Fresh off leading the 2008 Mt Kilimanjaro Fundraising Trek, which raised over $40 000 for the Africa Children’s fund, Libby Wann sent a riveting email to her family and friends about her life changing experience on the ‘roof-top of Africa’ that will have you on the edge of your seat!
“It’s been about a week since I returned from Africa. As often happens when momentous trips conclude, the overwhelming immediacy of emotions, still vivid and raw on the plane ride home, have already begun to fade- leaving me with only a thin dreamlike residue of my African adventure of which to cling. The trip was so dynamic in its challenges- quite complete in its depth of experiences. Literally, in my 20 odd days on the road, I cried numerous times. Some tears were bitter, some sweet, some from exhaustion and some from joy. I sat in tattered school rooms listening to orphans sing hymns, and only several days later sat perched on a rock at 15,000 ft. watching the clouds snake their way up the tallest mountain in Africa. I played soccer in a park with refugee children displaced from post election violence, discussed the upcoming American election with a Masai chief, visited the ‘cradle of humanity’, and gave myself a pat on the back for somehow coordinating a trip for 17 strangers and seeing them safely through a politically unstable country to which I had never before visited. I watched a pride of lions circle and stalk a gazelle from 20 feet away on the Masai Mara plains, and stood atop a 19,368 ft. peak in a raging snowstorm.”
Snippets of Libby’s experience on the mountain:
“Ahead and above, lines of headlamps snaked up the mountain and disappeared into the inky night. It was cold and snowing sideways. I thought it wasn’t supposed to be cold in Africa? Checking my watch, I saw it was just after midnight as we began our painfully slow march up the mountain. Several of my teammates were sick from the altitude and a couple had been vomiting, and I was surprised they had even made it out of their tents to attempt the final push. We began our summit bid at 15,000 ft. and over the next 6 hours would switchback up loose, steep scree and gain 4,000 ft. in elevation to top-out at Gilman’s Point, the first of two summits. I vividly remember the first two hours of the hike as being intensely joyful- I was ecstatic and high with the thrill of doing something so perfectly bizarre and beautiful. Marching one foot after the next, I smugly thought to myself ‘if this is all I have to do for the next six hours, it’s in the bag’.
But then gentle snow turned to icy sleet, occasional wind gusts turned to a shrill blast, 15,000ft. turned to 17,000 ft. and something inside of my began to shift. By the time we got to the midway point, we sat huddled in a cave trying to block ourselves from the onslaught of the elements. My water bottle had frozen, my clothes had turned stiff with a thick layer of ice, and my hands were too cold to maneuver my frozen backpack open to get anything out to eat. To look at my hiking companions was to stare into the eyes of a group that had gone to battle. Nearly six and a half hours after leaving camp, just as the day began to break, we cut our final few switchbacks and finally reached Gilman’s Point. The summit moment, as cliché as it felt, was exactly like the movies. Although we hadn’t done anything monumental like scale the slopes of Everest, the few seconds of pure joy felt upon reaching our destination was as raw and intense an emotion as I can recall ever feeling. I immediately began tearing up, with exhaustion and joy- a sense of relief compounded by the advance of daylight. The sun had come out, and as I descended, I felt my brain and limbs begin to thaw and cast off the icy, numbing layer that had blanketing me for the previous 7 hours. I began to smile. I can’t remember a time when I’ve been more drained of physical or mental energy- but somehow happy and content at the same time. I finally shuffled back into base camp 11 hours after our journey began. I began to assess the damage of my teammates- many who appeared to still be shell-shocked. A silent nod was all that some were capable of mustering. Some appeared truly rattled, some wanted to hug me and cry, muttering that it had been the most amazing experience of their life. I’m not sure any of us were prepared for the intensity of it all. It was truly the hardest thing I have ever done.”
Libby’s story will feature in the new GVN book. The book will be about real people and real experiences. The volunteers are the life and soul of GVN and the book hopes to capture this essence. The book is a self published collection of personal stories from volunteers whose lives have been significantly affected after participating in a GVN volunteer program and will soon be available online to our volunteers.
Colin firmly believes volunteer work has a personal impact that can shape the direction of your life… it did for him. This belief is supported by hundreds of GVN volunteers who have shared their own heart warming stories through blogs, online journals and personal emails to GVN.
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