Trent woke me around 6:00. We threw everything in our backpacks with unfamiliarly little regard to dry sacks or cleanliness. After a brief breakfast, we set out for the last day of hiking. I changed into my only pair of dry socks -- saved especially for this occasion. I counted 18 blisters on my feet, two quite severe. How many hours of hiking today?

The Mweka route was very treacherous. The mud we had experienced six days prior was nothing compared to this stuff. I fell down at least four times. The pace was "pole pole" of course, but it didn't matter. At least it didn't rain.

Three hours and twenty five minutes of hiking, and we arrived at Mweka ranger station. Our adventure was complete. We signed the log book, took the "after" photos, tipped the porters and guide, drank a victory beer, listened to the guide lead a stirring rendition of a Kilimanjaro folk song, and reflected.

The log book

The aftermath...

Our guide (far right) and the porters

It was during this reflection that Eliawony informed me: "Just twenty more minutes to the truck, Mr.Philip." My God, this can't be for real. But it was. Each step pained me severely. Every step, I envisioned the certificate I earned hanging prominently in my house. When I spotted the van and collapsed bodily next to it, the feeling of relief swept over my body.

I will always be proud of this accomplishment. Like Trent says, "if you're going to the top of Africa's highest mountain, you have to deserve it." Indeed.