A Relatively Short Guide to Maple Fest

Every year you are excited, and every year it doesn't disappoint. You fly up on Friday, trying to relax on the three-hour plane ride to your favorite city in America. It isn't easy to relax, however, because you can hardly contain yourself.

You take a cab to an English basement on Capitol Hill. It belongs to the hostess with the mostess, the reason you started going to Maple Fest in the first place. You hug all ten friends that you haven't seen in a year, and try to catch up a little bit before the first meeting of the weekend, or Maple Summit, as it were. This meeting is usually to decide whether you want to stop at Cracker Barrel on the way to Southwest Virginia, or at Sweetgreen before you leave DC. You decide on a Sweetgreen salad because it's the last healthy thing you'll be eating all weekend.

You stuff your bags into one of three cars and climb in, wondering who will be DJing for the three-hour drive to Southwest Va. You talk with your car-mates, listen to Taylor Swift, and most likely stop in Harrisonburg to get snacks (that salad certainly wasn't enough...). You are starting to feel like the old you, the real you that only surfaces in a few places. You know it's going to be a good weekend.

Finally you arrive to your destination, and it's early to bed, early to rise. You have to get to the all-you-can-eat-pancake breakfast as early as possible to avoid the line. Before you leave, you pack a snack pack, graciously provided by your hostess' mother, of baked goods, crackers, and candy. Armed with a camera and a cup of coffee, you leave the house around 7:30am. You drive through the mountains to Highland County. You watch the trees fly by from your seat in the back, their branches bare from the lingering winter. You arrive at the breakfast, and see with disappointment that there is already a line. A long line. But you will wait, of course you will. It's tradition. An hour later you can finally smell the pancakes cooking, the griddle hissing with grease, and the low hum of folks enjoying themselves. Finally, you're in! You get your food and devour, making sure to smother the sausage gravy on both patties of sausage, and soaking each pancake with more maple syrup than you've had in the last five years combined. After you're finished, and can no longer eat another bite, you chug your milk and stand, freeing up table space for the hundreds of people still waiting in line.

"You" in pure Maple Bliss.

You then drive to a sugar farm, where they make maple syrup. You tour the sugar barn, and contemplate buying maple candy in the gift shop. You decide against it, since you're pretty sure your veins are already full of sugar. You buy a maple BBQ sandwich (you've digested those pancakes enough by now), and a Diet Coke, and chow down on the farm's delicious take on a bbq sammy. By now everyone is high on sugar, and you wonder briefly why everything is so damn funny.

Your maple bbq sandwich.

Your beer flight.

You are finished eating for the afternoon, and shortly after find yourself in downtown Staunton (that's pronounced "Stan-ton"), where you visit a wine tasting room, a brewery, a little bookstore, and another wine bar. You see someone you met your first Maple Fest and it is kind of awkward, but the wine is making you happy and you get through the embarrassment.

You go to one more bar before you realize you've had just about enough, and it's time to go back to your home for the weekend. Your friends decide to order pizza, and you eat (seriously, how are you ingesting so much?) while playing Cards Against Humanity. You don't want the day to end. But eventually you give in to your sugar and alcohol fatigue, knowing full well a hangover will hit shortly after 6am.

A little Staunton street art, explaining your feelings exactly. 

You wake up to the smell of bacon and coffee, and come downstairs to find that your hostess' sweet parents have cooked you an enormous breakfast, as they have done every year. You are grateful and very touched by their generosity and hospitality. After breakfast, you pack, walk around the grounds of the house, and chat with these friends who surround you, whom you never get to see, who are your best friends. 

The drive back to Washington is quiet, as you nap or think about the week ahead. The group makes one last stop at a winery to do a final wine tasting and to savor the sweetness of the weekend. You arrive back in DC shortly after and stay with a friend/former roommate before leaving the next day. You are exhausted, but your heart is full. You cherish your weekend with your buddies and count yourself one lucky gal to have such amazing friends. You and your friend stay up late catching up and reliving old times. You anticipate your trip home tomorrow and the perpetual search for your next career path. But for now you push those thoughts back, and say yes to one more glass of wine.

Your BFFs (although a few weren't in this picture.)

Kilimanjaro -- Summit Night

Day 5 -- Summit Night

Definition of the day: 
Conquer (verb) -- to overcome by mental or moral power; surmount; to be victorious.

It wasn't difficult to wake up...mainly because I was already awake; nerves and altitude kept me from sleeping more than an hour. After a nerve-filled breakfast of porridge, eggs and toast, we made final preparations. "Packs on!" Jo yelled from outside the dining tent, and we strapped on our packs carrying as little as possible (water, snacks, sunscreen), put a water bottle in our puffer jackets so the water wouldn't freeze, and walked out of camp a little after 1am.

My headlamp showed me the calves and boots of the person in front of me, and little else. We climbed uphill and over rocks, my legs and lungs burning at every rocky step. An hour passed, then two, and steeper and steeper we went.  Eventually the rocks disappeared and we were able to maintain a steady pace on what seemed like a gravel path. At one point, maybe after hour three or so (I began to lose track after the first one or two), we stopped for a quick break, and a guide came over and told me to give him my pack. I was only too happy to oblige. They took packs from a few people, recognizing when some of us were struggling and needed a little help.

With a brighter sky and a lighter load I continued, knowing that if I could keep up my pace (step, breathe in breathe out, step, breath in breath out), then I could hope to make it to the top. Just one step, then another, then another.

Let me be perfectly clear: it was the hardest thing I've ever done. I was exhausted. I felt light-headed and a little drunk, and I'm pretty sure I hallucinated once. I was really, truly blessed and lucky that I had neither nausea nor a headache, but it was still miserable.

All that faded for a brief moment, however, when the sun rose over the horizon. The sky was painted unfathomable colors of red and orange, and I felt like I was in the first scene of The Lion King...
I thought, what an incredible world God has created, and I was so happy to see that part of it, on that morning, on that mountain. Too exhausted to take a photo, I closed my eyes for a moment and breathed in the thin air, relishing the moment as best I could.

We reached Stella Point, 45 minutes from the peak, and I was shocked when everyone started hugging and congratulating each other. Had we made it? Was the walk to the peak not as difficult? Did I really do it?

Evidently so, because after a few pictures at Stella Point, we dropped our packs (or the porters dropped our packs) and walked to the peak. It was relatively flat, but it was slow going because of the altitude. Then, finally, the moment we had been waiting for. Uhuru Peak, and sweet, sweet satisfaction.

You can't see my Texas flag, but I'm holding one in the other hand.

Panoramic of the walk to the peak. Not bad, eh?

After about 10-15 minutes of pictures, it was time to head down.

If going up was exhausting, going down wore. me. out. Not only do you slide down scree (volcanic rock and ash) for about two hours getting dust in your hair, face and clothes, but your knees hurt, you are hungry, and you want to cry from exhaustion. I had to tell myself to not be a brat and remember the incredible, happy thing that I had just done. It didn't work very well...I may or may not have gotten a little snippy with a guide on our way down (I did apologize to him later).

When I arrived back at the camp, three hours later, my guide made me sit down and drink some pineapple juice. I really wanted nothing more than my sleeping bag and to take off my boots. But looking back now, I see that he was just trying to make me relax for a second, get my blood sugar up, and help me, you know, not die. I am so grateful for Efata and his help down the mountain. Without him I'd probably be lying in a ditch somewhere, or freezing underneath the glacier, who knows.

I slept for a couple of hours and then had lunch with the rest of the group. Exhausted, yet exhilarated, we walked with energy down to Millennium Camp, where we would sleep that night.

When we got to camp, I found some of my compadres who were not so lucky with the altitude. I am so proud of everyone in the group, regardless of the elevation they reached. Those who had to go back down did the bravest thing of all: turn around when it was no longer safe. Whether or not they were in the pictures, they were all at the top in spirit, and in our hearts on the way down.

I ate every bite of rice and beef stew that night, and slept like a baby ("kama mtoto") in my tent on the rock hard ground. It was glorious.

Day 6

Definition of the day: 
Beer (noun) -- often used as a celebratory drink after a large accomplishment; the preferred alcoholic beverage for a large group after climbing a mountain, esp. in Tanzania.

Day six began with bed tea (!!!) and a good breakfast. Then it was time to say goodbye to our guides and porters. We sang and danced one last time together, and took pictures with the beautiful peak in the background.

At about 8:15, we began our descent. I think we stopped twice for bathroom breaks (by this point, we were pros at going in the bushes), and were at the bottom in about 4 1/2 hours. There were sweet kids there to wash our boots for $2, and a tasty beverage for the same price.

We were bussed back to the same hotel where we had arrived wide eyed and green only six days before. Now though, instead of nerves and anxiety, there was relief and joy. We had a celebratory dinner, followed by a night out at the Glacier Bar, where we drank Kilimanjaro beers and danced the night away.

The next morning we would all be heading out to various locations: some to Zanzibar, some home to England or Wales or Ireland, and some back to Texas. All week we had been as one unit, getting to know each other and supporting each other in the process. I knew it was almost over. But for that last night, I still felt part of a team in the midst of an incredible journey, ready to embrace whatever may come next.

--

Next stop: London!!

Did you miss Days 1-4? Check them out here:
-Days 1 and 2
-Days 3 and 4