Kilimanjaro Sept 2026

 Day 1: Friday - Moshi 

I arrive at Kilimanjaro airport very early on Friday morning. The airport is so small that there doesn’t seem to be any gates. The massive plane just pulls up alongside the front door like it’s a bus stop. I’m thrilled to discover my bag has made it despite a very short connection window. 

There’s 7 of us doing the hike. Apart from

Steve, we all met on a hiking trip in Romania 3 years ago. For the sake of my mum (who’s nosey and likes to know about people) they are:

• Sarah - 37 from Australia who works as a carer. Free spirit who gives no fucks, but the most caring and generous person I’ve met. 
• Ed - 34 from Bournemouth who works as an actuary. Applies his suncream one speck at a time from the back of his hand. Has a super dry sense of humour when you get to know him and is also a secret salsa dancer which none of us expected. 
• David & Jeremy - both lawyers in their 50s from London. Jeremy is a walking encyclopaedia and what he doesn’t know about Thatcher isn’t worth knowing. 
• Steve - 66 year old ex Rolls Royce engineer from Derby. The big friendly giant, making the most of his retirement and travelling the world.
• Robert - 62 from New York, retired banker. Not your standard American, he’s not in the least bit annoying and he’s very smart. 

Sarah and I are the first to arrive and driven to our hotel in Moshi. After a quick power nap we head out for some breakfast at a cafe along the road and then spend the rest of the day chilling by the hotel pool and sampling the local beer selection. We’re joined by the rest of the group later that afternoon and are met by three of the guides from the tour company at the hotel for our pre-hike briefing.

There are many different companies you can book the hike through, but the one we ended up choosing was Eco Africa and first impressions are really good. It’s clear that their number one priority is our safety and wellbeing, which becomes abundantly clear when they come to our rooms for a very thorough military style gear inspection to make sure we have the appropriate clothing. 

That evening we all catch up over beers and a few bottles of red wine. Getting our fix while we can as there’s no drinks on the mountain. 8 days sober might even be harder than the hike itself…

Day 2: Saturday - Hike day 1

Lemosho Gate (2100m) to Mkumba Camp (2650m)

We’re picked up at 830 and driven to the office where we meet the rest of the crew. There are 4 guides, 26 porters and 2 chefs for our group of 7. Before coming here I was shocked at the number, but after witnessing everything they do, and everything they carry, it becomes very clear why. It takes a small army to climb Kili.

The crew sing us the Kilimanjaro song which goes on for about 10 minutes. We have no idea what any of it means, and for all we know they’re ripping the piss out of us as there’s lots of pointing and laughing, buts it’s lovely to watch and it’s a nice send off.

After a 1 hour bus drive we arrive at Lemosho Gate, the starting point of our hike. There’s various routes up the mountain but the 8 day Lemosho route is apparently one of the most scenic and has the highest chance of success as it gives ample time to acclimatise. 

It’s a fairly short and easy walk through the rainforest but it still takes us around 3.5 hours to reach our first camp because on the mountain there’s only one pace - pole pole (slowly slowly). A guide always leads from the front and sets the tone. This doesn’t apply to the porters who fly past us at pace carrying masses of equipment including our duffel bags, tables, chairs, tents, cooking equipment and everything else we could possibly need. This gets more and more impressive the steeper and higher we climb. Absolute beasts. Not only that, but once they finish the set up they start coming back down the mountain to meet us and offer to carry our daypacks. As if they haven’t done enough already. Porters don’t do them justice, they’re referred to as Kilifighters which is way more apt. 

When we arrive at camp everything is already set up for us, including two luxury toilet tents for our group. They even brush our boots which are covered in dirt and give us hot towels like we’re on a business class flight. Those white towels turn brown very quickly. The paths here are dirt tracks and it gets everywhere. I still have dirt under my finger nails and my snot is still black one week later. I had a nosebleed every day on the mountain, a symptom of constant nose blowing!

Our guides are the loveliest of people. Lead guide Omneso and then Vincent, Jonathan and Jacqui. They take it in turns to lead us each day and keep our spirits and energy high by getting us to sing chants and songs. They’re the happiest, most positive people I think I’ve met. Nothing is too much trouble and everything is “Hakuna Matata” - which means no worries for all you non lion king fans out there. 

Dinner is chicken, rice, fried fish and curry sauce and it’s delicious. It’s much better than what I expected to be fed on a trip like this given the circumstances. 

After dinner the nightly ritual commences of a briefing about what to expect the next day and a health and wellbeing check. This includes scoring ourselves on how we’re feeling against various categories e.g. tiredness, nausea, light-headedness, diarrhoea. They also check our blood oxygen levels and pulse. We do this twice a day for the duration of the hike. My near perfect score of 99 lasts a couple of days before it starts to drop the higher we go. Anything in the 60s and you’re marched down the mountain. Luckily the 7 of us are consistently in the 80s and 90s.

We were all advised by our guide to take diamox pills for altitude sickness prevention. Whether it works or not is anyone’s guess as we had nothing to compare it to. But one of the side effects is it makes you need to pee way more frequently. Couple that with the 4 litres of water we’re instructed to drink each day means we’re pissing like donkeys. Not such a problem during the day, but at night when it’s baltic and you don’t want to get out of your cosy sleeping bag to go to the toilet tent, it’s a pain in the ass.

That evening sleep is pretty interrupted. It’s a rather large campsite so all you see and hear is constant zipping and un-zipping of tents and flashlights walking past your tent. As well as the occasional monkey call. 

Day 3: Sunday - hike day 2 

Mkumba Camp (2650m) to Shira I camp (3160m)

We’re woken each day at 6am with a cup of coffee in bed and a bowl of hot water to wash our faces. We have an hour to pack our bags (no easy task in a tiny tent in the pitch dark).  

At breakfast Steve regales us with a lovely story of how his evening unfolded. Needing to pee in the night, he decided to roll onto his side, flop it out (his words not mine) and pee into a bottle he’s holding horizontally. But he underestimates the quantity of urine and it starts to spill out into his tent. He then flips onto his stomach and mounts the bottle (his words not mine) to finish the job. By then the damage is done and he’s sleeping in his own urine. 

Breakfast consists of omelette, sausages, porridge, fruit and toast. The quantity is insane and we get shouted at every time we don’t finish the food. Other than hydration, consuming enough calories is the next most important thing but it’s hard to eat when you’re given 2 course meals 3 times a day! 

We set off around 830 and it takes us 6 hours to climb the 500 odd metres. The first hour or so is rainforest and then we’re at the perils of the blaring sun for the rest of the hike. It’s also pretty relentlessly uphill so it’s a more difficult day. If it’s difficult for us, you can only imagine how tough it must be for the porters who carry up to 20kg+ on their heads. And all for a meagre wage.  It’s humbling and puts things in perspective as you can’t help but feel like the privileged white people, but on the flip side if we didn’t come they wouldn’t have a livelihood. 

We arrive to camp at 3pm and head straight for lunch which is a giant mound of pasta, vegetables and potatoes. Carb fest. 

We’re not even finished eating when they ask us what time we want dinner. We all feel a need to please and make them happy. We’re met with a chorus of “Good job, well done” when we finish everything, like we’re children being praised for clearing our plates. 

For the next few hours we sit in the evening sun and have a beautiful view of the mountain. It gets pretty cold from around 5pm. There’s not much else to do but sit around and chat, which given the fascinating experiences of everyone is anything but dull. Sunset is early here, around 630. The stars are absolutely incredible and we stare at them for as long as we can put up with the cold before retiring to bed. 

Day 4: Monday - hike day 3

Shira I camp (3160m) to Shira II camp (3850m)

The morning doesn’t get off to a great start as both Ed and Jeremy announce a case of the trots. I guess it was bound to happen to one of us sooner or later as it’s a symptom of high altitude. They at least manage to eat some breakfast, which much to everyone’s delight is crepes. I’m definitely finishing this hike 5kg heavier than when I started. 

Today’s hike is the easiest of the 8 days. It takes us 4 hours to walk the 10km to Shira Camp II and it’s mostly flat paths and very gradual inclines. Piece of piss. Well it was for the rest of, perhaps not for Jeremy and Ed who’re concerned about following through with every fart. You’ll have to forgive the constant references to our bowel movements during this blog. But you have to understand that’s iall we talk about on this mountain!

We arrive to camp at 1pm. This is clearly all part of the plan to give us plenty of time to rest and acclimatise. After lunch, which today is fish and chips (yes, chips!) we’re instructed, not asked, to retire to our tents and sleep. I manage a quick 30 minute power nap as I’m worried about not being able to sleep later that evening, which is already difficult as it is. 

That night for dinner we have pizza. It’s honestly incredible the meals they manage to rustle up in that kitchen tent and at no point did we have any meal the same. 

Day 5: Tuesday - hike day 4

Shira II camp (3850m) to Baranco Camp (3900m)

Today is a long, tough day and it’s the most important one before summit day. This is our first test at high altitude, as we spend 4 hours climbing to 4600m. I woke up with a light headache which persists for the next 2 days. People told me before coming here that the altitude headaches feels like you’re climbing with a hangover, and it really does feel like that. But I’m used to those, so hakuna matata!

The porters have run on ahead as usual and set up a mess tent for a hot lunch. Everyone copes well at the high altitude and the guides tell us this is a good sign for the summit. People from other groups aren’t fairing so well, we pass a few people vomiting in the bushes. 

After eating, it’s time to start an arduous 2.5 hour descent to the next camp which is at 3900m. Eating high and sleeping low gives the body relief. But at the same time the elevation from the lunch spot to the summit is akin to climbing Ben Nevis at this point, and part of me wants to just climb the fucker now and get it over and done with! But it’s only Tuesday and we’re not summiting until Thursday night.

The journey down is tedious as this is where two routes combine. Lemosho (the one we’re doing) and Machame. So the amount of people doubles in size and it’s quite congested. We’re all delighted to finally make it to camp, which is enormous. 

Luckily, we have a nice quiet area of the camp. The porters from each company race to get there first and nab the best spot, and our guys seem to win that race every day. We arrive at 530pm having started at 830am, so it’s been a long tiring day. We freshen up for dinner (I say that like we’re having a shower and putting some slap on, but we’re really wiping the dirt off our bodies with wash cloths and wet wiping our nether regions). 

Dinner is chicken and noodles, pasta and peas. We’re all straight to bed as we’re knackered. I manage to get the best night sleep since we got here. Doesn’t mean it’s a good night sleep mind you, given they’ve all been pretty terrible! 

Day 6: Wednesday - hike day 5

Baranco Camp (3900m) to Karanga Camp (3995m)

They give us an extra hour in bed today and let us sleep in until 7 instead of 6. What a treat. After a breakfast of eggs bacon and pancakes, we’re off again. As we begin our climb, we see a helicopter land at the campsite and someone is airlifted out. Over the course of the next few days we see loads more of them. Shit is starting to get real.

Today is another shortish day but it’s a toughie. It starts with a 2.5 hour fairly technical climb up a steep rocky path. It’s a super congested trail and there’s large queues to pass certain sections. How the porters cope with this part is beyond me. If that bag on their head starts to slip off it’s taking them down the mountain with it. 

The rest of the path is very up and down until we eventually get a glimpse of the next campsite. It looks about a 30 minute walk, but the path is not a straight one. First we have to descend for a good half hour before we then cross the valley and ascend up the other side. That last 30 minutes absolutely floored me. I was breathing out my arse. But as usual, the guides are there to rally you on. We arrive to our camp spot which is right at the front with uninterrupted views of the clouds beneath us. 

After lunch we rest up, and I do my best to wash some of my hair with water and body soap because it’s greasy as hell. One of the companies that’s also doing this route, Legend (or leg-ends as we called them), has a premium campsite with a huge heated dome mess tent, ladies and gents toilet tents and two shower tents. They also have a rather attractive ex-military British guide called Jack, who Jeremy shamelessly flirts with every time we pass each other. Obviously you pay a premium with them, and we’re all much happier with our more authentic experience of being smelly, dirty bastards for 8 days. Plus I wouldn’t change our guides for the world. 

That night Steve hosts a music quiz before dinner. The crew then bring a cake into the mess tent and start singing happy birthday to me, even though my birthday was 3 weeks ago at this point. Still, it was a really nice touch and very sweet of them! 

It’s then off to bed and the best night sleep I have during the hike. I didn’t even get out of bed to pee. Success!

Day 7: Thursday  - hike day 6

Karanga Camp (3995m) to Barafu Camp (4675m)

Today is a short 4km climb to base camp. It’s an easy day, and my breathing feels much better today, so hopefully that means I’m acclimatising. We pole pole along to the beats of Bob Marley, and to a chorus of constant farting and burping. “Better out than in” has become the slogan of the trip.

Before lunch we’re given a summit briefing by the guides that scares the bejesus out of us. The temperature up top can fall to as low as -20, but somewhere between -9 to -13 is around what we can expect if we’re lucky. Our water bladders will freeze, so we need to take Nalgene water bottles in socks. We can also expect headaches and vomiting. Fabulous. 

After lunch we’re instructed to pack our daypacks, put on our first few baselayers and rest. None of us manage to sleep, we’re all too nervous/excited. We’re called for a light dinner around 6pm. None of us have much of an appetite as we know it’s only a short few hours until the ascent begins. 

That evening is magical. We’re high above the clouds and the sunset is other-worldly. The sky is clear, and we pray it stays that way for our summit push!

Day 8: Friday - hike day 7

Barafu Camp (4675m) to Uhuru peak (5895m) to Low Camp (3100m)

We’re woken at 10pm (I say woken, but in reality none of us were sleeping) and put on the rest of our layers. I’m wearing leggings, thermal leggings and hiking trousers. Up top I have a thermal long sleeve top, another long baselayer, moisture wick T-shirt, a fleece, a down jacket and a wind/water proof jacket. Plus two pairs of gloves, a beanie and a buff. Even with all this I still expect to be freezing my tits off. At this point I have a glove malfunction and Jacqui swoops in to save the day by lending me a pair of hers. Problem is, I have child-sized hands and her big mittens drown me. For the whole ascent I’m unable to use my hands as I can’t grasp anything. If you’ve ever seen the episode of friends where Phoebe and her boyfriend have chicken pox and have giant oven mitts taped to their hands to stop them from scratching. Well it was exactly like that. 

Before setting off, we huddle in the dark with our head torches and Onesmo leads us in a prayer like he’s about to lead us to our death. It’s a somber moment and we all feel the enormity of the challenge that lies ahead.  

To summit we’re accompanied by our 4 guides plus 3 additional porters. This is because our backpacks will be carried for us to give us a better chance of success. Up to this point I haven’t let anyone help me with my daypack, but at this particular moment there’s no use to trying to be a hero and prove a point. I’ll take all the help I can get. 

Onesmo leads the pack and sets the very slow pace. Naively, during the first couple of hours, I’m managing well and think maybe this won’t be so bad after all. How wrong was I! The path the whole way up is a zig zag. It’s pitch dark so the mountain isn’t visible. At no point do you have any real idea of how far you’ve gone and how much remains. I made the mistake a few times of looking up and seeing all the head torches up high in the distance. I’d then be overwhelmed by a feeling of absolute dread and exhaustion at how much I had left to go. 

We’d stop fairly infrequently, and for very short periods of time due to the cold. Very early into the hike, our water bladders had frozen, as we knew they would. Compared to previous days, we’re instructed to drink only when thirsty. We’re all pretty dehydrated most of the way up, mostly because of the sheer effort required to access the water bottles wrapped in socks in our backpacks. 

The rest of the guides and porters are like mountain goats, scaling the rocks at either side of the path, continually singing to us and shouting words of encouragement, which made me quite emotional. None of us would have managed to successfully summit had it not been for each and everyone one of them. Many of them are wearing only tracksuit bottoms, a light jacket and no gloves. Inhuman!

I tried my best to focus only on Robert’s feet in front of me. A random hymn from primary school assembly comes into my head. “One more step along the world I go” and I sing it continuously to myself for hours. Now and again Onesmo will shout out our altitude, and what the time is. “3 hours until sunrise, 90 minutes until sunrise”. I’ve never wished to see the sun more desperately in my life. The cold is unlike anything I’ve experienced and the heat of the sun can’t come quick enough. 

My nose is constantly streaming the whole way up, but having lost the ability to use my hands I can’t do anything about it. Thank god for my buff, which catches all my snot, and various nosebleeds along the way. 

At one point Steve stops to take a shit. I’m grateful for my regular bowel movements throughout this trip, always managing to go right before leaving camp. The thought of having to pull down my trousers and expose  my bits to the cold doesn’t bear thinking about. Plus taking my gloves off to undo my trousers is not an option. 

Luckily, I didn’t seem to suffer any altitude sickness other than extreme fatigue. A few people have headaches, and we find out later that Sarah was having full blown hallucinations throughout. A serious sign of altitude sickness which, had she informed the guides about, she would’ve been taken swiftly down the mountain!

We’re informed that Stella Point is very close (the first peak we reach before the summit which stands at 5756m). At this point we’re like the walking dead. The euphoria of reaching Stella Point and being handed a nice hot cup of tea is short-lived when we realise it’s another hour to reach the summit (and another 100m). It looks close, but it’s deceptive, and it’s another uphill push. I’m extremely fatigued and manage to shove a few jelly babies in my gob. My hands are frozen at this point. 

When I finally make it to the summit I’m overcome with emotion and exhaustion and have a little cry. It’s stressful at the top, there are so many people waiting for their photo opportunity and the guides are arguing about who was before who. Finally our moment arrives and we take a group shot followed by very quick individual photos with our flags. I’m too cold to pull my buff down and smile, so you can’t even tell it’s me in the photo. 

The view from the top is stunning, with the crater and the glaciers in the distance. We can’t enjoy it for long though as staying at that altitude and in that temperature is dangerous and so we’re quickly marched down the mountain. That’s where the fun begins. By this time the sun is up and we start to very quickly warm up. We fly down the side of the mountain, which is mostly fine dirt so we can fairly easily dig our heels in and descend at pace, shedding layers as we go. It takes us 8 hours to summit, and only 2 to get down. We arrive back at camp around 10am and promptly collapse in our tents for a quick nap before brunch. 

We’re all completely and utterly fucked, but the day is not yet over! You’re not allowed to spend more than one night at base camp due to the altitude, so we’re faced with a 7km descent to our next camp which is at 3000m, a drop of over 1500m. Shortly after leaving our tents, Steve does his usual and jumps to the side for a quick fart. This is quickly followed by a shout of “oh fuck” and “avert your eyes”. He’s only gone and sharted! With no rocks for cover, he drops his pants and finishes what he started. I think the mountain crews dismantling the tents got more than they bargained for that morning. 

As we descend through the clouds, it starts to rain and the rocks are slippy underfoot. We arrive to camp in the dark around 7pm, at this point we’ve been awake and walking for around 19 hours. We eat our dinner and are straight to bed for a solid 10 hours sleep!

Day 9: Saturday - final day hike

It’s a 3-4 hour walk to the finish. It’s practically a mud slide the whole way down due to the rain, but with each metre we descend we feel oxygen coursing through our lungs and it’s glorious! What’s even more glorious is the cold Kilimanjaro beer waiting for us at the bottom. I’m drunk after the first one, which is swiftly followed by another two. 

We’re driven back to the office where we have lunch with the entire crew. The set up is quite bizarre as we’re seated at a big table and then everyone else lines up in rows facing us and watching us eat. We’re then presented with our certificates and have another sing and dance. We’re each given the opportunity to say a few words, but being the emotional wreck that I am I struggle to get my words out. Luckily Steve holds it together and manages to say what we were all thinking. Jeremy conducts us in a rendition of “for they are jolly good fellows” followed by a few hip hip hurrays, which is apparently the first time guests have every sang to them. 

Finally it’s the tip ceremony where we present an envelope of cash for the crew to split evenly. We ended up giving the maximum tip suggested, which they were thrilled with. But even that didn’t feel like enough for everything they did for us. Individual tips for specific crew members was also encouraged, but it’s so hard to single people out. I ended up dishing out money left right and centre as I was overwhelmed with gratitude. 

Its now time for what everyone’s been waiting for. A shower. I reckon I spent a good 30 minutes in there. That evening we congregate for the final time, talking about our experience and drinking the bar dry. Steve climbed Kilimanjaro 30 years prior, and kept a diary at the time. He deliberately didn’t read it before this trip, but now seems the appropriate time for him to read to us his chapter of his summit day. Turns out it was as hard back then as it was now with the words “proper shagged and fucked” resonating with us all. 

Across the 8 days we’ve walked a total of 50km and reached an altitude of 5895m. None of us were expecting it to be easy, and it was definitely the hardest thing I’ve ever done both physically and mentally. But it was also the most rewarding experience of my life and one I’ll never forget. At the time I remember thinking, anyone who climbs this more than once is a fucking nutcase. But now that the dust has settled (quite literally), I’m ready to go again!