An adventure which took place in 2004 and appeared as a feature in that well-known newspaper “The Highland News”
When you tell people that you are going to climb Mount Kilimanjaro, the highest free-standing mountain in the world, you tend to get contrasting reactions.
“Why on earth would you want to do that?” they exclaim.
Others, whether they have done it themselves or not, are truly fascinated to learn whatever they can about the mountain.
Those who have done it enjoy sharing their experience and eagerly anticipate you joining the ranks of those who have achieved it and lived to tell the tale.
Not that I entirely blame those who consider me mad to undertake this adventure.
I am, probably, one of the least likely people in the country to climb the 19,000 feet to the summit of this giant.
I have rarely done anything more than a 10 mile walk; I have never camped; I avoid walking up hill if I can help it; I wear dangerously high sandals, Versace suits and have recently treated myself to long fingernail extensions and fluorescent nail polish.
In my favour I am quite fit and healthy though there can be no doubt that I am the antithesis of the outdoor living country girl.
I don’t know how or why I became enthralled with the idea of climbing Kilimanjaro.
At 19,500 it is VERY high (higher indeed than Everest base camp) and towering as it does above the clouds, it is incredibility striking.
Perhaps it was some ridiculous misplaced romantic nostalgia for Hemingway’s The Snows of Kilimanjaro which drew me towards it.
I persuaded my husband to join me – he agreed eventually – and was my long-suffering companion for the duration of the trip.
I made valiant efforts to convince others of the excitement, challenge and adventure which could be awaiting them – all to no avail.
So it was just the two of us. But we were supported in our valiant efforts to get to the top by a team of 13, yes THIRTEEN, guides, cooks, helping porters and porters.
I was vaccinated for just about everything and had to get a private script for the expensive anti-malarial Malarone – the only effective one for that part of the world apparently. On arrival at the foot of the mountain we learnt that there are no mosquitoes at all there!
That was one phobia I forgot to mention; I dislike any crawly, creepy things and am always the one to get vast numbers of bites from any flying objects. To my amazement there were no crawly bitey things on the mountain!
Then there were the water bottles, sleeping mats, socks, special walking trousers, thermal underwear, wrap-around sunglasses, hats with ears, caps, blow up pillows and so on.
Suffice to say I did my bit for the retail sector – and my friends have encouraged me to go back and show the personal shopper at the shop the pictures, as they didn’t think I would have been taken seriously!
Then there is the research, reading and discussion with experts on all forms of altitude sickness.
It was all enough to give you a headache before getting on the plane.
Not to mention keeping up with terrorist activity in neighbouring Kenya which meant the Foreign Office had a ban on travel to Kenya and Tanzania until six weeks before our trip was due to happen.
There was fitness training and talking about fitness training – I think my mind and tongue did get more exercise than the rest of me though I did try to take this aspect of things seriously.
Arriving……………
And then suddenly you are there at the bottom of the mountain having been travelling for 30 hours with no rest and feeling like a child starting school, suffering all the uncertainties and insecurities the world can throw at you.
It does look very high is all I can remember thinking.
And the summit is quite elusive often hidden in clouds and quite a long way from the start point.
Four days and many kilometres later, standing at 4700 metres looking up at the final 1000 metres, it looked even more uninviting.
“Don’t think about the top for now!” was the sage advice we received. “Take one day at a time.” This mantra together with the two and a half litres of water we had to drink each day became our focus.
Ironically the first two or three days on the mountain are not that challenging
I found the contemplation of camping and the worry of coping with no toilet facilities much more psychologically stressful than the hours of walking.
Arriving at camp that first night was reassuring; the blue tent was robust; we appeared to have remembered to pack everything; we had time to pack it in a more orderly way; and dinner in the dining tent was a huge surprise.Candlelight; impeccably served and excellently presented food. That night it was homemade soup followed by fresh fish and fresh vegetables with a delicious dessert.Amazingly it was all cooked on two primus stoves.
And so to bed at 7.30 – a late night by mountain standards!
And then there were the catchphrases.
“Pole, pole!” which Wilfred and Fratren, our guides spoke continually – nothing to do with my elegant walking sticks acquired especially for the trip.
Pole, pole (pronounced “pawlay”) in Swahili means slowly.
These are the two most important words on the mountain.
There were many other words and phrases which Fratren and Wilfred tried to teach us, one of the favourites was “Top banana!” which Wilfred used to explain anything which was really good or particularly cool.
Waking up the next morning we were greeted at 6am with tea in the tent and an exhortation to get up quickly and take a photo as there were fabulously clear views of Mawenzi and Kibo (together they form Kilimanjaro) with Mawenzi being the jagged, dramatic but lesser known peak and Kibo being the volcanic snow-capped crater which most of the world associates with Kilimanjaro. There is also Shira which has the oldest volcanic remains.
The walk that day was delightful, a six-hour walk which included leaping out of the way as the porters raced past us.
That they were better acclimatised than us was expected, that they should leave an hour later than us, carry 20k on their heads and make it to camp, set up the tents and cook dinner all before we strolled in was frankly humbling.
By the third day the shorter walk was much steeper, requiring very “Pole, pole!” walking.
The weather was good; I was not.My head hurt, in fact it felt as if it might explode.I felt a bit sick and weak and I was very sorry for myself.It was the first time I had the horrible thought that I might not actually be able to make it.
I struggled quietly up the mountain.I drank more water (the solution for most things on the mountain), popped some aspirin and aimed to make it clear to my body that I absolutely had to make it to the top of the mountain.
The advice from all in-the-know is that a number of factors influence your chance to make it to the top. Vast amounts of water; taking it slowly and your mental attitude are much more important than your absolute level of fitness.
Having said that, if you are an over-weight couched-potato the chances are you are going to have an uphill struggle – pun intended!
At the Kibo camp site at 4700 metres any activity left you breathless and sleeping was impossible. We rested, ate and rested again, trying to prepare ourselves for the final ascent at midnight.
Contemplating six hours of climbing in temperatures of – 10 degrees, I began to understand why friends and family thought I was mad to attempt this.
I really don’t wish to recall or relive the next six hours. They were unbelievably awful. I shed tears of relief when we finally got to the top.
Wilfred, our outstanding guide, organised tea for us and moved Japanese tourists out of the way so that we could take our photo of the sunrise over Mawenzi.
And then he did excited high fives for the photo accompanied by the now oft-repeated phrase “Top-banana!”
It is now my favourite phrase.
I wondered how it would feel shortly afterwards – to be honest it was a bit of an anti-climax.The way down was easy and fast.
A further six hours of walking that day and then five hours the next and we were back in civilisation.
Did it change my life? Probably not. However, it did give me some lessons to take home:
- health is everything; nothing else really matters
- the body has an amazing ability to adapt to whatever circumstances it is in. Not once did I moan about the toilets, the lack of showers, sleeping on the ground or anything else.
- It has given me a confidence to know that I can cope with anything the world throws at me.
And does this mean I will be foregoing the five-star hotels in favour of the campsite and shovel to dig an ecofriendly toilet? Not at all. I might not climb Kilimanjaro again but I am hooked on the adventure.
The star of the show was the tireless Wilfred who could talk for Tanzania and without whom I would never have made it to the roof of Africa.
Top banana!