Climbing Kilimanjaro with no limbs gives hope to those needing some

Written By David Whitley

Before he was killed in Afghanistan, Army Private John Corey Johnson always wanted to climb Mount Kilimanjaro.

It took a man with no arms and legs to make that dream come true.

Kyle Maynardâ€™s accomplishment may not register on the Linsanity Meter. But when it comes to athletic feats, clawing your way to the highest point on the African continent is worth a little notice.

He didnâ€™t do it for money or even a mention on ESPNâ€™s Top 10. Maynard did it to prove a point.

â€œEverything is possible,â€ he said.

Maynard has been making that point for 25 years, ever since he was born with a condition known as congenital amputation. His arms ended at his elbows and his legs at his knees.

Maynard still became a high school wrestler. He fought a Mixed Martial Arts bout. He put his philosophy into a book and became a motivational speaker.

The hectic schedule left Maynard lonely and tired at an airport one night. Nobody who saw him on Oprah would have believed Mr. Up was actually feeling down.

â€œI had to eat my own dog food,â€ Maynard said.

Then he saw two men looking at him. He went over and noticed their scars.

Theyâ€™d fought together in Iraq, where a rocket-propelled grenade had incinerated their Humvee. Theyâ€™d been transported stateside, where doctors told them they faced a year of intense rehabilitation.

The soldiers contemplated a suicide pact. Then they happened to see a replay of a 2004 HBO special about Maynard.

â€œIt was the moment they chose to fight to get their lives back,â€ he said.

Suddenly, Maynard wasnâ€™t feeling so down. He did a little research and was struck by a post-traumatic stress syndrome statistic.

Every day, 18 veterans commit suicide. Thatâ€™s 6,570 a year who give up the fight.

â€œIf we can just help a few of them and show them they have purpose in their lives,â€ he said. â€œThey donâ€™t have to go down that path.â€

Maynard decided to set his sights 19,340 feet high. The path to just get to Mount Kilimanjaro was full of twists and treachery.

The mountains around Maynardâ€™s home in Suwanee, Ga., could not replicate what heâ€™d face in Africa. And he was basically clueless when it came to climbing.

Maynard is incredibly adroit at scooting around on his limited limbs. He runs a gym and hoped his maniacal fitness routine would adequately prepare his body. But crawling over hardened lava and ice in sub-freezing weather required special equipment that didnâ€™t even exist.

He tried wrapping towels around his limbs. That was followed by potholders, oven mitts and welding sleeves.

After a lot of bloody failures, Maynard got some foam from the bulkhead of a kayak and tried Gorilla-taping it into a viable climbing contraption.

That didnâ€™t work, either. As desperation was setting in, the guide Maynard hired for the excursion put him in touch with two companies in Phoenix.

The Orthotics Specialists and the Artificial Limb Specialists customized some carbon-fiber gear. Complete with clamp-on claws for ice climbing. Then the companies told him theyâ€™d pick up the bill.

â€œThey were miracle workers,â€ Maynard said.

The nine-member climbing group left in early January. When Maynard arrived at Kilimanjaro National Park, he felt a miracle might be needed.

The gates opened and there it was. â€œThe House of God,â€ as Ernest Hemmingway called it in â€œThe Snows of Kilimanjaro.â€

â€œI was a little freaked out,â€ Maynard said.

Kilimanjaro is the worldâ€™s tallest free-standing mountain. Unlike peaks in the Himalayas or Alps, Kilimanjaro is not in a range. It just looms like snow-covered skyscraper on a flat horizon.

Thousands have ascended it, including a couple of paraplegics who were pushed in special wheelchairs. Maynard hoped to make it completely on his own.

The first day was a monsoon-soaked trek through a tropical forest. Once they got above the tree line, it was miles of lunar-like landscape.

The dust that gets kicked up can choke a tall man. Imagine crawling through it two feet off the ground.

The group hit a fork in the trail at about 14,000 feet. Maynard could continue on the original path, which was longer but a safer bet. Or he could take the Western Breach route.

â€œIt was the most direct,â€ Maynard said. â€œAnd the most dangerous.â€

It required a one-day climb of 3,000 feet. The group left at 3 a.m. and didnâ€™t stop until 4 p.m. Maynard sat on a glacier and ate his first meal of the day. After eight days of climbing, he was only 900 feet from the summit.

â€œWe were above the clouds. It was so beautiful,â€ Maynard said. â€œIt was cold, but it was hard to feel sorry for yourself.â€

At the start of each day, a different team member had put on a necklace. It had a small pouch containing the ashes of Corey Johnson.

The Phoenix native joined the Army in 2010. He liked to keep his pockets stuffed with candy to give to Afghani children. That kindness didnâ€™t help him last May 27, when insurgents attacked his unit in Kandahar Province.

Johnson was 28 years old. He left a pregnant wife and two daughters. Maynard just happened to run into his mother at a gym last summer.

â€œShe told me he had a passion for traveling and seeing the world,â€ he said. â€œOne of the places he wanted to see was Mount Kilimanjaro.â€

At the start of Day 9, Maynard put on the necklace and tucked it under his jacket.

â€œIt was extra motivation to make it to the top,â€ he said.

The final ascent began at 4 a.m. The group reached the summit about 7:15.

The sun had risen with them and the day was brilliant. As the wind whistled around them, the climbers took in the continent below. Then they stood silently as Pfc. Johnsonâ€™s ashes were cast to the heavens.

â€œHe was like the 10th member of our team,â€ Maynard said.

Mission accomplished. Or at least the first part of it.

The descent took two days. Maynard then visited a school for disabled children.

The room was full of kids who canâ€™t see or walk or talk. The Georgian doesnâ€™t speak much Swahili, so an interpreter relayed his message.

Maynard talked about his little excursion, and the challenges heâ€™d faced long before ever laying eyes on their famous peak. When he finished, the children put their hands in the air and started a chant.

â€œEverything is possible!â€

Now Maynard hopes the rest of the world will listen. Especially those 18 veterans a day.

Keep climbing, no matter how high the mountain.