Mount Kilimanjaro isn’t just a mountain, it’s a test of physical and mental limits, and a brutal showcase of nature’s extremes. On my wrist for every step of the climb was the Lapizta Skyros, a bold, aviation-inspired timepiece I’d taken as both a personal companion and a real-world durability test.
From the start at Lemosho Gate, trekking through thick rainforest, the Skyros endured intense humidity, sudden downpours, and muddy trails. Its rugged case, crafted for pressure and punishment, shrugged off scratches from foliage and gear. The silicone strap never slipped, even with gloves on or while navigating steep, uneven terrain.
As we climbed into moorlands and alpine desert, temperatures swung from scorching afternoons to freezing nights. At over 4,000 meters, where oxygen thins and every body movement slows. The Lapizta's sapphire-coated mineral crystal resisted dust storms and wind-whipped grit at Lava Tower.
But the true test came during the final summit push, a midnight ascent from Barafu Camp to Uhuru Peak. Temperatures dropped below -10°C, wind gusts battered us, and exhaustion set in.
Standing at 5,895 meters, Africa’s roof, I looked down at a watch that had endured everything Kilimanjaro threw at it. It wasn’t just a functional tool; it became a symbol of resilience. The Lapizta Skyros didn’t just survive Kilimanjaro, but thrived.