Night on the trail is a patient, hungry thing: headlamps bob like slow-fire beetles through a velvet rainforest, guides' voices low and steady, and the mountain’s bulk rises dark to the east. The Lemosho route takes that first hour through Podocarpus and Juniper stands, where humidity grips your jacket and colobus monkeys inspect the unusual intruders. Over nine days the landscape loosens its hold — forest gives way to heather, heath to the Shira Plateau, and then to the brittle alpine desert where wind scrapes the skin of the world. The final assault begins after midnight, the summit a long ripple of volcanic dust under footlights until Stella Point and the first sun push the horizon apart.