I Hiked All 19,341 Feet Up Mount Kilimanjaro — Here's What It's Like

Thousands of climbers attempt to summit the roof of Africa each year. At 19,341 feet, Mount Kilimanjaro, in northeastern Tanzania, is the largest freestanding mountain in the world. Climbing one of the Seven Summits is no small feat, as hikers wrestle with the effects of altitude sickness on Kilimanjaro treks that typically span from five to nine days. I should know — I was one of them. My favorite part of this tiring but worthwhile experience was passing through five distinct ecological climate zones on the way to the top. Here’s what you need to know about each.

Cultivation Zone

Altitude range: 2,600 to 6,000 ft

My climbing partner and I started our journey in Marangu, located on the southeastern slopes, where Marangu Hotel arranged our 7-day trek, including assisting in finding a licensed guide, a requirement set by Kilimanjaro National Park. (The average climber hires 4 and 6 people to guide, cook, and carry equipment up the mountain.)

After a hearty breakfast, we set off on a two-hour drive to the Rongai Gate, one of seven climbing routes and the only one to approach the mountain from the northern side, ideal for avoiding rain and sighting animals. After winding through small towns and farmers’ markets near the Kenyan border, we arrived at the gate with our lead guide, David, our assistant guide, Abdallah, and their entire crew.

Montane Forest Zone

Altitude range: 6,000 to 9,200 ft

Our trek began in the biodiverse vegetation zone. The lush rainforest is filled with vibrant green plants and moss-covered trees. If you’re lucky, you might catch a glimpse of black and white colobus monkeys, blue monkeys, or the elusive elephants of Kilimanjaro. 

On our first evening, we were the only trekking group at Simba Camp. Thanks to our cook, Leonard, and assistant, Seraphine, a magnificent dinner spread awaited us. We dined on vibrant cucumber soup, avocado, chicken and vegetables with curry and rice, and perfectly crisp, roasted potatoes. It was a meal so good that I heartily believe it could have won Leonard the title on Food Network’s Chopped. 

As dusk turns to night, David cautioned us to use our headlamps, as Cape Buffalo frequent the area and are characteristically ornery.

Heath and Moorland Zone

Altitude range: 9,200 to 11,000 ft

We woke up just after dawn to two large, white-necked ravens croaking at one another. “Did you hear the hyenas last night?” Abdallah asked. Mercifully, I had been sound asleep. 

As we made our way to the next camp, we left the shade of the forest and entered the sunny moorland, where we hiked for the next two days. Low-growing shrubs, tall lobelias, and bushy grasses lined our path, and Abdallah pointed to large, hooved footprints in the dirt, which belonged to Cape Buffalo. Looking up, we had our first clear view of our ultimate destination, Kibo, the highest of Kilimanjaro’s three volcanic cones.

Our porters darted ahead of us on the trail, apt to set up camp for the night. Many of the guides and porters on the mountain have been climbing for years and grew up in the Chagga villages on the slopes below. Porters often work their way up to assistant guide, with the goal of becoming a lead guide or perhaps even starting their own outfitter. Such is the case for Simon Mtuy, an ultra-runner who notably held the world record for the fastest ascent and descent of the mountain in just 9 hours and 22 minutes. He founded Summit Expeditions & Nomadic Experience as a way to support responsible tourism. 

Organizations like the Kilimanjaro Porters Assistance Project also help the community by supporting the fair and ethical treatment of porters. KPAP improves working conditions by providing climbing gear, education, first aid certification, fair salaries, transparent gratuities, and pack weight regulations. It’s essential to book with a trekking outfitter who is partnered with KPAP to ensure socially responsible climbs. 

Alpine Desert Zone

Altitude range: 13,200 to 16,500 ft 

Our hike got steeper and much colder as we entered the Alpine Desert, and plant life started to disappear. We made it to our next camp, Mawenzi Tarn, in time for lunch. The camp is firmly perched beside a small, spring-fed lake, above billowing clouds and below Mawenzi’s jagged peak. We heard the sounds of a helicopter zipping by from the direction of Kibo. Simple helicopter pads constructed from stones are at several of the camps on the way up, and signs instruct hikers to turn back if they start to experience symptoms of altitude sickness. Acute Mountain Sickness (AMS) is common among climbers, regardless of age or fitness level, and can be life-threatening if severe symptoms are left untreated. 

We hiked up and down 1,000 feet to Mawenzi Ridge, where we startle a dik-dik, a doe-eyed, tiny antelope, the size of a small dog. Acclimatization hikes like this help your body adjust to higher altitudes. At night, I had trouble sleeping due to the cold. We were now above 14,000 feet and exposed to the wind that howled outside our tent. 

The next morning at camp, we discovered large chunks of ice, but the equatorial sun thawed us as we crossed “the saddle” between Mawenzi Tarn and Kibo Hut, the final camp before our summit bid. This plateau was a barren wind tunnel of rocks and scattered animal bones. Clouds obscured most of Kibo and the trail ahead. 

We arrived at Kibo Hut windswept and covered in a film of volcanic dust. It was the first camp on our trek with multiple hiking groups, as Kibo Hut serves as a junction point for two of the seven routes. After an early dinner, we slept a few hours before our 11 p.m. wake-up call. Our summit push began at midnight in sub-zero temperatures. 

Arctic Zone

Altitude range: 16,500 to 19,340 ft

Seraphine woke us with hot tea, and I slowly dressed in multiple warm layers. At midnight, we began our ascent under the moonlight. Looking up, I could make out some of the groups ahead by their headlamps glowing like fireflies in the night. “Pole pole,” David said, pronounced po-lay, which means “slowly” in Swahili. My headlamp illuminated a patch of dirt ahead of David’s feet. Shuffling upward, I fell into a rhythm, slow but steady. Small bits of rock and volcanic ash, several inches deep, crunched under my boots. The sky was filled with stars and the occasional meteor. 

After an hour, David suggested a two-minute break and asked, “Dada [sister], how are you?”

“Poa [I’m cool],” I responded. “I feel good — no altitude sickness. But my feet are so cold,” I laughed in disbelief. “My toes—they’re freezing!” 

I took a sip of water, and it was time to keep moving. I can’t say what I thought about over the next five hours; other than that, I drifted into a meditative, trance-like state. The switchbacks eventually led to a maze of rocks we scrambled over — the most challenging section of the trail. Elated, we reached Gilman’s Point, at the top of the crater rim, just as the glow of the sun rose over the horizon. We were standing more than three vertical miles in the sky. I started laughing and felt drunk from the lack of oxygen. We continued to follow the trail along the caldera edge, a moonscape. The summit, Uhuru Peak, lay another 689 feet ahead. We hiked past Rebmann Glacier, and across the vast crater to our right, we could see the Northern Ice Field. Remnants of Kibo’s once massive ice cap had been splintered into individual glaciers. Adrenaline pushed us forward. 

David beamed with pride. “Jambo—Hello! Good job!” he said to the other hikers we pass. David grew up hiking with his father, Emmanueli Minja, who had been a well-known guide on Kilimanjaro. Emmanueli led climbs well into his 80s and even guided U.S. President Jimmy Carter up the mountain. On the eve of Tanzania’s independence in 1961, Emmanueli led army officer Alexander Nyirenda to the summit, then called “Kaiser Wilhelm Peak,” to plant Tanzania’s national flag and the Uhuru Torch, thus renaming the peak Uhuru, “freedom” in Swahili. 

As our small group reached Uhuru Peak, I was overcome with emotion. Mt. Meru, another dormant volcano and second-highest mountain in Tanzania, towered to the west. Its summit poked out of an endless sea of clouds. After hugs and a photo, we began the long journey down, where I knew an obligatory Kilimanjaro Premium Lager would be waiting for me. David suggested I return someday to climb one of the other routes. I couldn’t fathom the thought at the time, but now, I can’t think of anything I’d like to do more.