"Tanzania. I've Arrived."
- The Wannabe Adventurer
- Apr 16
- 2 min read
I am writing this from a hotel room in Arusha, Tanzania, and I want to be completely honest with you: I have no idea what I have done to deserve a view like this.
The mountain appeared through the clouds on the drive from Kilimanjaro Airport and I actually gasped. Out loud. In a minibus. Like a tourist. Which, to be fair, I am. But still. Nobody warned me that your first proper sighting of Kilimanjaro does something physical to you. It sits there, enormous, impossibly white at the summit, completely unhurried, and something in your chest tightens in a way that isn't quite fear and isn't quite excitement but is absolutely both of those things at once.
The Vertical Sky team met me at the airport. I had been slightly nervous about this moment, the point at which actual mountaineering professionals would meet the person who had been blithely describing himself as a climber for the past twelve weeks and would immediately see through the entire fiction.
They were, without exception, warm, funny, and completely unbothered by my obvious terror. Zidane, Zizu as he is lovingly known, the Chief Guide, shook my hand, looked me in the eye, and said: "You are going to be fine. We will take care of you." And I believed him. Immediately and completely.
Dinner tonight with the group. There are eight of us climbing together, strangers from different countries, different backgrounds, different fitness levels, all united by the same slightly baffled expression that says: how did I end up here?
Tomorrow the mountain begins. I have packed and repacked my bag twice. The headtorch is within reach. I know where the toilet tent is. I am ready. I think.





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