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

Kinder Scout

Did my first proper hill climb the other day, and what an eye opener.
Walking on the flat is almost totally irrelevant for training after walking a steep hill.
Admittedly I was walking fast because time was tight, but the steep climb up to the 2000 ft peak was extremely hard.
I don't think I quite made it as far as Kinder Scout, but where I finished, felt like the highest point around.

It made me realise just how hard I need to train, and how the only real training is hill walking.

Spot Connect

Being a gadget freak, I'm very excited to have taken delivery of the brand new Spot Connect.

This little device allows me to post short messages and waypoints, so that with a Google Maps link (that I'll post here before the trek), people can follow my progress up Kilimanjaro, and also receive SMS updates via Facebook and Twitter (@jpgdesign)

It's a great little bit of technology

Some recent walks

I've recently been using a great iPhone app LogYourRun.
Here's a couple of walks I've done recently, sadly none at any altitude yet: