A trek to the top of Africa

Climbing Kilimanjaro is on many people’s list of things to do. It had been on mine for a while as well. I signed up a year in advance and was looking forward to it. As the departure date started to creep up I thought I’d best go and get all the kit on my kit list. I walked into an outdoor shop near work and handed over the list and requested that the salesgirl get me trek ready. This included actually getting walking boots as I had nothing from the list already. She smiled and said I looked very urban which I can only assume she meant I was fashionable (a compliment) but she guessed that I was not a seasoned trekker. She was right. She was also very helpful and got the entire kit list sorted within a couple of hours and even had taken note that I was the kind of trekker who would want all my gear to match. Blue was clearly the colour to have on the mountain and my clothes and backpack would all look good together. Phew. 

I wore in my boots by doing a few walks from central London back home to West London. As yet though I hadn’t set foot on a mountain (or hill for that matter) in them.

Then, departure day arrived. I was meeting my group at 6pm at Heathrow terminal 3. Would they be nice? Would they like me? Would they be hard core trekkers who would look at me like the outdoor shop assistant had? I was a little nervous but had already planned for these feelings and had taken the day off work even though we weren’t meeting until the evening. I wanted to have time to relax on the day. I treated myself to a cab out to the airport. I figured I would be working hard enough the whole of the next week.

I met our group leader in the airport. Jo Bradshaw was very friendly and welcomed me with a lovely smile. She gave me my flight tickets and said that I was to check my bags in and then we would re-group once we arrived in Kilimanjaro airport. The joining instructions had said that we should wear our walking boots for the journey and have our day pack with us as these were the two pieces of equipment that the company would not be able to get for us should our main luggage not arrive in Tanzania with us. I passed the check and was ready to drop my bag off at the Ethiopian Airways desk. Just in front of me though was another of our group. She too was travelling alone but was much younger than me. I estimated about 18. Jo asked her where her boots were as she only had on a flimsy pair of pumps. In my bag she said. Get them out and put them on please said Jo. Where is your day pack? To which the young girl turned around to display a floral bag with small leather straps that looked like it had been purchased at Accessorize. No way can you go up the mountain with that said Jo. It fits loads in retorted the girl. No – it’s not a trekking bag but we will sort it out when we get to Africa. Phew I thought (more so for the selfish reason that it meant I was not the most clueless amongst our group.)

I then met a couple who were also about to drop their bags off. They were again very nice and the girl had actually climbed Kilimanjaro before. It mustn’t be that bad then if you are coming back for more I said to her. It was horrendous she said in a very plain and simple way. Yikes. Two thoughts then entered my mind. Firstly; what have I done signing up for this and secondly why are you coming back if it was so horrendous?

I buried those thoughts and went through to departures. At this point I would say I was 90% excited for the trip and 10% nervous. Or was it the other way around? Some people had been saying to me before I left for the trip “if Cheryl Cole can climb Kili then so can you.” To this I had various thoughts which included the following. One: I am nothing like Cheryl Cole (thank God.) Two: As much as I am not a fan of hers she is a very fit woman thus her Kili climb was not luck. Regardless I boarded the plane and off we flew to Addis Ababa. We had a few hours on the ground there before our flight to Kilimanjaro. Addis is not the most exciting airport I have had the pleasure of visiting so I settled in a seat and enjoyed a few Abba songs on my iPod (seemed appropriate given the name of the place) and then also had a snooze.

Three hours after taking off from Addis we landed at Kilimanjaro. We were here. We re-grouped outside the airport and you could tell everyone was excited. The journey to the Weru Weru Lodge was the first real time I got to speak to many of the group. They all seemed great and were not the seasoned trekkers I had feared. That’s not to say that they were not prepared for the trek but more that they all had the same fears about the trek that lay ahead.

We had our first group briefing at the hotel once we had freshened up. In essence here is what Jo and our key guides Whitey (the most ironic name for a Tanzanian man in history) and Francis told us. The total height of the mountain is 5,896 meters above sea level. It’s the highest point in the African continent and the highest free standing mountain in the world. Take each day at a time. Constantly drink water throughout the day. Your marker for drinking enough would be peeing every hour (even throughout the night.) Walk slowly. Walk really slowly. Don’t think about summit night until it was upon us. If we had problems we should ask one of the team but remember TIA. This is Africa. The issue will get resolved but maybe a bit slower than you would expect. Seemed like simple instructions and I thought I could follow those easily.  

That night we enjoyed some dinner and local entertainment al fresco at the hotel with our first sighting of Kilimanjaro towering above us in the background. It was beautiful to see it but daunting looking at its height. Could I really walk all the way up there? Some of the group were knocking back the local Kilimanjaro beers. I joined them for one but didn’t want to be dehydrated for the start tomorrow so went onto water thereafter. Boring bastard I know. 

So start day was here. We were attempting the Machame Route which is said to be the most scenic but not the easiest route up the mountain. Our trek was 6 days in total. We would take 4.5 days to reach the summit and then 1.5 days to descend. That’s a long time but taking on Jo’s advice I wasn’t thinking that far ahead. We were driven to the entrance of the national park and registered in the book. We set off. I had full intentions of being at the back of the group for the entire trip so started as I meant to go on. Being at the back meant that I definitely could go slowly plus it also meant I was closest to the doctor as she was always going to be at the rear of the group. If I was going to develop altitude sickness (or have any other type of accident) I wanted to be closest to the person with the drugs. Our doctor (Hosnieh) turned out to be someone I clicked with most out of the group and I really enjoyed her company for the full trip. It was her first time on the mountain too.

So from here on in I won’t bore you with a minute by minute account of what happened as there are a lot of minutes in six days. Here are some highlights that have stuck in my memory.

The first day took us through the rainforest at the foot of the mountain. I was surprised how green the surroundings were and how little the ground seemed to ascend. It didn’t really feel like I was in Africa at all. The team that were carrying our camping gear, main rucksacks and food were going at an impressive rate and were consistently overtaking us. These guys were tough. Each time one was coming up behind us someone would shout “Rafiki” so that you could get out of their way. The word took me back to the Lion King but I later on found out that it translates to mean companion. These men were certainly that to us. We wouldn’t have even made it passed day one without them. The day trekking passed without major incident and I had enjoyed it. On arrival at Machame camp (2,980 meters above sea level) we gathered round with all of our team. We introduced ourselves to them in Swahili and them to us. We then sang songs with them and danced which became an end of day tradition from now until the end. It was a good way to lighten the mood. Especially as some of the days in the future would be hard. This was the first time that we heard the team morale booster. One of the team would shout “Maximum” to which the rest then all shouted “Respect.” It was great and was used at any time we needed it on the mountain from there on in. Dinner (and all meals thereafter) consisted of lots of carbs as well as ginger which would keep any nausea at bay. I however did make a little error by spilling the boiling water on my leg whilst trying to pour tea for someone. It hurt. It scalded me and I was worried it was going to blister and get infected especially since I wouldn’t be washing for the next few days. After 30 minutes with a wet towel on my leg it seemed ok and the stinging went. Phew (for another time.)

Whilst I was out seeing to my burn Jo had seemingly told the group we should sleep in our tent with the inner door slightly unzipped as this would keep the air circulating and would mean we wouldn’t wake up soaking from the condensation. My tent mate (Ricky) ignored this so we closed ours completely. We awoke with soaking feet and a very wet sleeping bag each. Shit. This was going to be cold sleeping in a bag that surely wasn’t going to get the chance to fully dry? Fortunately I had brought with me a water proof bag which was meant to be used for my belongings but from then on was used to put my legs in before getting into the sleeping bag. See; I could be resourceful on the mountain. Mr. Fiennes (Ranulph not Ralph) would be impressed surely? We also slept with the inner doors unzipped for the next 4 nights.

Day two was when I really felt like we were climbing. Soon after starting the trek we were above the trees and could enjoy magnificent scenery of the world below. It was stunning. Shira Camp (3,840 meters above sea level) where we stayed that night was my favourite of the whole trip. It was perched right on the mountain edge (with the summit behind us) and the clouds covering the landscape below. It was truly stunning. Watching sunset there I knew what the care bears must have seen every day. If I could live above the clouds permanently I would. The moon was shining brightly above the summit and gave me some of the best pictures I have ever taken. I didn’t mind getting up every hour to pee with these surroundings.

Day three we carried on up the mountain rising higher and still with complete cloud cover below us. It was gorgeous. The aim of today was to reach a peak of 4,630 meters above sea level at the Lava Tower camp for lunch and then to descend to Barranco Camp (3,950 meters) where we would stay. This was to try and acclimatize us for higher altitudes. As we started to approach the lunch spot I started to feel unwell. I was worried as it was a terrible feeling. My head was sore and I felt like I may vomit if I ingest any food. I was panicked as there would be no way I could go on for days feeling like this. We reached the lunch stop and I sat inside one of the tents feeling like total shit. I forced food down me because I knew I had to bank the calories. We were burning 4,000 calories a day so I needed everything I could get, especially if I was going to start puking up some of them. Post lunch Jo shouted her usual “packs on” which is what she would say to signal the end of any break we took. I felt crap. I decided to walk on my own as I couldn’t face talking. We were descending and as we did the sunshine disappeared and it started to become quite misty. I felt cold and my head was pounding. As we were nearing the camp I saw a girl from my group collapse to her knees and vomit at her side. I helped her wash her hands and clean herself up. I was pleased she was ok but secretly pleased that it wasn’t just me that was feeling the altitude sickness. We got into camp and I went straight to my tent. Had we not had our team setting everything up ahead of us I think I would have cried at this point. I wouldn’t have had the energy for putting up a tent. I lay down and went to sleep. I awoke an hour later in time for dinner feeling refreshed and fine. I was shocked. I ate dinner and was grateful for feeling human again. I adjourned to bed early. There were no points for being rock n roll on this holiday.

That night was the first one where during my hourly pee breaks I could hear people (including my tent mate) being sick all over camp. Apart from in a student union on a Saturday night I have never heard so many wretching noises. At breakfast the next day there were a lot of sorry looking people and I felt a little guilty for still feeling ok. We set off down into the valley and then up to where we were faced with the Barranco Wall. It was a sheer face and would be the steepest piece of the mountain we had to pass. I was glad I hadn’t read too much about this prior to seeing it as I think it would have added a few too many worries for the preceding days and would have stunted my enjoyment of what we had seen before. However; with the wall successfully climbed we when onwards to Barafu Camp. I still felt ok but I would estimate that about 25 out of our group of 30 were being sick (and some suffering diarrhea) at various points throughout the day. One of our group was essentially being led by one of our team as she couldn’t stand up. I had no idea how she was going to get any further and I wondered why she wasn’t sent back down the mountain. Clearly the team had seen worse than this although it was hard to imagine. We reached camp which was 4,550 meters above sea level. The wretching sounds were everywhere. I couldn’t believe it. We had our briefing and were told we would be starting at 1am for our trek up to the summit. It was going to be a long day ahead. I was quite tired as I hadn’t slept for a full night (due to pee breaks) since the night we arrived in Tanzania and tonight would be no different. Mine and Ricky’s tent was setup a little away from the rest and I have to admit that when I awoke at midnight for my pee break I couldn’t be bothered putting on my boots and I just lent out my side of the tent and peed there. Shameful I know but it felt so good given that I could then just roll back over and go to sleep for the next 50 minutes before getting up.

We set off in the pitch black for the summit. All you could see was the moon and the headtorches of all of our group. It was quiet. I was tired. As the sun rose the heat felt lovely on the skin and allowed us to see the surroundings. We were really on the side of a mountain now. As we got higher the earth seemed to turn more into sand. Each step was difficult. I spotted Ricky walking like he was hammered. Jo took his rucksack to allow him a lighter load. He was still struggling. She stopped him and asked if he felt ok. He said he was fine and was just a bit sick from the Subway sandwich he had that morning. WTF? Where did he get his sandwich she asked. In Subway he confidently responded. 

He was immediately taken by two of the team back to Barafu Camp in order to get out of high altitude. It was frightening to see the real effects of altitude sickness besides the obvious of actually vomiting. We pushed on stopping every fifteen minutes for a break of a few minutes. I was so tired. I asked could our breaks be longer. The answer was a firm no. We then reached Stella Point which is on the rim of the mountain. I sat down and promptly fell asleep. It felt good to shut my eyes. It must have only been for a few seconds as I was woken up saying that it was too dangerous to sleep at this altitude. We only had 50 minutes to go until the summit and it was a fairly flat route along the rim up to Uhuru peak. I slowly made the walk and couldn’t believe my eyes. The glacier at the top of the mountain was spectacular. I have never seen anything like it. Photos did not do it justice. We passed alongside it and I made it to Uhuru Peak. The highest peak in all of Africa at 5,896 meters above sea level. WOW! I was happy and had the obligatory photo in front of the sign. Some of the group were crying. Others just quiet in contemplation at what they had achieved.

The way back down the mountain was quick and I remember feeling much more awake than on the way up. Must have been the adrenaline. At Barafu Camp I (and the rest of the group) felt good. We had all achieved our own summit. For some it had been to Uhuru Peak. For some it had been Stella Point. For some it was earlier than that. Wherever anyone got on the mountain though they had reached their personal summit and knew that it was were there body had allowed them to go. Nobody had given up half heartedly. We sang out usual songs and finished with one last rendition of One Love. That song will forever remind me of this trip.

The final trek down we were back into the rainforests and soon enough we were at Mweka Gate at the foot of the mountain. I was so happy I had done it. I had my boots washed and enjoyed a well-deserved bottle of Coke. It tasted fucking amazing. It was only then when I reached my room back at Weru Weru lodge that I felt dirty. I hadn’t showered for 6 days (a personal record) and it was clear from the odour. I looked in the mirror and I had a full beard. I undressed and could tell I had lost weight. The before and after photos of the Kilimanjaro are two of my favourites. The shower and shave I enjoyed that afternoon were the best I have ever had.

We let loose that night with many Kilimanjaro beers (this time I didn’t move on to water) and I was so happy I reached the summit and made some lifelong friends along the way. The people I met may not all have been people I would have ordinarily met but they all hold a place in my heart as we will always have Kilimanjaro.

Jo was a fantastic leader and a woman I very much admire. She later went on to attempt climbing to the summit of Everest. She was raising money for a charity and sponsors could submit a photo to go on the banner she would display at the summit. I sponsored her and submitted a picture of my Mum and Dad. They had recently passed away and to have them travelling to the highest point on Earth felt great. Sadly the devastating earthquake of April 2015 hit Nepal as Jo was making her ascent up Everest. She was ok but she lost three of her group. Strangely the banner was not lost so Mum and Dad will be on Jo’s next attempt up Everest.  

So I wouldn’t consider myself a trekker after the trip but it certainly is a trip I will never forget.