Chris Glass, communications officer of New Windsor’s IMA World Health organization, stands on the summit of Mt. Kilimanjaro.
Written By Scott Braden
This may have been the year to climb mountains: specifically, Mt. Kilimanjaro,
the Tanzanian peak made popular by Ernest Hemingway’s short story, The Snows of Kilimanjaro.
Last September, Chris Glass, 38, formerly of Westminster, was facing Kilimanjaro. It was Glass’ “climb for a cause,” and he was alone, somewhere between 15,500 and 16,500 feet.
The Littlestown, Pa., resident had a guide – all climbers are assigned a guide, two porters, and a cook – but his guide had come down with altitude sickness and had to go back down the mountain to get Abraham, one of the porters.
So, as his guide disappeared into the darkness, Glass found himself utterly alone and exhausted with the whipping mountain wind, his thoughts and the night.
Glass’ trip to Tanzania did not start out like that. In the two weeks before his climb, Glass – a communications officer for faith-based IMA World Health in New Windsor – helped launch and support programs benefiting treatment for Burkitt’s lymphoma (a treatable childhood cancer and the cause for which he was climbing), cervical cancer, HIV/AIDS, and rape crisis. He had also traveled to facilities and hospitals throughout Tanzania and the Democratic Republic of Congo. He was feeling primed and ready for the mountain.
As was Michael Billingslea, 62, a financial planner with Kairos Wealth Advisors of Raymond James Financial, also formerly of Westminster, and his wife, Jackie Johnson, 60, a Ph.D. and consultant in higher education, doing business as Jacqueline Johnson & Associates. The New Market, residents decided to climb Kilimanjaro because they both enjoy adventure.
“I did some non-technical mountain climbing in the Adirondacks, White Mountains, and Rocky Mountains,” said Billingslea. “And we’ve never been to Africa before. We definitely wanted to go on a safari. So we hooked up with the sporting goods retailer REI. They offered a plan of doing Kilimanjaro and a safari back to back, so we went with that.”
“Both the safari and Kilimanjaro were in Tanzania,” said Johnson. “We were beside ourselves with joy.”
But as they prepared for the climb, they encountered problems.
“We tried to hike here [in Maryland], but it was too hot,” said Billingslea. “We hiked in 100 degrees and 95 percent humidity, and we thought, ÔThat’s nuts.’ So we spent two weeks at our son’s home in Denver, climbing and training before flying to Africa.”
“My training was running five miles on the treadmill every night when I got home from work,” said Glass. “And on Sundays, I’d wake up at 5:30 in the morning, put on a pack with water jugs in it, and just go. I would just bring my cell phone with me, pick a direction and just walk. And when I got tired, I’d call my wife and we’d have lunch. My longest hike was 20 miles. My training hikes were approximately 18 to 20 miles, so I was feeling good.”
Billingslea and Johnson were feeling good, too, when they landed at Kilimanjaro Airport in August. An REI representative picked up the couple at the airport and shuttled them to a lodge to spend a day recovering from the 24 hours of air travel.
“We spent the night at a coffee plantation and lodge,” said Billingslea, “which was really beautiful. The next morning, we drove out to begin the climb.”
Glass’ experience was slightly different.
“I arrived at Kilimanjaro around 11 p.m. on September 1,” said Glass, “made it through customs by midnight, and got ride to the Marangu Hotel by 1 a.m. I laid all my stuff out and went to bed. Got up at 6 a.m. and met my guide for the climb.”
“When you go into the park,” added Billingslea, “you sign in and sign out. You can’t just go in there and climb the mountain. There are fees and permits that are required by the Tanzanian government.”
“First day you go through rain forest,” said Billingslea, “On later days, you pass through several other eco-systems including heather, moorland, and then alpine desert.”
“They walk you up Ôpole pole’ (PO-lay PO-lay), which means Ôslowly slowly,’” explained Johnson. “Altitude sickness can be dangerous, so they did daily checks of our oxygen saturation level and resting heart rate.”
“There’s one extra day of steady climbing,” Glass said. “Some people skip that extra day and fail to summit. It’s harder on your body. I saw people in better shape than I not make it, and I saw people in not as good as shape as I make it. It all has to do with how your body reacts to the altitude. And that’s something I couldn’t prepare for. I live in Pennsylvania and I can’t climb 10,000 feet even if I wanted to.”
“From 12,000 feet to 15,000 feet, hiking five miles took us seven hours,” said Billingslea. “It’s pitch-black – no light pollution. The stars were amazing. Its final ascent is steep, and we’re walking on scree so you have to use switchbacks.”
“It’s like seeing a ski slope all the way up the mountain,” said Johnson. “There were people ahead of us wearing their headlamps. It looked like a stairway to heaven.”
At 16,500 feet one of the women in the party blacked out, said Johnson. “I wasn’t feeling very good. I could have gone another 500 feet but that’s it. I volunteered to go down with the girl who blacked out. I ended up with a bronchial infection and was exhausted.”
“I went another 1,000 feet (to 17,500), said Billingslea. “We were all using rest-steps and I was having trouble keeping my heart rate under 80 percent of max. When an inhale brought a sharp pain in my upper lung, I turned around.”
Meanwhile, Glass was up on the mountain alone.
“I saw headlamps above me and below me,” explained Glass, “and they were very small. But I knew I wasn’t going to get lost. So I told my guide to go, and off he went into the darkness. He left and said he’d send Abraham up.
“So, I’m sitting there in this gravel and its cold and I’m tired,” remembered Glass. “So now what? I tried to get a drink and my water was frozen. That was the low point of the trip for me. I ended up thinking about what my orientation director said. Two things I needed to remember, he said, was to go slowly, and you’re going to be tired, but don’t stop.
“So, I’m sitting there getting my head straight. Then I put one foot in front of the other for about an hour, an hour and half. I looked up and saw some headlamps. I caught them. It’s a guy named Bill from Connecticut who was in his 60s, with his guide, Fred.
“I greeted the guide in Swahili: ÔJambo.’ Fred asked me where my guide was and I told him he was sick and asked if I could walk with them for a while. Bill said, “Come on; it will be good to talk to someone.” So, we walked together for an hour. Mentally, it was good to talk to Bill and get my mind off of being alone and cold.”
“We were four hours into what’s supposed to be a five-hour hike, when I felt someone hit me in the back and say ÔChris?’ It was Abraham. He said, ÔUh-huh. I’ll take you to the top now.’ He got me through the darkest part of the trip literally and figuratively. I was so excited when I got to the top.”
At the top, Glass thought of two things as he saw the sun rise over Kilimanjaro: How much he missed his family and couldn’t wait to tell them. Also, the children who benefited from his climb – which made approximately $2,000.
Even though they didn’t make it to the top, Johnson and Billingslea would not have missed the experience for the world.
“Mine was about the journey,” said Johnson. “It’s disappointing, but to me, it was about the adventure and pushing myself. We hiked about 50 miles. It was beyond the mountain. There are other mountains to climb.”
“Given the same circumstances,” said Billingslea, “I’d turn around again. If I had the chance to do it again, I would, but 20 pounds lighter. It would be interesting. I’d like to get to the top. I’m the kind of person who likes challenges, and being around to do things tomorrow, too.”
