Large plumes of grey smoke trailed over the mountains as if they were low-hanging clouds. After a brief consultation with the rangers, it was decided for us that it is not safe to leave and camp on the mountain today. Tomorrow we may leave. Tonight we sleep in a fine banda, where there is delicious cooking for us and we drink tea by the fireplace before crawling under the covers early.
The next morning, we got up early. After a hearty breakfast, we set off. We hiked 14 kilometres through extraordinary landscapes. From yellow grasslands to blackened fields... slowly uphill until we arrived in a kind of out-of-earth environment. The landscape gets more and more dramatic, the rocks higher and higher and the vegetation less and less.
As we plod up, our porters (with our luggage and tents and cooking gear on their backs) sprint past us. Arriving at Mintos Tarn (4300m), they pitch the tent, make tea and we get another load of snacks and food.
This surprisingly, after the long hike and climb, doesn't really go down our throats. An obvious consequence of altitude sickness. Although we feel fine (apart from a slight headache), it is cold and everything seems to take a lot of energy. After an early dinner, we crawl into the tent and then it starts to get really cold. Sleeping with all clothes and hiking gear on is the best solution....
Around 02:30 the alarm goes off again. Hat on, lights on our heads, thermal underwear on, shirts, fleece jumpers, thick coat... by now it's -5 outside. Everything is freezing cold and our water bottles are frozen, but we set off in good spirits. The first two hours up are tough, but go fine. And then suddenly comes the inevitable feeling; why am I doing this? Every step gets heavier and there seems to be no end in sight. The cold is coming in really hard now and you feel like you are shuffling up just centimetres per step. Around 6 o'clock, we suddenly see other climbers appear out of the darkness: small headlamps appear from different directions. Everyone is continuing towards the summit!
Fellow climbers encourage and help each other up. I see a flag (the summit??) but still really think it is a joke, and that altitude sickness has officially driven me crazy. The last stretch is steep and incredibly tough. But then suddenly we are there. The sun rises, in this unforgettable place.
We both have to cry. From exhaustion; from emotion. Totally broken, heartbroken, yet also grateful that we get to experience this special moment. We take a photo with the famous sign; 4,985-metre Lenana Summit: a once in a lifetime experience! As we stare silently at the rising sun over the horizon, we are helped out of our dream by Kenneth, our guide. It's time to descend again.
It is quite a tough trek back to Mintos. The loose gravel on the steep slope (read: weak legs) make it hard to keep grip. So we skid from rock to rock until the landscape finally flattens out again.
At Mintos, we are congratulated by the team and treated to a delicious well-deserved breakfast. But we don't have much time to relax. At 11 o'clock sharp, we are back in our shoes with ‘fresh’ courage to walk the last stretch back to the bandas at the gate. I won't lie: it was tough. Really tough. But the welcome we got there from the team and a few fellow hikers made the fatigue disappear like clouds before the sun.
