Altitude, Vomit, and the View From 18,000 Feet

Chasing Impossible

And, the making of a man.

I’ve climbed Mount Kilimanjaro before. I’ve been the leader on multiple trips. I’ve seen men push themselves beyond what they thought possible. But nothing—and I mean nothing—compared to the March 2025 climb when my 12-year-old son, Asher, came with me.

From day one, Asher battled the mountain. And by “battled,” I mean he got the full altitude sickness sampler—headaches, loss of appetite, and yes… vomiting. In the tent. On the trail. More than once. The mountain doesn’t care that you’re my kid or that you’ve got a summit in your sights. It humbles everyone.

I had to balance being “trip leader Jeff” with being “dad Jeff.” Some moments, I wanted to swoop in, throw him over my shoulder, and carry him. But I also knew this had to be his climb. So I gave him space to own it, mixed with just enough of a push to keep moving. I watched him take on each day with grit that made me proud—and a few moments where I thought, “Yup, that’s my boy, stubborn as ever.”

Summit night is where it all came together. We left camp at 11 p.m., headlamps slicing through the darkness. Step after step in the thin air. Asher fought through hours of steep climbing in freezing cold, reaching nearly 18,000 feet before it became clear he had to head down.

Some people might call that “not making it.” But I call it courage. He pushed himself further than most grown men ever will. And when we stood together later, looking back at that mountain, I realized this wasn’t just a climb—it was a father-son memory we’ll carry forever. Sometimes victory isn’t the peak. It’s the journey.

Check out the incredible mini-documentary by Light Foster Productions’ HERE.

Be well,

Jeffrey C. Ford