This morning Spence came into the mess tent and shook my hand. "Congratulations on your third mountain. That's truly awesome, man." More water works. But it was true. Back home, a reporter who came to interview me for the local paper asked if the relief felt like a let down. I think the stretch-goal bucket list really explains why no, there's absolutely no let down. Rather there is a profound sense of peace. Apart perhaps from the privilege of watching our healthy children grow and grow up, there really is nothing to compare to the satisfaction of being able to check off this last mountain.

Thomson had carefully provided envelopes for each of the folks/groups of folks who "need" tips, along with guidance on how much to allow. Personally I found this whole thing very distasteful, especially when Thomson made such a big deal of the fair wages that they pay. But the worst part was that there was no envelope for Antoine, or he's counted as just another porter, which was transparently not true. When he poked his head into the tent for one final time, calling for our water bottles, I pressed some dollars into his hand and let him know what an awesome job he'd done. Later that morning, half way to the gate, he pulled me aside, and gave me a huge bear-hug. "Thank you so much for my gift."

There was much excitement in the camp this morning, especially amongst the normally invisible porters. Now they were hanging around like vultures, waiting for cast offs. I cast my gaiters into the mess tent trash bin, but curiously no one picked them up. Contrast that to the feeding frenzy in Nick's tent where he basically opened up his bags and said "take whatever you want." Even his altimeter watch, which he gave to his personal porter, who promptly had it confiscated by a more senior porter, who promptly had it taken back by Nick, who then made it clear that it was intended for his personal porter. Period.

Plectranthus sylvestris?

The path down to Mweka Gate was beautifully well maintained and groomed, and with good reason. The one-way system of paths meant that although folks went up by a variety of routes, all but one of the routes came down this same path, which added up to a lot of people. And many of them were traveling fast. Most of the porters were literally running down. In the low light conditions of the tree canopy, my slow lenses failed to capture a single picture with them in focus.

I have every admiration for Spence's complete lack of self-conciousness as he once more set off into the undergrowth carrying a new roll of paper—where did he keep getting it from? Of course, this is the man who could buy cigarettes in the middle of nowhere, so who knows. Someone shouts "see any snakes?" "Just a white mamba" was the instant response.

Photo courtesy and Copyright © 2010 Doug Day

We were within five minutes of the gate when to my amazement and delight, who but Danken was coming up the trail one last time to find us, take my pack, and show me where to go next. What a wonderful surprise. We went over the usual ground in such goodbyes. I thanked him profusely for his help, his friendship and his superb and hugely appreciated attention to site location. Other members of the team often got home before things were ready, had to deal with their air mattresses which Danken never let me do although I did try to roll it up in the mornings. I encouraged him to keep up with the studies that his trekking was supporting, and he pressed his email address into my hand.

Photo courtesy and Copyright © 2010 Bruce & Sheryl Kuo

Then suddenly we were back in civilization. Lots of it. Danken helped fend off the hawkers who were selling everything you can think of except the coveted "Fast... ...food" T-shirt (with a picture of a cheetah and a gazelle). I had all the souvenirs I could wish for stored between my ears, in my notebook or on my camera, but Wayne managed to procure a beautiful piece of cloth that I would have been proud to own too, if the pressure had been less high. Others bought (other) T-shirts, knives, drums, carvings.

For my taste, the beer that Wayne thrust into my hand was far more memorable, and will definitely go down in history as one of the top ten beering moments.

Once we had all checked in one last time at the Rangers Station, the celebrations were ready to begin. As always, the two groups were separated out and led to their respective lunch tables. It was the same table, but it was not the same fare. Mini-burgers and sandwiches were much more like the picnic Andrew was so emphatic we were not getting before, and washed down with several bottles beer of course put a totally different complexion on things. Not that I was all that hungry.

This was then followed by what we came to know as "The Tipping Ceremony." The porters and guides were all there, and naturally there was singing and dancing (see the video below). Next everyone filed by, sports-team-wise, so that every porter and guide got to shake our hands and thank us for tips that we assumed Andrew could be trusted to hand out fairly, despite all the advise to the contrary that we'd read about in our pre-trip research.

Finally it was time to receive our certificates from Andrew, but as each of us was called out we were expected to dance with them. Miraculously, Spence came to our rescue. One of the first to be called, it turned out that he was something of a break-dancer. Of course he brought the house down, and after that it didn't really matter how pathetically the rest of us performed. I was the last to go up. Andrew: "And finally... ...the owner of the company!"

Photo courtesy and Copyright © 2010 Steve Cory

And so the 45 year saga of the quest to stand on the roof of Africa was finally drawning to a close, and I could officially check off that third childhood mountain. I am a changed man, more at peace with the world, but I surely hope there are more adventures to come. In fact, wait a minute, the first one is coming right up! We are now officially "On Safari!"

As we close, as an epitaph, of the 6-7000 photographs I had the privilege of choosing from for these notes, this is the only one that any of us took, in both teams combined, that showed Kilimanjaro from a distance. Kudos to Steve Cory for that, but sadly he was on his way to the airport at the time.

Steve was not alone. it was with great regret that we also said goodbye to our new friend Nick, who had shown us all what courage and generosity of spirit truly are. And lastly, but obviously not least, Mick, who in his inimitable style had been the life and soul of the party. He holds a place in my heart forever for being one of those people who are not only funny, but pricelessly, retain their sense of humor even under adversity.

Moving on to much better news, we were delighted to find that either through luck or judgment Thomson had kept the groups together, and the rest of our new friends would be with us through the safari adventure too!

But before we go, one last incident needs to be recorded, and it was so close to Mweka Gate that it still counts as Kili. Not five minutes after the convoy of Land Rovers finally got under way, the road was blocked by people and a tow truck trying to winch this wayward traveler back onto the road. As I write this up I'm struck by the coincidence of this incident and my recollection of the fate of my elementary school teacher while composing Day 1. Is this a weird pair of book ends, 45 years (and/or 12 days) apart, or is it an ominous start to our own safari? Or yet another reminder of the fragility of life and the luck I've had in living it? I'm going with doors one and three.

Meanwhile, none of this was in my head (thank goodness) at the time, so instead of pondering my navel I wandered back and forth up the line of vehicles meeting some of the other characters who we did not bump into on the mountain, but who will subsequently become part of the fun on safari. Enough already! Let's go...