In the opening lines of The Snows of Kilimanjaro, Ernest Hemingway tells of a frozen leopard carcass found near the summit of Kilimanjaro—”no one has explained what the leopard was seeking at that altitude.” That single, cryptic image lingers long after the story ends—unresolved, haunting, and symbolic.
To Hemingway, the leopard becomes a figure of mystery, perhaps nobility, perhaps futility. A creature that climbed beyond its domain, beyond reason, and met death in pursuit of something higher—maybe literal prey, maybe something transcendent. That carcass, preserved in ice, asks us a timeless question: What are we seeking in the climb?
As I prepare to begin my own journey up Kilimanjaro, I find myself reflecting on the leopard. I found out it’s a true that a leopard’s carcass was discovered inexplicably near the summit.
I do not climb for survival. I certainly do not climb for glory because thousands upon thousands of people have successfully sunmited the mountain. I climb, perhaps like the leopard, because something in me yearns for the summit. For clarity. For meaning. For the thin, rare air where the noise of the world drops away and something essential can be heard again. Hemingway’s leopard reminds me that the path toward something noble often involves solitude, risk, and mystery. It reminds me that we do not always reach the top to be seen—we climb to see.
And so, with gratitude and humility, I begin my ascent—not just up Africa’s highest peak, but toward whatever insight awaits me in the snows. And I’m labeling my climb “Chasing the Leopard”.
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Debbie@livewelltraveloften.com
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