I wake in the comfort of my hotel room at the Parkview Inn, stretching my body under the covers as I begin to thank the Universe for another day full of endless possibilities.

Today is THE day that we will begin our journey from Moshi to the Londorossi Gate where we will have our duffel bags weighed, share a boxed lunch, meet our entire crew, and then continue on to the Lemosho Gate to strap on our day packs, open our trekking poles, and put one foot in front of the other as we officially begin our ascent to the summit of Mount Kilimanjaro.

Before leaving the comfort of our hotel, our extra bags are checked for storage and our valuables, including passports and money, are stowed away in the hotel safe. Something about this process feels like a placeholder in time to me and marks the first “before” and “after” point in my mind. Additionally, our duffels are weighed before departure to ensure that if we are over the maximum of 33 pounds per duffel, we have an opportunity to remove items and leave them behind. We are all under and cleared to depart.

The two hour ride to the Londorossi Gate brings us though several towns and villages lined with people of all ages, women in brightly colored attire, livestock, shops, beautiful landscapes, and so much for the eye to see. The smell of ash and smoke fill the air along the way and I long for fresh air once again.

As we get closer and continue to gain elevation, I notice my ears popping fir the first time, something I won’t notice again until, interestingly enough, after our final descent and the breeze coming in through the bus windows changes from warm to cool. I can feel the surroundings changing and I can sense we are near the start.

The air smells fresher and clean again, making it easier to breathe deep.

As we turn right to make our final approach to the Gate through the forest, the contrast of the red clay-like dirt roads against the extreme vibrant green of the thick forests is absolutely breathtaking. It’s like nothing I have seen thus far and a sight I will never forget.

We are stopped by officials less than a half mile down the road and later learn that the forest we are entering is government owned. Our guides had previously obtained the appropriate passes and paid the necessary fees and were now presenting our documentation to the officials. Within mi items, our bus was waved through and allowed to pass.

The red clay-like dirt roads are bumpy and extremely narrow, wide enough only for one vehicle at a time. As we wind along, there are several times I grab my day pack to stop it from bouncing off the seat and falling to the ground. Every so often as we turn a blind corner, a speeding motorbike appears as if it will collide with us head on, but the drivers quickly swerve and avoid the near crash every time. At times, I feel like we are in some crazy video game!

Our guides point out that Eucalyptus trees line the roads we are traveling and fill the forests surrounding us. They share that the Eucalyptus trees are grown in these government owned forests, eventually cut, transported out by the logging trucks we see every so often, and then sold for profit to locals who use them to build their homes, amongst other things.

Along the way, we see people tending to plots of land as far as the eye can see and learn that the government has sold these plots to locals who then use the land to farm. The majority of the plots we see are filled with carrots and potatoes. When it comes time to harvest the vegetables, the locals do so and then transport them to sell at the nearby markets in town for profit. The bags full of harvested carrots that line the roads must weigh over 100 pounds each and the orange hue of the fresh carrots makes my mouth water and my eyes smile...so fresh, pulled right from the soil before us.

We notice that the plots of land filled with carrots have small pine trees placed every so often in the rows and wonder why the two are planted together. Our guides inform us that the pine trees act as protection for the carrots and more importantly, when their needles drop, they act as a natural fertilizer for the soil which in turn, helps the carrots to grow.

I am reminded that everything has a purpose. Everything is done with intent.

Just before we arrive at the Gate for lunch and the necessary final preparations, we see a broken down bus and realize it is our porters and crew. When they finally arrive to join us at the Gate an hour or so later, we all cheer at their arrival. These are the individuals that will prove to be our life lines along this entire journey, carrying all of our gear (outside of our day packs), tents, toilet, food, and supplies day in and day out all the way up and all the way down this mountain. Without them, we would be dead in the water.

We meet our two waiters for the trip, Godlisten and Sosten, who provide us with our first boxed lunch meal of the trip. The amount of food is well above my normal meal size, but we are continuously reminded that we will need to eat, sleep, and follow the guidance of our guides to make it to the top...and so I eat nearly everything given to me, something I will continue to do each day for the duration of this trip.

We meet out third and final lead guide, Augustine, before leaving for the Lemosho Gate where the trek is to begin. I instantly love him. He has dimples bigger than any I’ve ever seen, his smile and spirit are contagious, and he greets us by asking, “May I do a little dance?”, to which we all unanimously reply “Yes!”, and so he does. “Happy Happy” he says as he moves his body in a wiggle-like motion literally spreading happiness to all those around.

Our team was then told it was time to head to the starting point, and so we climbed back into our bus and off we went. Within 45 minutes or so, our bus stopped at the end of a dirt road and before us, as we exited, we saw the sign for the Lemosho Gate.

This. Is. It.

Another point to mark the “before” and “after” in my mind.

The end of all of our creature comforts and the beginning of the trail.

Just before we begin, Fredrick, one of our lead guides, reaches his hand out to mine to fist bump me and as he does, he speaks, and I realize he is trying to show me something.

“You”, we say together as we fist bump. “Me”, we say together as we bump our own fist now against our own chest. And finally “Him”, as we raise our hands, open palms to the sky together.

You. Me. Him.

It feels like a little prayer or blessing to me and I appreciate Fredrick and that he has shared this with me. The timing was perfection. This prayer is something we would do throughout the trip, each time bringing a smile to my face and comfort to my soul.

We hiked for three hours from the Lemosho Gate, through beautiful, thick green rainforest, sunshine and blue skies above, until we arrived just before sunset at Mti Mkubwa, meaning “Big Tree”, our camp for the first night.

I needed to use the toilet and so Zach and I ventured off together to find one...and find one we did!

As we stepped forward into the dilapidated building housing the toilets, we quickly realized we were no longer in Kansas! The smell of rancid urine and shit got stronger with each step as I fought to try and hold my breath, which proved to be impossible.

As I squatted down over a hole in the ground, legs shaking, a look of pure disgust on my face, my nose and mouth buried in my dirty hiking shirt from the day, I heard Zach seemingly out of nowhere say aloud, “the original squatty potty”, and with that, I busted out laughing so loud that I’m sure the entire camp could hear me, and I struggled to stop myself and focus again so that I could pee and get the fuck out of the “toilet” as soon as humanly possible.

The original squatty potty became a running joke, one of many, for the remainder of our trek.

When I learned later that evening that we had our own chemical toilet, with a seat, that was enclosed in a green tent at every camp we visited, I felt like we had truly hit the jack pot. No more squatty potty. No more rancid shit smell. No more shaking legs with a fear they’d give out and down the hole I’d go.

It’s funny how quickly a portable toilet became a real life luxury. It was nicknamed “Bank of America” by our guides because we would all go there to make our “deposits” daily and I thanked my lucky stars multiple times a day that she was all ours.

Due to the earlier issues with the bus for our crew, they arrived behind schedule to our first camp. Arriving in the dark, their own packs on their backs, plus our duffels or other heavy supplies or gear balanced on their heads or the back of their necks, one by one the porters greeted us as they passed saying “Jambo” with a smile. “Jambo”, we all replied, feeling so grateful to have them with us to carry all the weight for eight full days.

Before we knew it, our tents were set up for sleeping and our mess tent was erect as we were invited to enter for dinner together. These porters were like miracle workers in my mind.

The mess tent became our main meeting place every day for three main meals to provide us the energy and the fuel that we would need to make it to the top and back down. It served as the place that we came together as a team to share stories, to laugh, to cry, to bond, and to learn from one another and grow together when we were not on the trail. It was our home when we were not sleeping or hiking and everyone in it quickly became one, big, loving family, supporting each other the entire way. It was also the place that we would have our daily evening health checks by our guides.

Our daily health checks were done in the morning before leaving our tent for breakfast and again in the evening before dinner. Each of us had our pulse and oxygen saturation levels checked first. The guide then asked us on a scale of one to ten, one being the worst, ten being the best, how we felt. If you were below a ten, you were asked why. Then, we were asked if we had a headache, nausea, vomiting, or diarrhea, all symptoms of altitude sickness. This was followed by “number one? number two?” to which the reply was a simple yes or no. Lastly, we were asked if we were taking malarone, to prevent malaria, and/or diamox, to prevent altitude sickness. Again, the reply was a quick yes or no.

You can imagine that we all quickly got to know one another and got comfortable real fast having to answer these questions in front of one another day in and day out.

I was glad to report 10/10, no symptoms, and to see that on night one, my pulse was 76 and my O2 saturation was a strong 97%. I could still breathe well and my body was hydrated, two things that my Nurse brain would hold onto tightly with every health check that followed.

After our evening tea and our briefing from the guides for the following days trek, we all retired to our tents to rest up for sunrise the following morning when day two would officially begin.