Processing

I apologize for such a gap between posts. Quite frankly, I've been processing my trip to Africa.

After coming down off kilimanjaro, Tom and I spent the next several days immersed in the poverty of Tanzania. Arusha, the city where we spent the majority of our time is a city of approximately 300,000 people. The poverty is immense.

I've worked specifically with children in very difficult situations numerous times in Peru and Ecuador. The life challenges in Africa are at a much deeper level. To put it into perspective . . . The per capita income of South America is 1/20th of those of us living in the United States. The per capita income of those living in Africa is 1/10th of those living in South America.

The moment we would drive off the main street of Arusha we would find ourselves on deeply pocked dirt roads. There were so many people living in such a small area. And children everywhere. Add to that the fact that AIDS was running rampant. A fine layer of red dust covered everything.

We visited Compassion projects that are offering hope in a situation that seems hopeless. There are now more than 50,000 children sponsored in Tanzania. I was able to spend the day with Bakari and Godfrey, two of the children my wife and I sponsor. Beautiful young boys whose smiles light up the world.

We also visited two of the cottages that RiverTree partnered with Compassion to start. The cottages provide a home for children whose families have been decimated by the AIDS pandemic. Without the cottages they would literally be living on the street--or worse.

The financial resources that were raised by our climb will be used to start two new cottages and sustain them for at least two years each.

I've frequently been asked about my "mountaintop experience." The reality is that the mountain we climbed is miniscule compared to the mountain of poverty that the children of Africa must ascend. I pray our climb made their mountain a little bit smaller.

The rooftop of Africa . . . for the children

After 40 hours of travel . . . I am home.

On Tuesday morning, September 2nd, at 7:10 AM, I watched the sun rise from the rooftop of Africa.

After trekking for 22 miles up the slopes of Kilimanjaro the team I was climbing with reached Kibo Hut (the base camp for our final ascent) at just over 15,000 feet. Already we had crossed through four dramatically differing types of terrain from rain forrest to arrid dessert. And always it was up--forever up and up and up. Each day brought cooler temperatures and less vegetation until we arrived at Kibo where we stayed continually bundled in the terrible beauty of the shadow of the mountain.

On what was to become the most physically challenging day of my life (Monday, September 1st), we began our climb from 12,500 feet at 8:30 AM. We hiked for seven hours before finally reaching our final resting point before our attempt at summitting. Each slow step brought us closer to the base of the final peak. As the mountain loomed ever more monstrous, each of us was lost in our own thoughts . . . "What in the world were we thinking?"

Four of our team had already experienced varying levels of altitude sickness. Two had spent sleepless nights vomiting and squatting with diarrhea. Shattering headaches were common occurences. My climbing companion, Tom, and I were never sick.

At 4 on Monday afternoon, at 15,500 feet, we received our final briefing from our amazing guides, Fredde and Ellee. We would be served a high carb dinner in a short while. We were to then pack our gear and be ready to break camp. After dinner we were instructed to try and sleep--which none of us was able to do--and we would be awakened at 11 PM to begin our ascent.

The sleepless hours in our sub-zero sleeping bags seemed endless. Finally, our guides came to us. They encouraged us to wear every warm piece of clothing we could put on. Our water supply had to be carried inside our parkas to prevent it from freezing solid. Another of our team was vomiting and in danger of his adventure being finished.

At midnight we moved into a straight line and began our climb. In the dim light of our headlamps we followed one another up the mountain. It was simply one foot in front of the other, pole, pole (slowly, slowly). The only way I can describe the first several hours of the climb is to compare it to walking up a never ending flight of stairs covered in six inches of sand (volcanic scree). At 16,000 feet, with depleted oxygen, we were all sucking wind.

At 2:30 AM we stopped for a brief break at Hasselman's Cave. The cave turns out to be a rocky overhang that provides little more than a small respite from the ever-increasing wind. Several of our team are stripping their boots from their feet to insert chemical warmers into the toe of their socks. (Our guides had instructed us not to use the warmers at base camp because our feet would sweat and then freeze on the mountain.) I said to Ellee, "Ellee, I can't feel my feet. Should I put in the warmers?" Ellee asks, "You can't feel your feet?" "No." "Then why bother?" And up the mountain we continued.

We had been told that most climbers who do not reach the summit quit between 3 and 5 AM. During this time the winds are whipping, the cold is blistering, your legs are burning and, for many, altitude sickness is becoming a serious problem.

We continue up and up and up through rocks that range in size from basketballs to refrigerators. Every once in awhile I look off to the side and realize that one false step and I am going down and down and down. Two of our team are now puking their guts out every fifty steps. I don't know how they keep going. I am thinking to myself, "I can do this. Please God, don't let me get sick." I ask, "Tom, are you okay?" "Yeah," he responds, "I'm fine. You?" "It's all good," I reply.

At 5 AM I see the first star in the sky over the crest of the volcanic rim. "I can do this."

I can no longer feel my thumbs. The terrain is much more rugged. We are no longer snaking our way up the mountain. It is now a vertical ascent up the rocks. One of our team collapses. We try to be encouraging but we wonder if it might be best for him to make a rapid descent?

I am listening to worship songs on my Ipod. I saved it for this final ascent because we had been warned that batteries die very quickly in extreme cold. I'm sucking water from my Camelback backpack and blowing it back out of the hose so that is doesn't freeze. There is ice on my parka. I am on the mountain with God.

At 5:30 Ellee says to me, "Pastor, we are almost there. For the children. For the children." Tom and I had decided to use the climb to raise financial resources for children in Tanzania who have been orphaned as a result of the AIDS pandemic. We each had partners who were sponsoring us as we climbed. Every single step we took resulted in three more dollars of care.

At 5:45 AM we reach Gilmans Point. At 18,000 feet, Gilmans is considered the first summit of Kilimanjaro and is most often the end of the climb for those who have made it this far. By all standards we had now reached the rooftop of Africa.

The sky began to lighten and I began to weep. Tears are streaming down my face and I'm trying to wipe them off before they freeze. Even though we have reached this first summit we are still not at the highest point of the mountain. All nine of us arrived together. Surely the two who are most severely ill must now descend?

Ellee explains, "You have done the hardest part. All of you congratulations! We must hurry to Uhuru Peak. We cannot stay long at this altitude." Someone asks, "How much longer?" "An hour and a half. But it is a gradual climb. Not like what we have just done." He lied.

We start to climb once again. All nine of us. I tell Tom to stop and turn around. We watch as the sun for the first time that day sears the sky of Africa. Words cannot describe . . . To my right is the massive volcanic crater. To my left is a glistening wall of ice. We continue up and up and up.

After thirty minutes I stop. I tell Tom that I have nothing left. At 18,500 feet it is difficult simply to breathe. I put my weight on my trekking poles and hang my head. Ellee shouts at me, "Pastor, keep moving! For the children."

15 minutes later we can see Uhuru Peak. Only 15% of those who attempt to climb Kili reach Uhuru--the highest point on the mountain. One of our team is off to the side, doubled over, dry-heaving.

"Tom, are you okay?" "I'm fine. You?" "Yeah." I smile. We're going to do this.

One of our team members now has a sherpa under each arm carrying him towards Uhuru. Another is being pulled up the summit by a guide. Tom moves out in front to photograph our final ascent.

At 7:10 AM all nine of us attain the final summit of Kilimanjaro. Uhuru Peak at 19,400 feet.

There is little time for celebration. A few quick pictures. Encouraging words. Vistas that will forever be in my mind. I laugh with Tom. $45,000 dollars has been raised for the children . . .

We cannot stay long at this altitude. Quickly we begin our descent. In the daylight we can see where we climbed in the dark. I realize that it is more treacherous than I even want to think about. Three hours later we are at Kibo base camp. We are given two hours to rest and pack all of our gear. We must descend to at lease 12,500 feet. Four hours later we arrive at Horombo Camp where we will spend the night.

Greg and Tom's excellent adventure

First of all, thanks to my wife, Julie, and my Assistant, Debbie, for taking notes as I called via satellite phone from the mountain this past week. It's amazing that technology allows us to communicate from the most desolate of locations.

In the days to come I will be sharing more details of our adventure in Tanzania that could not be shared via Verizon.

Tom and I met the children our families sponsor in TZ today. We visited the cottages RiverTree partnered with Compassion to begin for children who have been orphaned as a result of the AIDS pandemic. It has been an emotionally draining day. . .

We begin our journey home tomorrow evening. We deeply appreciate your prayers.

Day 8

WE MADE IT!!!!

The entire group made it!! How wonderful to be at the top of Africa at sunrise! We arrived at the first summit at 6:00 am (Tanzanian time) and then went on to the second summit and reached it at 6:45 am!

It was scary and trecherous and grueling and icy and freezing and thrilling all at the same time!

We went back down to Kibo Hut to rest for a short while. We will continue to Horombo Hut where we will spend the night tonight.

Thank you for all your prayers. Our God is an Awesome God!!!

Day 7

We are so close!!

Our group started out this morning and hiked seven hours to 15,500 feet and we have landed at Kibo Hut.

We will eat a very light dinner and go to bed around 5:00 pm but I anticipate that we probably won't sleep much - we're way too excited and hyped up about making it to the summit.

We will then get up at 11:00 pm and start toward the summit at midnight (which is 5:00 pm Eastern time). We are scheduled to reach the summit at 9:00 am Tanzanian time (again, 2:00 am Eastern time).

Last night shared communion as a group and two of our guides, Freddy and Ellee, joined us. When we finished we sang "How Great is Our God" - it was awesome.

Both Tom and I have been coveting your prayers and we ask that you continue to keep our entire group - climbers, guides, and sherpas - in your prayers, especially today from 5:00 pm to 2:00 am Eastern time (for those of you that just happen to be up in the middle of the night!). We have a very long climb and the temperatures will be sub-zero.

We are going to concentrate on just putting one foot in front of the other.

Stay tuned...