My heavy bag held me down from being flown away. Breathing in made my eyes water, my nose stung like hell. My heart was racing and pounding too loudly even to hear myself. I was breathing so loudly to take in as much oxygen as I could. The air was crispy and cold yet I was already having sunburns.
My face was too soft from the wind 1 second in. All the sweat had been winded away. I wore my mask to control the amount of air entering. I sat behind a rock and slept. If I died there from altitude sickness, It would have been a peaceful and happy and honored death. Waking up, I found a stranger beside me sleeping with the rest of the guys gone.
“What about the 8 year old girl?” my curiosity ruled. “She has gone down.” His eyes were red. He looks disorientated and cold but still struggled to squeeze himself on the leeward side of the rocks; however, physics had no respect for his comfortable sleep on rocks. “I think we should go down too. It’s getting colder.” He advised. Then we got lost.
Let’s start from the beginning…
“Na hiyo cloud iko chini” , I noted as we were approaching the Aberdares, to mean the cloud was too low. Everybody laughed. You know those moments, you feel like you were deaf for a minute and the joke passed you? Turns out, I was the joke. “Honey, It’s the hill that is too high.”
Two hours later, our 4-hour drive from Nairobi was over. From the chat I heard from my fellow hikers on previous crazy experiences in other hikes, my mind had shut down. “I am satisfied with road trip, we can now go back,” I announced.
Apparently there are over 200 bodies along the Mt. Everest’s trail that are still looking fresh due to the cold. These are hikers who died from lack of oxygen and altitude sickness. A guide hiking Mt. Kenya got it even after preparation. I had been warned that the difficulty level of thus was difficult. I hadn’t even done a moderate hike yet, just beginner hikes. Apparently, when you get altitude sickness, you get a headache, vomit, diarrhoea and feel sleepy — which if you do sleep, you don’t wake up. Looks like these guys after all didn’t die a painful death, I thought.
My fat unfit-self had disappeared for two weeks only to re-appear for the Rurimeria Hike challenge. This is the third highest hill of the Aberdare ranges in all-year long Chilly Nyandarua County. It has four hills and the fourth summit is over 3850m above sea level.
Fact. Going up Mt. Longonot is not the same us going up Rurimeria. Longonot starts at the sea bed. Rurimeria starts at 2000m and above. This is even worse than Elephant Hill, I hear. The elevation gain is so fast at the same time where you are going is not covered so more discouraging at Rurimeria hike when compared to Elephant Hill.
After the introductions and the warm-up, we left for the starting point, \half a km away. Since I am a Subaru on flat ground, the road ahead looked so easy and I soon started engaging in a chat. 2 minutes in, I was trying to catch my breath.
Soon, my chat-mate was far ahead. “Sarah give me time”, my body lied. I couldn’t figure why I was lagging behind. My legs, my body, my soul was perishing. At the last 100m to the start point, I stood and bit on the last carrot piece looking at the guys waiting for me to start together. I signaled them to continue without.
My plan was, “I will get to a place that has two roads and head back to avoid getting lost.” I will do it at my pace. I was not going to get pressured into doing what others are doing. Everybody’s path is different in life. We are all different , came my imaginary motivational speaker.
“Umechoka na ndio tumeanza?” To mean “You are tired yet we just started. Where we are headed is even tougher.” At that moment, I missed Caleb. He was patient. Had positive words. The guide tried to save the situation after that stupid comment from a fellow hiker, but I wanted too annoyed to even think. It’s even worse if you don’t know how to keep things to yourself. It’s the worst if you have no energy left to even speak out.
I soon forgave him and with the help of the guide who waited for me and kept pushing me sometimes literally up that steep unending hill, I got to the first summit. You can’t get what I am about to say if you haven’t trekked or hikes in Nature before. Just skip. You might think I am nuts. The last thing I want is to be labeled crazy.
I was high. High on something. High on adrenaline. High on happiness . High on satisfaction. High on beautiful scenery. Take me there now and I would do it over and over and over and over again. I might be slow but I will do it. I will do it to get that feeling again. Forget sexual satisfaction. Getting to Rurimeria’s first summit is the new high. I have never ever been happy like that in my life. Never! Ever! I want my heart to race again that fast. I want to sleep on rocks again. I want to sit there and absorb my surroundings. I want my face to be that soft again. Imagine hiking and your calves don’t hurt even for a second.
Going down the hills is the tough side of hiking so we struck a conversation. By the end of the hike, where I had previously given up, we held hands. We were ‘in-love’.
We ‘fell in love’ at that point where we got lost. The 8-year old was worried and trauma of getting lost in Elephant Hill was affecting her. She had ideas of what we should do. Instead of the adults worrying and giving solutions, we did the opposite. Sat down and laughed at ourselves. They were strangers. They weren’t part of Hikers Afrique. We connected in ways I can’t explain. We told stories until the first group passed us. We didn’t warn them. They disappeared into the ‘wrong’ trail. We didn’t say we were lost and me talking about this alienates from that group. I am officially disowned. The thing is, one of us who had a previous knee injury saw how steep a certain place was going down and felt that it was the wrong way. It wasn’t. We were not lost but not wasted time. My head ached from laughter more than it did from the altitude change effect.
Even calling someone and telling them you are lost is a difficult conversation leave alone them being off when you called them. Network. There were short windows of Network which didn’t allow much conversation. “ We are at the place where… Blank… No landmark. Just shrubs with no name.”
“We are at the place where you left my bag. I told one local guide.” “Have you seen the pine tree?” Another asked. WTF is a pine tree? We had to climb back to where we all agreed was familiar and hoped the guys who went to the other hills would come back the same route.
“I am at the place where there are bright flat green plants with big yellow flowers growing on the grey rocks.” I pronoun was forced because no one could accept that they are lost. We had a plan. A plan to go back down fast, hurt our knees and go to sleep in the bus and van as we wait for the rest. We laughed at our plan. We laughed at the girl who followed a cow. On the bright side, I followed the only tip I was given that morning if I get lost. We were not lost. The first guy who checked both routes was just scared to go so far down only to realise its a dead and have to come back.
Sit down and think. Clear your mind. Clear your fears. Take a sip. Munch on snacks. Wonder in your thoughts about other things. When you come back, you will know your way back.
I need a torch. Darkness happens. Network can’t be fully relied on. I need a waterproof bag. I need a light foldable sleeping bag. Looks like I am back to the Plan B attitude during my first trek 3 months ago. I need technology that allows communication without Network.
