Mount Kilimanjaro – the ‘roof of Africa’ – became my next goal after my trek to Langtang in Nepal in 2024 left me hooked and eager for a bigger challenge.
That first adventure in Nepal had come with plenty of nervousness due to altitude concerns, doubts about my fitness, and anxiety about roughing it out in basic mountain lodges. But the Himalayas worked their magic. I met wonderful people, made friendships that have lasted well beyond the trek, and felt something I hadn’t in a while: stillness.
I had joined a trekking group based in Madras called Get Up and Go, run by Arjan Kripal Singh. His passion for the outdoors and his uncanny ability to pull together eclectic groups of people made the experience even more special. And like they say, once the mountains call, you keep going back.
So, when the itch returned, but this time for something bigger, and I found out that a few Langtang trek mates—Vidya, Malvika, Swati, and Akshobhya, were in, I said “yes” without overthinking. I then began a four-month training program that, for once, didn’t feel like a chore. I was even running up Budapest Castle on our winter holiday.
My wife Jayshree was tempted to join, but wisely skipped Kilimanjaro as her first trek. We’ve promised to do one together soon. Then came a surprise, my longtime friend Savitha, from Sydney, called and said, “I’m considering Kili.” She’s a seasoned trekker. Once she signed up, I was excited for the 29-hour journey. Flight times fly by when you’ve got a close pal to laugh with.
We were a group of ten – six spirited women from Chennai, two of us from Sydney, and a German father–son-in-law duo. We took the 8-day Lemosho route, great for acclimatisation.
We began in the lush rainforest at 2,100m, where we were greeted by colobus and blue monkeys hopping around like safari hosts. The early days were relatively easy, where we were eased into a routine that later became second nature.
Trek. Eat. Laugh. Rest. Repeat.
It was almost like military camp – but with 4pm popcorn, hot ginger tea, and updates from our guides.
Our day started at 5:00am with a knock on the tent and a cup of hot water to freshen up (read: splash on your face). We were eating breakfast by 5:40 am and climbing by 6:20 am. The terrain kept changing from forests, moorlands to alpine deserts and so did the altitude. With no electricity or showers, wet wipes became our best friends. Our tents became our homes, and in my solitude, I found clarity. Mountains clear your head.
Day four, from Lava Tower (4,600m) to Barranco Camp, was our rain-soaked challenge. Slogging through muddy paths, drenched socks, wet backpacks – it wasn’t pretty. That night, drying our gear in the cold and damp air became a bonding ritual.
My daily mission? Chasing our guide, Bongo. Not for trekking tips, but because he had a knack for finding rocks where you could get a phone signal, so I could send an “I am okay” message to Jayshree. Bongo came my unofficial mobile tower.
Next big moment was the Barranco Wall. It was dramatic, steep, and a little nerve-wracking. They call it the “Death Wall” (not helpful), but it’s a thrilling 250m scramble. At one point, we squeezed past the “Kissing Rock,” a narrow ledge where you hug the rock face and shuffle across. The view from the top? Worth the adrenaline.
Then came “summit night.”
After lunch, our guide, Mr Afrikan, gave us a very honest (read: scary) briefing. Cold winds, slow climbs, mental and physical fatigue. The mess tent went quiet. I lay in my tent, wondering, ‘Should I even try this?’ But I had come this far. I simply had to!
Dinner was at 5pm, followed by a quick nap. At 9pm we were up, layered and sipping tea. At 10:30pm we stepped out into the -12°C wind and darkness, my headlamps flickering. I had to rely on the moonlight.
We climbed in silence, step by slow step. Pole pole, Swahili for “slowly, slowly.” At 4:30am, still climbing, freezing, sleepy, panicked, I wondered again if I had it in me. As the sun rose, casting its first light across the African savannah, I was on my way down, only reaching 5,450 meters. All but two of us made it to Uhuru Peak. Some tears, some disappointment, and many hugs. I realised that when things get tough, a quiet strength comes from knowing your family is cheering you on from afar.
Another five hours of slippery descent on rain washed path. We got one last aerial look at the mighty Kilimanjaro and then it was time to say goodbye. The real test is mental. You walk for hours, live in the elements, sleep in tents, and constantly adapt. But in that simplicity, there’s clarity.
At Moshi, the crew of 35, including our incredible porters, guides and cooks, threw us a celebration full of African song and dance. Pure joy, pure heart. The hot shower after 8 days bore the same relief as that scene in Lagaan, where rain finally started pouring down on arid land.
These treks require more than just physical endurance. They deepen friendships. Eight days of shared fatigue, fear, and laughter builds fast bonds, whether you’ve known someone for years or just met.
If you think trekking is tough, try keeping up with a group of determined women like my friend Savitha — it’s a masterclass in grit, strength, and good humour.
As a business owner, I’m used to a fast-paced, structured world. Out here, in the wild, you surrender control. After each trek, I return lighter, humbler, inspired and ready to do things differently. Somehow, I grow.
Mount Kilimanjaro was brutal. A reality check. Transformative. Would I be back on another trek again?
In a heartbeat.
Hakuna matata, as the guides say. No worries, just climb.
READ MORE: Group Tours : Wander together – Indian Link
