Many people have asked me why I would want to climb the “Roof of Africa” -- the continent's highest mountain -- with no climbing experience. The answer is simple: an undeniable love for my daughter, Jennifer, who is challenged to breathe every day.
At an elevation of 19,341 feet, I wanted to experience what it is like for her -- taking three or four breaths for every one breath of a healthy person and feeling constant pressure on my chest as if someone were standing on it. Ultimately, my goal was to increase awareness about cystic fibrosis and Jennifer's story and raise money to improve the quality of life for all those challenged with this disease.
My journey began in Arusha, Tanzania, at a lodge hidden in the forest at the base of the mountain. Equipped with lifesaving cold weather gear, the group of 24 people who would be on the climb met for the first time: 18 porters, a guide, an assistant, crew leaders, a cook, Robert (a documentary filmmaker who will be making a movie about our journey), and myself.
The 49-mile climb was set over a period of eight days. We climbed rocks in a very steep environment with little vegetation and no animals, as they are largely unable to survive the extreme temperatures and conditions beyond the lower slopes. Our only focus was the next step or the next rock that we could grab and use to pull ourselves up.
It wasn't long until I found myself at what is considered to be the most dangerous part of the climb: a quarter-mile high, sheer rock formation. For the next 6-8 hours, I crawled on all fours at a 75-degree slope, grabbing one rock, then the next.
At this altitude, I felt like I finally understood what my daughter goes through every moment of her life just to breathe. As I scaled the rock before me, I had to take deep breaths -- heart pounding and chest caving -- constantly reminding myself to breathe slowly and calm down. I felt like I was breathing through a straw, while my chest felt as if it were collapsing due to the lack of oxygen. It was as if I just ran a marathon, and at the finish line, there was no air.
In the end, my trek up Kilimanjaro was more of a journey toward a greater understanding of the daily battle my daughter, Jennifer, has fought her entire life. Although my discomfort in breathing cannot compare to her 38 years of living with CF, I can say that I have never been more proud of the warrior she is and her unrelenting determination to find a cure for this deadly disease.
CF takes both a mental and physical toll. Jennifer and many others living with the disease spend hours doing treatments and taking 50 or more pills each day. Research has been aggressive, but we need more.
I like to use the analogy that CF is like two minutes left in a football game; we just don't know how long those two minutes will be. This is why I believe that we need to give Jennifer and others the quality of life they deserve -- now.
That is why I climbed the “Roof of Africa.” That is why I fundraise for CF.
To watch my video journal of the climb, click here.
