What I Wish I Knew Before Climbing Kilimanjaro
- Vertical Sky Blogger!
- May 29
- 6 min read
After every climb we run a debrief over dinner at the hotel. We ask climbers what surprised them, what they would do differently, and what they wish they had known. Over the years certain themes come up again and again. Here are the things you almost certainly do not know yet, but really should.
The pace really is that slow
You have read about "pole pole" before you book. You think you understand. You do not. The pace on Kilimanjaro is genuinely slower than you can imagine. On a typical day you walk at around 2 kilometres per hour. That is half the pace of a normal hiker. The first time you experience this pace you will think your guide is taking the mickey. They are not. They are saving your climb.
The single hardest physical skill on the mountain is walking slowly. Your body wants to walk faster. Your ego wants to walk faster. You have to deliberately rein in both. The climbers who fail to do this are also the climbers who get altitude sick and have to descend.
You will not sleep on summit night
You go to bed at Barafu Camp at around 6pm. You are supposed to sleep. You will not sleep.
The combination of altitude, cold, anticipation, and the sounds of other climbers preparing
means most people get an hour of dozing at best. You will be woken at 11pm for tea and biscuits. You will be on the mountain at midnight.
Do not stress about not sleeping. Almost nobody sleeps. Lie still in your sleeping bag with your eyes closed. Even resting without sleeping is recovery. Save your stress for the climb.
The cold at the summit is shocking
Even climbers who have lived through proper winters underestimate Kilimanjaro summit cold. Temperatures at Uhuru Peak before sunrise routinely fall to minus 15 to minus 20 Celsius. Add wind chill of 30 to 50 kilometres per hour and the effective temperature can hit minus 30. Cameras stop working. Water bottles freeze. Your beard, if you have one, develops icicles.
Layer for this. Wear every warm layer you have on summit night. Wear two pairs of gloves with hand warmers inside. Wear a balaclava under your hat. Wrap a buff around your face. Bring your camera battery in your inside pocket against your skin. Do not skimp.
The descent is harder than the ascent
This is the one nobody warns you about. The ascent is gradual over six days. The descent is brutal. After summiting you have a 1,200 metre descent down loose scree back to Barafu, then a second descent of around 1,500 metres down to Mweka Camp, often all in the same day. Your knees, your quads, and your spirit take a beating.
Use trekking poles religiously. Take your time. Eat snacks. Drink water. The descent will go on longer than you think.
The food is better than you expect
You will be amazed. The cooks on a good Kilimanjaro expedition produce three substantial meals a day from a cook tent at 4,000 metres with one paraffin stove. Fresh vegetables. Hot soup. Pasta. Rice. Meat. Bread. Pancakes. Fresh fruit when possible. We have had climbers say the food was better than at their hotel.
What you will not expect is that altitude suppresses your appetite. You will not want to eat. Eat anyway. The cooks have made it for you, and the calories are what carry you to the top.
You will cry at some point
A surprising number of climbers cry on Kilimanjaro. Not because they are unhappy. Because the experience is genuinely overwhelming. The vastness of the mountain. The kindness of the team. The shared effort with strangers who become friends. The moment you realise you are actually doing this. The first sight of the summit at dawn.
If you cry, you cry. Nobody will judge you. The guides have seen it all. The other climbers are usually crying too.
The toilet situation is not as bad as you fear
The most common pre climb anxiety we hear is about toilets. The reality is much better than you imagine. Good operators carry portable toilet tents that are pitched at every camp. They are private, clean, and functional. The night time bathroom situation is more challenging, but a wide mouth Nalgene bottle solves the male problem and a Shewee solves the female version. We will not labour the point but you can ask us about it without embarrassment.
You will be filthy and you will not care
You will not shower for seven days. You will use baby wipes. You will smell. So will everyone else. Within 48 hours you will have completely stopped caring. The first hot shower at the hotel after the climb is one of the great pleasures of human life.
Your team becomes your family
The bond that forms between climbers and crew over a week on the mountain is intense and lasting. You will know your porters by name. You will know which one always sings while setting up your tent. You will know your cook's signature dish. You will hug your guides at the airport and you will mean it.
We get photos and emails from former climbers years after their trip, asking how Zidane is, how Julius is, how the cook is doing. The relationships outlast the climb.
The summit feeling is not what you expected
Most climbers expect to feel euphoric at the summit. The reality is more complicated. You are exhausted. You are oxygen deprived. You are cold. The view, while magnificent, is often partly obscured by mist or your own foggy goggles. The photo at Uhuru Peak takes about 90 seconds because the queue is long.
The real emotional moment usually comes later. At Stella Point as the sun rises. At Barafu Camp when you collapse into your tent for the post summit nap. At the trailhead the next day when you sit down on the bus and your body realises it is over. Or, often, at the hotel pool the next morning when you raise a beer and the gravity of what you have done finally lands.
You will think about climbing again
You think Kilimanjaro will be a one off. For many people it is. For others it is the start of something. About a third of our former climbers go on to climb another peak within five years. Some come back to Kilimanjaro with their kids. Some take on the other six summits. Some discover trekking as a lifelong pursuit. The mountain reorients you, and the reorientation lasts.
The guides matter more than the route
Pre climb you obsess about which route to take. Post climb you realise the guides made the climb. The mountain was hard. The guides were what carried you through. They knew when to push you, when to slow you, when to crack a joke, when to be serious. The route does not summit you. The team does.
Your phone is not the point
You take your phone for photos. You take it expecting to send updates and check messages. You will not, except briefly when you find signal. By day three you will have stopped looking at it. By day five you will not know where it is. This is one of the most underrated gifts of the climb. A week without notifications. A week without scrolling. A week of being properly present in your own life.
When you reconnect at the hotel after the climb, the contrast is jarring. Most climbers find they keep their phone usage lower for weeks afterwards. The mountain teaches a lesson that survives the descent.
Tipping is real money
Tipping the crew is not symbolic. It is a meaningful part of how they earn a living. Budget $250 to $500 per climber for the full crew on a seven day climb. Bring it in cash, in US dollars, in small to medium denominations. The tipping ceremony at the end of the climb is a proper event. The crew sings. Speeches are made. Tips are distributed publicly so there is no question about fairness.
The climbers who tip generously talk about it for years afterwards. They feel good about it. The climbers who tipped meanly almost always regret it.
Final word
Kilimanjaro is harder than you expect, more rewarding than you expect, and changes you more than you expect. Everyone who climbs leaves with the same wish. I wish someone had told me.
Now someone has.
Email info@vertical-sky.com or visit vertical-sky.com if you are ready to start your own list of lessons learned. We would love to be the team that walks you up.
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