The locals around Kilimanjaro have a beverage system for nicknaming routes on the mountain. Easier routes such as Marangu and Machame are known as Coca-cola routes. The Umbwe route, the shortest route on the mountain and therefore very steep and direct, is a Brandy route. This means the height gain over a shorter timescale than longer easier routes would make the time acclimatising on Mt Meru even more important.

 

 

After breakfasting, loading the truck, getting supplies and waiting for the permits to arrive at the park gate, we started our ascent. A relatively easy first day on tracks and paths through the rainforest to our first camp. We were all excited starting and inpatient to get under way, so the delays with the park permits etc was a frustrating start but a fact of life. We finally began our 6 hour walk at around 11.30am.The forest is thick and heavy low down, and the atmosphere was hot and humid as we climbed though. Just before we reached camp, one of our guides disappeared ahead on some invented pretext, but actually told the porters of our impending arrival who surprised us by singing us into camp!

 

 

As we continued to climb the vegetation began to thin slowly, and the broadness of the terrain became a narrow ridge in places. The biggest challenge of the day was an awkward 20ft – 30ft scramble up a slab. We deemed it of sufficient nastiness to protect the pitch with the rope the guides had brought along. Unfortunately, they clearly hadn’t used a rope too often, but Nigel Gifford was able to give them help on what they needed to do. The rain began to fall on day two too, but rather than dampening spirits it was welcome relief from the humidity of the forest.

We reached Barafu Camp (Barafu means Ice, and for good reason) in the early afternoon to rest, sort our gear and prepare for the big day to come. I felt fit and strong and as ready for the challenge as I possibly could have hoped.

Day 5: Barafu Camp to Summit, return to Barafu Camp

Barafu Camp sits at around 15,500 feet, so we’d planned to sleep with the Oxygen, but I struggled to sleep because the PDA (Pulse Dose Monitor) clicks with every breath, and I found I was listening out for the click so was never going to get to sleep. I took it off and managed about 3 1⁄2 hours sleep before getting up about 11.15pm.

After grabbing a bite to eat and a brew, we rigged up the oxygen and left the camp at 12.30am on a fabulous clear crisp moonlit night and soon found ourselves climbing on fresh snow. Conditions were perfect and so much light was being reflected off the full moon, head torches were near irrelevant.

I felt fine for the first few hours, but then, an hour or so before dawn, I started to struggle. Just as I had before while on the 3 peaks challenge, I began to have internal battles, fighting depression and feelings of self-doubt. The summit was so far away and I began to seriously question whether I could finish. Nigel came and asked if we were going up or down. “Up.” I said, “For now anyway.”

But then, rapidly and not a moment too soon, the sun rose and just as before, lifted the darkness and took my black mood with it. Within a few minutes, my mindset changed from “I can’t do this” to “if it takes me all day…”.

That wasn’t the end of the trauma though. I felt good for an hour or so, but then the lack of sleep and subsequently lack of caffeine began to eat into me. I began to feel an almost overwhelming feeling of exhaustion. But Emanuelle, the guide who was with me most, would not let me rest too long for fear of me going to sleep, and kept encouraging me. He did a good job.

We reached Stella Point on the crater rim. By now we had been going for about 7 hours. I was extremely tired and sat for yet another rest. The only thing that stopped me from aborting and descending, was glancing round the rim and seeing the people gathered around the summit sign. Come on, last push.

The walk to the summit from Stella point may be the easiest part of the day but its safe to say the effects of fatigue, lack of sleep and caffeine, and of course the altitude made it the toughest hour of my life. I have never had to work that hard before.

The last 5 minutes to the summit are something of a blur. I knew I couldn’t stop again because I would collapse and not get up. I was totally focussed on the summit sign and totally committed to it. I could hear Nigel behind me shouting at the people gathered by the sign “GET OUT OF HIS WAY! GET OUT OF THE WAY!” Fortunately they all parted – if anyone got in my path I think they’d have been flattened. Nothing was stopping me now.

Finally, I was there. I reached the sign, touched it, and my legs could hold me no longer and I tasted snow. With pure emotion pouring out of me I sat, propped up against the sign for I don’t know how long. The realisation of what I had achieved was tempered by the recognition that the job was only half done. I still had to get down, and I had no idea how I was going to manage that. I was spent. I had nothing left.

Except the bar of chocolate, and managed to force half of that down, while someone gave me a carton of juice. Feeling a little more energised, we began to make our way down. But by the time we reached Stella Point it became clear this was not going to be easy. I needed some help.

Nigel came in again and had our two guides take one side of me each. By now it was about 10am, and the firm crisp snow we climbed up had gone and we were rapidly descending the steep loose scree. We were moving at a rate towards Nigels’ last piece of genius – tea and porridge.