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.
