few reasons for my trek, but none easily explainable in passing conversation. It sounds cliché, but I feel as though I have always had a small connection to East Africa. My favourite movie growing up was the Lion King. Since I watched the movie as a child, I knew that I wanted to have a moment in East Africa to look up the stars and feel a connection to loved ones not with us anymore, as a young Simba does in the film.

I booked the trip on the day I successfully graduated from the MBA program at the Ted Rogers School of Management at Ryerson University. I thought I would go to Australia or New Zealand after my MBA was complete. I was a Lord of the Rings fan as well and had always wanted to see the set of the Shire. Since the start of the COVID-19 pandemic, Australia and New Zealand have had strict procedures about foreigners entering the country. I did not think they would let me in. Despite a low vaccination rate, countries in East Africa were open and eager to have tourists start coming back.

Throughout the COVID-19 pandemic, I had been on a health and wellness journey. The pandemic kicked off some long overdue weight loss for me. Working from home gave me the time and space to monitor what I was eating and drinking. The long hours of solitude in Canadian lockdowns inspired me to pick up dumbbells in the basement and hop on the treadmill. After getting stronger in the pandemic years, I wanted a bigger challenge, and Kilimanjaro seemed appropriate. At the time I booked the trip, July 2021, I suspected there would be new lockdowns in the winter of 2021 in Ontario and British Columbia, the provinces where I spent my time, and I thought that having Kilimanjaro booked would give me purpose and hope during another lockdown. Having a prospective goal would help me look forward to something and encourage me to stay well in whatever capacity I could.

I booked the excursion with a Canadian travel company called G-Adventures. G-Adventures strives to include locals, and the local experience, into their travel excursions. The price of the tour was more expensive than other groups, but I was willing to pay. I wanted a seasoned, professional travel company to ensure that I was fed, watered, and looked after during such a visceral challenge. A proud Canadian, I liked that G-Adventures was a Canadian company, and that the firm had customer service agents based in Canada and the United States. Initially, I was scared to travel in such a precarious time. A few preliminary calls to G-Adventures helped me calm my nerves. The company confirmed that it was their responsibility to keep up to date with the most relevant news regarding travel restrictions. G-Adventures assured me that they were aware of the different countries that participants were coming in from and would be in touch if there was a serious travel issue that needed to be discussed before the trek began.

Part 2: The Preparation

“Sweat the small stuff. Without letting anyone see you sweat the small stuff.” — Chris Hadfield, An Astronaut’s Guide to Life on Earth

About a week after booking the trip, someone asked me during a casual encounter, “Are you training for Kilimanjaro?”. My heart sank. How would I train? It felt as though gyms were closed in the Province of Ontario every other month. Fortunately, I was scheduled to spend another few months in Vancouver, so I decided I would start there. I went on Yelp and emailed three specialized, personal training facilities in the Greater Vancouver Area. I described my circumstance and stated that I was interested in working with someone who could me develop a training plan that could be carried out at home in case gyms were closed again due to pandemic restrictions. I ended up speaking with a company called Scienced Athletics in Burnaby, British Columbia. I spoke to a gentleman called Tim, who assured me that he could help me achieve the goal, and we scheduled a time to meet in person. I took an hour-long bus (one way) from my residence in UBC to Burnaby where I met with Tim. Over the next few months, I did every workout that was asked of me to strengthen the muscle groups that Tim said were sure to get overloaded during the climb: hips, glutes, quads, core, and shoulders. This training served me well. I enjoyed developing a friendship with Tim and having a training regimen helped me stay calm and focused through the pandemic at that time.

The list of hiking gear for Kilimanjaro was extensive. I was blissfully ignorant about how academic I would have to be about collecting the gear, packing it strategically, and knowing what gear to employ on which part of the trek. A store called Hiker’s Haven in Oakville, Ontario was excellent and gave me advice on which hiking boots to purchase. The gear was expensive and came to approximately 1000 CDN in total. This was challenging for me, so I purchased the gear in three different rounds over a few months. I kept it all on my floor so I could visually see I was making progress.

I started watching YouTube videos from hikers and influencers who had done the trek and documented their journey. I learned more about how the gear was worn, the details of the mountain’s ecosystems, and what physiological symptoms were likely to occur on which day of the trek. The videos made me feel more comfortable and ready. Here are some of the videos about the Machame route that helped me:

The Planet D — Climbing Mount Kilimanjaro

Follow Alice — Kilimanjaro Packing List

Preparing for the trip from a professional standpoint was entirely different than the experience of physical training. The Omicron variant was quickly becoming a global issue. The volume of COVID-19 cases was increasing in Canada, but symptoms were mostly less severe than other variants. The Government of Canada swiftly imposed travel restrictions on several countries across Africa. Again, my heart sank. Things were not looking good for my travels.

I am lucky to have a supportive boss, Nester, at my work. I work at a public healthcare company based in Markham, Ontario, where I support a centralized business intelligence team. Nester and I looked carefully at the travel regulations at the time and concluded that a travel issue on the way back into Canada for me was probable. A new travel restriction could be imposed during my time away or I could test positive while passing through a country on my return home. Nester and I decided that we would plan for me to be away for three weeks instead of my scheduled two. We would quietly hope that I would successfully return after two weeks with no travel hardships, but the team had to be ready to support my work if I could not get home.

I had to have a negative PCR test to leave Canada and to enter Tanzania. If I were positive for COVID-19, there was no way I could leave the country and start the trek on time. I isolated myself from everyone in my network for two weeks before the date of the PCR test. I predict that some version of isolation will become a new norm before travelling. It will be considered an emotional and psychological cost of seeing the world in person. We will have to routinely account for it when travelling in the future and include the new cost into our travel plans.

Though my test returned negative, KLM cancelled my original flight from Toronto to Amsterdam days before I was scheduled to leave. I gave myself an hour to be upset and then found a new flight with Ethiopian Airlines that would still get me to Moshi, the closest city to Kilimanjaro, on time to start the trek. A malfunction in the Ethiopian Airlines website resulted in my credit card being charged for hundreds of dollars of baggage that I never used. After weeks of calling Ethiopian Airlines, I have not gotten this money back.

Part 3: The?Launch

“Luck is when preparation meets the opportunity.” — Josh Groban

I woke up at 5am on the morning I flew to Moshi. My taxi driver did not know the correct terminal for Ethiopian Airlines at Toronto’s Pearson Airport and subsequently dropped me and my bags off at the wrong terminal. I kicked my bags for what felt like hours to the Ethiopian Airlines check-in counter. After making it through security, I made an Instagram post to my friends and family where I thanked everyone for their encouragement and support. The flight took off, and it hit me that, after six months of preparation, the world decided I was allowed to go on my adventure. I started crying and tried to discretely wipe my tears with my mask.

It took thirteen hours to get from Toronto to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. Having come from a Canadian winter, I was sweating profusely in my jacket and long-sleeved clothing. After another two hours of waiting, I got on a second flight and flew another two hours to Moshi. Thanks to a pre-purchased visa, I flew through security and met my G-Adventures taxi driver, Darweshi, who would take me from the Moshi airport to my hotel, the Stella Maris Lodge.

I was thrilled at how fast I started to learn about Tanzania. Darweshi told me about how Tanzania is a peaceful nation. He explained that the country had been hit hard by the lack of tourism in the pandemic years. There are more than one hundred and fifty tribes in Tanzania, but tribal identity is not important when meeting others. Everyone lives in peace and respects all tribes, so tribal identity is irrelevant. Darweshi dropped me at the Stella Maris Lodge, a middle-class hotel in Moshi, and I thanked him. I allowed myself to sleep for a few hours but forced myself to wake up at local dinner time so I could eat and then go to sleep in my new time zone.

At dinner, I plucked up the courage to approach another traveller in the dining hall and ask if she was with G-Adventures. She confirmed, smiled, and invited me over to her dinner table. There I met my friend Jolanda. She had already been travelling in East Africa for some time. Jolanda told me about her time in Kenya and Ethiopia and asked me what I did for a living. I excused myself to go to sleep after a few hours of chatting. I was still unsure how many people were in our G-Adventures group and when we would all meet tomorrow.

At breakfast on Saturday, January 22nd, Jolanda introduced me to other travellers, Josie, Emily, and Jedd who were also a part of our G-Adventures group. Together we got in a G-Adventures approved van and travelled from our hotel to the Chemka Waterfall. We jumped in the water together, posed for silly pictures, and ate rice and fruit on the beach. Locals were kind and respectful. This was the first time I knew I was in the right place and the right time. Back at the hotel, we were told to meet in the conference room at 7:00 pm to meet the rest of the G-Adventures team of participants and discuss the trek in detail.

The conference room at the Stella Maris Hotel was bright and professional. It consisted of a large glass table accompanied by heavy chairs. A large painting of Kilimanjaro, detailed with the various routes, took up most of the room’s main wall. Our group’s ground CEO, a G-Adventures Chief Experience Officer, called Isaac walked into the room with a mask on. Then, other group participants slowly trickled into the room and took a seat. After were all seated, Isaac slowly and dramatically stood up and took his mask off. He explained that our group would become a bubble on the trek, and we would all eventually all share each other’s airborne germs. He explained that concerns about COVID-19 on the climb would take a backseat as more pressing concerns like altitude sickness and dehydration would become the priority. Before the meeting progressed, we were all asked to introduce ourselves. I struggle with a speech disorder and a formal introduction would be the perfect time for me to share this. After I said my name, I told everyone about my speech disfluency, and they were welcome to ask me to repeat myself if I experienced a vocal block or stumbled over a word. Everyone listened well, and I felt respected.

After everyone was introduced, Isaac and our mountain CEO James (Isaac would not be climbing with us) explained the details of the trek. I felt excited but overwhelmed. I took dutiful notes and seemed to be the only one doing so. This resulted in me looking studios to the other members so I was appointed to oversee collecting money for a portable toilet that would be taken up the mountain with us and the group’s tip money for the G-Fighters. The G-Fighters would consist of porters, cooks, technicians; a small production of more than thirty G-Adventures staff who would climb up the mountain with us. After the meeting, we had dinner together as a team for the first time. I sat across from Audrey, a British woman who seemed about the same age as me. She had a wry smile and was kind enough to laugh at my jokes. Everyone was wired and ready to climb, so we called it an early night, and everyone went to their rooms to rest and pack.

For more information about the Chema Waterfall, see this video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oxwe1xXJeM4

Part 4: The?Climb

“Confidence is faith in oneself. It can’t be given by another.” — Gene Rodenberry, Star Trek Next Generation

On the late morning of Sunday, January 23rd, our group of eleven participants from around the world set off in an air-conditioned van towards the Machame Gate. We had lunch at the gate before kicking off a five-hour hike. The stunning ecosystem was a lush and warm rainforest. I was not used to the humidity and sweated profusely through my clothes (always a charming attribute when trying to make a good impression on new people). The group soon discovered we were not as prepared as we thought.

We learned that we had packed too much stuff in our day packs. We learned how to discretely find a bush to ‘leave a message’ when you had to go to the bathroom. We shared snacks, water, and started to learn more about each other. I was so sweaty it looked like I had taken a shower by the time we got to the Machame huts. Bright orange tents had already been set up for us by the G-Fighters. I remember thinking that the first day was so physically difficult that I might not be able to complete the trek in its entirety. There would be no showers up the mountain, so I tried to have an ad hoc shower with wet wipes once I got in my tent. I struggled to hold myself up in the tent while being so sore, so I mostly just fell over. Day two of the trek consisted of a six-hour journey from the Machame camp to Shira camp. I was much more comfortable with a day of climbing and enjoyed this day much more. My mind and body felt ready for climbing instead of being shocked by it.

A few things became abundantly clear during this time. I had the least climbing experience out of everyone in the group. Several others had completed Machu Pichu or Everest Base Camp, and Kilimanjaro was just another hike on their list. I was the only group member who didn’t even hike on a routine basis, mostly because of weather and pandemic-related restrictions. My desire to climb Kilimanjaro was different than the others. I wanted to conquer my mind and body. I perceived Kilimanjaro as an ultra-marathon workout while others viewed it as a feat of nature that was meant to be explored. The group was incredibly well- travelled. You couldn’t name a country in the world without a member of the group sharing fond memories of their time there. We were open-minded and respectful; it touched my heart to see the diversity of thought that occurred in the group after the political division I had observed in Canada during the pandemic years. Thoughts and opinions were shared with deliberation and calm reasoning. The team differed in terms of relationship status, age, religion, and race, but I didn’t observe one half-baked thought or mindless verbal jab.

The climb was daunting enough that everyone needed to have some element of faith and everyone had put their faith in something different. Some people shared technical notes about their expensive gear that was sure to help them get up the mountain successfully. Some put their faith in their past climbing experience. If you had the wherewithal to deal with the altitude of Machu Picchu, you were surely going to be able to deal with Kilimanjaro. Others put their faith in science and medication; they started taking altitude medication the earliest. Personally, I put my faith in training and physical preparation. My training with Tim had given me faith that my body was up for the challenge, even if my nerves didn’t agree at the time.

Part 5: The?Altitude

“Fast and wrong is not of service to anyone.” — NBC, New Amsterdam

Day three of the trek involved going from Shira Camp at 3,800m to Lava Tower at 4,600m. Our hiking CEO James explained that altitude coping strategy had already been built in the Machame route up we were on. The route is designed to “climb high and camp low”. Climbing at a higher altitude than we camped would help our bodies adapt to a higher altitude and then give the body a break when sleeping. This day marked the beginning of my struggles with altitude sickness.

Altitude symptoms manifest in the body differently for everyone, which is why James expressed concern over the group taking altitude medication. I personally chose not to medicate at this time. I didn’t experiment with taking altitude medication pills on the first few days of the trek as I had no idea how my body would react to the medication. I had come too far to risk a knee-jerk decision that would throw my body and energy levels out of sync. Altitude symptoms for me were like flu symptoms. I felt sick to my stomach, had a persistent headache, and almost completely lost my appetite. This wasn’t ideal, as we were burning between 4,000–8,000 calories a day and needed to keep eating. I struggled to breathe when hiking at a fast pace. I would be breathing so loudly that the entire group would stop and look at me until James would ask if I was okay. I sheepishly said I was and tried to breathe slower when our pace picked up.

Everyone coped with the altitude sickness differently. You could see that some people had started to listen to music and some who started out as talkative became quiet. Many felt as though they needed their lungs for hiking, not talking. My coping was to talk to people even more than I had before. After two years of intermittent lockdowns, talking to others in person was not just enjoyable for me, but helped me to keep my mind off on how physically uncomfortable I was.

The group had built more trust and people were sharing more with me than they had before. Ryan and Sadie from Oslo, Norway told me about their new house and the struggles of co-parenting with an ex-spouse. Gisella told me about her childhood in Argentina and being a parent to adult children. Rick and Clara from Utah told me about how they met through a private message on Instagram. Despite being physically exhausted, I felt emotionally, socially, and spiritually fulfilled during these conversations. Our group conquered the notorious Barranco wall, which I really enjoyed. Climbing a rock wall felt like I was Spiderman or a child who got to have an awesome birthday party. Eventually, we were camping in the clouds, which was the most surreal experience of my life. I got into the routine of being up a few minutes before I had to be. I would make myself some instant coffee, focus on my breath, and look up at the stars. Sometimes someone else from the group would be up as early in the morning as I was. We would chat quietly and look up at the stars together.

Part 6: The?Summit

“It’s not dying that frightens us. It’s living without knowing we did our best.” — Netflix, Castlevania

To summit a mountain means to reach the highest elevation point you can. The term is generally used to refer to making it to the peak of a mountain. The summit night of Kilimanjaro is widely understood as being extremely difficult. The climber is at the highest elevation she’s been at, approximately 4,084 feet, with about 49% less oxygen than what she’s used to. Summiting Kilimanjaro typically begins at midnight and can take a passenger anywhere from between 6 and 12 hours. At the time of my summit, I did not understand why it had to occur at night. Some research after the trek provided me with a few different reasons.

● Being so close to the sun, a climber is likely to get overheated and dehydrated if she tried to start the summit during the day. Though she might be uncomfortable, it’s better that she spends that many hours in the cold as opposed to the heat.

● It would be too psychologically difficult for her to summit during the day because she has more visibility into high she still had to climb. Most hikers don’t know how long their summit night will take, so constantly seeing that you have a long way to go could be discouraging.

● If she starts at midnight, there’s a decent chance she’ll see the sunrise from the mountain peak!

The mood in our group was palpable. We were all nervous and scared. We collectively achieved maybe 2–3 hours of sleep during the evening before we summitted. Sooner rather than later, midnight approached and we were woken up to the summit. Our cold, fatigue, altitude sickness, and increased numbers of layers combined to slow our pace even further. I remember feeling dizzy. I thought it would pass, but it didn’t. For the first time in my life, I fell over. I wasn’t hurt, but I felt shocked and embarrassed. I had trained and prepared for so long, surely James was about to send me back to camp. I would never summit Kilimanjaro. I remember sitting down and telling James “I want to keep going, but I need to go slower”. James agreed and split the group into a faster and slower-paced subgroup. Later, when I was healthier, I was told that I tried to keep crawling towards the top after I fell. Bully for me.

This night was the worst of my life. The dizziness persisted for several hours. With every step I took, two G-Fighters had to be at the ready to catch me. I would not have made it up the mountain without the help of these men I did not know. 8 hours later, Jolanda and I, the only members of the slow group, reached Stella Point; the mountain’s second-highest peak. When I got to Stella, I collapsed into a ball on the cold ground for several minutes. I felt a hand softly pat my back. “Good job, darling, you did it,” said a British voice. “Thank you, kind stranger!” I called out in return without looking or standing up. We had made it.

Jolanda wanted to travel another hour in elevation to reach Uhuru Peak, the mountain’s highest point, but I didn’t want to join her. I had barely eaten or drank all night. I had already fallen once and didn’t want to push my luck. I was content with telling people for the rest of my life that I had summitted Kilimanjaro, even if I didn’t make it to Uhuru. My journey was complete. James agreed for Lemonge, one of the two G-Fighters to accompany me on the three-hour journey back down to camp. Lemonge and I talked in as much detail as we could given our language barrier. He asked me if I was married, and I said no. I asked about his children, and he showed me pictures of them on his phone. “Canada is a very nice country,” he said. We took breaks and sipped mango juice out of our respective juice boxes. When we made it back to camp, I thanked him for his help, and he told me I was welcome.

Part 7: The?Parting

“Don’t cry because it’s over; smile because it happened” — Dr. Seuss

The group met back at the camp. We didn’t have much time to discuss our individual summitting experiences because we had to quickly begin our day and a half descent down the mountain. Our knees protested as we stomped our way down from Barafu camp towards Mweka camp. It was on this leg of the trek I got to hear stories of everyone else’s summitting experiences. Most had already heard about mine (news of my fall, which I internally referred to as “Fall Gate”, had travelled fast). It turns out, the fast group summitted in a similar amount of time to the slow group, which made me feel a bit a better and less embarrassed. Others had struggled with the altitude as much I did; some needed specialized support to get down from the peak where I had needed help to get up. Everyone was excited for a culinary change when we returned to Moshi and a hot shower. I can’t remember a group of people more excited about showers.

I had overseen collecting tip money and was told with shockingly little notice that I would present the tip money to the entire G-Fighter team the next day. I was expected to represent our team of passengers in a tribalistic ceremony, share prepared remarks, and offer the money as a token of our gratitude. I spent the last night in my tent writing 5–10 sentences on my phone and rehearsing them quietly. I asked a CEO called Reagan if he could teach me how to say ‘thank you and all the best’ in Swahili, the local language. The ceremony began and the G-Fighter team and our team of passengers formed lines and stood across from each other. I stood up straight and walked to the center of both groups. I spoke slowly and clearly as I shared my remarks with both teams. After hearing me end the speech with the Swahili phrase, everyone cheered, and the team of G-Fighters accepted the money. I hoped I had shown as much honour and respect to the G-Fighters as they deserved. Members of our team of passengers congratulated me, and I offered a shy smile in return.

It dawned on me that the group would have to part ways soon. Some in the group were going on a Serengeti. Some would return home to their families and workplaces. Some had booked other travel in East Africa. I was the only one that would fly to Zanzibar as a part of my G-Adventures tour. I wondered what saying goodbye to the group would be like. This was the longest in-person time I had spent with a community of people since the beginning of the pandemic. I would miss them, and it would be hard for me, at least for a while, to not see them every day.

We made it back to Moshi, and everyone agreed to meet for dinner at the hotel on our last night together. Some people wore dresses. Some did their hair. Some showed up with a half-drunken beer bottle already in hand. We talked and ate and laughed for what felt like hours. People joked about the sunburns on their faces or the funny, misspelt WhatsApp messages they received from their mother back home. After dinner, we went to the bar on the third floor of the hotel. We recapped our favourite jokes from the mountain and asked the bartender to turn the volume of the music up. I asked every single person as they got up to leave if I could give them a hug goodbye. They all agreed, and the group parted ways. Later, I found Audrey on the second floor of the hotel. I shared a few words I had prepared in my head. I thanked her for being my best friend on the trek. I asked her if I could give her a hug, and she said yes. She took a few steps away, turned back and smiled, and said, “See you soon”.

To see my full speech to the G-Fighters see the last page of this piece.

Part 8: The?Island

“The world is a book, and those who do not travel only read a page.” — Saint Augustine

Zanzibar is an island in the Indian Ocean, about 45 km off the coast of East Africa. Before the development of other ports in Eastern Africa, Zanzibar was the trade focus of the region. The island was a base for traders travelling between Africa, the Middle East, and India. Travellers from these countries came to Zanzibar, conducted their commerce, and participated in the trade of slaves. Together the three cultures shaped the island’s history and traditions. The island was the first African region with colour television and was the birthplace of the late Freddie Mercury. The island is unique, diverse, and beautiful. To learn more about Zanzibar, check out https://www.zanzibar.com/history/

G-Adventures never told me what travelling to Zanzibar would like. I brought my bags down to the hotel lobby at the pre-defined time, and Isaac handed me a single piece of paper with my flight information and told me to get in a boxy white van that would take me to the airport. In the van, I meet Diana and Simon, a lovely couple from the UK who told me about how their recent retirement enabled them to travel around the world for a year. I met Lindsey, a vet from Kingston, Ontario who had already been to East Africa several times for volunteer work. There was also Penelope, a bubbly Irish woman who was belligerently drunk at the time (about 8:00 am). We made it to the Zanzibar airport together. There I met Michelle, Savannah, Dylan, and Victoria who had just completed a Serengeti with G-Adventures and would now be going to Zanzibar. We all got to the island and met our new CEO named Jay.

Jay told us that we would be going to Stone Town for a night before spending the rest of our time together at a resort on the beach. The subgroup that had just completed a Serengeti together, whom I called the “Under 35s” in my head, asked if I wanted to spend the evening with them in town, and I agreed. After charging my DSLR camera and packing a few bottles of water, we met in the hotel lobby and ventured out into town. We had drinks along the ocean where an unsolicited Instagram influencer unceremoniously joined our table. He asked one of the women in our group on a date and then tried to leave the table without paying his bill.

We stopped at shops in the market where we haggled down the prices of colourful garments. We bought deep-fried pizza served to us on paper plates and ate the food standing up. It was one of the most fun evenings I’ve ever had in my life. I was still very tired and sore from the climb, so I excused myself around 10 pm to retire to my room and pack for our trip to the beach the next morning. I had an unplanned breakfast the next morning with Lindsey, where we sipped coffee and discussed her previous travels in Africa. We shared stories about being miserable under the COVID restrictions in Ontario, where we were both from. We smiled and agreed that we would go for a run on the beach together before our time in Zanzibar was over.

I’ve not very good at the beach. I carry weight around my hips, which I’m self-conscious about and I sunburn easily. I don’t often go in the water as I’m concerned about who will watch my keys and wallet on the shore while I’m having fun in the water. However, even I enjoyed spending a few days at the Mermaid Cove Resort in Zanzibar. I spent most of my time with the Under 35s. I laid on the beach with my new friends, drank orange soda, and listened to Harry Potter on Audible. I went for a long swim with Savannah. She told me about growing up in Zimbabwe and her current role as a scientist in the UK. I told her about working in data analytics and my favourite running spots in Vancouver.

Before our second evening on the beach, Jay told us there would be live music at the hotel that night. The G-Adventures group was perplexed by this statement because we seemed to be the only people in the hotel. Would the artists be willing to play their music just for us? They were, and they did a fantastic job. My heart raced when they started to play “ Bailamos,” an obscure 1999 record by Enrique Iglesias. My parents played this song relentlessly when I was a kid, and I love it to this day. Hiding my surprise that the song was known in East Africa, I asked Savannah if she wanted to dance, and she agreed. She laughed as we danced and apologized for leading. I laughed in return and told her I didn’t mind. I hadn’t danced with anyone since the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic. It felt freeing and healing. I kicked off my shoes and made the other members of the group get up and dance with me.

The next morning, I went for a 4 km run on the beach with Simon and Lindsey. Simon easily outpaced me, and I tried to keep up with him the best I could. We talked about geopolitics and our thoughts on the future of the pandemic. He shared his thoughts on fatherhood, and I shared about my ambitions to serve in public administration one day. He showed me pictures of his sons, not that much younger than me, and the ridiculous hairstyles they pursued in the pandemic years. We discussed his future travel plans to Canada, and I offered him my email address, should he ever want to connect with me about the best way to travel from Calgary to Vancouver.

One morning I went for a long walk with Michelle, the only other Canadian in the Under 35s. She told me about her travels in East Africa, how she spent time in Ethiopia before starting her Kilimanjaro trek with G-Adventures. We talked about education, money, and relationships. We walked far out into the water and spoke with women who were fishing. They had no formal fishing gear, only a large bag that they dunked into the water. Between the three of them, they knew exactly how to maneuver the large burlap bag in the water at the right time to catch small fish. They let me take pictures of them. They asked for a bit of money, and I agreed. A small fee felt appropriate for disrupting people at work.

We travelled to a luxury beach and went snorkelling. This is where I saw the white sand and crystal blue water displayed in Zanzibar marketing brochures. I started swimming and it became apparent to me that my lungs still felt incredibly tight, like I was at the top of Kilimanjaro. After doubling back to the boat to grab a life jacket, I re-entered the water to see as much as I could. Victoria asked me if I was okay, and I stayed close to her throughout the entire swim. I wanted someone else to keep an eye on my stressed lungs. She was kind about this. Victoria would occasionally point at the most interesting fish she could find, and I would smile and enthusiastically nod in return underwater.

On our last night together, the entire group met for dinner on the beach. We firmly asked the owner of the bar/pizza shop where we ate if he would dig small holes in the sand and put candles in the beachy ground. We got our food very late, which gave people more time to drink. People discussed where their travels would take them next. Some would go to a village called Paje to kitesurf. Simon and Diana would go to South Africa for a month. I would head to the Zanzibar Airport to start the 30 hours of travel home. The next morning, I thanked both subgroups for their kindness and for allowing me a small place in their communities. They wished me well, told me to keep them up to date on my ambitions, and waved to me as my van drove away.

Part 9: The?Return

“People who have stamina are not made different from anyone else.” — Matt Haig, The Midnight Library

I was torn about going home to Toronto like I was torn to leave my original Kilimanjaro group. It felt like everyone else was going to stay in East Africa for longer, why couldn’t I? Surely, I had more vacation days to use, and I deserved more time in this COVID protocol-free oasis. I had no plans for what to do when I got home. There were no plans to meet friends in restaurants or for new travels to different places. This excursion had been my sole focus for half a year. I never took time to think about how I would feel and what I do when it was over.

It took a few days, but I did start to feel better. Friends called me on the phone and offered to Zoom on my schedule. They told me about how brilliant I was for completing the climb and that they admired me. My immediate family laughed at how tanned I was. Friends sent me pictures of the postcards I had sent them and commented on their favourite pictures on my trip on Instagram. Coming home to a blank calendar was a blessing because it gave me time to think about what I wanted to fill it with. I booked a half marathon for myself and started planning a small trip to Washington, DC to visit a friend from my previous travels. I tried to cut down on my messages and voice notes to friends still in East Africa. I wanted them to be present without worrying about returning my messages. I had my time in East Africa, and they deserved to live theirs to the fullest.

It’s part of the hero’s journey to return home. After overcoming their challenges, my novelistic heroes like Harry Potter and Frodo returned home, at least for some time. It’s our communities at home who raised us and gave us the tools to complete our adventure. Coming home and meeting our friends at the pub or coffee shop allows us to share our growth and knowledge with those who couldn’t make the same journey we did. Then, they can share our new knowledge with their loved ones and the positive effects of our travels can grow exponentially. Coming home allows our travels to make the world a more tolerant, learned, and connected place. It doesn’t mean we have to stay at home forever, but it might be the best place to rest until our next adventure.

Why did I want to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro? Why does anyone? Mostly because I wanted to prove to myself that I could. I wanted a purpose and challenge to help me make it through another six months of the pandemic. The training and preparation gave me joy, focus and purpose, for which I’m thankful. You can’t take all the credit, and you can’t take all the blame. I was lucky that all the COVID tests cleared and that other countries allowed me passage through their land. I was lucky for being connected to a group of people that shared my interests and values. The only credit I’ll give to myself is that I have a superpower. It's not strength or intelligence, but my willingness to try to do something I want to do. I’d like to believe that’s who the future truly belongs to; those who are willing to try.

Part 10: The Knowledge

“To try and fail is at least to learn.” — Gene Rodenberry, Star Trek Next Generation

The greatest passion of my life is not mountain climbing but learning. I’d feel as though this piece would be a missed opportunity if I didn’t share the biggest lessons I learned as a result of this journey. I believe the most valuable use of knowledge is to share and use it to help others.

The Value of Downtime

My team of passengers were persistently told throughout the climb that we had to rest. There was no way we would meet the challenges of the tomorrow’s climb if we did not rest on the present day. When resting, we were instructed to not think about the challenges of the climb tomorrow, as worrying about the future would take away from our ability to meet the needs of the current moment. I found this approach of intense mindfulness helpful. An adult’s responsibilities at work and home are never truly complete, there will always be more work to do. Time to rest, within reason, can support our efforts and initiatives. We all need to make time to rest, even when there is more ground on the mountain to cover tomorrow. The human need for downtime is a feature, not a bug.

Scheduling Unstructured Time

This experience, unlike most of my travels in the past, included a lot of unstructured time with no formal plans. Before arriving to East Africa, I had no plans on what do during free days of the trip; like the day before the climb started or the evening I had in Stone Town. This trip showed me the value of unstructured and unplanned time. Because I had no plans for the day before the climb, I was able to say yes and go to the Chemka Waterfall with my new group members. Creating time where we have no plans allows us to say yes to people and opportunities we could not have planned for. Unstructured time can allow for serendipity and connection that could we not have predicted, but could thoroughly enjoy.

Slowly Slowly

The mantra of Kilimanjaro is “Pole Pole” which means “Slowly Slowly”. When climbing Kili, “Pole Pole” is the response I got for 80% of the questions I asked my CEO. It turns out that going slower answered most of the questions and concerns I had on the mountain. When would we make it to camp or how do I deal with my headache? Going slower allowed our mind and body to re-align. It gave me an opportunity to re-assess a problem or allow a solution to present itself that I could have not have foreseen. Slowing down gives us the option to speed up once we’ve assessed the problem with a different lens or have more information to make a new decision. When in doubt, slow down. Go “Slowly Slowly”.

The text below is the speech I made the G-Adventures during the tipping ceremony on the mountain. I promised the G-Fighters to share the story of our time together with loved ones back home. Remind me to send them the link to this piece.

“Jambo! Hello and thank you for having us at the tipping ceremony. We have had an amazing week climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro. We realize that our dream became a reality because of your hard work and dedication. Your thoughtfulness and caring means the world to us. Please accept these tips as a token of our gratitude. We promise to share the stories of our time together with loved ones back one. To mah ah wah pan de sana. We love you and all the best!”