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By 6pm that murky, frigid night, the temperature plummets far below freezing. Our spartan hut isn't much warmer. By dim candlelight, we make one final check of all our gear, while savoring dinner, a simple cup of tea. We've been warned not to eat much, since it’s hard digesting food at lofty altitudes. Briefly, I contemplate the Japanese climber who roomed here just days before. All night, he suffered from altitude sickness. However, in the morning, he insisted on continuing to the summit. Reaching Gillman's Point, he promptly fell into a coma. His guides, aware he needed treatment within twelve hours, hustled him on a wheel barrow stretcher to the bottom. Days later, he still lay unconscious in a Moshi hospital. In that rarefied mountain air, sleep is elusive. But we don't suffer long. At just past midnight, it’s time to test our resolve. It’s as inviting as a frigid Minnesota morn in the stillness of our room. My hand trembles, as I touch a bashful flame to the candle stump waxed to the tabletop. As it sputters to life, Cheryl and I shiver so wildly it’s difficult to don three layers of clothing. But by 1am, after a snack of tea and biscuits, we hug, wish ourselves luck and set off. It’s the dark side of the moon outside. There’s no light from any building. No star casts its beacon. There’s only Patrick’s, our guide’s, meager flashlight to illuminate our path up the mountain, and it’s already too late to correct that serious error. We set off in stony silence, each with our own challenge. Conversation will only break our concentration, lessen our resolve. Kibo Hut is
separated from the summit by 3,000 formidable feet of shifting slag, so
every movement needs to be measured; each step controlled. However, as
we slowly snake our way through the darkness, the path never becomes fully
visible, since Patrick forges ahead, leaving us blind in his wake. Often
I swear we've lost the trail completely, as the air grows thinner with
each step.
We continue our steady thirty paces–pause–thirty paces–pause rhythm. “Polipoli, Patrick!” I sputter in the only Swahili I know. “Slowly, slowly!” Still, his light grows faint, as he scurries ahead. Cheryl, close behind me at first, falls farther and farther back. Until lost in the darkness she cries out, "Waittttt!” in bone-chilling terror. Fearing the worst, I cautiously shuffle down to her side. Hugging, gasping together, heaped in fearful desperation, we struggle to catch our breaths. We’re mentally drained. Each step takes super-human strength. Pulling Cheryl's head to mine, I gaze into her ghostly visage of gray, and for the first time seriously wonder if we’re going to make it down. It hurts to realize she’s courageously holding on, partially, for my sake. If one of us quits and returns with Patrick, the other will have to finish on their own in the dark–or turn back, too. So, I encourage her, console and cuddle her. We even try awkwardly walking hand-in-hand for awhile. And vow we'll make it together...or not at all. We utter a silent prayer, and hunker down with our last ounce of resolve to concentrate on the ragged crack of rocks taunting from above. Scrambling on numbed hands and knees, we weave a surreal, drunken waltz. Until finally, a brilliant sliver cracks the darkness. The sky is shrouded in stunning violet. As the stars dissolve, we spot a tiny sign reading "Gillman's Point – 18,647 feet." We’re so far above the clouds, we can trace the curvature of the earth. In celestial celebration, we beam smiles wider than the crater, yet realize the need to press on to Uhuru Point, the true summit. Gingerly we trek the icy rim of the massive dome, realizing any misstep will send us plummeting into the crater below. Finally, halfway to Uhuru, at Stella Point, we’re met by the dispirited Finn. "It's impossible to continue," she sighs. The sun we so eagerly yearned for has the last laugh, transforming the snow on the slender crest into a slippery sheet of glass. Stella. It seems an appropriate place to stop, I think, since the day belongs to the stars. The following are Brandon's previous articles for the magazine:
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A
Trek Across Norway ~ 
