“Hello...Hello...”

I hear a knock on my tent as I open my eyes and realize it must already be 10:30 PM.

As I rise, my body instantly feels the cold as the temperatures have dropped significantly since I entered my tent hours before.

In the distance I hear thunder, and after I dress in more layers than I can count, I unzip my tent and see lightning in the sky below us. I step out onto fresh snow as heavy winds whip and a snow storm swirls all around us.

It is summit night, less than two hours before we will begin to make our final ascent.

Following our lunch earlier this afternoon, I managed to grab an hour or so of sleep, using my black sports bra to cover my eyes and block out the sunlight reminding me that it was in fact midday. While I slept, I dreamt that my daughter was with me. We were laying down in my bed at home together. She told me she wanted to cuddle and so I wrapped my arm around her and held her close to my chest. It felt so real, like she was cuddled up next to me, so warm and cozy. And then I awoke, realizing it was only a dream from 15,200 feet high in the sky, when Wilfred tapped on my tent letting me know it was time for my gear check.

I had laid out all of my gear before resting, so as Wilfred asked me questions, I was ready to go.

“What do you have for your bottom half?”, he asked.

And so I listed out all my layers, holding them up one at a time as I did so.

“Base layer tights first, followed by my fleece lined tights, then my fleece lined water resistant hiking pants, and lastly, on top, my waterproof wind pants and my gaitors.”

“How about your top half?”

“I’ve got my tee shirt, my mid weight long sleeve merino wool shirt, my Patagonia fleece pullover sweater, my down puffy jacket, my rain/wind jacket, and finally my poncho.”

“OK. Great! What do you have for your feet?”

“I have my heavy weight wool socks, my hiking boots, and my spikes.”

“You’ll need two pairs of socks tonight”,

Wilfred informed me. And so I gladly obliged and grabbed another pair of warm socks to add to my gear.

“Show me what you have for your head and your hands.”

“I have a balaclava, a winter snow hat, my down puffy jacket has a fitted hood, and my poncho and rain/wind jackets have hoods if needed. I also have my headlamp with fresh batteries. For my hands I have a fleece lined base layer glove and then a thicker and warmer waterproof glove to go over those.”

“How about snacks for the climb?”

“I have two bags full. One for my pack and one for my pocket. I’ve got Swedish Fish and Jolly Ranchers. I’ve got two Snickers bars, beef jerky, and one RX bar and I have 3L of water, two in my bladder and one in my Nalgene, upside down in my pack so it doesn’t freeze at the top.”

“You are looking good to go Heather! You have everything you’ll need. Head over to the mess tent within 15 minutes to meet the team for dinner.”

And that was that. Gear check was done. I was one step closer to the summit. As I looked at the pile of gear I would be layering on my body, all I could think of was the kid in “A Christmas Story” who can’t move because he is stuffed into the giant snowsuit. Yep! That would likely be me in just a few hours!

I headed to the mess tent to meet the team and our guides for dinner. Most of the team hadn’t been able to catch much rest in the few hours we had been given. I was feeling happy I got the hour in knowing my body and mind would be pushed to their max in less than five hours now.

Before dinner, we had our evening health checks. As my finger slid into the pulse oximeter, I took a few deep, cleansing breaths to calm my nerves. As the oximeter flashed red and then steadied, I read pulse 77, oxygen saturation 88%.

Wow! Here we are at 15,200 feet and my body is still going strong. What a miracle our bodies are! The things that they are capable of! Little did I know I would find out the reality of those statements in the coming hours leading up to dawn.

Dinner was amazing as always thanks to our outstanding chefs and waiters. We had chicken, vegetables, potatoes, fruit, soup, and more! I ate every piece of food that was put on my plate as I replayed in my head the advice from our guides when this entire journey had begun...all you need to do is eat, drink, sleep, and remain present in the moment...and so I ate, drank, and did my best to remain present, my mind beginning to jump ahead to our fast approaching climb to the top.

As we finished up, our guides shared with us the final plan for the ascent. They reminded us that we would have about three more hours to rest before we would be awoken to dress for the summit and then, we would have a small “breakfast” around 11 PM, just before our departure. We would then begin with the plan being to arrive at or near the summit on time for sunrise. The guides also shared with us that they would be carrying two oxygen tanks to the summit. These tanks were to be used for emergency purposes only.

“If you need to use the oxygen, you must turn back and descend the mountain.”

I heard those words loud and clear. By the looks on everyone’s faces, the team did as well. It was the first time we had been briefed about oxygen other than day one when someone asked what Augustine was carrying and he said “an oxygen tank”. At the time, it didn’t seem like any big deal, but hearing those words here and now, on summit night, left me with a slight chill.

Having been no higher than our current altitude, I didn’t know how my body might respond as we climbed another 4,000 plus feet high in the sky. But I did know that I would not be using either of the oxygen tanks because that would mean I would not summit. I would have to turn back and descend and THAT was not an option in my mind. Thankfully, my body proved my mind to be correct.

As I laid down following dinner for our final three hours of rest, I prayed to the Universe that nobody on our team would need emergency assistance and as always, I reminded myself that I was safe, loved, and guided.

I couldn’t fall asleep right away because I was so excited and anxious and ALLLLL the the feelings of summit night rushed over me. But mostly, I couldn’t fall asleep because my feet were so damn cold! But then I remembered I had packed foot sole warmers in my duffel.

Hallelujah!

I grabbed a pair of those babies, read on the package that they’re meant for low oxygen environments like inside your shoe, or in my case, 15,200 feet in the air, and quickly stuck one on the bottom of each of my socks and then stuck my feet and body back into my sleeping bag. Ahhhh...heaven! Warm feet!

Before I knew it, I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew, I heard the knock, followed by “Hello. Hello.”, and as I opened my eyes, I immediately registered the cold.

As I fumbled for my headlamp, I thought to myself, “This is go time! THIS is what we have all been waiting for!”

Holy shit. It’s go time.

My mind started racing for the first time on the entire journey...How cold will it be? How steep? What will it be like climbing to 19,341 feet? Will it be hard? Why is it so damn cold?...And then, I caught myself. I caught myself so far from the present moment and so I reigned my mind back in by taking three slow, deep breaths. I told myself, “I am here now and all I need to do in this moment is somehow manage to get on ALL the layers.” And so I did just that.

As I dressed, I heard Zach and Jeff in their tents and started joking with them about how I didn’t know if I’d be able to get out of my tent once all my clothes were on, let alone stand up on my own! I literally felt like a stuffed sausage and as I yelled from my tent to those around me about my dilemma, I nearly peed my pants laughing!

Thankfully, I made it out of my tent just fine. And when I stepped out into the elements, the thunder and lighting below me, a whole different weather system in sight, and the snow storm where I stood, swirling all around me, I felt like I was in a dream. I kept thinking, “Hmmm. OK. Nobody seems concerned that we are about to climb a mountain in the absolute darkness, in a blizzard with insane, freezing cold winds, and thunder and lightning in sight. I mean, I feel like at home we would maybe go back in our tents and wait it out? Or someone might twitch a little thinking about open faced rock, metal poles, and lightning? But I guess we’re good here. I guess it’s on!”

And that was that.

It was on.

We gathered in the mess tent one final time where we had a light meal. Most of us were still full from dinner, but in typical fashion, I ate everything given to me. Funny enough, by the time we finished, all my layers felt a little looser and I could breathe and move just fine!

“Twende. Packs on!”, Wilfred exclaimed, and we all got up and gathered our gear.

Just outside the mess tent, we stood together for a prayer led by Wilfred before departing. It was simply the most beautiful thing and by the end, I had tears streaming down my face. It was like, here we are, us and the mountain, us and the darkness, us and the Universe, holding us in her hand, at her mercy for hours to come.

In that moment, like all the moments that led me to the here and now, I fully trusted myself, the team, our guides, and the Universe. And as we took our first steps toward the summit, with only headlamps and hope to light our way, I repeated my mantra three times and I fully opened up to whatever may lie ahead.

Within fifteen minutes, we had stopped to take off a layer or two. I removed only my puffy jacket which, for the time being felt perfect. I was warm. I was dry. I was happy. I grabbed a Jolly Rancher to give my body some extra sugar, sipped some water through my hose, and then we began to march on, one foot in front of the other, over and over and over, head down watching the set of feet ahead of my own for guidance.

Frederik was our leader for the entire climb to the summit. This was his 396th summit of Mount Kilimanjaro. Watching him navigate his way in the absolute darkness, with a blizzard happening around us, only a headlamp for light, no visible or obvious trail ahead of us or behind us for that matter, it was like watching magic happen before my very own eyes. He stepped, one foot at a time, pole pole, hands in his pockets, giving off an energy full of command and calm all wrapped into one. Frederik knew the intricacies of the mountain, every twist and turn, every rock on which we would step, every inch of ground we would cover, like the back of his hand. It was mind blowing and it was pure magic.

My best estimate is that we climbed for about an hour at a time before we would break. I learned very quickly that if I looked up as we climbed, I could see small orbs of light ahead, other headlamps on the heads of climbers ahead of us, and I could gauge from that that the climb ahead was steep. And so I stopped looking up. I needed to remain present, in the moment as best I could considering. I needed to trick my mind. My rules of thumb became one, that I would keep my head down and follow the methodical foot steps of the person in front of me, and two, that when we took breaks, I wouldn’t look up. I would only look to my left where, for the majority of the climb, I could see lights far, far below us from villages, towns, cities, and even other countries. I later learned that one specific area I had seen was actually Kenya! Yes! Kenya!!! Looking down instead of up helped me to remember how far we had already come and for that, I was so grateful.

On our third or fourth break, my teammate Zach said to me, “Hey, do you feel drunk? I feel drunk.” To which I responded, “Well how much have you had to drink? Keep drinking.”

Thinking back on that quick exchange makes me laugh out loud. Here we were, somewhere between 15,200 and 19,341 feet, basically entering survival mode with the altitude taking its toll, and he’s telling me he feels drunk (from the altitude) and I’m telling him to drink! There were several ridiculous and seemingly hilarious exchanges like this on summit night. I’m sure the altitude played a key part.

Early on as we climbed, I went into my own version of a meditation without intentionally meaning to. I began to repeat my mantra with each step.

I am safe.

I am loved.

I am guided.

Over and over, for hours, I repeated this to myself. It was comforting. It helped me stay present. And most importantly, I found that it helped me to maintain a feeling of peace and calm in an extremely unknown environment. All I needed to do was put one foot in front of the other and say those words.

About four or five hours into the ascent, I sort of “came to” and I noticed that my fingers felt FREEZING. They seemed to be taking 10-15 minutes to warm up after we would break. I remember envisioning the path of my blood flow from images used in nursing school and willing it to flow down my arms and into my hands and fingers. Every time we would start moving again, I found myself furiously flexing and then extending my fingers repeatedly in an attempt to get blood flow and warmth to them. The first time I consciously did this and FINALLY felt my fingers beginning to warm again, I thanked the Universe out loud. But every time we would stop again to break, it seemed to take longer and longer to warm them up. It was all I could focus on and so to reset and shift my mindset, I began listing all of the people in my life that I am grateful for and why. I remember naming so many individuals that at one point, my brain felt tired from it, but I was certainly working to keep my mind off my fingers. After what I’m sure was another hour or two, we stopped for a break.

Frederik announced we were stopping for tea, and I laughed out loud at him thinking he must be joking. Much to my surprise, he was not. Wilson, one of the porters that had joined us for summit night, had been carrying a thermos full of hot tea along with eleven mugs, one for each of us on the mountain that night. Wilson pulled out the mugs and began filling them with tea and I swore I was hallucinating, but when the hot tea hit my lips, entered my mouth, and flowed down my throat, warming my entire body from the inside out, I knew it was real. Talk about a gift! Here we were, like tiny ants marching up the side of a mountain, against all odds, wind howling, freezing temperatures, blinded by a blizzard, and there was tea. Tea! It magically appeared then and there and we all came to life once again!

I shared with Frederik during the tea break that my hands felt freezing and that it seemed to be taking too long for them to warm up. I asked if it was worth removing two layers, my poncho and rain/wind jacket, to put my down puffy jacket back on for warmth. The thought of doing any of this was debilitating to me. My capabilities in this very moment were like that of a newborn. I needed help to make this happen.

Frederik looked at me and in the kindest, most loving voice, he said to me, “Yes. We will help you, but first, I will warm up your hands.” And he took my gloved hands inside of his and began to vigorously rub them together, producing heat to warm my hands.

As I write this, my eyes are filling with tears. It was one of the most loving and kind things someone could have done for me in that moment, and Frederik did it. He was and is like and angel on Earth in my world.

After warming my hands, Frederik called Wilfred over and before I knew it, they were removing my poncho from my body, threading my arms through and pulling it over my head. Next, they removed my pack and unzipped my rain/wind jacket. They removed my first layer of bulky gloves so that they could thread my hands and arms through the sleeves of my jacket to remove it from my body. Frederik then got my down puffy jacket out of my pack, helped me to put one arm into a sleeve followed by the other, and proceeded to zip my coat up nice and snug to my chin. He and Wilfred put my rain/wind jacket back on, zipped up nice and snug as well. They put my gloves back on, secured my pack back on my back, tightening the straps so it was snug to my body once again, and then slipped my poncho over my head and buttoned the sides up to keep the snow out. These two angels undressed and redressed me when I could not. They helped ensure I was warm when I simply could not. They loved me and cared for me when I could barely speak from exhaustion simply thinking about the process of putting on a coat for warmth. I will forever be grateful for this and so much more that they did for me, for the entire team, on our journey to the top.

They say Los Angeles is the City of Angels. Well let me tell you, Tanzania is the Country of Angels, our entire crew made up of them, each member helping in their own way to lift us to the top of Mount Kilimanjaro.

I shared with the team after the summit night that for quite a while as we hiked on, I was rationalizing with myself that it was totally OK that all ten of my fingers had frozen. I was sure I’d lost them to frostbite, but I didn’t care one ounce that summit night. So I lost all ten fingers. Who needs fingers anyway. Onward and upward. I’ll figure out my fingers later, after we summit. Right now, I just need to keep moving forward. No fingers. No problem. Those were my actual thoughts. And I was calm. Very calm. So calm that thinking back, it’s equally hilarious as it is creepy. Clearly the altitude was getting the best of me and clearly, I was not thinking rationally. Or maybe I was considering the circumstances...considering we all likely entered survival mode.

There are parts of our ascent that are clear as day in my mind, like Frederik and Wilfred helping me get my down puffy jacket on, and then there are chunks of time that fade out, almost like they were a dream of sorts. I find myself playing back the summit night in my mind and having minimal if any concept of time aside from some key moments and memories along the way and of course the darkness and finally, the arrival of dawn, which I welcomed like it was my first born.

Shortly after the tea stop, I attempted to get a drink of water through my hose, but instead of water, my lips were met by crunchy ice that had formed at the mouthpiece. My hose had finally frozen and I would need to switch over to my Nalgene bottle that was inside my pack.

We had been told in advance that this would happen and so we were to place our Nalgene bottle inside our packs upside down. Water freezes from the top down and so, in doing so, when we went to drink from the Nalgene, the bottom would be frozen and we would be able to get water from the top. Unfortunately, I had no energy to take my pack off, unzip it, pull out the Nalgene bottle, unscrew the top, and lift it to my mouth to drink. And so instead, knowing I was plenty hydrated in reality, I repeated my mantra once again to maintain my sense of peace and calm and I continued on.

Shortly after, I heard Wilfred behind me saying to my teammate Zach, “Do you see that small sliver of pink in the sky? That’s the first sliver of dawn.”

It was all I needed to hear to take just one more step.

That teeny tiny sliver of pink on the horizon represented hope. It meant that the sun would soon rise and with it, the temperatures would begin to rise. It meant that sooner than later, my fingers would come back to life. And it meant that we must be near the summit because we were due to arrive at or near sunrise.

The next thing I heard was my teammate, Vinti, asking Wilfred how much farther and I heard Wilfred say, “about 20 minutes.”

20 minutes! Only 20 more minutes and we would be to the summit?!?! YESSSSS!!!!!

And then, just as quickly, my dreams were shattered when he clarified that we were about 20 minutes from Stella Point, which is about 40 minutes from the summit.

I felt deflated.

I felt done.

I felt like my body had already stopped working and like my mind was about to give up too.

I put one. foot. in. front. of. the. other. and somehow I pushed on.

As I looked to my right, I saw the horizon lighting up with the most beautiful, blazing colors...orange, red, blue, purple...and I could feel the air slowly beginning to warm.

I felt like I was crawling, but I refused to give up. The sunrise on the horizon was the hope I was holding onto in those moments. And then somehow, someway, as I looked up, I saw it. The sign for Stella Point was in view. To my left just up the hill, I saw other climbers smiling and celebrating, taking pictures at the sign, and to my right, the glorious sunrise with Mount Mawenzi in full view.

Keep going, I told myself.

When I made it to the sign, I immediately sat down. I pulled off my gloves, both layers, and I ripped off my poncho desperately wanting to shed some layers and some weight. Desperately wanting to give my body some additional freedom and flexibility. I unzipped my day pack and dug inside for my Nalgene bottle and for the first time since my hose froze, I unscrewed the top and chugged down cold, refreshing water. My teammate, Vinti, asked for a sip and I happily handed my bottle to her knowing how she felt. Knowing that the thought of lifting a finger in varying moments for us all was simply too much.

I sat there, at 18,884 feet, and I took it all in. I looked around and smiled so big that I swore my frozen face would crack from doing so. I looked in awe and wonder at the sights before my eyes, at the individuals surrounding me that had climbed in the dark of night, through freezing winds and snow like we had, and I celebrated us all. I wondered what percentage of humans ever make it this far. But most importantly, I hugged Frederik and Wilfred and Augustine and thanked them for loving me and taking care of me and guiding me. Frederik and I bumped fists and began...Me. You. Him...hands to the sky, smiles on our faces, together.

Twenty minutes before, my tank was below empty. My brain felt the size of a pea. Now, I was overflowing with life, with energy, with pure joy. I was ready to continue on and make it to the top, to Uhuru Peak, so when Frederik told us it was time to go, I strapped my pack on, jumped in line just behind him, and followed his feet, one step at a time, to the top.

Zach shared with us later that the majority of people that quit on Kilimanjaro do so within 200 feet of the summit. Had he told me this beforehand, I would have thought he was crazy, but having experienced the 40 minutes or so from Stella Point to Uhuru Peak, including of course the final 200 feet, I absolutely believe that to be fact. If you’ve ever run a marathon, those final steps are reminiscent of the last 6 miles, but on steroids, hyper elevated, on another level.

The Universe had my back as we continued on. Despite my legs moving ever so slowly, I could taste the summit. There was no way in hell I was giving up. Around every corner and as we approached the top of each small hill, I was looking for that sign. I knew that eventually, it would appear. And my God, did it ever. As we turned the final corner, I could see it in the distance, so very close, but seemingly so far away. At first I wondered if it was a mirage, my eyes playing tricks on me, but then I saw the other climbers smiling, holding the sign, celebrating their arrival, and I knew. I knew we had done it. I knew that we had made it. Together, we had climbed for eight and a half hours, through the dark of night into the dawn of a brand new day, and together, we had reached this summit. I wanted to run, but I knew I was running on pure adrenaline in that moment and had I busted out into a sprint, I would have fallen over or passed out. Of that I am sure.

As I took my final steps to Uhuru Peak, my eyes laser focused on the summit sign, I felt the emotion beginning to overflow.

I am doing this.

We are doing this.

Together, WE. DID. THIS.

I dropped my pack in the freshly fallen snow. I walked directly to the Uhuru Peak sign and I grabbed a hold of it tightly, hugging the sign post, smiling with joy and overflowing with love from every ounce of my being. “Is this real?”, I thought. “This is SO real”, I told myself as I stood there, taking it ALL in.

My teammate Daryl approached and sat down immediately in front of the sign, not an ounce of energy remaining, and as I looked over to him, I saw he had begun to cry, head in his hands. Daryl was climbing the mountain because he is an avid climber and lover of adventure and the outdoors, but also because he wanted to honor his wife Jan, who had passed away in October of 2020 from Multiple Myeloma. He shared so many loving stories of Jan with us along our journey and so seeing him there, watching him release in some way, moved me to walk directly to him and give him a giant hug, one human to another, with empathy and compassion for whatever he may have been experiencing in that moment. And damn it, I think I needed a hug just as much as he did right then and there.

We hugged.

We cried.

We released.

And as I stood there once again, looking around at the snow glistening like the most beautiful diamonds possibly could, I said a prayer to the Universe thanking her for guiding me safely to the top...thanking her for allowing me to carry the Flag of Honor safely to the summit in honor and memory of all those named that had been affected by cancers of all kinds. I felt so overwhelmed with gratitude for the honor of making this journey, carrying so many with me, and for having been carried myself by my own spiritual team.

There I stood in what will always be in my mind literal heaven on this Earth. I am not sure I will ever again feel so incredibly, physically close to the spiritual world, to my own spiritual team, to those that have left this Earth, but who I know are by my side always.

As I looked around, to my left there was the most ginormous glacier wall I’ve ever seen. It reminded me of “The Wall” in Game of Thrones for anyone that has seen it. My jaw dropped as I took in the sheer size of it, just sitting up here at 19,341 feet in the sky.

To my right, off in the distance, was a view of the crater, something I had only heard about until that moment. Simply breathtaking.

And as I turned around, the largest, most full sun I have ever seen was blazing above me, warming my entire body and soul. It was surrounded by a full, complete halo which was made up of every single color of the rainbow in perfect order.

Hello Harry.

Here you are in nature, exactly where you told me you’d be.

We fucking made it!

Our team and our crew hugged and we celebrated our arrival to Uhuru Peak. We snapped pictures of one another in front of the sign and together as a team. I proudly had a friend snap a photo of me with the Flag of Honor flying high in the sky, in my own Heaven on Earth.

Our guides reminded us that we must begin to descend sooner than later. The longer you are exposed to this kind of altitude, the bigger the risk of experiencing altitude sickness so it was important that we followed their advice.

We were later told some funny stories by our guides of climbers they had guided to the summit who looked at them with confusion upon hearing that it was time to begin to descend. Some climbers had looked at them and said, “No. my Uber is on its way. I’m just waiting for it.”, in total seriousness believing they had called an Uber to take them down. Other climbers had gotten agitated and refused to head down. Being a guide on this mountain entails SO MUCH MORE than just knowing the route. The guides need to be a master of all trades, understanding human behavior, knowing signs and symptoms of altitude sickness and how to manage them, listening at all times to understand where each climber is at and what they are experiencing but perhaps not outright saying, maintaining a sense of calm in the unknown, and amongst other things, how to summit this beautiful beast of a mountain in a blizzard, in the dark.

We spent about thirty minutes on top of the world before we got word that it was time to begin our descent. It’s funny how when you’re focused on climbing up, up, and up to the summit, you forget completely that you will still need to descend the mountain and get down.

Before we began our descent, Augustine offered to take a video of me for my Mom to wish her a happy birthday the following day. I am so grateful that he did that for me because in my mental state at the top, I would not have thought to do it myself. THAT is just another example of our guides being angels on this Earth. Augustine had remembered that a day before I had shared that my Moms birthday was coming up and in doing so, he helped me produce one of the best gifts I’ve ever given.

As we wrapped up the video, I realized it was just us, Wilfred, and Zach left at the summit. The rest of the team had begun to descend. And so I began to do the same. Little did I know, our work was far from over…