Up on the Roof of Africa - David Kootnikoff

Discovering what it takes to summit Kilimanjaro...

clipped from english.ohmynews.com "Hakuna matata," says Freddy, our guide, reminding us once again that there's "no problem." It's 4 a.m. and nearly six kilometers above sea level, where we are clinging to Mount Kilimanjaro, the "roof of Africa," like castaways from "The Lion King." "Iko Matata," I reply. "There is a problem." An icy wind is slicing through my scarf, raking my face like a bag of thorns and I'm pushing on the wife's butt to prevent her from passing out. We've been going for close to six hours through the frozen dark. In a few more hours the sun will finally peek over the horizon.

Everest Calling

First cell call from Mount Everest was recorded on a blog

Your cellphone chirrups. Your colleagues around the boardroom regard the interruption with obvious annoyance and frustration. But holding up a hand with the cellphone in it, you defend yourself, saying: “Sorry, I need to take this. It’s from the top of Mount Everest.”
36-year-old Rod Baber, a British mountaineer, has made the first cellphone call from Mount Everest.

It was no easy feat either. First off, Baber would have had to remove his oxygen mask which meant not only would he have difficulty breathing, but would be even more susceptible to the cold. Baber had to tape the phone’s batteries to his body to prevent them from freezing and becoming useless. The initial transmission was not live, or made to a living person, but recorded on a voicemail account created by the expedition’s sponsor Motorola, and subsequently posted on Baber’s blog.

Gasping at almost 9km above sea level, Baber says, “Hi, this is Rod. Making the world’s highest phone call on the 21st of May. [Fumble]. It’s 5:37am. It’s about minus 30 C. It’s cold. It’s fantastic. The Himalayas are everywhere. I can’t feel my toes. Everyone’s in good spirits. We got here in record time.” He then describes what he wants to do once back at base camp.

The 2nd call he made was live, to his wife and children in Cirencester, Gloucestershire,in the UK. Typically climbers spend only around 15 minutes on the roof of the world, so Baber had to be brief. He told his family: “It’s amazing. I can’t feel my toes.” Baber then sent this first ever text message from Everest, to Motorola: “One small text for man, one giant leap for mobilekind – thanks Motorola.” We will probably hear Baber’s message and see the text message used in television commercials to promote the Motorola brand around the world.

Having already seen Baber’s story flighted in various media, I am reminded of South African software billionaire Mark Shuttleworth’s trip into space. Knowing the world would be reporting on this story, I contacted the advertising agencies that did promotions for Shuttleworth (the world’s second space tourist) and suggested Mark record a message in space on a simple Dictaphone which could later be relayed as inexpensive but powerful radio commercials to promote tourism to the country (a much underutilized, and under marketed resource). Som thing like:
“This is Mark Shuttleworth. Space really is our final frontier, but you don’t have to come to outer space to find your inner space. Visit South Africa.”
Perhaps an additional website for information could have been provided, along with in-support outdoor advertising. In an email Mr Shuttleworth indicated that the Russians were strict in terms of what cosmonauts were allowed to do and take with them. Every gram had to be calibrated. So unfortunately, that opportunity slipped away unused.

Nevertheless, it is somewhat surprising to hear that the first cell transmissions from Everest only took place this year, in 2007. Satellite transmissions have of course been made in the past, one of the most famous was from Rob Hall, the New Zealander who was patched through to his pregnant wife in that fateful year, 1996, before succumbing on the mountain.

But cellular technologies have been present around the world for some time. People have made the claim in thousands of contemporary conversations that with a cellphone one is reachable (theoretically), everywhere, from Mount Everest, to the bottom of the ocean. That has not been 100% true in the case of the cellphone. Baber’s call was thanks to China Telecom’s new base station at Rongbuk which is 19km from the summit of Everest, and 8km from base camp. It is one positive development of the unhappy taking over of Tibet by China that at least the local communities may benefit from the deeper pockets of the intrusive Chinese regime. Until now, regional telecommunications had only been possible using shortwave radios and the heavier and more expensive satellite phones.

Baber remains fortunate to have been able to transmit from Everest, given the extreme cold. To illustrate just how susceptible batteries and the like are to becoming dysfunctional in the extreme cold of high altitude, I refer to the almost 6km high Kilimanjaro (a third lower than Everest), a peak I climbed in the mid 90’s. Once on the volcanoes rim, which is probably half as cold as Everest, perhaps minus 10, or minus 15, we discovered that the camera’s battery was simply too cold to use. After stuffing the camera between my inner shell (a cycle jersey) and my skin, I was able to resurrect a few faint pulses of battery power. It was sufficient for a summit photo, but there was an agonizing moment where the person I handed the camera to said, “It’s not working.” By the simple action of removing it and handing someone else the camera, exposing it to the icy air, the battery had once again lost the small amount of body heat I’d imbued it with. Thus I had to re-heat the camera for the all important photograph and try again. ‘It’s still not working. It’s dead.” After the third time my companion was able to take a photograph, freezing the image into the camera’s cold digital mind space.

In the near future, space tourists (perhaps on Virgin Galactic rocketships) may demand to be able to communicate from space to their families and friends. Companies like Connext (who provide internet from airlines) already provide us with connectivity at 30 000 feet, but once again only satellite phones are likely to work from space right now. But given the extreme energy demands of space travel, I personally do not believe space tourism will last more than a season or two, if it ever gets off the ground. Then again, with human beings, anything is possible.

Background for this article from www.ananova.com and The Sunday Times London.

Kilimanjaro Closing

From: www.travelwatch.com

Authorities have closed two routes up Mt. Kilimanjaro that lead to Arrow Glacier, a spot where three Americans were killed by falling rocks in January. Park officials determined that the likelihood of similar slides in the area was too great to keep the trails open.

Scientists have warned that global warming is melting Kilimanjaro’s snow and glaciers, and more rocks may be dislodged by strong winds.

One hundred sixty miles west of Kilimanjaro, in the Ngorongoro Conservation Area, the volcano Oldonyo Lengai erupted twice in mid April. Authorities have warned people to stay away, but tourists have come to watch the spectacle. No one was injured in the eruptions.

Signs of Strength

When I read about Krakauer's accounts of Man Vs Nature...I cannot help wondering how would I fare.

What a name! Krakauer. The phonetics of ice and wind and the wild are all there. Is it a coincidence that one of the world's most magnificent mountain ranges sound the same: The Karakorum Himalayas. When you read about his 23 days alone in Alaska, trying to make the summit of Devil's Thumb, he seems to have a quality few men have today: to succeed or die trying. It's the first part that has all the emphasis of course. Who can honestly claim to be this driven?

I find I compare myself to these deeds and find myself coming short, but then I wonder if he would have the same endurance, in say a swimming pool, or on a bicycle. The point is, it is about the same thing, endurance. What is different though, is that on a mountain, much more than on a bicycle, a lapse of concentration can prove fatal. On a mountain everything you do really matters. Perhaps the lesson we learn from the mountain is that this is true everywhere, not just on mountains. The mountains are there for those who neeed a reference check on what is important in life, perhaps they have forgotten who and what really matters to them.

This constant theme of derring-do, especially in the mountains...it lifts me up. Krakauers account of his dogged assault of Devil's Thumb (he managed to set his tent on fire halfway through the trip)...despite facing death on a few occasions, being overwhelmed by loneliness, fear, and setbacks, he remained until he succeeded...this is especially inspiring as an achievement of exceptional strength, bravery and skill.
I put myself in a similar position and wonder what I would have done. I wonder how I will do attempting something like Mount Everest? Is it about sheer determination, sheer will? Is it about resisting and enduring prolonged misery and suffering? Could I do that? Should I? Would I be doing it as a direct comparison, as an experiment, or for the unadulterated thrill?

I think there is some value, sometimes, in comparing ourselves to others. It helps forge an identity which may not be fully realised. We find our place in the world, we find who and what we are, and also what we are not.

The other way, is the inward journey. This is usually a lonely road, which brings us to the other side, more appreciative of others, less guarded, perhaps, of ourselves.

I also look at McCandless and see that while he had an intellectual superiority (his father was a rocket scientist after all) the fatal weakness that led to tragedy in Alaska was his fear of the water. There are two reasons he died in the wild, and the one is that the waters of the Teklanika River scared him enough to turn back and wait for them to subside. I don't know if I could have survived as long as he had, or as well, but I do know I would have found a way across the raging river. I've swum in icy streams, and icy seas, played in the monstrous rapids of the Zambezi, in the floodwaters of our farm...It may have been difficult, but not too difficult to be done.

One could also argue that McCandless saw no reason to make the crossing, as the whole point of his adventure was communing with nature for an extended length of time, and of course once the river sent him back, he triumphantly celebrated the fact that he'd been in the wilderness for 100 days. He was not complaining, waiting, hoping to cross. I do think, as pointless as this point is, had I come up upon the river, I would have found a way to cross it there and then.
Maybe you get washed away, but as you do, you slowly cross over to the other side. It's strange to see such an admirable fellow whose one weakness is one of my strengths. It's an irony, but possibly a useless one.

I doubt whether I will ever climb Devil's Thumb, or any far less tricky cathedral peak. Being competitive is useful where we ask more of ourselves, where we believe we can be better. It falls flat when we search for something in ourselves that isn't there, or where all that we do is simply to prove others are inferior. If it is for ourselves, and our companions, to have a big heart, to see how far we can all go together, then it may have a useful place in our experience.

I think it was on the slopes of Kilimanjaro that my infatuation for high mountain life, fizzled. I was perched almost 6km in the air, and I didn't care. I didn't need, after that, to go any higher to find that I cared even less! Still, I am intrigued by these desolate places, and it seems the highest places are the most remote. Each landmass has its barren tower. I would like to visit McKinley in Alaska.

It's interesting how most, if not all, of the great adventurers go to great pains to record their experiences (I've recorded my Ironman experience in this blog). It shows a real need to leave a simple life...a temporary abandonment of home comforts for a higher experience, bringing back something from the lonely travails and then the sharing of the experience. Is this to and froe motion, from selfish adventurer, to humble storyteller, an ongoing process of purging the weakness, the selfishness, and the pursuit of knowing our own strenth, place, power and connectedness to those we love?

Instead of comparing ourselves to others, we can take pleasure in our own talents, our own interests, and still enjoy the pursuits of others. Share in the adventures of others when they grab us, go off on our own when they don't. Strength, it seems to me, lies in having an identity, and not needing to hold it up for proof or comparison. It is simply what it is, who we are, and we are loved or not because of this.