The Climb Up Mount Kenya - A Lesson in (Not) Planning

I remember sitting in the old camp, with layers of clothing on, ravenous and grateful for our bowl of beans and noodles.

I gained new insight about my husband on the day we got married. Having only known each other four months when we got engaged and then marrying four months later, I knew that our journey in marriage would reveal more as time passed.

One thing I was sure on was his love of travel. Derek had been travelling all his life. In his 20s he had the foresight to think far into the future and began to set up a life for himself that ensured travel, flexibility and freedom.

On our wedding day I learned specific details about his travelling adventures such as the time he jumped on a plane to Australia with no planned place to stay, no itinerary and used hitch hiking as his primary means of transportation. He obviously thought very little to all the “bad” that could happen to him. (I always tell him that even though he doesn’t believe in guardian angels, he most definitely has them).

Where I learned Derek and I were very different was in our organizational and planning skills. My travel requirements were knowing where we were going, where we would stay, and how long we would be there. I was the person that planned the trips for my friends and I. It was my “thing”.

In consideration of his new wife I felt certain that he would alter his disorganized approach to travel in ways that would accommodate my need for a plan. As we decided on our honeymoon and began to talk about it I quickly realized that I would either have to really fight for “my way” or let go.

My approach to travel very much represents the way I am in my life. In fact, I think if you were to consider the way you like to travel, it would reveal key personality traits that define large parts of who you are. I like to plot my course. I like to have some control and know where I’m going. I like to ponder and think about things before I take a step. Not having a plan or just “going for something” without thought was incomprehensible for me. Frankly, it stressed me out!

You can imagine my reaction when we decided to go to Africa for our honeymoon – without any plans. The only firm detail we had was to fly to Nairobi and stay at a downtown hotel for the night. Everything else was completely up in the air.

There were no baby steps to this learning. It was a crash course.

After our first night in Nairobi we decided we would plan for a safari. I was so excited! In my world, I would go to the nearest travel agent or safari company and have them recommend a number of options. Then I would take time to ponder. For Derek, it meant going outside our hotel to talk to some of the taxi drivers and asking them what they thought. I was mortified.

With no time (or stress) to spare the next day we began a seven-day trek to Maasai Mara National Park, Lake Nakuru, and Hell’s Gate. There’s nothing that can prepare you for the experience of seeing animals in their natural habitat. Maasai Mara is Savannah wilderness in southwestern Kenya. We had a fantastic tour guide who led our adventure through grassy plains to see lions, cheetahs, elephants, zebras, buffalos, and giraffes. At Lake Nakuru we were met with hundreds and hundreds of beautiful pink flamingos. At Hell’s gate, we rented bikes and explored the park at a leisurely pace, standing with giraffes on the roads’ edges. It was an adventure of a lifetime.

At this point, I patted myself on the back for my ability to go with the flow. I felt certain that everything after this would be easier. If I can wander down Nairobi streets, and follow some random taxi guy to a hidden business office in an old building to plan a safari tour, then surely I could handle anything else on our unplanned honeymoon.

But then Mount Kenya happened.

On our first date, Derek and I had brunch followed by a three-hour walk in a park in the middle of the city. On our second date we went on a long hike, this time on the Niagara escarpment where he lived. Hiking became an important part of our relationship. It’s when we talked, hashed out conflicts, and shared our dreams. There wasn’t a weekend where we weren’t exploring a hiking trail. When we weren’t hiking, we were camping or sitting in front of a bonfire in our own backyard.

Given our love of hiking we thought Mount Kenya would be an amazing opportunity. Not only to see the beauty of it, but to also climb the highest mountain in Kenya. Naturally, since we were already planning a safari, Derek also asked the taxi guys about Mount Kenya. I was grateful to him for thinking a week ahead! (Some eye rolling here.)

I remember early in our dating Derek telling me about his hike of the West Coast Trail. He went with a number of friends, some of whom had “trained” for the adventure by going on numerous practice hikes and weighing their back packs down with rocks.

There was no preparation for our Mount Kenya trek. Actually, the most I had hiked up to this point was probably five kilometers. Not 50 km.

Nothing could really prepare me for both the physical and mental challenges that this mountain forced on me.

The plan was to:

Drive from Nairobi to Nanyuki Town (about four hours of driving).
Stay overnight in the town and leave early the next morning for the Sirimon Gate (2,650 Metres) of the Mount Kenya National Park (one hour of driving).
Trek three to four hours from the gate to Old Moses Camp (3300 m). Stay overnight.
Leave early for Shiptons Camp (4,200 metres). Six to seven hours to Shiptons Camp. Stay overnight.
Leave Shiptons Camp in the wee hours for Point Lenana (16,355 feet/ 4,985 meters), the third highest peak at Mount Kenya. Three to four hours from Shiptons to the top.
Watch sunrise.

Thinking back to that time there are significant moments that will always remain clear in my mind.

When Derek and I finished the first major part of the trek to Old Moses, I remember sitting in the old camp with layers of clothing on, ravenous and grateful for our bowl of beans and noodles (provided by our guides). I can say I have never felt more grateful for beans. It was cold, foggy and rainy. As Derek napped and I sat there eating my noodle dish and reading my book, I wondered how I would spend double the amount of time hiking the next day.

The weather continued to promise rain and clouds. The trek to Shiptons Camp is such a blur to me. Being in my head, walking seven hours in the cold rain. By the time we got to Shiptons Camp I had a headache like nothing I had experienced before. My body wasn’t liking the acclimatization process. I was so DONE. My body was DONE walking. My mind was DONE thinking.

Up to this point Derek and I were the only people hiking this part of the mountain with our guides. We were told to go to bed early that night with an ungodly wake-up call the next morning. At 3:00am we would begin our trek to the top of Point Lenana – just in time for sunrise.

At both camps we slept in a room full of empty bunk beds. It was October and considered the rainy season so less people traversed the mountain. It was freezing cold that night at Shiptons. The temperature was probably about five degrees. I had never felt so cold and damp! I lay in the bunk across from Derek with three layers on including my hat. I asked him to take a picture of me and told him that I thought this was the furthest I would go. I wanted a picture to remember the moment. My head was still pounding and I couldn’t imagine getting up six hours later for another three hours of hiking, never mind in the middle of the night and in snow.

At the same time, I struggled with my decision. There was a significant feeling that I was missing out. I felt like if I did not make this final trek to the top I would regret it. Just as we started to fall asleep I jumped up with a start. “Derek!” “What?” he grumbled. “I change my mind. Don’t leave without me.” He whispered “Ok” and fell into a deep sleep. I closed my eyes and felt immediate relief, which told me I had made the right decision.

It’s a strange feeling to wake up in a mountain camp at 3:00am and then leave to go for a hike in the dark. Surprisingly I was feeling better but Derek was dizzy and not feeling well at all. Despite that he pushed through and, with our guides, we began our journey to Point Lenana. From rain to ice to snow, we trekked for three hours. I remember points of that trek where I was literally holding on to the side of the mountain. Each step I took tested me both physically and mentally. I hoped that Derek’s guardian angels were in full force, for the both of us.

Finally, about three hours later, we arrived at the top.

We sat there on the snow peaked edge, looking at the vastness of the mountains around us. We were above the clouds and watched as the sun tried to break free over the horizon.

Now that we had made it – What next?

Well, we did what any person who was soaking wet, tired of sleeping in cold huts, and eating beans and noodles for two nights would do!

We walked a straight 13 hours back to the town of Nanyuki. Full out, determined, soaking wet, and trudging through bogs, forest, and meadows. It rained the whole time. We were soaked to the bone. I distinctly remember hearing the “squish” of my hiking boots. We were so tired Derek and I barely talked. Once in a while I would ask the guide how much longer he thought it would be. And each time I was thoroughly disappointed.

The only thing that kept my mind focused and my body going was the rhythmic movement of my hiking poles, the melody I created in my head, and the promise of a warm beach.

And a warm shower. Divine.

We ended off our honeymoon by visiting Zanzibar and Diani Beach where it was glorious to read, walk white sands, search for sea shells and relax. It was also nice for me to sit in my comfort zone after being outside it for a number of weeks.

Looking back I’m happy I did our honeymoon “Derek-style”. I can say that after 6.5 years of being married, that trip was only a stepping stone to many other travel adventures with Derek. Like the time we took our pop-up trailer and 10-month old son for a month long camping trip from one end of North America to the other.

Being with someone who is not afraid, who takes (calculated) risks, and focuses not on the “how” but the “when” has made me see what’s possible.

And Mount Kenya. Well, that mountain tantalized me with fear of missing out (aka: FOMO). If I hadn’t climbed to the top I would have always thought back to that trek with disappointment. It also taught me to trust in my gut. After deciding I would go to the top of the mountain the next morning, I feel asleep happy and content, none the wiser for the 16 hours of hiking I would do the next day.

Unfolding Tip:

Find someone who will respectfully push you outside your comfort zone.

The Climb Up Mount Kenya – A Lesson in (Not) Planning