WHISPERS OF THE MOUNTAINS
The
Call of the Wild
It started with an itch—a restless yearning
deep in my bones. I had not been exposed to the trails until 2019 when my
friend invited us to test her new ride on Mt. Longonot, an experience that
nearly took my toes. I was sure I was never going back to those damned trails.
Fast forward, by the time I heard the call
for the Mt. Kenya summit attempt, I had already summited more than 12 mountains
and hills. Each time, I had sworn never to do it again—but always went back,
especially to those that exerted the most pain in the core of my bones.
In December 2024, the city, with its
honking cars and overpriced coffee, had lost its charm. I needed a change, a
thrill, a challenge that would remind me I was alive. And so, I found myself
standing at the base of Mt. Kenya, the great giant that had whispered to my
soul for years.
Packing
Regrets and Questionable Life Choices
Packing for the trek was an adventure of
its own. Did I need five pairs of socks? Probably. Would an extra snack save my
life? Absolutely.
As I packed my 90L rucksack according to
the checklist, I wondered about the real mystery of the mountain. The gear
alone had cost twice the price of the expedition itself! If a party planner had
told me to "show up in your most expensive outfit," I would have
strutted in my summit gear without hesitation.
The
Trek Begins—Goodbye Comfort Zone
The Chogoria Route started off deceptively
friendly. The first trek to Lake Ellis—9km from the starting point at the
Bandas—was the last hint of modern-day civilization we would experience for the
next 96 hours.
Then, reality hit. The gentle trail became
a steep ascent, my boots felt heavier, and my lungs started negotiating for
more air. By midday, my water bottle was my best friend, and my backpack had
transformed into my greatest enemy.
The
Mountain’s Dark Beauty
As the sun dipped, painting the sky in
hues of orange and pink, the mountain revealed its darker side. Shadows
stretched across the trail, and the howling wind whispered secrets only the
brave could decipher.
We arrived at camp just as darkness
swallowed the landscape, and for the first time, I felt the weight of the
challenge ahead. The night was colder than I had imagined, but despite the
discomfort, I felt something unexpected - peace.
Moorland
Musings and Near Meltdowns
The moorland was hauntingly
beautiful—vast, silent, and eerily still. My legs ached, my stomach growled,
but my spirit soared.
The mist rolled in, cloaking everything in
an eerie whiteout. My feet were soaked, my energy was waning, and at some
point, I began to question why I voluntarily signed up for this suffering. But
somewhere in that moorland, I realized adventure isn’t about reaching the
summit; it’s about discovering yourself along the way (and figuring out why you
packed so many socks).
The
Summit and the Unexpected Life Lesson
Summit day. The night before had been a
test of endurance—freezing cold, altitude headaches, and an inner battle
between exhaustion and determination.
At 2 AM, we began the final push. When the
first rays of sunlight kissed the horizon, illuminating the jagged peaks, I
knew it was all worth it.
Reaching the summit was surreal. The world
stretched beneath me like a painting, the clouds rolled like ocean waves, and
my heart swelled with triumph. But the real victory wasn’t in standing at the
top—it was in the journey, the laughter, the struggles, and the resilience I
never knew I had.
The
Descent—A Comedy of Sore Muscles
Coming down was somehow harder than going
up. My legs wobbled, my knees protested, and gravity turned against me.
I may or may not have slid down certain
sections on my backside, much to the amusement of my fellow trekkers. But as I
stumbled and slid my way down, I realized I had gained something
precious—stories, memories, and a newfound respect for my own strength.
The
Mountain Whispers On
Back in the city, life resumed—but I was
different. The mountain had whispered its secrets, and I had listened.
Adventure isn’t about escaping life; it’s
about embracing it, one daring step at a time. And if you ever feel lost,
restless, or just slightly insane, find a mountain. It will humble you,
challenge you, and if nothing else, give you a great story to tell.
Mt.
Kenya Chogoria Route Expedition Itinerary
Day
1: The Grand Departure & Forest Road Shenanigans
- 5:00
AM – Gather at City Hall Way, clutching flasks of coffee like lifelines.
- 10:00
AM – Arrive at Chogoria Forest Station, switch to 4x4 vans because the
road is "impossible even for mountain goats."
- 2:30
PM – Trek to Lake Ellis (8km). Expect breathtaking views and altitude
whispering, "You sure about this?"
Day
2: The Long Walk to Camp Mintos
- Morning
– Breakfast and a motivational speech about “pace and hydration” (a.k.a.
"Drink water or regret it").
- Trek
to Mintos Camp (9km) – Stunning moorland views, rocky climbs, and the
first signs of altitude confusion (“Was that a unicorn?”).
- Arrive
at Mintos (4,200m) – Enjoy breathtaking views of Lake Michaelson before
collapsing into your tent.
Day
3: Summiting Like a Warrior (or a Struggling Penguin)
- 1:30
AM – Wake up (more like “Did we even sleep?”).
- 2:30
AM – Start the 4.5km NIGHT HIKE to Point Lenana (4,985m). Cold? Yes.
Windy? Of course. Worth it? 100%.
- Sunrise
at the Summit – Take photos, cry happy (and exhausted) tears, then realize
we still have to go down.
- Continue
down to Lake Ellis Camp – 18km of “Whose idea was this again?” but the
views make it all worthwhile.
Day
4: Graduation & The Descent to Civilization
- Morning
– Celebrate with a medal and pretend you could do it all over again.
- Exit
via Chogoria Gate – The final trek down (knees officially resign from
duty).
- 2:30
PM – Head back to Nairobi, texting everyone: "I climbed Mt. Kenya.
What did YOU do this weekend?"
Acknowledgments
To my mom and dad, for allowing me to be myself and chase risky outdoor adventures instead of providing them with grandchildren—your patience is noted and deeply appreciated.
To my siblings—Beth, Diana, and Sharon—for
understanding that one of us finds more comfort in being uncomfortable. Your
support means everything, even when my choices make no logical sense to anyone
but me.
To my dear friends—Robert, Sylvia,
Julia, and Cate—for listening to my endless trail obsessions and somehow
grasping the peace I find in the wild. Your patience, encouragement, and willingness
to entertain my mountain musings have kept me sane.
To my employer, for constantly
reminding me that life is not all about adventure and fresh air. Your
unwavering push to make me rethink how casually I take life is a needed
balance, and I do acknowledge that, so far, you have paid well for the effort I
put in.
And finally, to the hikers—the
brave souls who trade the warmth and predictability of their homes for the
unforgiving elements of the trails. To those with whom I have shared life’s
dilemmas and those I have had the privilege of knowing through this journey,
your stories, resilience, and camaraderie have shaped my own adventure.
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