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Climbing Kilimanjaro on Mounjaro. What Nobody Tells You

There are not many people who will admit this publicly. I am going to, because if you are one of the millions of people currently on a GLP-1 drug and you have a Kilimanjaro shaped dream sitting in the back of your mind, this blog is for you.

I climbed Kilimanjaro on Mounjaro. Twenty kilograms lighter than the last time I was on that mountain. Two months into the drug. And I told absolutely nobody.

Not the guides. Not my group. Not my doctor, who would almost certainly have had something to say about high altitude trekking on a drug that suppresses appetite and burns through your energy reserves at a rate that even a normal person on a normal day would notice.


Here is what actually happened.


Days One and Two. What Have I Done

I was bushed. Properly, embarrassingly tired in a way that had nothing to do with the altitude and everything to do with the fact that my body was running on significantly less fuel than it was used to. The drug does what it says on the label. It kills your appetite. Combined with the natural appetite suppression that altitude produces, I was essentially asking my body to climb a mountain on fresh air and optimism.

I ate anyway. Forced myself at every meal. The food on the mountain with Vertical Sky is genuinely good, fresh, hot, properly nutritious, which helped more than I expected. Little and often became my approach and by day three something shifted.


The Weight Changes Everything

Here is the thing nobody talks about when they discuss Mounjaro and exercise. Twenty kilograms is a lot of weight to be carrying up a mountain. Twenty kilograms you are no longer carrying is a revelation.

The walk felt different from the first hour. Lighter, obviously, but more than that, mentally lighter. When your body is not fighting its own mass on every uphill section, your brain gets to actually enjoy the experience rather than just survive it. The rainforest. The plateau. The views that open up above the clouds. I noticed all of it in a way I had not on previous climbs.

The drug helped in another way I had not anticipated. Below 4,000 metres, where most people are eating everything in sight to fuel the days ahead, I was not particularly hungry. Which meant the walking was genuinely enjoyable rather than punctuated by the kind of desperate snack breaks that mark the early days for most climbers.


Summit Night

Five hours from Barafu Camp to Uhuru Peak. I am not going to pretend that is unremarkable because it is not. That is a fast summit push by any measure, and I felt good. Not just physically, mentally present in a way that summit night does not always allow. I was encouraging others. Checking in on the group. Noticing the stars and the cold and the extraordinary slow drama of the sun coming up over Africa.

The last time I was on that mountain I was in my own little world for most of summit night. Head down, one foot in front of the other, survival mode. This time felt completely different.

Twenty kilograms was the difference.


What I Would Tell Anyone Considering This

Go for it, with a few caveats.

Tell your doctor. I did not and I am telling you to do what I say rather than what I did. A high altitude trek has real physiological demands and your doctor needs to know what your body is managing. This is not optional advice dressed up as optional.

Eat on a schedule not when you feel hungry. The drug and the altitude will both conspire to kill your appetite. Eat anyway. Little and often. Whatever you can manage. Your summit push will be funded by the calories you consume in the days before it.

If you are experiencing side effects, and you know which ones I mean, wait. A bout of diarrhoea at sea level is unpleasant. At 4,500 metres it is a medical situation. Make sure you are stable on the drug before you attempt anything at altitude.

And hydrate more than you think you need to. The drug increases the importance of hydration significantly and altitude compounds that further. Three to four litres a day minimum. Every day. Without exception.


The Bottom Line

Mounjaro did not climb Kilimanjaro for me. But being twenty kilograms lighter absolutely changed the experience. The drug got me to the start line in better shape than I had been in years. The mountain did the rest.


If you are on a GLP-1 drug, reasonably stable, and Kilimanjaro is calling you, do not let the drug be the reason you say no. Let it be part of the reason you say yes.

See you on the mountain. 🏔️





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