Finally, we arrived at the Londorossi gate, which was at the western base of Kilimanjaro. I offered up a simple prayer to the mountain, asking for strength and peace of mind as we began our journey up. Over the next eight days, we would walk a total of 42 miles, averaging five to eight hours of walking each day, with a break for lunch and dinner. A fantastic guide and crew supported us.
On each day of our climb, our limbs grew sorer, the temperatures plummeted, the winds grew stronger, and the altitude became thinner. Nevertheless, I put one foot in front of the other and remained focused on my goal: to reach the 19,345-foot peak.
Our ascent began just a little past midnight. It was bitterly cold, and the entire mountain was covered in deep snow. We climbed through the early hours of the morning, only stopping briefly to catch our breath. Finally, at 9 a.m., my family and I reached the summit. We held hands, and I felt tears running down my face. We stood together to watch the sun hit the mountain, and as I took in the splendor of the peak, I was reminded of my earlier experience as a young woman watching the sunrise over Mount Everest.