Privileged Observer: MT MERU - CLIMBING AFRICA'S 5TH HIGHEST MOUNTAIN

It’s 1.30 am - time to go.

We’re ready: all muffled up against the cold, headlamps at the ready, water bottles filled and energy snacks stashed in various pockets and hidey holes.

Setting off...

We are at Saddle Hut on Mount Meru and it is summit day. The plan is to get to the summit around dawn, make our way back here in time for lunch and then carry on down to Miriakamba Hut for our last night on the mountain.

We have already spent 2 leisurely days hiking - it is important to acclimatise properly. On the first day, we walked through beautiful forest from Momella Gate up to Miriakamba Hut, at 2500m (around 8250’). On the way, we saw a herd of buffalo, giraffe, warthog, bushbuck, Olive Baboon, Sykes’ Monkey and the park’s signature species, the beautiful Black and white Colobus.

On the 2^nd day we woke up to glorious close-up views of Meru’s crater, with Kili’s smooth dome backlit to the east. What a spectacular mountain – it’s right there on my doorstep and I’ve wanted to climb for years, but always managed to put it off. Until now.

Mt Meru at dawn, Miriakamba

We left Miriakamba after breakfast for the easy 4-hour hike to Saddle. We started out in highland forest, with giant Podo and Hagenia trees all festooned with Spanish Moss, ferns and other beautiful plants.

Red Hot Poker

Approaching Saddle (3500m, 11500’), Little Meru looms above us– Noah (our guide) said we would climb it for our afternoon excursion, which seemed overly optimistic. In the end, it was a surprisingly easy hike and well worth the effort, with the land dropping steeply away on all sides, giving spectacular views.

Summit, Little Meru

A short distance away, Meru’s main peak hovered, tantalisingly close. The crater had filled with cloud and kept overflowing like a giant steam-filled cauldron, only for the clouds to get shredded by the wind and blown away.

Meru Crater

And so, here we all are in the dark, ready for the big day. Anyone with any sense would be in bed, snuggling up against the cold. But not us - Noah starts walking and off we trudge.

We move at a slow pace, so as not to use up all our energy early on. We have planned this trip to coincide with a full moon: our world is bathed in gorgeous silvery light and there is no need for headlamps as we zigzag our tortoise-like way up to Rhino Point. Extraordinarily, there is a rhino skeleton here, hence the name – although why a rhino would want to be here seems a bit of a mystery. (Black Rhino were common in Arusha National Park as recently the 1970’s, but were wiped out by the 80’s to satisfy the world’s weird desire for rhino horn).

From Rhino, the trail makes its way along the crater rim, veering off occasionally to skirt tricky sections. Most of the time we are walking on ash and scree, but on occasion we have to use our hands and clamber across precarious rocky slopes. Sometimes we find ourselves on a narrow ledge, with the mountainside dropping away to Ol Donyo Sambu on our right, while on our left, a short scree slope ends in the yawning void of the crater – a 2000’ sheer drop.

The going is hard work, especially on the unstable scree sections, and oxygen is in short supply. By 4.30 am, we are getting tired and Jules announces that she’s had enough, is turning back. Noah is horrified: ‘But we’re almost there!’ (Yeah, right!) ‘It gets much easier up ahead’. Jules is persuaded and Noah is right: a short while later, the going improves and we can even see the summit. It still looks dauntingly far above us, but now our goal is clear. It’s quite simple really: just keep putting one foot in front of the other.

The hard slog up

Just before 6 am, the sun comes up, painting the eastern horizon in a dazzling array of peaches, pinks and oranges. Kilimanjaro’s dome looms out of the layer of cloud, which laps at the edge of the crater just below us. A magical scene.

Mt Kilimanjaro at dawn

It is around 7.30 when we come around a corner and there it is: Socialist Peak (so-called because this is where Mwalimu Nyerere came when he launched his political theory of African Socialism) – at 4566m, just over 15000’, Africa’s 5^th highest peak. It is a fantastic feeling, being on top of the world after six hours of trudging. Jules waxes eloquent: ‘Never – again!’ she manages in a quavering voice.

At last!

But the gods of the mountain have not been kind: the clouds have now gathered around the mountain and visibility is minimal. And sadly, 2 of our number have had to turn back – the effects of altitude were just too much. So we don’t hang around long to savour our achievement, but head back down the mountain once more.

It’s odd how down also means ‘down’. I found the night climb relatively easy, but the descent is much more difficult. I suspect I was a bit dehydrated and suffering from a sugar low, but there was more to it than that. On the way up I was sustained by the anticipation of that sense of achievement, of getting there: going down, there’s nothing left to look forward to, except a looooooong hot soak to wash away the grime.