The Long Journey Up and the Long Journey Home… Kenya Week 35: May 30- June 5

There’s something magical about watching the morning sun tiptoe its way over the horizon from the top of a 15,000 foot mountain. It had taken us three days of grueling climbing to reach the summit of Mt. Kenya. Despite the fact that Van and I started the climb in less than perfect health and despite the fact that there’s pretty much ZERO oxygen over 14,000 feet above sea level, and despite the fact that freezing winds nearly knocked my hiking boots right off, I’ve never felt more alive standing on top of the second tallest mountain in Africa at sunrise.

In a powerful way, climbing Mt. Kenya is a perfect metaphor for my eight months in this crazy country. I’d heard climbing the second tallest mountain in Africa was an experience of a lifetime. Something not to be missed. A challenge worth the struggle. An adventure few could claim. So I read everything there was to read. I made sure I had all the right equipment and supplies. I found a guide to show the way, a porter to carry the heavy stuff, and a much more experienced mountain climbing friend to accompany me.

Coming to Africa was nearly identical. An experience of a lifetime. A world full of challenges waiting to be discovered. An adventure. Something not to be missed. So I read everything I could about Kenyan culture, politics, and health care. I found a great NGO to set everything up. I found sponsors, friends, and donors to make it possible. And I had a few other Americans to go with to help along the way.

But just like coming to Kenya, I started climbing Mt. Kenya not really having any idea what I was getting into. Saturday afternoon and Sunday morning before we started the climb, the mountain was covered in clouds. So when Joseph our guide pointed in the general direction of the mountain, I could only imagine what exactly the monster I was hoping to conquer really looked like. Just like any movie or book or map of Africa can try to point out what exactly Africa is all about, I only had a cloudy, vague idea of what that really meant.

Ready for the adventure despite the lingering cough and looming clouds, we started hiking. By Tuesday at sunrise, we reached Point Lenana- exhausted, freezing, and wheezing. Suddenly the hours of hiking, the sore legs, the cold nights were totally worth it. We’d signed up to climb a mountain. This is what we were looking for. This is what we got. And so much more.

As I looked out over what seemed like all of East Africa from my heavenly view point, I realized that I had done much more than climb a mountain. I had done much more than survived a four day hike. I had survived eight months in Africa. I had built wonderful relationships that gave me new view points. I’d overcome challenges that lifted me to new heights. I’d seen things few others in my world back home had ever seen. And just when I thought I couldn’t go another step, I did. And another. And another. And before I knew it, I’d reached the summit.

While I can claim that I conquered Mount Kenya, I know that in no way can I claim that I conquered Kenya. But I conquered myself in Kenya. I proved to myself that I could take another step. That I could overcome the lack of oxygen, the absence of creature comforts, the familiarity of the known.

As we hiked back to basecamp Wednesday morning, I constantly turned around to look back at the clear blue sky and enormous mountain we had just climbed. “You mean to tell me I just came from THERE?” “I walked all that way?”

The saying is true- ignorance really is bliss. Because honestly, had I seen the mountain Sunday morning, I don’t know if I would have made it all the way to the top. Looking back at the mass of rock I had just ascended and descended, I wondered why I ever thought it was a good idea to climb that mountain and how the heck I managed to make it to the top.

And maybe that’s the greatest metaphor. Had I really known what the heck I was getting myself into when I signed up to come to Kenya, I don’t know if I could have made it. Looking back now, I am amazed at where I started and where I reached. “I really came all that way?”

So just like climbing Mt. Kenya and just like my eight months in Kenya, I started and ended in the exact same place. The base of the mountain. And the airport. But the places I ventured between here and there defy explanation. Incredibly difficult. Surprisingly painful. But worth every moment.

And just like climbing Mt. Kenya and just like my eight months in Kenya, I can’t wait to do it again. Not right away. I need some time to recover. But someday I’ll be back. Maybe not in the exact same place or with the exact same route. But I’ll climb another mountain. And I’ll come back to Africa. It’s too good to miss out.