We were welcomed to the base of Mt. Kilimanjaro by the sounds and sights of Colobus monkeys as we hobbled up a rocky path, shrouded in a dense forest of ferns, exotic flowers, and trees hundreds of years old. A purple flower with a large hole in the center almost looks human, and seems to be calling out to be noticed among all the beauty. Our path is interrupted from time to time by large highways of ants running their fortress path perpendicular across that path. Interlocking bodies create a wall on each side of the small highway as hundreds of others travel freely in one direction. We felt as if we were in the Garden of Eden and the enormity of everything ensured that we would find success in climbing the world’s highest freestanding mountain — Mt. Kilimanjaro.

We reached our first overnight camp spot and were greeted by our large team of guides, porters, and cooks. They were all engaged in song, happiness, and a very deep level of gratitude that they were able to help make our journey to the top of Mt. Kilimanjaro a success. Indeed, the largess of our support team, beautiful and kind strong men, would be critical in the many days ahead as we battled nature, our own unpreparedness, fears, and most of all, extreme altitudes.

That first night, and next morning set the tone for the rest of our trip. As we sat together in the mess tent, one of our youngest members was bitten by a colony of ants and went into mild shock. So far from civilization, we realized the enormity of the situation and pooled our knowledge to help. Ultimately, our group leader, Robert, a strong and stern man resembling Bob Marley triaged, inventoried, and stabilized the young soul. This was real now–we put our trust into Robert and his guides Mohamed and Amnai, and the rest of the porters and support crew.

Morning came early and we were woken by a song played on our waiter’s radio. It was a bright and cheery song that would become an anthem for our trip. The chorus exalted for all to “Wake Up Everybody” “Don’t sleep” I instantly bonded with our waiter, “Supertall” , over this song and he and I would exchange “Everybody” with “Somebody”, “Nobody”, and other nonsense variations. This quickly spread throughout our group and would be blurted out, sang-out, and referred to constantly. The humanity, silliness, and connection this song and few words brought to everyone on the team surely helped to motivate us in the long trip ahead.

We were told early on through our research, that Mt. Kilimanjaro was an easy mountain to climb. Is that so we thought, the highest free standing mountain in the world. Many died on Kilimanjaro, until the Tanzanian government instituted a process of permits and guide services in the 1970’s. In “The Snows of Kilimanjaro” Ernest Hemingway wrote:

“Kilimanjaro is a snow‐covered mountain 19,340 feet high and is said to be the highest mountain in Africa. Its western summit is called the Masai ‘Ngaje Ngai,’ the House of God. Close to the western summit there is the dried and frozen carcass of a leopard. No one has explained what the leopard was seeking at that altitude.”

Like the Leopard, what was I seeking in my summit of Kilimanjaro? Most notably, my good friend Chris Hardwick set-out to climb mountains around the world in 2023 and it would become the theme of his business coaching practice that year. He set up the trip and I immediately committed to join him and the team. I met Chris in Beijing, China in 1986 upon getting thrown out of Chinese police car–my second time in jail there for various offences to include black market money changing, illegally exploring off limits areas of the Great Wall of China, and standing on a man’s chair to get a better angle for a photograph inside of the Forbidden City. This apprehension was exceptional as hundreds of Chinese assisted in my arrest as I tried to fight off a man with my tripod. Since that time, Chris has been one of my greatest cheerleaders, and trusted friends. He is extremely successful, athletic, and is able to unlock the fears, misconceptions, and traumas that hold us back from reaching the goals and success we all deserve. Surely, climbing this mountain with Chris and the team would be one of the defining moments in my life.

Our team was was made up of accomplished business leaders, motivational speakers, and all exceptionally nice people. Chris only works with nice people! He’s a cocky, self proclaimed “shit-stirrer”, and is always testing the limits of EVERYTHING. At the end of the day, however, he has your back, ALWAYS. It was no surprise that everyone on our team brought other such gifts as these to our group. Shawn, the owner of a roofing company in Vancouver, Canada thrived on unexpected change, disruptions, and other obstacles. Upon meeting him at our hotel in Moshi, Tanzania, he was two days late due to a British Airways Strike, and the climbing gear he curriated over the last six months had been lost by the airline. He reached out with a handshake and a mile-long smile. I asked him how he could be so cheerful after such an ordeal. He said that his attitude was all that he had control of!

The two youngest people on our team were Noah and Mitch, lovely brothers who blended well with the team despite our difference in age, and yet were kind and traditional in many ways and brought wisdom and new ideas to the group. Their Dad, Dan, brought a myriad of perspectives, opinions, and color to our group through his many careers as a MMA Fighter, Motivational Speaker, and Wellness coach. Mauricio, owns his own sales lead generation service in Vancouver, Canada and was constantly sniffing for wifi signals on the mountain to keep in touch with his business. We were a great team and played on our strengths and weaknesses.

Half-way through our second day of climbing, sudden tragedy struck me while climbing above 10,000 feet. As a photographer, it was almost a sin not to carry my full complement of 35mm camera, gear, and lenses. At the start of the climb, I felt like a million bucks and made the sacrifice to carry the extra twelve pounds of gear, along with the mandatory fleece, rain gear, snacks, and 3 quarts of water! Almost double the recommended weight. Nature and altitude won and I immediately suffered from extreme exhaustion. Our team marveled at my resolve to finish the day of climbing while I inched along in a stupor. This exhaustion would follow me from that moment until the summit days later. I started the trip at an extreme deficit and we were only at 10,000 feet. 9,340 feet to go! I couldn’t imagine making it to the top in my condition and with so many days to go, with so much elevation to achieve, and with the diagnostics at the hands of our guides, like the oximeter that measured our heart rate and oxygen saturation–they had a responsibility to keep me and the rest of our team and support staff safe and the oximeter did not lie. It was senseless to self-report to the team and our guides. When asked how I felt on a scale of 1 to 10 I always responded with a ten. “I feel great” All during this time, we stuck together as a team and it was not lost on our group the enormity of my continued perseverance in almost impossible circumstances and health. Failure to reach the summit was not an option for me–too much was sacrificed, too much was planned, I committed to this and could not go back.

Several days and nights followed as we progressed along the various zones of Mt. Kilimanjaro: Bushland / Cultivated Zone 2,600′ to 6,000′; The Rainforest Zone: 6,000 to 9,200 feet; The Heath/Moorland Zone: 9,200 to 13,200′; The Alpine Zone: 13,200 to 16,500′; and finally the Arctic Zone at 16,500 feet and above. A guide or porter could most likely know the altitude by what was growing and where. It was surprising what we would encounter and where–Kilimanjaro Five Toed Skinks, skunk-like Colobus Monkeys, or the White-necked Raven that thrived at the highest altitudes and provided much needed motivation and encouragement to our group. We felt like aliens as we were dwarfed by Giant Groundsel, a prehistoric plant that evolved over a million years ago in areas above 14,000 feet and adapted to survive in sub-zero temperatures. The Barancco Wall was like a stairway to heaven that zig-zagged up 843 feet and provided several areas where one could fall from, especially at Kissing Rock where you need to flatten your body against the rock to avoid falling off of a steep cliff. Many kiss the wall in this section. 

While the flora and fauna of Kilimanjaro provided a special motivation and distraction, I had to dig deep inside to combat the pain I was feeling deep inside my body, and to extract every cubic inch of oxygen into my bloodstream. The headache I was feeling was real, and ibuprofen helped. The Acetazolamide (Diamox) pills I ingested daily made my blood acidic and expelled salt and water buildup in the body which helped with altitude sickness. There was, however, one pain that I was unable to deal with, and the symptoms worried my guides—a strange traveling pain around  the center of my body and lungs.  A pain I had never felt before.  I was able to remove this pain through visualization, good thoughts, and sheer determination to not acknowledge the pain. Pain is so subjective, except for the person dealing with it, but there was something to this that helped me get beyond this very real and debilitating irritation. I was able to replicate the removal of this pain again and again and this victory set me up for one of many success I would need for the grueling days ahead. 

Summit day finally came and our team was rewarded with both anticipation and relief. This was a goal of sorts, a new starting line, and the knowledge that in about six hours, we would be at the highest point in Africa, and on top of the highest free standing mountain in the world. What we did not know was that this final ascent would be relentless in both altitude and unending vertical climb. With each step we took, we invested more and more energy that we could barely afford and muster-up. We questioned ourselves with each step as we grew weaker and weaker. In addition to our to our own intimate physical inventories, we received so many debilitating cues, like the string of moving headlamps that reached for thousands of feet into the sky in the pure darkness.  It was impossible, and preposterous that these lights continued to meet the star-filled sky above until they disappeared into the night. 

We spent months preparing for this climb.  We made many sacrifices with both family, friends, and work. Months of discussions, meetings, and travel plans.  And the cost of the trip.  But now we were faced with a new challenge—the continued struggle to the top. Were we even capable of reaching the top? Quit now, or continue another thousand feet only to be defeated by our own willpower, or by our guides watching our every move and facial expression? Beyond our own sheer mental energy, did we eat enough? The high altitude has robbed us of our appetite over the last couple of days. The pure math alone tells us it’s very difficult to fill the calories needed for such a pursuit as this night presents. Do we continue the struggle for what seems indefinite, or give up now?

For several days our group has enjoyed the company of other climbing groups we met along the way and at each overnight camp.  A Dutch lady stands out and serves as a “wake up” nurse at a hospital. Hers is the first face a patient sees as they reenter the world after anesthesia. She is quite fit, energetic and her laughter fills the air day after day and night after night around the camp.  She is adored by our group and staff. On summit night and in the grey light of headlamps, I spot her unexpectedly seated on a rock surrounded by guides and staff. She is ashen-colored and demoralized. She does not recognize me as I slowly trudge by. Thanks to her guide she later makes the summit.  Further along I see an injured porter, a rare sight, and all manner of people with distorted and exhausted faces.  Many are able to hide the pain, but later admit it was the hardest thing they’ve ever done.

Finally, I reach Shira peak and my guide tells me I have reached the top of Kilimanjaro. This is not the peak, and luckily my team pleads to our guide Robert to bring me to Uhuru Peak where I will place Tibetan Prayer Flags on the marker there in honor of my brother Ron. The flag once flew at Mt. Everest Base Camp and will now find a home on the roof of Africa! Robert quickly agrees and we are off to the very top.  He risks his reputation and my safety for this extended journey—we are only allowed to be on the peak for 20 minutes.  The longer you are at this altitude nearing 20,000 feet, the more opportunity for problems. We travel past what looks like high mountain deserts and towering walls of glaciers. This is the hardest thing I have ever done, but it is lost on me in my exhaustion.  We still have a steep and long decent ahead of us.

About half-way back to Shira peak, Robert stops me and asks that I take a seat on a rock.  He says that I am turning blue and that he would like to administer oxygen from the small green tank strapped to his pack. A young and energetic guide, a teenager,  who specially joined us for summit night takes especially good care of me as we prepare to return to basecamp. Sandwiched side by side between them, I put my arm around each one’s shoulder and we begin a glassading descent down a steep scree of fine volcanic rock punctuated by large rocks and boulders. Robert yells out to other climbers making the journey back down to move out of the way. I would never accept such a rescue, but I felt I owed it to Robert and his team after the risks he took getting me to the very roof of Africa. As we neared basecamp, we took an aggressive detour into a canyon that exposed a hidden network of trails and villages that was the inner workings of the camps that made summit night possible. Our camp slowly came into view as my dear, dear porter and guide friends all ran over to assist. I insisted that I was ok, but was overcome with emotion and let go of any and all pride and bathed in the comfort, caring, and compassion of my Chagga and Sukuma brothers who cared and loved me and our team over the last seven days.

We woke the next morning at 6am to prepare for our continued descent down the mountain back to Moshi, Tanzania. By this time our team is functioning at a high level and we are transformed, actually believing that we are a special forces gorilla unit. We are changed forever and have a deep love of our porter, guides, cook, and waiter and for the people of Tanzania. This was the hardest day of my life, and I am relieved to hear that this is true of our entire team of accomplished friends. Back at our hotel we learn of a two-time Olympic Athlete who failed to reach the summit due to altitude sickness. Several fine men and women in the prime of their lives find solace in our stories of challenge to reach the summit, as do we upon hearing theirs. We all share a special bond climbing this mountain and will cherish this accomplishment forever.

Bruce Barry, Live at the Ballard Elk’s Club in Seattle! This is the definitive guide to health that will propel you into the extraordinary health, lifestyle, and fitness of one our best athletes in the SUP racing community. Following just a few of the tips presented here by Uncle Bruce will ensure notable benefits in welfare, and pave the way for further gains. Most importantly, the information presented here will ensure a longer life, and the health and fitness required to enjoy it.

The best part of my stand up paddle journeys is meeting people on and along the water. Tonight I had the pleasure of meeting Bo and Lillyan who were enjoying a moment along the Willamette River.

Lindsey Virdeh was forever changed by the Pandemic and found love and acceptance in the sport of stand up paddle boarding. She is a Mother, Wife, and Instructor in Clean Energy Technology at Shoreline Community College in Washington State.

Paddling provided Lindsey both the calming solitude she needed during the pandemic and allowed her to spend time with her friends during the quarantine. She also learned to love herself for exactly who she was–a person with her own interests, passions, and friendships separate from her identity as a wife and mother.