Tips for climbing Kili, and re-adjusting when you come home

There's so much written about climbing Mt Kilimanjaro, and with around 25,000 people a year making the trip, there's plenty of information online.

For what it's worth, I'll add my thoughts to the mix, in the hope that my real life experience can be of some help to those considering a climb.
I think I can safely say that my experience was very similar to all people on my trek, so there must be something in that.

Firstly, should you do it?

If you'd have asked me on summit night, or the day after, or possibly the day after that, I would have said a resounding "No!"
It was without doubt, the hardest, most exhausting, impossible thing I've ever done in my life.
To tell somebody it's the hardest thing they'll ever do is pointless. I have no idea what you've done up until now, nor do I have any way of explaining to you how hard it is.
All I will say is this. Everything up to summit night is do-able, but gets progressively harder.
Summit night, is beyond difficult, and however difficult you can imagine something might be, times it by 10. It's brutal, cold, dis-orientating and utterly exhausting, and you will feel like giving up and dying, but unless you are actual ill, or suffering from AMS, you'll probably manage it...just.
And now the confusing part. Apart from being the worst day of my life, it was also one of the best.
I can't explain it, but all that suffering is totally worth it. It is without doubt, the experience of a lifetime.
So I would say if you're fit, healthy, no heart problems, of sound mind and not too elderly, DO IT!

Tips for training before the climb:

Try to lose a bit of weight if you're slightly over your optimum body weight (and lets be honest, most of us are)
Get yourself generally fit by being doing some aerobic training.
Train and work your walking muscles by climbing hills, and spend progressively longer so that before you go you can fairly comfortably walk 6-7 hours.
Don't go mad and over-do it. Ultimately, all you are doing on Kili, is walking. It's the lack of oxygen that really counts.

Tips for life on the mountain:

Sleeping: It gets cold at night, even on Day 1 at low altitude. It was sub-zero on our first night and I was cold.
If you wear too many layers in bed, the sleeping bag can't retain your body heat, because it doesn't get any. It's all trapped around you in your clothes.
The best tip I can offer, is get a silk sleeping bag liner.
When I used mine from Day 3, I was almost warm at night! I was certainly warmer than my tent buddy who didn't have one. Also wear a wooly hat at night, and get the best ear plugs you can find. Try them out before you go and make sure they block out noise completely.
The sound of people snoring when your sleep, which is disturbed by altitude anyway, is almost unbearable, and kept me awake every night. Lack of sleep will totally ruin your summit chances.
Some of our team took Night Nurse, which they said helped them sleep, but maybe take medical advice on that one as sleeping pills are meant to be a very bad idea.

Food: force yourself to eat. Altitude makes you lose your apetite and feel sick. You absolutely must take in calories otherwise your body won't cope.
Stomach problems: The first place you can get food poisoning is the hotel the night before you set off. Start being careful from the beginning. Only drink bottled water and don't eat anything that's not cooked/ piping hot. Washed salad, ice cubes in drinks or fruit that is already peeled is asking for trouble.
Drink: LOADS (not alcohol, obviously)

Toilets: The long drop toilets are grim, and get grimmer the higher you go. Once you've used one once, you just get used to it. It's got to be done, so just see it as part of the process. It's so different to what we're used to in life, but embrace it as part of the experience.
Take plenty of wet wipes, but not so many that weigh you down.
Be fastidious about cleanliness and use alcohol gel all the time. You cannot use it enough, and it's the only way to kill germs on the mountain. The water won't do it.
We all used it like a bunch of crazy people, and not one of us got stomach problems.
With that in mind, be ever so careful what you eat and drink on the mountain. Our water supply was filtered, but stay away from fruit that you don't peel to eat. I actually stayed off fruit altogether.

Medical Supervision: I wouldn't attempt Kili without a trained doctor on the team. It can literally be a life saver. If you're feeling ill, you absolutely have to tell people.

Clothes: The higher you go, the colder it gets. Have thermals and plenty of layers and a good down jacket. Also take a full set of lightweight waterproofs and good solid waterproof boots.

Pole Pole: Everybody will tell you to walk slowly. As you get higher, above 10,000 feet, I can promise you that any strenuous effort will stop you in your tracks. At extreme altitude, just bending down to tie your laces is a huge effort. When you get to final camp before summit, TAKE IT SLOW. Force yourself to move slowly otherwise you will hamper your chances of a successful summit.
Try to stay calm and relaxed. Even the slightest annoyance or aggravation will affect you at altitude, it honestly will.

Summit  Night: It's freezing cold. My water froze instantly. Don't bother with a camelback. Even the insulated ones. You cannot prevent them from freezing. I even wrapped mine in a heat pad, but the pipe freezes. Best to take a number of Sigg bottles or simliar and keep a couple near your body. The larger volume of liquid takes longer to freeze. My camelback froze straight away, so I only had a 1l Sigg bottle and a small plastic water bottle, which wasn't enough for summit night and beyond.
That for me was one reason why I didn't make Uhuru.
The other was lack of sleep and lack of food, and the final straw which is my final point; do not rush.
You must take your time even if it means dropping back down the group. I was near the middle as we approached Gilmans and we pushed too fast in the last 10 minutes for me, and it finished me. The boulders near the top are huge and you cannot imagine trying to scramble over a boulder in the last few hundred yards after walking all night with 50% oxygen.
This got me stressed, which resulted in my suffering from the altitude quite badly. I started falling asleep due to lack of oxygen.
Gilmans Point is tiny. It was mobbed, over crowded and dark when I arrived.
With the effort to make it up there in the last 10-30 minutes, I was exhausted, dis-orientated, nauseous and literally on my last legs.
If you take your time, from here, as long as you're not ill, it's approx 2 hours further to Uhuru and back.
Most importantly, trust your instincts and listen to your body. I knew I could go no further at Gilmans.
You cannot afford to push yourself beyond what you feel is safe. You'd have already done that at this point. You'll know if you can continue or not, but there's no prizes for being stretchered down or even dying on the mountain side.
Remember, it's not a life or death situation, it's life only. And it's only a mountain. BE SENSIBLE.

The descent, in many ways, is much worse. You have nothing left to give physically, yet you now need to walk back down the way you came up overnight. It's actually harder to stay upright walking/sliding down the scree slope from summit. It's so difficult, and camp seems to never get nearer.
Descent is totally exhausting. I fell over 3 or 4 times, and fell asleep every time I was down. It is tortuous.
From camp you'll stop for lunch, and then continue another 4-5 hours to a lower camp. You'll feel like a zombie. It's hideous, completely and utterly hideous.

So my main points would be: Sleep, eat, don't rush, listen to your body. Easier said than done on all 4 counts.

Tips for life after the mountain. What nobody tells you:

The physical side:
My legs were painful for about 3 days after returning. I lost the feeling in the tips of my big toes (from the arduous descent) for about 3 weeks.
My body was physically drained for a good few days.
My stomach wasn't right for at least a week.
The emotional side:
Returning home from Kili, leaves you feeling like you're in bereavement. It's an emotional roller-coaster that honestly took me 3-4 weeks to get over.
Nobody tells you how much you'll miss your trekking buddies. Nobody tells you how much you'll miss the experience. Nobody tells you that the trauma, euphoria, suffering, joy of climbing Kilimanjaro will affect your emotions so deeply.
We all experienced it. We all missed each other like somebody had died. We all remembered our trip with enormous fondness even though it had been so hard on so many levels.
The emotional toll is very very real, and it will serve you well to expect that.

So that's it. Probably the best and worst thing you'll ever attempt in your life (unless you're a serious explorer)
But I can safely say, the good completely outweighs the bad, and if you do climb Kilimanjaro, you will have the experience of a lifetime. I would urge everybody to do it. It's amazing.

If you're about to go, and have any questions, drop me a line: mail at set-design.tv (replace the at with an @ and don't leave gaps, this helps keep the spambots away)

D Day

Finally here. I'm leaving for the airport in 20 minutes.
A years worth of preparation, countless miles walked in training, and in the last 2 weeks, an extra 6 pounds in weight lost.
I've had 3 weeks of hypoxic training. No idea if it's done me any good. I guess I'll know in a few days.
I've decided to take Diamox too... hopefully it'll all work well.
So that's it....30 people will be converging on Heathrow shortly with a collective goal to reach the summit.
I'll let you know how it went in 10 days time......

Diary from Kilimanjaro

Kilimanjaro - A trekkers diary

The day had finally arrived. Friday 16th September 2011.

I jump on the scales for the very last time. Unbelievably, it reads 1/2 a pound under 11 stone. It had been my goal to get under 11 stone before I left, but I hadn't quite made it. I jump on and off the scales a number of times just to double double check that it's not a mistake. It isn't.

I've never been a diet freak or too obsessed about my weight, but I'd not had a 10 stone anything show on the scales since I was probably a teenager. I'm delighted with my efforts, and in my mind I'm thinking it's a sign.

I have to travel to South Wimbledon to visit a studio for a job I'm on. It's a 1.5-2 hour journey each way, and I feel sick at the prospect of doing anything today that isn't related to Kilimanjaro.

I then have to go to Elstree Studios to say my goodbyes to the current Production, but at least that's 5 minutes from home.

Thankfully, the recce and more importantly, the journeys, go well, and I'm back home by 1:30pm.

Everything had been packed days before, so I'm completely ready. Apart from bed, my trekking boots haven't left my feet for the last 3 weeks in an attempt to make them part of my body.

They feel comfortable, and I'm delighted.

I had booked a cab, but my Dad has offered to take me, and he arrives at my house at 3pm. I have to be at Heathrow for 5pm so I'm hoping the M25 will behave itself.

Having said an emotional goodbye to my wife, who sadly has the look in her eye of somebody saying goodbye to a person forever, I set off. The journey is smooth, traffic free but somewhat sombre, as my Dad tries to be upbeat, and I can only think about the dangers ahead and the family I'm leaving behind. It's a sickening, guilty feeling, and I do actually question why I have put myself into this situation.

I never had a life-long ambition to climb Kili. I've never had ambitions to be a mountaineer or an explorer. I've always dreamed about a more adventurous, outdoorsy lifestyle. The allure of escapism (which always seems to loom large in my sub-consciousness) but I've never done anything like this before in my life. I've marvelled at stories in the past from the handful of people I've known that had done it, somehow in the back of my mind wishing I could do it myself. But I feel selfish. I think about my family, my dependants, the people that depend on me. And here I am waltzing off to climb a mountain, potentially putting myself in some real danger.

For months, I have thought of little else but how my body will deal with extreme altitude…..today is the day that thought starts to become a reality.

I arrive at Terminal 4 in great time. It's about 4pm. I say goodbye to my Dad, suddenly wondering if I'll ever see him again, but in my heart, knowing it'll be a very short 10 days before he's collecting me.

The airport is surprisingly quiet. I like this. I'm an airport hater, and normally travel in the early morning along with the millions of other people, and it drives me crazy. I'm not good with crowds.

I wander over to the check-in area for Kenya Airways, and see nobody familiar. The psychotic in me wonders if I am actually int the right place. There is literally nobody here from Marie Curie. But I'm early, so time for a quick text to my 4 team mates from the Serious Fox team who are all in the same cab because they live near each other.

Here is an exact transcript:

16:18 to Peter

Me: "Just got to airport"

….nothing

16:32

Me: " How far away are you?"

…..nothing

16:37 to Kevin (given up on Peter)

Me - "I'm here how far r u guys?"

Them - "In Uxbridge!"

Me - "Oh shit"

A minute goes by and then this:

Them: "Should be there by 5pm!"

Them: "Only joking! We've just gone thru Dunstable!"

Everybody loves a comedian, particularly during times of stress.

I remember the banter we've all had previously on email, when Kevin jokes that he's going to Luton instead of Heathrow

Me - "Yeah watch out the approach to Luton is always busy"

Me - "By the way I'm tracking u with a gadget"

Me - " Zone F check in" (that was real, I was trying to be helpful)

Them - " There's no Zone F here…at Luton!"

By now, I had decided to grab a coffee, and have stumbled upon a swarm of blue Marie Curie t-shirts. I'm in the right place at least! It's welcoming to see some familiar faces, Alan & Gemma, David, Susan, Jan, and Alice, who I'd not met yet. She smiles a lot. That's a good thing. 

Then Lisa and Lyndsey, Steve, Marvin, Matt and Emma. People that I'd met at our training weekend to Scafell Pike. I feel much more relaxed. I meet Andreas and Steve for the first time, along with Kelvin, Allyson and Leanne but don't meet the others until check-in.

17:00 - Check in time

Almost everybody is here. We meet Geordie, the trek leader, for the first time. He looks like a mountaineer. Stocky, strong and a full beard. He hands out various orange tents to people to check in as luggage, as the tour company needs some replacements. We all joke about packing our own bags and not taking parcels from strangers.

We also meet our trek doctor Jenny. She has a little chat to some of us about something medical that I can't quite remember, but jokingly I tell her that I'm a hypochondriac….She laughs nervously. My card has been marked I fear. 

Spirits are high, but there's definitely a tension and anticipation from most of us. I find out that Steve is afraid of flying. Poor bastard I think, it's hard enough being in this situation without a fear of flying. He disappears with Marvin and Matt. I'm imagining for a stiff drink.

The Serious Fox team finally arrives, and I'm reunited with my team mates. I'm not normally a nervous traveller, but I find myself thinking that at least we can all go now that everybody is here. I think I meet everybody else at this time, I can't quite remember. Paul & Jackie, David, Amy, Jason and Liam (who I'd already met), and if my memory serves me well, the final 2 to arrive are Alison & Fiona.

Check in is the usual chaos that you expect at airports. I've not flown Kenya Airways before. It's a little different, but nothing, nothing like it will be coming back from Africa.

Fortunately, they check our bags all the way through to Kilimanjaro airport via Nairobi. We don't have to collect them and transfer them, so that's a bonus. As is the immediate thought that I'll never see my luggage again.

But it's gone now….worrying won't help, and we leave the check-in to go through to the departure gate.

Security is quiet, free-moving, and with the amount of crap in my rucksack, an absolute miracle that I go through un-checked.

Peter on the other hand, gets given the third degree, and has some creams and ointments taken away for molecular scrutiny. Luckily, they are all returned, in a clear plastic bag, with a whole bunch of attitude thrown in for good measure. I'm not fazed at all because I know this minor inconvenience is minuscule compared to what the next 10 days will bring.

We decide to find somewhere to eat, pondering on the state of the airline food, and with pitiful choice befitting the UK's most major airport, we settle for Starbucks, and eat what we can.

We end up sitting next to a woman and her daughter, who unexpectedly give us a donation to Marie Curie when they find out what we're doing. It's amazingly touching to receive a donation from a complete stranger, and feels like a moment of Karma.

The plane starts to board, a final text to the family, and we're off. The plane is full, and we must take up a good chunk of it with our 32 strong team.

I start to write a diary on my iPhone.

Here's the first entry:

Friday 16 September 2011

========================

20:46 So here it is. I'm on a flight to Nairobi. It's 8:46pm and I've just left for Kili. Cannot believe its actually here.

Check in was interesting. Today has been manic. 2hr journey to Merton for a  studio recce first thing. Back to Elstree for GH then home. Tearful goodbyes 

And here I sit. The moon setting out the window and a bunch of strangers around me. People I'll probably know quite well in a week or so.

Missing the family already and anxious about the task ahead. I hope it all goes well.

Time will tell

Day 2

Day 2:

We arrived at Nairobi around 06:30. The airport was packed.

We all headed over to Gate 6 for our connection to Kilimanjaro. It was hot, stuffy and overcrowded, but we hadn't had to clear through immigration, or collect our luggage.

Once we had boarded the little twin prop plane from Precision Air, those of us at the front of the plane could clearly see our luggage on a container being loaded into the cargo hold, followed by a bit of a wait, followed by luggage being unloaded and driven off.

Being tired, not quite with it, and used to the ways of the Western World, we all assumed it had been driven around the plane to another luggage hold and loaded on.

But sadly, on arrival at Kilimanjaro Airport, we were greeted with a measly 6 bags sadly circulating the baggage belt.

I asked a staff member when the other bags would come out, but he told me that was everything. It appears as though they changed aircraft last minute, and only laid on a tiny plane which was big enough for 60 people. And 6 bags.

It's really quite distressing, knowing that your whole life is in a bag containerised somewhere within Nairobi Airport, but at least apart from the lucky 6, we were all in the same boat.

The fear that the climb might never happen was ever present, but we were assured that all the bags would 'probably' be out on the next flight. The fact that there was only 2 more flights that day was not much of a comfort.

It's at this point, that I ought to draw your attention to a peculiar African trait. If you ask anybody how long something will take, the answer will always come back as 20 minutes. This happens without exception, whether it's a car journey, a wait in a queue or the gestation period of an elephant.

And so after 20 minutes, we boarded our 2 minibuses, devoid of luggage, empty tarpaulins flapping in the breeze, for our 20 minute ride to the hotel, that took an hour.

Slightly jaded, and all exhausted from our overnight travels, we arrived at the Impala Hotel in Arusha. After the check-in formalities that took about 20 minutes, we got given our keys and went straight to our rooms for a much needed nap. I must have slept for at least 20 minutes, before getting up in time for lunch and our team briefing.

Lunch was a buffet, people mostly being careful what they ate, and then downstairs for a long briefing given by Geordie, our trek leader, followed by what can only be described as the most frightening and distressing talk by our trek doctor Jenny, who explained in great detail just how many ways we all might die on the mountain.

For a bunch of soft Brits, this was a bit of a shocker. 

But where there was once anxiety and distress, there was now joy, as Geordie announced the arrival of all of our bags.

I remember the massive relief at seeing my bag sitting in the foyer, and promptly tweeted a photo of it.

Dinner was another buffet, with some of the gang having what looked to be the most amazingly tasty curry. I wasn't brave enough to join in, with a 6am start the next day and a 20 minute/5 hour minibus ride the next day. But I dreamed about that curry for the next 8 days…..

Day 3 - Under Starters Orders

Day 3: Trek Day 1

The Rongai Route

Nalemuru Gate at 6400 feet to Simba Camp at 8500 feet: 5 miles

Breakfast…had I known the drill then, up at 6, breakfast at 7, get going at 8, I may have been a bit more prepared. There's nothing like trying to squeeze your mountain life into 12kg of weight. It's unbearably difficult, especially now knowing that the actual weight limit for our overnight bags was 15kg. That's the difference between a daily supply of Green & Blacks, and one bar.

And so, chocolately challenged, we boarded the minibuses, this time, a 12kg piece of luggage each. Excitement and worry on all our faces.

The drive was long, bumpy and at times dusty, but we stopped a number of times along the way, for snacks, toilets (well, not quite toilets but they served the same purpose) and an amazing chance to mingle with hundreds of excitable local children.

It was a huge spirit lifter after 4 hours on a bus, and so with only 20 minutes left to go, that seemed to last an hour, we arrived at Nalemuru Gate.

The luggage was off-loaded, the 116 porters were signed in, and we had lunch, for the first time with some of our trek guides.

We were introduced to the potassium permanganate, a delightful purple/brown liquid that sterilises hands and cutlery, and ate cheese and avocado sandwiches and biscuits.

It was an exciting moment, with views high over Kenya to our right, and forest heading up the mountain to our left.

After a briefing from Geordie, mostly about how slowly we'd walk, we set off, stopped at the National Park signs that warn you that death is a mere moment away from you at any given moment, and we were finally going.

It felt really strange….all those months of preparation and practice walking, and now we were actually doing it.

The first part of the trek heads off into the forest. We passed a small shack where a tiny child stood bemused at our un-natural appearances, and continued deep into the forest where we saw a few black and white colobus monkeys in the trees.

The going was fairly easy, but all the time I'm wondering if I'll notice any effects from the altitude. I check my watch altimeter….it's not even 7000 feet, and I remember that most people don't notice the altitude until around 10,000.

Eventually, the forest starts to clear. It looks like it's mostly pine, and isn't at all how I'd expect Africa to look. But we carry on upwards, drinking and weeing, drinking and weeing.

I think by now, all of us are taking Diamox, and some are feeling the diuretic effects far more than others. Luckily, I'm not one of them, but I'm drinking litres and litres, and it has to go somewhere.

By about 5 o'clock, we approach our first campsite, and are greeted by the most incredible signing and dancing by all of our porters.

It brings a smile to everybody's face. It's an incredible welcome.

There's a huge pile of bags, all laid out and after retrieving our own, we all set off to grab a tent and get settled.

Our first communal meal in the tent is warmly received by all. It starts with soup, which is hot, salty and delicious.

The tent, soon to become such a large part of our mountain lives is pitch black, with a particular aroma, which I never quite got used to. Everybody sits around with head torches on, and it's quite a magical place to be.

But the most magical thing of all, was wandering outside the tent after dinner, where night falls so quickly at the Equator. The sky was ablaze with millions upon millions of stars. The thin air, and no light pollution allows you to see the most incredible view of the sky imaginable, with the Milky Way being the clearest I've ever seen it.

With that, we head off for bed, freezing cold in the night air and all quite tired.

Having got off a plane just the day before, the fact that we're now on the mountain and at first camp hasn't quite sunk in.

Day 4

Day 4: Trek Day 2

Simba Camp to Kikelewa Camp: 8500 feet to 11,800 feet - 6-7 hours

 Last entry in my diary:

"07:02 Day 2: Up at 6 with lovely hot sweet tea. Brushed teeth and had breakfast with the most stunning view of Kili and Mawenzi beyond.

Sun quickly rose as did temps.

And we're off. "

Bed tea became the normal wake-up routine. A shake of the tent, followed by a few "Hello's" and then a hot cup of milk-less sweet tea thrust in through the opening.

We set off towards Mawenzi, the craggy peak to the left of Kili, on a dusty trail mostly through scrub and alpines. The mornings are always beautifully bright and sunny and quite warm, but the dust today is truly awful.

When you blow your nose after a few hours walking, it looks like you've been down the mines.

Unfortunately, I'm over loaded with gadgets and excess weight, and by the time we stop for lunch, I'm feeling terrible.

The air is most definitely thinner up here, but I really struggle to eat and feel dead on my feet. This (apart from summit night) was where I hit my wall.

And that is probably the main reason why this day is a bit of a blur to me. I had felt so good and strong before, but now every step is a huge effort and I feel slightly nauseous.

Thankfully, the rest of my Serious Fox team are hugely supportive, and they all offer to share the extra weight burden that I've been carrying in the name of technology.

We set off after lunch, and immediately it's steep and I wonder if I can survive the day.

There's also a very rocky section, which involves scrambling over boulders. This, at high altitude is utterly exhausting. It's surprisingly difficult how a small amount of physical exertion at altitude can virtually stop you in your tracks.

Fortunately, my body starts to acclimatise. I'm not sure if it's the lighter load, the water, Diamox or body adjusting, but I welcome the feeling of normality by late afternoon.

I start to feel fit again, and it's a huge relief.

We approach our camp at Kikelewa walking through clouds. The plants have all but gone now, it's just grass. Barren, bleak and very cold in the mist.

It's slightly boggy on the approach, and it's not a particularly welcoming sight.

We are now at nearly 12,000ft

It's pretty much the same routine from now on. Dinner and then bed.

The view you wake up to

Mawenzi

Dust and clouds

Day 5

Day 5 - Trek Day 3
Kikelewa Camp to Mawenzi Tarn: 11,800 feet to 14,200 feet

As ever, it was a beautiful morning. But also like normal, I spent the first 15-20 minutes of the walk feeling dreadful.
Every day, it would take me a good 15 minutes of walking to suddenly feel normal.
The sun was up quickly, and the sky an incredible deep blue, probably due to the lack of atmosphere above it.
It was a short walk, over mostly grass and rock, and the clouds came down pretty fast. Walking in clouds isn't the fun you'd expect it to be. It's bitterly cold at this altitude, damp and the view disappears completely.
After a stop half way the porters were introduced to Nuts magazine courtesy of Jason, we arrived at Mawenzi Tarn, a short downhill walk past a small lake ( the tarn), and we were there.
I remember it felt pretty cold and desolate, and was horribly overcrowded,
It felt like arriving at a festival.
The altitude here was noticeable. It was the first time that I felt I had to move slowly. Even bending over to tie your laces would make you breathless.
Amazingly, you could get a mobile phone reception here, but it was pretty much within a 10' space of rock, and if the clouds were too thick it disappeared altogether.
The long drops were quite hideous. Damp, cold huts perched on the edge of a precipice.
There was one slightly off-piste that was a little better, but the walk to it around 20' ft further away was exhausting.
And so we had lunch...the highlight of the day, because we had CHIPS!

It's amazing how such a small luxury can lift the spirits. Everybody was so excited.

And so we got ready for an acclimatisation walk up towards the peak of Mawenzi which was stunning in its ruggedness.
After a short briefing where Geordie showed us what we should pack for summit night, he and Jenny then demonstrated a Gammow Bag. It's basically an inflatable coffin designed to preserve your body long enough to get it down the mountain before rigomortis sets in.
In truth, it's actually an inflatable pressurised body bag that is designed to keep you alive in the event of acute AMS but by that point you'd be in pretty bad shape. I didn't want to see it, so I went to get ready.
The walk up was incredibly strenuous and a real insight into how summit night would be. Scarily, summit night would be only 24hrs away.
It was perhaps only an hour up, but we walked from 14,200 to 16,000ft and it started to snow.

We reached the top of our walk, and for a brief moment, the sun came out. It was an incredible place. Desolate, brutal landscape, with enormous hanging icicles in the distance and snow cover beyond.
I can also remember feeling exhausted. The climb was easily the steepest thing we'd tackled so far, and it was hard going.

The descent gave us another glimpse of what we'd expect to encounter on summit night. Loose scree and step inclines.
This is where your walking poles come into their own, cushioning your downward motion and protecting against slips.
On the way down, I got chatting to DJ, one of our Guides. He had a collection of different hats that he would wear randomly. I think todays was a Father Xmas hat. Top bloke.
DJ asked me if I was religious, and whether I believed in god.
Kind of a tricky but thought provoking question when asked so close to the heavens....

Near the bottom, I stopped to photograph some Giant Senecios. Surreal looking succulent plants clustered in clumps, a mini oasis in what looked like a lunar landscape. That, and the still fog around us,completed an eerie experience.

Back at camp, I took off my waterproofs and remember feeling that I just couldn't get warm.
Mawenzi at dusk felt even more inhospitable than foggy Mawenzi.

As per usually, dinner, followed quickly by bed.

It was freezing cold. Colder than any night so far, and I wore thermals and a fleece to bed.
As per every night, sleep never came to me. My iPod helping a little, but on this night, the sound of porters chatting, even shouting to each other created an impossible environment to sleep.
I found out a few hours later when Peter had to get up for some Diamox relief, that poor Alison had had her bag stolen.
It seems as though a major search was underway and it was creating a big racket.
That coupled with the incessant snoring that permeated every tent was pretty unbearable.

Day 6

Day 6 - Trek Day 4
Mawenzi Tarn to Kibo Huts - 14,200 ft - 15,420 ft

Cold cold morning. It had been -8 overnight
Breakfast in the sun today. The smell of the mess tent was starting to get to me.

Apparently intolerance is another sign that the altitude is affecting you.
I could definitely feel myself getting annoyed at petty things.
I was finding myself uncharacteristically grumpy, which Peter my tent mate would no doubt agree with. It's not a nice feeling. A bit like when I drink too much coffee.
If I'm honest, I think it was more the lack of sleep than the altitude that was affecting my mood.
If you're thinking of climbing Kilimanjaro, be prepared for sleep depravation.
The thin air prevents you sleeping easily. Throw in sub-zero temperatures, a sleeping bag that's not a double bed and normally on an incline, and the constant noise of 80 or so people, baffled only by a wafer thin sheet of plasticised canvas, and you get some insight into your sleeping conditions.
My best advice, get some decent ear plugs that really work (test them first), get a silk liner for your sleeping bag (the sleeping bag should be the warmest you can afford), a really good full sized Thermarest, and then probably take some Night Nurse.

After a bit of food, (my appetite was also definitely going), we got ready to set off.
We also learned that Alison got her bag back, minus the money sadly, but she had her things. We also found out that Jackie had become quite ill overnight due to AMS, and under doctors orders would have to descend.
The reality of altitude's random brutality really hit home having lost our first team member.
This was made all the more sad by the fact that today was Jackie's partner Paul's 50th birthday.
We set off the way we'd arrived, but this time the sun was out making the whole place much prettier.
Quite soon we were scrambling over steep and rocky terrain, stopping for a break with the most stunning views of Kibo beyond

From here we went mostly downhill which was a very welcome change.
We could see the Saddle beyond and in the far far distance, Kibo Huts, our final camp before summit.
The walk to the Saddle was quite enjoyable. I had been really looking forward to it. Spirits seemed high, and we stopped for a great group photo.

The Saddle is an incredible part of Kili. It's an alpine desert that has a fairly gentle ascent, but it's long and the landscape seems to go on for ever.
As per usual, the clouds descended and the temperature plummeted.
Walking in cloud across the Saddle feels like you're on the moon.
It's a barren featureless landscape of dust and small rocks, and at 16,000 ft plus it feels like there's no oxygen either.
It was an exhausting walk, with rest stops never coming soon enough.
There was a noticeable difference in mood amongst the team after a while. The walking was endless. I found it really hard going, as did a number of others.
At our last rest stop, I made the mistake of blowing my nose to try to alleviate the dust congestion and help me breathe, but instantly, like a tap, blood started gushing from my nose.
High altitude nose bleeds are quite common, and not ideal.
With tissues quickly shoved up to try to stop it, Dr Jenny came over.
She suggested we ask around for a tampon, as this would be far more absorbent than tissue.
I have a feeling the cameras came out before the tampons, but sure enough, Allyson came to the rescue, and Team Tampon was born.

So apart from the indignity of walking with a tampon sticking out of my nose (which to be honest I got over very quickly because I just wanted it to stop) I had to deal with the issue of even more restricted breathing.
The final hour to Kibo was utterly impossible.
My chest was aching now due to the constant deep breaths I was taking. You literally breathe as though you're running, even though you are walking at a snails pace.
Next time you're out walking, try holding your breath for half a dozen paces. That is pretty much how you feel all day when walking at high altitude.
After what felt like an eternity, Kibo Huts come into view. Except to get to them, you have to walk the final few hundred yards up an incline.
The incline itself couldn't have risen more than 20' but it was beyond difficult.
It's really hard to explain how hard simple activity becomes at extreme altitude, but climbing it was exhausting.

The gateway to purgatory....

At camp, we found a tent, and rested.

We then went for lunch in the mess tent.

By the light of our head torches, because it was always dark in the mess tent, David read out messages to the team that he'd collected before he left.

They say that altitude makes you more emotional, and I can confirm that it does. It's just so easy to become tearful, but the letters of encouragement from families back home was too much to endure for most of us. Even thinking back to that time now is an emotional experience.

I guess up until then, we'd been so focused by the immense task in front of us, that actual contact with families and loved ones at home had left us all feeling somewhat isolated.

Sitting in a tent in the dark at 16,000 feet suddenly felt like such a long long way from home.

After lunch we went back to our tents to rest.

I sensed all was not well with my tent mate Peter, and I asked Jenny to check him over.
My fears were confirmed some time later, when they called me in to say that he would have to descend for his own safety.
That was probably the low point of the trip for me, as I know it most definitely was for poor Pete.
He was the one that got us all together. Our Ernest Shackleton.
It was almost inconceivable that I'd be setting off for summit without him. It was so unfair and extremely upsetting.
At the last moment, I couldn't even actually speak to him for fear of breaking down. I just grabbed his hand, squeezed it and nodded and left the tent, gutted, and tearful.
Almost everything at this point becomes emotionally charged. It's really odd and unexpected. But even now I can become teary-eyed remembering that moment. It sounds over dramatic, but the mountain is incredibly powerful.

Dinner was at 5, with a summit night briefing from Geordie.
I couldn't eat at all. No appetite, no energy, but I knew I needed to eat something. Amazingly, the cooks had baked Paul a cake for his birthday. What an effort. Sadly, I had no appetite to even try any, which if you know me, is highly unusual.

I went back to an empty tent.
It was so quiet, and awful.
I got dressed in all my summit night clothes; Thermal leggings, thermal over trousers, thermal top, t-shirt, micro fleece, down jacket, outer jacket, silk glove liners, gloves, mittens, 3 pairs of socks and a hat, and got into my sleeping bag..  Brutal cold.
I put on my iPod and shut my eyes, trying to think peaceful thoughts as Geordie had recommended.
I think I dozed off, but looked at my watch at 10:30pm and decided to get up and get ready.
As per instructions, my bag was packed and sleeping bag left out in case I had to return during the night.
I went to the mess tent and had a hot drink and some biscuits, and drunk as much as I could.
Before I knew it, midnight was upon us and we were off, into the freezing cold darkness, "poli poli", with only the light of our head torches illuminating the frozen scree beyond....

Summit Night

Summit Night - 16,800 ft and up.
The longest night.
Setting off at midnight, -11C and dropping.
The walk was unbelievably steep. For the first hour, I felt great. I felt confident. I could do this.
Sadly, my water froze instantly, so I could only drink from my spare bottles when we stopped to rest. Once an hour, for 5 minutes.
Mind you, it was impossible to drink and walk at the same time anyway.
All I could manage was step, breath, step, breath.
Any idle chit chat quickly stopped. The only sound being the porters above and below shouting encouragement and sometimes singing.
Every step seemed to get harder. I remember at one point asking how much longer and somebody saying 2 hours. 2 hours! I literally wanted to curl up and die. It was torture like I've never experienced.
But somehow I went on, step after step, seeing a small circle of light, and the feet of the person in front, and what seemed to be splats of excrement almost everywhere. I remember feeling sickened by this and wondering how so many people had so much diarrhoea up the mountain.
It's possible it was something else, but I don't think it was.
Sadly, and silently, throughout the night, people had been dropping out because of altitude sickness. Descending with porters to safety. We never knew, they just disappeared. The team gradually depleting.
It's a strange place you find yourself in. Single-mindedly focusing on hauling yourself upwards under extreme conditions in the dead of night. Very little else in your head. Or was in mine anyway.
I also remember looking up and seeing lines of head torches zig-zagging up what looked like a sheer rock face. Utterly demoralising.
The last 10 minutes, although I can't be sure, it's all a bit of a blur, were spent scrambling over boulders.

I remember shouting out to Geordie above that I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't continue.
I was also falling asleep as I walked....blinking myself awake at almost every step. It was beyond anything I've ever experienced.
And suddenly I was there. At the summit. I'd made it....
I felt so ill at this point that I didn't even want a photo. I sat down and fell asleep instantly.
Luckily, self preservation kicked in and I woke myself up.
I knew I'd over done it. I was literally on my last legs.
No further for me. Gilmans Point, the first summit was my lot. No photos, no feeling of exhilaration, achievement, no tears of joy. Just an overwhelming urge to descend rapidly.
I remember not being able to speak properly, like being at the dentist. This was a sign to me that all was not well and I needed to go down.
But I considered for a second that I would never ever be here again, and with the help of Lisa and Lyndsey, I appeared in a few photos. I couldn't even smile.

Geordie asked if I was coming with to Uhuru. A further 2 hours away, and always my goal to get there. But I declined. I told him I couldn't take another step.
Perhaps if I'd have had a proper rest for 10-15 minutes I might have done it. But there was no time, and I knew it was game over for me. I felt sick, dizzy, and couldn't speak clearly. Enough was enough.
My over-riding thought being of my wife saying to me "Don't kill yourself for one more photo"
So I decided not to push my luck.
"When the mountain speaks, wise men listen"

I'd forgotten until I saw the photo that somebody took, but I hugged Geordie, thanked him for getting me up the mountain, and then set off down.

I left with Leanne, Lisa and Paul, accompanied by two top guides, DJ and Onyx, whilst e others continued on.
I can say without any sense of irony that last night DJ saved my life.
He guided me back down to safety.
If you can for a minute imagine giving your all, walking to the point of exhaustion, where your legs can barely support your weight, and then after all that, you have to get yourself down the way you came up.
I left summit at 5:30am. Almost pitch black with the sky just starting to break colour.
The next thing I remember is sitting down on the side of the mountain in bright sunlight.
There's about an hour missing from my memory.
I clearly remember leaving summit, following Leanne.....then nothing. Its just gone. All I know is that I must have continued walking in a downwards direction.
I remember the incredible steepness, and falling over frequently.
I also remember only being able to walk about 10 paces before having to rest, and at almost all of those times, falling asleep.
I would nod off constantly. I felt like I'd been drugged.
The sight of Kibo below never seeming to get closer.
It must have been a 4 hour descent.
I also remember taking a long rest whilst Paul went to the loo, and just laying back and sleeping. I could hear Lisa calling my name, clearly worried that I'd maybe slip into a coma, but I was always conscious, just utterly fatigued beyond exhaustion.
The other day, I came across this photo on Paul's Facebook page.
It's about 2 hours into the descent, judging by what's above us, and is a perfect picture of exhaustion.

If you're planning on climbing Kilimanjaro, do not under-estimate the endurance. It is brutal.
Finally, we made it back to Kibo camp, where we'd set of 9 and a half hours before.
I literally limped into camp, and was greeted by Alex. What a sight. I was so pleased to see him, but he and the others that descended overnight were setting off to Horombo camp below.
I just crawled into my tent and fell asleep.
After about 2 hours, I heard voices and woke up. The others had arrived back from Uhuru. They all looked like the walking dead.
After about an hour we all had lunch. I can't really remember it at all, but I remember setting off from Kibo back down to our final camp at Horombo.
The Saddle was much easier going in a downwards direction, but my legs felt like lead, and the walk, although mostly flat took a further 4 hours.
During the walk, I captured some video of myself saying that I must never ever be allowed to do anything like that again as it was without doubt the worst thing I hade ever done in my life.
I watch it every now and then to remind myself of the pain and suffering that my brain seems to have blotted from its memory.
The pain now replaced with feelings of incredible fondness and nostalgia, and wonderment at the whole amazing out-of-this-world experience.
As we walked lower, the air became noticeably easier to breathe, and very quickly, plant life re-appeared.

It was tough walking those 4 hours to camp. Interminably long and arduous with legs that had long since lost their muscle function.
We all suffered, some more than others, but as we neared camp, we came across Kelvin sitting on a huge rock looking like something out of Alice in Wonderland in another surreal landscape littered with Giant Senecios.
Shortly after, Peter had walked up to greet us, which was the most welcome sight. He carried everybody's bags down to camp where we met all the others who'd descended that morning. It was a very emotional reunion, even though it had only been a matter of hours. But we felt like astronauts returning from space.

Horombo Camp was delightful. Amazing views, and a shop!
I never got to the shop, but Peter had already bought me a can of Kilimanjaro beer, and the newly reunited Serious Fox team enjoyed a quick drink together. It was a memorable moment, and one which I thankfully captured on video. It was at the time that I filmed a little video diary of people's thoughts. I probably couldn't have picked a more poignant moment for people to talk about their experiences.
I can barely remember dinner that night, but I do remember sleeping completely through the night for the first time in an entire week.

Days 8,9 & 10

Day 8 ,9 and 10

I hardly remember sleeping that night, which was a first.

The mixture of utter exhaustion and oxygen rich(er) air allowed me to sleep normally.

I remember feeling sad that morning, with the deep blue sky and bright sunshine, that this was the end of my journey.

My legs were very stiff this morning, and after getting up and packing, I headed to the Mess Tent for our final breakfast on the mountain.

Spirits were high, everybody was chatty and excited to be going home, and happy that we were all together again as a team.

After breakfast, all of our guides got together to sing us songs, which was an incredible experience.

Lots of hugging followed, and we collected our things and set off for the last time to trek as a team.

The going was slightly tough, rocky at first, but quickly turning to a greener landscape.

I remember thinking that the air didn't really feel like it had more oxygen in it, but I put that down to my nose still being blocked with tons of dust and dirt.

I tried to take in as much of the surroundings as I could, knowing that I'd probably never see it again in my life. It's too easy to forget to look around when you're in survival mode.

The walk was fairly easy, but my leg muscles were so shot that any descent was hard.

We stopped for a break by some benches, and I tried to drink as much as I could because I still felt dehydrated from summit night, but the water still tasted muddy, and it made me feel queasy.

Once we set off, another Serious Fox team member Nick, had a gusher of a nose bleed.

He made a sterling effort to avoid the dreaded 'tampon nose', pretending that it had stopped, whilst blood streamed down his face.

Pretty soon, the landscape became a rainforest, not very thick at first, but quickly we were upon the Mandara huts, where we stopped for lunch. Spaghetti, and a man selling cans of coke, which was heavenly.

Amazingly, Peter, another of our Serious Fox team also then had a nose bleed. He was only to pleased to have a tampon stuck up his nose.

After a quick look at some monkeys in the trees overhead, and a few quick photos, we were ready to leave.

And so, the newly formed Team Tampon along with the rest of the team set off for home.

The final stage of the trek, from Mandara Huts to the Park Gate was absolutely breathtaking.

Even through my fully blocked nostrils, I could smell the plant life and oxygen rich air.

The views were remarkable, and everything you expect a rainforest to be like. Hoots from monkeys, bird song, and then, as if by magic, the rain.

I couldn't even be bothered to put on my waterproofs. It was just such a delight to get wet in the warm humid forest, and it was such a beautiful glorious way to end the toughest thing I'd done in my life.

Perhaps it was the euphoria of having survived, perhaps it was my body's response to breathing normal amounts of oxygen again, but either way, the rainforest was truly magical. 

At the exit gate, I stopped to take a quick photo, but it was really pouring. We all hung around waiting for the whole team to arrive before leaving on a minibus back to the hotel.

Annoyingly, but not surprisingly, there's a Gift Shop at the exit to the park.

It was tiny and full of people, so I didn't go inside.

I just remember being angry at the crowds of people, having spent more than a week in a degree of isolation.

The ride home was uneventful, apart from the hoards of gift sellers swarming around our minibus. Obviously I bought a T-Shirt.

After a few hours, we arrived back at our new hotel, and after being all given a wet towel, there was a competition to see who's was the filthiest.

You cannot imagine the dirt that gets into your skin. it's incredible.

So having checked in we made our way to our luxury rooms, which were really beautiful. There had been some problem with our first hotel, so we had been upgraded to another hotel on return.

My legs at this point had pretty much seized up. Any sitting down for more than a few minutes would result in dreadful pain on standing.

But I headed for the shower, and stood motionless for at least 10 minutes.

I had to wash my hair 3 times, and even on the third, the water was still slightly brown.

And so, washed and cleaned and in un-worn clothes, we went back to the hotel for our Gala Dinner.

It was an incredible emotional evening. People being almost unrecognisable after their showers.

There were speeches, prize givings and certificate awarding for those that had made Gilmans and Uhuru summits.

And after everybody ate like they'd never eaten before (it's amazing how only a week of limited tasting food, how the body craves variety) and drunk a few beers, we headed off to bed, glowing, but exhausted.

The following day started with a beautiful breakfast, and then a round of golf between a few of us. Only two of which had ever picked up a golf club before (I was not one of them)

It was a lot of fun, and felt very strange to be doing something 'normal' the day after such a life changing experience.

After golf, a number of us headed out to a nearby Indian Craft Centre, unfortunately Peter being left behind on account of his nose bleed that wouldn't stop.

The drive, which was supposed to take 20 minutes, took over an hour, and with very short time to spare, we all quickly bought gifts and souvenirs, and then headed back to the hotel.

We packed quickly, loaded on to the minibus, and then said goodbye to the few that were staying on for a Safari.

I don't remember a great deal about the flight home, except for the last bit, around 06:30 am, looking out of my window over London, seeing the sun rise, and reminiscing on the most amazing trip of my life. Sadness, as I looked around at the team, knowing that we would all be going our separate ways from the airport.

People who I'd only just met 9 days before, people that I now regarded as dear friends.

It was amazing, the bond that was formed between 31 people from all walks of life, was stronger than I ever could have imagined.

It sounds ridiculous even to write it now, that you could feel so strongly, but I think we all felt the same way.

On arrival, we collected our bags, said a few tearful goodbyes, and then, almost as quickly as we'd met in the same place 9 short days ago, the Marie Curie Kilimanjaro Trek team of September 2011, was gone.

The rest of the blog is in reverse order

Everything below here goes backwards, as only blogs can do. But feel free to read the lead up to the trek from here onwards

Update

It's been a busy few months.
Work has been full-on and now I find myself with only 2 weeks before my trek.
So I've decided to wear my hiking boots every day now until I go.
Quite a good plan I think, because they're heavy, and I will be wearing them the entire day, so hopefully I can get used to that now.
I've pretty much got all my kit together now. Slightly worried by the paltry 12kg mountain limit.
I'll be doing a trial pack over the weekend to see how over weight my luggage will be.
I took Diamox last week to see if I suffered any ill effects, and apart from a tiny bit of nausea which may have been in my mind, nothing.
All I really need to do now is pack & be mentally prepared....


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Spot Connect Route

Marie Curie Training Walk

Yesterday 14 of our intrepid trek crew met up at Wasdale Head to make the climb up England's highest peak - Scafell Pike, as a training day for our Kilimanjaro trip in September.

The weather couldn't have been better, and everybody seemed to have a thoroughly enjoyable day.
There was a great bunch of people, and I'm really looking forward to climbing the mountain with the team.

Here's the route we took, which we covered in about 5.5 hours including a stop for lunch at the top. (photos to follow)

Another training walk

Only 15 weeks to go before the big day, which I find unbelievable.
Fundraising wise, I've raised £4300, which is just under half of my target of £10K for Marie Curie.
That amount of money will make a real difference, so if you're reading this, please please donate....any amount. it all counts.
A near 12 mile walk today, not particularly steep, but a great workout and my hips are really feeling it.
There is just so much to do....

Kinder photos