Ras Dashin: Day 2

We woke up bright and early on the second day of our trek to find frost on the ground and breakfast waiting.

I felt significantly better than the previous night. There were certain points throughout the evening that I was genuinely concerned I would not be able to continue the next day. While there were mules for rent and I would not be stranded, I didn’t want to be left behind and miss out on the adventure.  During the day, I took a steady stream of pain medication in hopes to quell the headache before it began. I also wore a hat with a scarf wrapped around it, which kept as much sunlight out as possible. This is also why from here on out, it looks like I’m wearing a hijab in every picture.

The day started off fairly well, but I still felt a little off from the headache. I tried to persevere through, not realizing this would be the best I felt all day. We headed uphill towards a peak that had spectacular views. At about 13,000 feet, it was highest any of us had ever been. We walked to a ledge that overlooked miles and miles of rolling mountains and from there, topped a “little” mountain. 

 

It was around this time that I started to feel horrible. While my headache did not come back, I began feeling nauseous, light headed, and tired- like I could have sat down right there and gone to sleep. Turns out, I was suffering from elevation sickness but at the time I didn’t realize it. My pace considerably slowed but I tried not to say anything at first. I mentioned to Joe something was not right, but I didn’t know what it was. From there, we were walking downhill for a period. I assumed I would start to feel better as the walking became less strenuous. But that was the moment I knew I was in serious trouble.

We walked downhill for 30 minutes and I still felt just as bad. All my symptoms were getting worse despite the lower elevation and less taxing walk. Down, down, down we went and down, down, down I went. We reached the bottom and I looked up at one of the most looming sights I will ever see in my life. The next 3 hours of the walk were all uphill- serious uphill. Over the course of that time, we would gain something like 600 meters of elevation- just shy of 2,000 feet. I stopped in my tracks. Everyone knew I had slowed down, but I don’t think they realized how bad off I was. We took a break during which Joe gave me some motion sickness pills. We hoped they would curb the queasy feeling and after a while, they did just that.

Words cannot describe how I felt at that moment. Despite the lower elevation, I still felt like I could not breath. My body was so incredibly tired, more than it should have been given the amount of walking. The only way I can describe it is my body was shutting down. I have never experienced anything like it, and I hope to never again. As we started walking, I had to take breaks. It started as walk two minutes, and then sit. Walk one minute, and then sit. It got to a point where I told myself, take ten steps, and then sit. I made it seven. I remember thinking, “if I am feeling this awful at 13,000 feet, there is no way I can summit”. As if I was not going through enough, I started beating myself up over the whole situation: This is just cause I’m so out of shape. This is so embarrassing; no one else is struggling like this. I am slowing everyone down and they must be so annoyed with me. I paid all this money and I am going to fail.

At this snail’s pace, we eventually made it to the peak. We ate a late lunch and I was pretty quiet still feeling discouraged and embarrassed. I took some comfort in knowing that the rest would be downhill. But as we were walking the rest of the day, I started feeling better. Sure, the lower elevation and pills had something to do with it, but I owe my upswing that day to the five fellow volunteers on that trip.

Despite what was going on in my head, never once did any of the PCVs say anything that was not supportive. I apologized for slowing them down and they wouldn’t hear it. They all to me this was hard stuff and I was sick yesterday. They told me to stop worrying about everything; it was kicking their butts too. They all waited patiently. Any time I needed a break, they never once complained. In fact, more often than not, someone simply said, “Good! Me too!” They made jokes that had me laughing and soon enough, I felt much better. I was even able to start enjoying some of the scenery again.

These special trees only grow at an elevation that makes your lungs hurt- around 3,800 meters (12,500 ft.) I’m not sure I’d recommend seeing them. Also, there were tons of monkeys that had pretty amazing camouflage. That is not a rock it in the middle, it’s a monkey!

Joe, Yayu, and Zach. The phrase “it is cold” in Amharic is extremely similar to a dirty phrase in Amharic. It became an ongoing joke to try to say the dirty phrase as often as possible without laughing. Dajin did not enjoy this game. Yayu loved it. In this photo, instead of saying “cheese”, Joe and Zach said the dirty phrase. Yayu’s face is priceless.

While I was still feeling bad, the last few hours of the day were enjoyable. The sights were beautiful. My mental state picked up. I realized it was elevation sickness and there was no reason to beat myself up about being slow. And Joe, Michael, Zach, and the Luttrulls kept being nothing but supportive.

When we got to the campsite, I felt an incredible sense of accomplishment. Throughout the day, every part of me wanted to stop. Every step was a struggle. But I did it. I made it. At that point, I felt, ironically, invincible. If I could make it through that day, there was nothing that could possibly stop me. I may be slow, but I will get there. The next day would be mostly downhill and the extra day would give me time to acclimate to the elevation. As we sat around that night eating dinner and playing games around the campfire, I knew that no matter what happened, I felt a sense of pride in myself that was worth the journey. Looking back, that was definitely a turning point in the trip for me. No matter how hard it got, I knew I could keep going.

After two days of misery, it all goes up from here (pun intended)