At 16,000 feet your body is dying. Ask any doctor. Ask Jeeves at www.askjeeves.com. At 16,000 feet at midnight you're body isn't dying it's freaking out. In a single line we headed up. One step after another. This was for real. Hands were cold, spirits were sharp, feet were freezing (as was the water in the camelback packs), lungs were begging for air, some of us were begging for sleep, barf bags, a warm bed, a chairlift to the top. But no such luck.

This was for all the marbles. The top was waiting and so were we. There's not much to see in the pitch black at 16,000, 17,000, 18,000, and almost 19000 feet. Except each other. We were a band of brothers (and sisters). And all of us were making sure each of us was getting up there. Some had no trouble. Some a few trouble spots. Some had nothing but trouble. One o'clock went, by, then 2 o’clock, then 3 o’clock. 4 o'clock seemed like it took a day to arrive. At 5 o'clock hope started arrive. At 6 o'clock spirits rose with the impending sunrise. 7 o'clock was the victory hour. We stood at the top only to be reminded that wasn't quite the top. Welcome to Stella Point. It would be another mile to Uhuru.

Scary moments were had the top. Momentary euphoria was one. Bashir and Lewis had their own problems to deal with. We posed for pictures. We stood triumphant. We had summitted Kilimanjaro. It took 6 days and 7, okay, 8 hours to make it there. Not a shabby accomplishment, now is it?