THE TEST OF KILIMANJARO: FATHER AND SON FROM CAPE GIRARDEAU PUSH THEIR LIMITS ON AFRICA'S HIGHEST MOUNTAIN

Dr. Russ Felker and his son, Rob, had been planning their climb up Mount Kilimanjaro for two years. When Rob was diagnosed with Type I diabetes in late August, the arduous ascent of the 19,340-foot mountain seemed ill-advised, both to Rob's doctor in Chicago and to his father, also a physician.

Though he previously had climbed 14,000-foot Long's Peak in Colorado, nobody knew what effect diabetes might have on Rob's ability to climb Kilimanjaro, the highest mountain in Africa.

But Rob has a reputation for single-mindedness.

The DePaul University junior endured 90-degree heat at the trailhead and 10-degree cold near the summit. He found his need for insulin in fact lessened during the trek and immediately afterward, and in the tests the mountain offered it was the son who would have to care for the father.

Russ is an experienced marathoner who has run a number of races with his two oldest sons, Russ and Brent. He and Rob settled on climbing Kilimanjaro as an experience they could share.

"Your mom thinks this is a bonding experience," he told Rob. "But I already like you pretty well."

Russ packed a medical M*A*S*H kit for Rob -- glucometers, lancets, test strips, insulin, syringes, glucagon, IV fluids and tubing. Included were urine test strips in case both battery-operated glucometers gave out. A naso-gastric tube was there to enable Russ to fill Rob's stomach with glucose if he lost consciousness and no other way could be found to feed him sugar.

They printed and laminated cards that read in Swahili: "I am a diabetic on insulin" and "If I am found unconscious, give me sugar."

Through diet, running and weightlifting, Rob increased his weight from 119 to 155 pounds by Thanksgiving. They departed for Tanzania four days later.

The climb begins at 6,400 feet in a rain forest populated by blue monkeys. Russ began to feel the effects of altitude sickness -- headache, nausea, loss of appetite, sleeplessness -- the first day.

As mountain climbs go, Kilimanjaro isn't in the same league with Everest or the like. The ability to run for 30 minutes without becoming winded is the basic yardstick for attempting the mountain. But only 2 percent of those who start out make it to the summit at Uhuru Peak. Altitude sickness is the major obstacle.

Russ had had no questions about his own ability to climb the mountain. But he knew that long-distance runners actually are more prone to develop altitude sickness.

"It never occurred to me it would happen to me," he says. "I never get sick."

In the ensuing 4 1/2 days, the symptoms only became worse, amplified by the numbing cold and wind as they climbed higher and each step became increasingly difficult to take.

Rob was doing fine, his constantly tested glucose levels normal.

Russ and Rob spent an extra day at 12,000 feet acclimatizing themselves to the altitude.

The final assault on Uhuru Peak began at midnight at 15,000 feet. At 3 a.m., Russ realized that his body was so numbed by the 10-degree cold and 30 mph wind that he could no longer help Rob in an emergency. He made the decision to go down, and there was no argument or discussion.

The two had made a pact that if one could no longer go on, the other would turn back as well. The guides tried to talk Rob into going on but he refused.

They returned to the previous night's camp, but Russ' resting heart rate was 180 beats a minute and his blood pressure was high. Russ awoke Rob at 6 a.m. and said they must go on down the mountain. He thought he might be having a heart attack.

They hiked down for eight hours before the ambulance summoned to meet them appeared. The road it had negotiated was so narrow and the rain forest so thick that the car had to drive back uphill for 20 minutes before a place could be found to turn around.

By then, Russ felt fine again but feigned sickness so the ambulance attendants wouldn't think him ungrateful.

Climbing Kilimanjaro does not require mountaineering equipment but it is not the slightly vertical tour they thought they were taking.

"It was a dangerous thing to do even if I weren't diabetic," Rob concedes now, seated in the comfort of the family living room in Cape Girardeau.

Because of the lack of communication capability in impoverished Tanzania, Russ' wife, Suellen, was ignorant of her loved ones' ordeal. She spent those days redecorating the house. She says she and her daughter, Shannon, plan to bond on a beach somewhere.

Rob says he may try to get to the top of Kilimanjaro again someday. Russ says he won't.

But both men learned something from trying.

"I didn't think me being diabetic would be a hindrance, but I wasn't sure," Rob said. "Now I'm sure this isn't going to keep me from doing anything."

Russ is proud of the strength his son demonstrated. But he's more proud of Rob for not making him feel he let his son down.

"Even though I had," Russ wrote in an account of the adventure sent to family and friends.

"It is such a luxury as a parent to see one of your children do something that you might find very difficult to do yourself. Something that has nothing to do with climbing a mountain."