A journey to Mt Kilimanjaro and how it has transform my life forever
Jane Surrey
April 2025
The glint of Kilimanjaro, a distant diamond in the Tanzanian landscape, had haunted my dreams for years. It was more than just a mountain; it was a symbol of aspiration, a physical manifestation of the challenges I shied away from in my day-to-day life. I, a mid-level accountant with a penchant for spreadsheets and a crippling fear of failure, had no business even contemplating climbing Africa’s highest peak. Yet, the seed of ambition, once planted, refused to be uprooted.
After months of rigorous training, sacrificing weekend brunches for lung-burning hikes and replacing sugary treats with protein bars, I stood at the Machame Gate, the official starting point. The air crackled with nervous energy as our group, a motley crew of adventurers from all corners of the globe, adjusted backpacks and listened intently to our head guide, a weathered man named Calvin whose eyes held the wisdom of the mountain.
The first few days were deceptively gentle. We traversed through lush rainforest, the air thick with humidity and the cacophony of exotic birds. My body ached, my legs protested with every step, but the sheer beauty of the landscape kept me going. As we ascended through the moorlands, the air grew thinner, and the nights, colder. Doubts began to creep in, whispering insidious questions in my ear: “What were you thinking? You’re not strong enough. You’ll never make it.”
The Barranco Wall, a sheer rock face that seemed to defy gravity, was my breaking point. Looking up at the almost vertical climb, my courage faltered. Panic clawed at my throat. I wanted to turn back, to retreat to the comforting predictability of my life. Calvin, sensing my despair, placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Pole pole,” he said, his voice calm and grounding. “Slowly, slowly. One step at a time.” Hakuna Matata a swahili phraise means “no worries”
His words were a lifeline. I focused on each individual handhold, each foot placement, pushing aside the fear and concentrating on the present moment. It was excruciating, but with each small victory, my confidence grew. I conquered the Barranco Wall, not with ease, but with sheer grit and determination.
The next day was all about acclimatization, sleeping at high altitude before descending again. It was during this time, staring at the vast expanse of the African sky, that the mountain began to work its magic. Stripped bare of the distractions of modern life, I was forced to confront my own limitations, my own self-doubt. And I realized that the fear of failure was a far greater obstacle than any physical challenge.
Summit night arrived at the base camp, cloaked in darkness and bone-chilling cold. The headlamps of our group bobbed like fireflies as we began the final ascent to Uhuru Peak. The altitude was a relentless enemy, making each breath a labored effort. My head pounded, my muscles screamed, and the overwhelming urge to give up was almost unbearable.
But then I remembered Calvin’s words: “Pole pole.” And I remembered why I was doing this. I was doing it to prove to myself that I was capable of more than I thought. I was doing it to break free from the shackles of my self-imposed limitations.
For hours, we trudged on, one agonizing step at a time. The sky began to lighten, painting the horizon in vibrant hues of orange and pink. And then, finally, I saw it. The sign. “Congratulations! You are now at Uhuru Peak, Tanzania, 5895m AMSL. Africa’s highest point. World’s largest free-standing mountain.”
Tears streamed down my face, freezing on my cheeks. I had done it. I had conquered Kilimanjaro.
Standing on the roof of Africa, bathed in the golden light of the rising sun, was an experience that transcended words. The world stretched out below me, a tapestry of green and gold, and I felt an overwhelming sense of accomplishment and gratitude. It wasn’t just the physical achievement; it was the realization that I was capable of far more than I ever imagined.
The descent was arduous, but my spirit was lighter than air. I walked with a newfound confidence, knowing that I had faced my fears and emerged stronger.
Returning home, I was no longer the same person who had left. Kilimanjaro had transformed me. I quit my soul-sucking job as an accountant and started my own travel company, specializing in adventure tours for people who, like me, needed a nudge to step outside their comfort zones.
Climbing Kilimanjaro was more than just a tick off my bucket list. It was a journey of self-discovery, a testament to the power of perseverance, and a reminder that the greatest adventures are often found just beyond the limits of our comfort zones. It taught me that the real summit wasn’t Uhuru Peak, but the quiet strength within myself, waiting to be awakened. And that, I knew, would change my life forever.
If you would like to plan and arrange your dream adventure to Kilimanjaro reach info@klmsafaris.com.
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