It was quickly followed by the irregular, staccato beat of a dozen heavy raindrops clattering against the thin, tin roof of the climbers’ shelter. A few seconds later an unremitting arsenal of liquefied bullets hammered down on the corrugated roof, threatening to distort its smooth undulations into a ragged, dimpled finish.
At this point, we had not even passed through the gate into Kilimanjaro National Park, but already the mountain was squaring up to us.
|Kibo, the summit of Kilimanjaro, from Shira Plateau|
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