lazyotter

It’s taken me a while to get the time to write about my recent trek in Tanzania, to Kilimanjaro. I chose the trek as it was rated the hardest that Explore offered. Ultimately for me personally it turned out to be more of a mental challenge rather than physical.

Having left work at Friday lunch time, several trains eventually got me to London Heathrow. Then followed flights to Addis Ababa (Ethiopia), Nairobi (Kenya) and finally Kilimanjaro airport in Tanzania.

Day 1 - Saturday

We were met in Tanzania by drivers from Explore, who took our group of 8 to the Mountain Inn Hotel in Moshi. The hotel was not exactly luxurious by western standards, but I’m not fussy and it was fine. After a good wash we all met up for dinner and got to know our tour leader David. He explained what kit we needed and outlined the days ahead in brief. He also told us realistically that this would probably be the hardest thing we ever did.

Day 2 - Sunday

After breakfast we packed up our kit and were introduced to the porters and guides who would accompany us on the trek. There were 4 guides in total, and 2 porters for each of us, who would carry our larger kit bags plus their own belongings. We were then driven to the Machame Gate, a good 3/4 hour drive away into the national park. The altitude at this point was already 1800m. After signing in at the ranger’s office we eventually began walking upwards through thick rainforest. Some 6 hours later the trees began to thin out as we walked through the clouds to reach Machame Camp at 3000m. We were introduced to our accommodation on the mountain - several bright orange tents that would sleep 2 people. A larger tent was also provided as our mess tent, and soon had our first evening meal on the mountain following refreshing tea and popcorn. As one of the three single travelers on the trek, between us we decided on a rota for getting a tent to ourselves. Another point worth mentioning was the first meeting with the extremely basic ‘long drop’ toilets. Not for the fussy or the squeamish, which was fine for me as I am neither of those.

Day 3 - Monday

We were woken early at 7am (a taste of things to come) and after breakfast we walked onwards and upwards to Shira Camp. The vegetation soon cleared, as there was simply nothing for it to grow on except a rocky and barren landscape. The walk to Shira camp took around 6 hours, which gave us the best part of the afternoon to relax around the camp. However, at 3840m it was a little chilly and in the clouds somewhat. While everyone else slept during the afternoon, fellow trekmate Rick introduced me to a variant of the game of scrabble called ‘Take 2′, which we occupied ourselves with whilst simultaneously glancing out of the tent at Kilimanjaro peak, which over the course of the day revealed itself through the clouds.

After a fairly early dinner at 6pm we all retired for the evening, as the temperature dropped sharply after sunset. I should also mention that at this point I was feeling perfectly fine, a little short of breath occasionally but no other symptoms.

Day 4 - Tuesday

I awoke after some 11hrs rest to a thumping headache. At first I thought it may be due to to much rest but soon it became apparent that it was a symptom of altitude sickness. I felt annoyed, frustrated and soon slightly concerned, as to suffer altitude sickness this early on was not a good omen for reaching the summit. The schedule for the day was to walk to Barranco camp via the ‘Lava Tower’ - an interesting geological formation. However, I found that soon after starting the 7 hrs walking my headache worsened and I felt extremely nauseous. It’s difficult to describe how this felt - imagine a severe migraine but worse. I found I could only barely concentrate on following the person’s feet in front of me, and although I was cognisant of people talking I couldn’t hear what they were saying, and wasn’t capable of speaking as I simply couldn’t focus due to throbbing headache. At lunch I could not eat nor drink. I knew I was getting dehydrated fast and that I must do something about it. David informed us that there were two paths available for the second part of the walk, upwards to the Lava Tower, or a more direct and lower route to Barranco camp. I couldn’t face going on much further so David accompanied me downwards to Barranco. During the descent I was sick a few times. I couldn’t even drink water at this point, so it was somewhat worrying.

Upon arrival at Barranco (3950m) I collapsed on the floor of an empty tent with my jacket over my head and slept. Later I managed to get up for some dinner and also drink lots of water. I knew that I must drink or things really would get a lot worse. Despite eating and drinking though, a crippling headache raged away around the back of my head every time I moved. Also, strong doubts of me being able to continue began to manifest themselves in my thoughts. Nobody else in the group had shown any signs of altitude sickness at this point, which made me question whether I should carry on.

Day 5 - Wednesday

I awoke to the same frustrating headache but surprised myself by eating a fairly large breakfast. I knew I had to keep eating and drinking as much as possible to have any chance of continuing. We left camp and headed towards the Barranco Wall. From a distance this looked like a sheer rock face, but a narrow path led a scramble upwards toward the Karangu valley. During the day’s walk I had to draw on all my powers of concentration just to keep my feet moving. We followed the contours of the mountain, ascending and occasionally descending. The ascents now felt extremely tough for everyone due to the thin levels of oxygen at this altitude. I actually began to feel a little better at times, although my symptoms remained the same (or even worsened) I think I was mentally learning to deal with the discomforts in my head.

After some 8 hours of walking we staggered our way into Barafu Camp at 4600m. The first thing I noticed about Barafu was that the camp was essentially on a slope, and in addition extremely rocky and desolate. Large boulders and rocks were littered around the place and it was not possible to walk more than a few paces without encountering scree or broken rocks. Even walking the 20ft or so upwards from the tent to the mess tent was exhausting. Upon arrival we all went straight to bed, before being woken up for dinner at 5pm. At dinner, David explained the night ahead - the summit.

After the meal we arranged our kit ready for summit night. This essentially meant lots of warm clothes. Then we tried to sleep. I felt just as bad as I had during the last few days, but I knew that I couldn’t just quit without giving it a try.

Day 6 - Thursday

We were awoken at midnight for a simple ‘breakfast’ of porridge. I think I managed to eat and drink something. David announced that he wouldn’t be accompanying us to the summit as he himself was suffering with the ailments. Instead the 4 local guides would lead us up, under the head guide Charles.

When we started walking at 1am it was dark, very cold and silent. On my upper body I was wearing 2 merino wool base layers, 3 fleeces and my extremely thick down ski jacket. On my head was a wool hat, a thick mountain hat and the hood of my ski jacket. In addition a fleece neck warmer and 2 buffs kept my face warm. I wore merino wool long pants, thick walking trousers and water proof trousers on my legs, and two pairs of socks on my feet. I also wore two pairs of gloves. This was where the majority of the kit was required.

Charles led us at a snail pace, gradually following a route upwards through the barren and rocky mountain side. The path continually zig-zagged left and right, and soon the solid rocks gave way to endless quantities of slippery scree. As we climbed higher I felt absolutely dreadful. If I let my thoughts wander I felt myself falling asleep, shutting down. I literally couldn’t allow myself to think of anything except following the person in front, concentrating only on moving my feet - left then right. It sounds so pathetic, but it really was the most difficult thing in the world. When we stopped I instantly fell asleep, only to be woken seemingly seconds later. This was the hardest part, as without the walking to concentrate on my mind focused on alleviating its suffering and wanted to give up. Fairly early on I voiced this to the group, and if it was not for their support I would have quit right there.

As we progressed up the painfully slippery scree, I became half aware of the dawn approaching. Soon the warmth of the sun could be felt. Our group was also beginning to change. Some of the others were now suffering with the symptoms that I had endured for the last two days. We were all in it together and where possible we all helped each other with nudges or words of encouragement. The guides however were the huge helping hands we needed. As we struggled upwards in a ragged convoy, my legs felt like lead weights. I could hardly stand upright. One of the guides - Enezer (I apologise for spelling if incorrect) - took my pack from me to ease my trudging feet.

Our group became further spread out as we dragged ourselves upwards through the snow line for the crater rim. Soon I realised I was walking on my own. The guides were now helping others who were suffering badly with altitude sickness. I was a wreck and could hardly move one foot in front of the other. The feeling was so frustrating, knowing that I was probably fitter than ever before in my life, but still couldn’t walk up a simple little hill. As the daylight increased I began to long for the summit, but as my suffering worsened, my desire and belief that I could reach the top grew stronger. I wasn’t going to give up having come this far, no f**king way.

Eventually, after what seemed like eternity, the end was in sight. At this point I caught up with my friend Rick, who kindly walked behind me and prodded me in the back when it looked like I might topple over backwards. We reached Stella Point, 5756m, the crater rim.

It was possible to walk around the rim to the highest point (5895m) but there was no way I could go any further. After a couple of photo’s I collapsed on a rock and fell asleep. Most of the group continued around the crater rim - another hour or so to reach the highest point. I was just so glad to have made it this far. It had taken us some 8 hours to reach this point.

Shortly I was joined on the top by two other trekmates (Paddy and Dave) who had been suffering considerably on the ascent. The three of us could barely stay awake, and after a few minutes resting on the top we decided that we needed to get down the mountain asap, and got one of the guides to lead us back. The descent took us around 3-4 hours. Paddy was suffering quite a lot and couldn’t eat nor drink. However, we stayed together as a group and helped each other out. It was a joy to see the orange tents at Barafu, and as soon as I reached mine I literally fell into it, put my jacket over my head and passed out.

A few hours later I was awoken by the others returning. We then had some soup before starting on the descent down the mountain to Mweka camp. Note that most people had had no rest at this point.

The walk down to Mweka was a joint killer, especially on the knees. The path let us down through the clouds along a rocky jarring path. Along the way we were able to buy a celebratory Coca Cola (which we had to share between 9 of us!). For me, as soon as we started descending my strength grew and grew, and soon the headaches that had plagued me for 3 days evaporated. Ironically I was now the inverse of everyone else - with bags of energy! It just felt so good not to be sick, like the worst hangover in the world was getting better. We reached the muddy Mweka camp (3100m) in the late afternoon. After dinner everyone crashed out.

Day 7 - Friday

After breakfast we continued our descent off the mountain, walking down a slippery and muddy path to Mweka Gate (1700m). As we descended the thick rainforest joined us once again. At Mweka gate we had a presentation for the guides and porters, who sung us a fantastic song.

We were soon back in the Mountain Inn in Moshi, where the first shower was had in days. Due to my altitude sickness my priorities had changed on the mountain from washing to survival. We went out for lunch with the guides to a restaurant in Moshi, then spent the rest of the day doing a little shopping and celebrating in the hotel.

Days 8 & 9 - Saturday/Sunday

Home time. This was the journey from hell, and possibly the worst I’ve ever encountered, although I’ve had a few others that came close. From Kilimanjaro airport, we flew to Nairobi, then Addis Ababa. After a 4 hour wait on to Rome, then Heathrow. At Heathrow took the Express to the underground. The underground wasn’t working properly so I had to take some 4 different trains around London to get to Euston. There I found that my train had been cancelled, so they put me on a train to Northampton. Next was a bus to Birmingham International, followed by another train to Crewe, and another to Chester. Lastly, a taxi… 31 hours in total. Not surprisingly, the hardest part of the journey had been the typically dreadful service of UK trains, which I’m sorry to say I’ve begun to expect every time I step on one.

In conclusion, it wasn’t the most enjoyable holiday I’ve had, nor did it have the most beautiful scenery, as in reality the mountain is just rather rocky and barren. I am very pleased I made it up to Stella Point but the mental suffering from altitude sickness was truly something I’m not keen to reproduce, for a while anyway… On the physical side of things, fell running can be just as hard.