Mount Eisenhower Hike, aka How to Be Sore for a Week

About to start! So innocent, so young.

Last Sunday, between wiping sweat from my eyes and deciding which rock to place my foot on next, I silently cursed the mountain I had foolishly agreed to climb that morning. My dad was some feet below me, my brother already at the top, and my thighs burned. Mount Eisenhower sits on the western side of the Coachella Valley, and looks beautiful from the lunch terrace at El Dorado Country Club. But climbing it is a different story.

My dad, brother and I set off that morning around 8am, and the mountain slowly sloped until we were scrambling up rocky terrain. It reminded me exactly of day 4 on Kilimanjaro, and I told my dad as much. John had already climbed ahead--the marine wanting to be at the top in under an hour--as we lagged behind.

"This first third is the steepest part," my dad said from below, remembering when he climbed it many years before. I was going a little faster now, my legs remembering how to climb, my hands wanting to clasp the next rock ahead of me. I can do this, I thought, it's not so bad.

Unfortunately, Dad and I were both wrong. We reached the peak of the first section, only to find nothing more than very steep and very rocky terrain to the top. There was no trail. Only red flags to mark where the trail should have been. We thought we lost the main trail somewhere along the way, but couldn't be sure.

The views were pretty great though.

Dad and I stopped to rest a few times, sip some water, and yell for John. He never responded, out of hearing range we supposed, and we kept climbing. About thirty feet from the top (this is only my estimation), I almost fell. A huge boulder was perched on the side of the slope, and I hoped to God it didn't fall on me. I had visions of James Franco in that movie where the a giant rock pins his arm and he has to cut it off with a pocket knife. I didn't have a knife, and this boulder would instead probably pin my head and kill me. That's when I decided to turn around. I sat as best I could on the loose rock and little footing, and shouted to Dad that I was ready to call it. He agreed.

John met us a few minutes later, descending with all the gracefulness of a mountain lion on the rocky slope. We hobbled down, and two hours later were back in the car, exhausted, legs aching, bleeding a little bit, and vowing never to climb that mountain again. My hiking days may not be over, but I'd say they are in Palm Desert. That mountain got the best of me, and for now I'm completely fine with it. I'd rather enjoy it from the terrace, anyway.

Probably getting irritable.

Finally down...I only smiled to prevent the tears from coming.

{Five Things}

My dad with the flag he made for our friends' wedding.

With Thanksgiving less than a week away, and Friendsgiving on Tuesday, I'm finding myself more and more on Pinterest looking for warm recipes and decorations to fill our house. Though we'll be in California for Christmas and may not even get a tree (*tear*), I can't help but look forward to having my own house someday to decorate. 

After last weekend's fantastic and liver-busting wedding of two good friends and marvelous people, I'm looking forward to a simple weekend of reading, preparing for Friendsgiving, and going to see Mockingjay with a buddy. #HGforever 

The cutest floor dwellers I've ever seen in a coffee shop.

Snow covered pansies from Sunday.

All week I've been drinking hot water with lemon in the afternoons. I love that it keeps me warm and doesn't give me the shakes like coffee does.

One of the best views around is on Steamboat Mountain south of Abilene.

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

Kilimanjaro -- Days 3 and 4

Day 3 

Definition of the day: 
Walk high, Sleep low (phrase) -- a way to combat altitude sickness by walking to a high altitude during the day, and then going down to a lower altitude to sleep. Allows your body to acclimatize better to a high elevation. 

It was another morning of bed tea, and I was grateful. We began walking a little after 7, and the peak of Kili was at our 12 o'clock. Knowing that we would not reach the peak for another 48 hours, it was such a tease to see it in the distance.

It was an uphill walk that morning as we climbed to 4500 meters, or 15,000 feet, where we would be eating lunch. Journeying from moorland to desert, the landscape opened up and revealed vast areas of rock, and very little else. Other groups and porters were able to pass us with ease, but finding places to go to the bathroom became more of a chore. Before the climb someone said that you lose all sense of dignity or privacy when climbing Kilimanjaro, and they were right.

15,000 feet was the highest I had ever been in my life, and I was feeling it. There was a palpable change in mood in the group the last 45 minutes before we reached our lunch spot. Conversations slowed or stopped; we all had headaches or were breathing very hard (except for a few extremely fit folks), and by the time we reached our dining tents, everyone was exhausted. Thank the Lord I was able to get down some food despite my throbbing headache, but it was not easy.

We began our descent after lunch back down to 12,000 feet, but my headache never really went away. I thought maybe a good night's sleep would do the trick, and maybe some ibuprofen. I did have Diamox with me, which is supposed to help with altitude sickness symptoms, but I wanted to avoid taking any unnecessary medication since I was already very uncertain how my body would react to the elevation. It may seem backwards, but it made sense to me on the mountain...maybe it was the altitude.

After an afternoon of downhill trekking, and surviving a pretty big fall on some loose rock, I arrived at camp tired and sore in the late afternoon. It was a hard day, and general consensus was that altitude really is in a pain in the ass. That afternoon I played memory games and cards with some of the crew (I evidently say "banana" completely different from the English) and tried to quell my headache as much as possible with tea and popcorn. Day 4 was going to be another long day followed by summit night, so we ate dinner and hit the hay not long after 8:30pm.

Day 4

Definition of the day: 
Scramble (verb) -- make one's way quickly or awkwardly up a steep slope or over rough ground by using one's hands as well as one's feet.

Wake up call was at 5am, and no bed tea this morning. Shit just got real.

Not only that, but we were climbing to 15,000 feet to sleep, and no one felt 100%.

The Barranco Wall was our objective, and this rock wall on steroids is known as "second breakfast" by the guides. Well, I just wasn't hungry for a second breakfast. But onward we marched, and began our scramble by the light of our head lamps, begging the sun to rise so that we would maybe have an inkling of sure footing.

After the sun came up.

Photo cred to Claire Matthews. Thanks, Claire!!

Despite my anxiety, that morning was my favorite on the mountain. The wall was challenging, but doable, and with guides to help us every step of the way it was actually pretty fun. We reached the top of the wall around 11am, and we were thrilled about it. With an incredible view of the peak we stopped to snap a few pics, and then made our way down into a valley, then up the other side of it, to get to our lunch spot high on a cliff. With the clouds permanently below us and a huge rock wall behind us, I ate heartily (french fries, my fave) and felt ready for the afternoon.

Monal, my tent mate, and Claire in front of the peak. 

Texas girls! 

Another few hours uphill got us into camp, and after a satisfying dinner and a quick briefing from Jo, we went to our tents and tried to relax. We were beginning our ascent at 1am, and were advised to sleep as best we could. I was still feeling okay when I turned my head lamp off at 8:21pm, thrilled that I wasn't nauseated. After about thirty seconds I heard Monal breathing heavily, and I was so jealous as I lay there just thinking about the next 12 hours. I slept for about an hour, never able to take a very deep breath, and heard a porter knocking on the canvas of our tent a little before midnight.


Tune in tomorrow for Summit Night and the hike down!

Kilimanjaro -- Days 1 and 2

To those of you who follow this blog (all 7 of you??), it would seem that I fell off the face of the earth after London almost 10 days ago. Au contraire, mon amis. Quite the opposite, in fact. I've been living it up in Southwest Virginia, eating maple and discussing water with basement-dwelling, rat tail-having individuals. I promise I will get to all that in the near future, but I'm gnawing at the bit to talk about Kilimanjaro. I journaled throughout the whole trip, so my handy handwriting will help me remember the most important parts. I am going to break it up into 2-day intervals, so be sure to check back the next few days to get the whole story. I'm so excited to share this experience with you!!


I'm glossing over the hotel stay in Moshi, but just know that it was a lovely place, with palm trees and an outdoor bar. Oh, and showers! Always a good thing..

Day 1

Definition of the day: 
"Pole pole" (adverb) -- Swahili for "slowly, slowly." Said many times over by Kilimanjaro guides to remind novice mountain climbers to walk slowly and steadily. Accompanied often by "sippy, sippy," to remind said novices to keep drinking water.

We woke up at the hotel in Moshi around 6am to pack, eat breakfast, and get going by 8am. It is 45 minutes to an hour to the Machame gate, and on the drive, we could see the peak of Kilimanjaro to our right. I remember seeing it and thinking, "there is no way I'm getting to the top of that thing." It is breathtaking, its snow-capped peak commanding the landscape like a king on a throne. I wondered briefly what I had gotten myself into...

I mean...

We arrived at the gate and all (33 of us) had to sign in, and then wait in a covered picnic area while the leaders organized our porters, guides, etc. All together, we would have over 100 porters and 23 guides. While we waited, the porters set out a table cloth and provided us with tea and coffee. It was the first time we saw how accommodating our porters were going to be that week; they did not disappoint one bit. 

At around 10:55am, with cheers and smiles, we passed through the gate and officially started our climb! The group thinned out to a single-file line to make way for porters passing us on either side, but conversations continued. We had thirteen guides walking with us, and I met and talked with a few of them that first day. Most of them are from the area and have climbed Kili well over 100 times. Their abilities are so impressive...talk about being in shape!

The first few hours passed with little pomp: gradual uphill walking through a beautiful rainforest. I was out of breath many times, my heart pounding, although I still don't know if that was the hiking or first-day jitters. But "pole pole" we walked, until our hourly breaks where we refilled our water bottles, our bellies, and our well of energy. We stopped for a picnic lunch around 1:30pm, where our porters had set out tables and chairs, and served sandwiches and salad. It was nice to have a little break and literally cool our heels.

We got to camp about 4:30, where our porters welcomed us with singing and dancing. What an encouraging pick-me-up it was at the end of a long day! Our tents were already set up, our bags were in our tents, and tea and snacks were waiting for us in the two large dining tents. Talk about service. I wish I could describe how incredible our porters were. Not only were they carrying all of our stuff (bags, tents, food, camp toilets), but they rushed ahead of us every day to make sure camp was ready by the time we got there. I was already thoroughly impressed.

After dinner, Jo, our fearless leader, gave us a briefing about the next day, and then we turned in early. It took some time to get used to the hard ground under me, but I eventually drifted off into a restless sleep.

Day 2 

Definition of the day: 
Bed tea (noun)  -- the act of being brought tea or coffee in your tent in the morning by a porter; serves as a form of alarm clock. Consequently makes getting up at 5:45am much easier for Jennabeth. 

My tentmate, Monal, and I packed our tent, drank our coffee, and got dressed. Not sure if it was the excitement or the jet lag, but I felt ready to tackle day 2. We ate a delicious breakfast of porridge, toast and eggs, and sausage, and enjoyed swapping stories about our first night on the mountain. Strapping on our day packs, we left camp around 7:15, leaving the porters behind to pack up our tents.

During day 2, we left the rainforest and began our trek through the mountainous moorlands. It was much rockier and physically challenging than day 1, and my quads were burning. Although it's more difficult, scrambling up rocky terrain is much more interesting than just walking uphill, so the time passes much faster.

It was a short day of trekking, and we got into camp in time for lunch. We were greeted again by our singing and dancing porters. This time, some of our group timidly joined in, although by the end of the week, we would all be dancing and singing our favorite song, "Kilimanjaro," in Swahili.

Coming into camp!

We had climbed up to 3800 meters, or 12,500 feet, and I still felt pretty great. It bolstered me for the next few days, when we would climb even higher, but the prospect of altitude sickness still loomed over us all like an imminent fog.

An afternoon of rest did us all some good, and dinner that night was lively and full of laughs. We had a wonderful group of fun, positive men and women, and I'm glad to have met and gotten to know so many lovely people from all over the world. Being with a good group truly makes or breaks an experience, and I'm grateful that we all got along and enjoyed each other. The sunset that evening was incredible, and looking out over the clouds just below us, I made sure to remember how lucky I was to be on a trip like this.

Sunset, day 2. Of course, the photo does it no justice..

Tune in tomorrow for Days 3 and 4!!! 

Taking Flight

In about 27 hours, I leave for London!! and in exactly 10 days, I will (hopefully) be on the summit of Kilimanjaro, waving to the world. Our wonderful outfitters have provided us with all the information, and our "cruise director" for London, Danna, has set everything up for us so beautifully, that I'm not even worried that it's supposed to be raining the entire time we're there.

I'm a bit like Bilbo, heading off into the unknown, with only a map and a wizard to guide him and his hairy little feet. Okay so not exactly like that, but I do feel the same. I'm also reading The Hobbit right now, in case you couldn't tell.

There are so many details to sort out for a big trip: passport and visa, packing the right things, getting shots, calling credit card and phone companies, and generally making sure you have all your ducks in a row while you're gone.. But after everything is ready, after all the late-night trips to Walgreens and drives to Backwoods in Fort Worth, the only thing that's left is the delicious anticipation of what's going to happen, who I will meet, and how I will be changed up there. That's how I'm feeling today...I'd also be lying if I said I wasn't super super nervous. But that usually goes away after the first glass of wine on the plane.

As is usually the case with events where months of preparation are required for only a few hours of enjoyment (think weddings, 5k races), I want to relish every moment I am there, because I know it will be over quicker than I can say "Jambo." Preparation for this has led me to some great moments, personal accomplishments, etc, and that was only the training! It's time to see what the actual event has for me. In one of the many guides I read about climbing Kili, and they said to write down or say aloud to your tent mates five "miracles" that you witness every day on the mountain, without repeating one miracle. I am promising myself that I will look for those miracles, be it an African sunset, spotting a random bird I've never seen before, or simply making it through another hour of hiking.

Next time I write, I'll be in the middle of an adventure, with the world either on my shoulders or below my feet. Let's get this thing started.

“There are no safe paths in this part of the world. Remember you are over the Edge of the Wild now, and in for all sorts of fun wherever you go.”  --The Hobbit

Training for Kilimanjaro

Back in December, when I lost my mind and abandoned all mental rational, I signed up to climb Mount Kilimanjaro at the end of February. After the initial shock wore off that I was going to be on top of a live volcano that also happens to be the fourth largest peak in the world, I realized that I had to get in shape.  I was going to be in more than five climate zones in less than a week, not to mention walking uphill for almost five days straight.

After reading a lot online about training for this particular climb, but never really finding a regimen or schedule to follow, I decided that a lot of running, climbing stairs, and spin classes would be the best way to prepare for something this grueling. That, and breaking in my hiking boots.

BODY

I don't think I realized how much this mountain was going to demand of my time, my energy, my money, and my thoughts. It has completely taken over. I spend most of my Sundays planning my exercise schedule for the week. I wake up in the morning thinking about my work out (or two) for the day. I get through work thinking about the 2 mile run I'm going to go on when I get off, or still on a high from a run or exercise class. I think about my calf muscles that are sore pretty much 24/7. I think about it all. the. time.  I've walked up and down Steamboat Mountain a few times, one of the only hill-y areas around, just south of Abilene, which has done wonders for breaking in those boots. My goal in all of this was to simply be prepared to climb a mountain, but the residual effects are quite pleasing. I feel better than I have in a long time, my clothes fit better (if not loosely), and I'm starting to see muscles I haven't seen since high school.

Although I was never this happy while working out. How is she even smiling right now? 

From this point on, I need to keep the steady pace of working out every day, cross training between dance and spin classes, running and the stairmaster. My plan is to have my last workout on Monday, February 17th before we leave on Tuesday. That way, I'll have a good five days of rest before the climb!

MIND

The other day, I was at a spin class and contemplated quitting halfway through. I could have done it. No one would have stopped me or made me keep going; I wasn't there to receive points or a grade. It would have been so easy for me to just stop pedaling, swung a leg over and walked out. But then the instructor said something like "this is your mountain, and this is where you get stronger." MY mountain. My choice to push through the pain or to let myself quit.

In addition to that, constantly in the back of my head is the paralyzing fear that I will have terrible altitude sickness once I'm up there. Apparently, it doesn't matter how good of shape a person is in. The fittest person in the world could have horrible altitude sickness and have to go back down the mountain. It cannot be helped or prevented, and each person reacts differently. Luckily, I know that my dad didn't really have it too terribly when he summited, so that gives me hope. The only thing he complained about was an awful headache, which sounds like most of my Saturday mornings...

The better shape you're in, the more enjoyable the climb will be. And mental preparedness is just as important as the physical preparation. I am probably going to want to turn back multiple times during our trek because it will be too hard. But I'm training myself to ban any thoughts of quitting. I've learned that your body is stronger than you think, and as soon as you can exile any thoughts of quitting, to get your mind out of that pool of doubt, you can push yourself to do more than you ever thought possible.

SOUL

Regardless of all of that, I am determined not to let the altitude or mental exhaustion drag me down. As I've said before, this will most likely be the hardest thing I've ever done. But every time I get scared that I won't make it to the top, I grit my teeth and push just a little harder, thinking of that snowy summit, and the relief and joy I'll feel when I get there.

Breaking 'Em In: My Mountain Climbing Gear Woes

Talk about a reality check: I'm climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro in a less than a month (eeek!!). Training and getting ready physically and mentally is crucial, and I'll talk about that once I get closer to the trip, but it is just as important to have the right gear.

The group we're going with sent me a Kit List, so that I can mark off each item once I've gotten it. Handy, but incredibly daunting. When I pulled the list out of the packet, I gasped and hid under the couch for about 30 seconds. Then I remembered that I'm an adult (sort of?), dusted myself off and tried to wade through it all.  Some things are listed as simply Recommended or Optional, but the majority of items are Essential. My dad has done this before, so he has a few things that I will be able to use like walking poles, sunglasses and a lot of fleece.

Kili kit list. Wouldn't you freak out, too, if you saw this? But look at all my check marks. #responsible 

The "right stuff" includes equipment like boots, fleece jackets, fleece pants, actually just a whole lot of fleece, gloves, backpack, duffle bag, sleeping bag, sleeping bag liner, wool socks, mountain socks, sock liners, gaiters, waterproof shell jacket and pants, a down jacket, insect repellant, hiking pants, floppy hat for the sun, wool hat for the cold, head lamp for summit day, mittens, tshirts not made of cotton, underwear not made of cotton, travel pillow and towel, trekking poles, sun glasses that block out the sun on both sides, hand and feet warmers... Not to mention the copious amounts of Advil I'll probably be taking on a daily basis, snacks, energy gels or bars, a camera and phone... and I could keep going.

Many stores around North Texas are uniquely suited to equip people for trips like these, and of course there's my friend, the internet. The REI store in Plano was a tremendous help, and I recently drove over to Backwoods in Fort Worth to try to find a few things that I am still missing. I'm having problems finding hiking pants and waterproof over-pants for summit day. The rest of the things I don't have I'm pretty sure I can find at Academy here in Abilene. They're things that I have never thought of in my life, like a floppy hat and hiking pants. Also, aren't hiking pants just regular pants? and why does this list say 4-5 season sleeping bag? Is there a 5th season on mountains that I'm not aware of? Let's just say that no class in college educated me about all this.

Have any tips for hiking/mountain climbing/Kilimanjaro? I'd love to hear them!

A Thrill of Hope

My favorite view. And Santa came!

I always love Christmas. If you couldn't tell that from my recent (first!) published article, I'm happy to reiterate. The music, the movies, the fire, the tree, the food, the family...all come together to make my favorite holiday. This year, we traveled to South Lake to be with my mom's family last weekend, and were back in time for a Taliaferro Christmas on Wednesday morning.

My favorite gift was definitely my Anthropologie house shoes, which I pretty much haven't taken off since yesterday morning. My other favorite gift was being able to sit around the fireplace with my parents and my brothers and talk and laugh and drink white cranberry mimosas (white cranberry juice, Prosecco and frozen cranberries!)

Christmas Eve shenans.

While presents and christmas carols flow throughout the season, I try my best to remember the reason for the season, and give thanks for Jesus' birth and his coming to Earth. My faith has been tested this year in many ways, but I continuously hold on to it, gathering strength from it when I'm at my weakest. For that I'm grateful.

Now I'm off to run three miles with my brother as I pick up my training for Kilimanjaro. Stay tuned the next couple of weeks for my updates on buying gear, training, planning my 2-day layover in London, training, and more training.

I hope you had a wonderful Christmas, and have a Happy New Year!!