Day 6, Springlands Hotel, Moshi, Tanzania. We left camp around 8:00AM and in two hours made it to the park gate. The trail was a mud pit, slippery and thick. There were hand-built steps created with lengths of wood hammered into the ground that were the only thing that made the descent possible. I enjoyed the noticeable oxygen-rich air, dense with mist and the smell of organic matter.

At the park gate I signed the ledger and received an official certificate documenting my successful climb to the summit of the mountain. I paid 50 cents for a boy to wash the mud from my boots and gave my thermal long underwear, fleece, hat, socks, and shirts to the porters, August and Tyson, which they grabbed like the jackals who stole a lion’s lunch I would see later on the safari with my mom. Soon enough we were on our way back to the hotel.

At the hotel I pay Manase and Robert for their services, along with Katete, Paul (Tyson), August, and John, my four porters. Manase and I drink beer and Robert has a coke. In addition to my tip, I give Manase my ski pants and Robert my shell jacket. They will certainly use it more than me for the next year. After a nap and a shower I meet back up with Robert to go out for dinner in Moshi. We take a cab to a Nyama Choma restaurant, the Tanzanian version of a dibiterie, with grilled meats served with salt and hot pepper and pints of beer. A guy comes around with a basin and a kettle of hot water for you to wash your hands before diving into a bowl of meat. Maize is ground into a flower and made into a white past called ugali that you ball up and eat to accompany the meat. The goat we ate was delicious, the ribs my favorite part.

As we ate from the communal bowl, Robert’s father shows up. Apparently he lives just down the street. Robert greets him and hands him a 10,000 shillings note, about $8.75. Robert’s salary for the trip was a grand $30, plus my tip. According to Robert, his father will spend the money in no time on a local drink made from bananas and rum. The father takes my hand and says something that I don’t understand. Robert says he welcomes me to Tanzania and that I should come have a drink. I do my best to thank him with greasy hands and face.

That night I reflected on the year I have spent in Africa, enjoying the similarities I see in Senegal and Tanzania, savoring the differences. Like the rest of my time here, Kilimanjaro pushed me to my limits but offered some of the most beautiful views imaginable.