Upon setting foot in Tanzania on October 17th 2018, I knew I was set for things greater than I had ever previously experienced. Although Mount Kilimanjaro’s original meaning is widely debated, it is known to the native tribes as a god, translating to “that which is impossible”.

The Kiswahili version of the mountain is kilima kyaro. The most bewildering fact about Kilimanjaro as Africa’s highest mountain, and the world’s tallest free-standing mountain at 19,341 feet (5,895 meters) is that it is not actually a mountain. Sources have it that Kilimanjaro is a giant stratovolcano that began forming about a million years ago and is composed of many layers of hardened volcanic ash, lava, pumice and tephra. This two-faced nature of Kili had shown its true colours during my journey. On my ascent towards the top I was totally immersed in what, in experience, felt like a wild, other-worldly planet. I’d never seen such a vast series of terrains come together in such a way that I felt totally vulnerable yet in absolute admiration. Something that could take life could also give so much of it to an entire population. In such vulnerability, I also felt equally inspired to take this giant on. Not only in spirit of our darling Raquel, but in spirit of what it means to be human, something I personally believe Raquel advocated for in her unconditionally loving ways.

Kili is both a place of serenity and diverse scenery, where one can really dive into the riches of life away from the pressures of man-made society and a mysterious realm heaving intense conditions that can turn against any climber at any given moment, threatening their safety. While many have reached its tops, climbing Kili in the rainy season is a different story altogether. I learned that most people climbing Kilimanjaro totally underestimate it purely because of its high praise and worldwide reputation as a doable, and enjoyable climb. This kind of naivety is what results in certain defeat. Although in the company of a fantastic team of eleven hard-working porters and one guide I now call a dear friend and integral part of our project (Methley Swai) with Just Kilimanjaro, day by day, I felt beaten and worn. So much so that I fell ill from exhaustion on day three at the Barranco Camp out of the blue. I had acclimatized really well having already reached the Lava Tower Camp at 4,600m high but suffered as the weather turned aggressively, with the barometric pressure changes taking their toll on me. None of the crew understood what was going on with me as I had no previous issues, but ultimately the mountain spoke.  

I went through the motions, the negative spirals in the back of my mind. Any ounce of composure I had was challenged consistently, any ego diminished. I was in pain and I wasn’t sure I was going to finish what I started for Raquel and R19, something I knew we’d worked so hard to create. By the grace of all that is good, a day passed and I pushed on to the Karanga Camp and found some strength. But it wasn’t over yet. The storms to come from there were ferocious. The winds and sprays were so harsh, fifteen teams were sent down to the bottom, stripped of their opportunity to summit. I, too suffered the same fate on this occasion. Although I felt ready to go, Methley suggested we turn back as the conditions were severe for days to come and I was running severely low on energy. I knew I could do it all the same, very willing to go through the aches and pains of pushing on. I wanted to summit although in such conditions it would have required 30 hours of struggle up and down the mountain. I had to turn back.

From there, my 20km descent under the intense tropical rain was somewhat of a spiritual cleansing. At first, I felt disappointment, frustration and absolutely difficult to accept defeat. But soon enough I realized it was not my time. A hunger and clarity in me was born that I now take with me hereon. I knew some of Raquel’s last words emphasized never giving up. I knew she would not have wanted me to be put in danger, never mind a team of men who were likely not going to be safe if I demanded we carry on. I saw it as an opportunity, to come back stronger, where the spirit of resilience that existed in Raquel during her struggles could be nurtured in myself and in all of us. I did everything I could this time, and I accepted the circumstances quickly after reflecting. I have found greater hunger as I now know what it is I am facing and I leave this African adventure with a smile on my face.

The Tanzanian people say Kilimanjaro is greater than all of us. I say the human spirit is greater than anything else, and there is certainly no mountain high enough to intercept a rhythm as great as ours in the name of love. Perhaps I return to a certain summit at a faster pace and a lot more to show for my time and experience from my first attempt into the unknown. From this journey, I take with me a stronger heart, a greater wisdom and a humbler approach to each day. There could be no greater gift than that in light of honoring a vibrant and accomplished human being. And it’ll only mean that much more when we reach the top! I see it as inspiration for more climbs. More drive. More love.

“Whatsoever is delighted in solitude is either a wild beast or a god.”

As a free-standing mountain, I cannot help but think there is a sense of godliness in Kilimanjaro. In fact, I can confirm it. It needs no man and holds its own. It perhaps represents the strength and resilience required to climb it, and only accepts those who align with its grandeur on the day.

A message to Kilimanjaro:

You welcomed me, you took me out and you sent me down. I’ll come back a stronger man and I will be back. (OCT 2018)

Joshua A. P. Griffith