Saturday, March 10, 2007

Eszter's summit night

After Neil's horror story, I thought that in the interests of balance I should post my experience of the summit night, as I felt relatively ok.

My general approach to the whole trip was the traditional "pole pole", ie, to take it slowly. Except that my "slowly" was a lot slower than other people's "slowly". I was one of the few people without a Platypus hose to enable me to drink as I walked, so I had to stop to get my bottle out of my bag for a drink of water. I also had very frequent "pee stops", which is supposedly a good sign that your body is adapting to the altitude*, although it just meant that I had to stop all the more often to drink... So overall, I tended to be towards the back of the group faffing about with my stuff and tiring myself out in the thin air.

* Note: "clear and copious" does not apply at altitude, where your body is just dumping water due to the lower pressure, so you must keep drinking even if it seems like you've got more than enough fluid in your system.

There were a couple of occasions when I got very angry about all this – I felt it was unfair that people weren't waiting for me, as I needed time to take my backpack off, find a big rock to hide behind, have a pee, go back, have a drink, wrestle my bag back on and not even have a spare minute to have a rest, as the rest of the group had already set off and left me behind with a guide. To be fair, the guides were obviously used to this and had no problems waiting for me, but under the circumstances, you can't help but feel that you are holding the group up, so invariably I would rush after the rest of the group and get myself totally knackered in the couple of minutes it would take me to catch up.

From about 2,500m onwards, I got occasional mild headaches. They tended to get worse with more physical exertion, which was another reason why I preferred to walk slowly and why it was so frustrating to be lagging behind.

However, by summit night, I was used to being at the back and I decided that this was the only way that I had any chance of reaching the top – just keep going at a slow, steady pace and don't let myself be rushed.

I managed to get a few hours' sleep before we set off shortly after midnight. My tummy was a bit gurgle-y as my guts were trying to equalise with the pressure outside my body, but the Loperamide we took before starting the ascent obviously helped settle things down. For the rest of the night, I had no altitude sickness symptoms at all, not even the headaches that I had before, which was surprising, as I expected it all to just get worse. Maybe the extra day of acclimatisation had its intended effect.

The climb up to the summit was fairly steep (a gradient of about 1:5), but in the cold of the night, we didn't have too much of a problem with sliding back on the frozen scree, so at least it was possible to make steady progress. I stuck to my plan and took things slowly, but realistically, I really couldn't have gone much faster, simply because I was just so out of breath. I was taking very small steps – maybe about half a foot's length – and these got even shorter the closer I got to the summit. I got into a good rhythm of taking maybe 5 or 6 small steps and then stopping and resting for about 5 or 6 deep breaths and taking another few steps.

The group broke up into several smaller groups and Hellen had a difficult job making sure that there were enough guides with each sub-group to ensure everyone's safety. However, in the last couple of hours, I did end up being by myself somewhere in the middle of the scattered group, as I slogged away at my cycle of climbing and resting. It really worked for me and I was able to carry on like this for hours. I didn't even really notice the time – to me it didn't feel like an endless night, as I thought it would, but the sun started coming up all too soon and I was worried that I still wasn't near the summit, which just spurred me on.

In the end, I had to admit that I wouldn't reach Stella Point by sunrise, so I did have a little sit-down, dug my camera out and took some amazing pictures of the peak of Mawenzi. I definitely enjoyed that moment.

After that I continued my climb and in the growing light it was now possible to see the summit very clearly. It was tantalisingly close, but my painfully slow pace meant that it took forever to reach Stella. There were several times when I nearly burst into tears – I just felt like a child who couldn't get her favourite toy. I just wanted to be at the top, without the hassle of actually having to climb up. It reminded me of the final mile of my half-marathon, when I had the same feeling – when is this ever going to end?

Strangely, I don't really remember how I felt when I actually reached Stella Point. I was more grateful for the opportunity to rest than anything else. I was impressed that I still felt ok apart from being out of breath, so I considered whether to attempt Uhuru. The more I rested, the more I wanted to do it. My sensible side kept telling me that Stella already counts as the summit, so there's no need to push on, but my slightly more adventurous side (yes, I have one!) said – why not? You're here now and you feel ok, so why let this opportunity pass? It's not like you're coming back here any time soon!

When Hellen and the last few members of our group also reached Stella, we were treated to a nice hot drink. Hellen worked her magic with organising the guides, so Anne and I were allowed to attempt Uhuru, even though it was already relatively late in the day. We were amongst the very last people to go up that day, as on our way back down, we only saw one other small group of people coming up.

The way up to Uhuru was much better for me. There was good grip on the fresh snow, so it was easier to walk. It was also a much gentler slope, so it was possible to make faster progress. Poor Anne though was extremely tired and there were several times when we both thought we'd have to turn back.

On our way up, the view was superb, and we met many of our fellow group members on their way back down. In particular, we bumped into Jon and Andy, who explained that their camera didn't work at Uhuru, so they had no pictures of themselves (or Piglet or Poohlet, who I took up with me for a second chance) at the peak. After some emotional blackmail from me, Jon decided that he'd turn around and come back up to Uhuru with me! It was wonderful to have finally reached the top and I was so pleased that we got some pictures of Jon and me together at the summit.

By this time it was around 9:30am, so the sun was getting very strong, and with the white snow everywhere, it was impossible to see anything without our sunglasses on. It also meant that the frozen scree was starting to melt, so our way back down the mountain was very hard work, as we had to slip and slide all the way down. I think I found the way down even harder than going up, because by that time we'd been exerting ourselves for over ten hours, with relatively little food, water or rest breaks. Our progress was very slow, as Anne needed to stop many times because of sheer exhaustion, while I started feeling sick from the sugary drink I'd brought along to give me a boost of energy later in the day.

When we eventually made it back to Barafu camp shortly after 2pm, it was really disappointing to find that the rest of the group had already got there, had a rest, had some food and set off for the final descent to Mweka camp, which was another 3 hours away. However, after some hot soup we felt much better and the way down to Mweka was much easier. The air was noticeably better, so by the time we got there shortly after 5pm we felt reasonably good, apart from having very achy feet. We both slept very well that night.

Overall, for me summit night was very difficult, but only because of being so out of breath and needing to have the sheer dogged determination to carry on when you really just want to sit down and say "sod it, I don't care any more". But, I was very lucky as I didn't suffer from the altitude or the cold (it was a balmy –7C) so I could just focus on putting one foot in front of the other. It's definitely not easy-peasy, but it's doable. I am really pleased that Jon and I got up together, as I think I would have been very disappointed if we'd come back with just a picture of me by myself at the summit. It was a really amazing sight and I still have this happy glow that I've done it.

Not Quite A Horror Story

Hmmm. Perhaps calling the trip, rather melodramatically, a 'horror story' wasn't such a good idea. That's the problem with being a writer, sometimes my creativity gets the better of me. Just ask my editor!

After reading my account below, several fellow Kili climbers contacted me, concerned that I didn't have fun. This may sound strange if you've read it, but actually yes I did!

As I said below, most of it was very pleasant. (Perhaps I should have emphasised that more? Ah well.) As for the final push, I knew it would be tough, but I'm fit and felt up to the challenge, and I proved myself right. I wouldn’t have enjoyed it if it was easy. What would have been the point?

The weird and random effects of altitude, for some reason, affected me probably more than anyone else that night. But that just gives me more reason to feel proud that I battled to the top.

I've already been talking about what my next challenge might be. I'll be very happy if I find something that gives me half as many great memories.

Wednesday, March 07, 2007

Worth Doing, But Never Again!

So let me tell you a horror story. It was hard. It was the hardest physical thing I've done in my life. I made it to the summit with extreme difficulty. I didn't bother walking to the highest piece of rock on the very large summit, so I guess you could call it a first without honours. Whatever. It was tough. Everyone found it tough.

The symptoms of altitude sickness vary extraordinarily from person to person and can occur at any time. Some people had symptoms low down and didn't have anything else again, for example. In our group of 16 there was dizziness, nausea, severe headaches, nose bleeds, hallucinations, diarrhoea, tingling fingers and toes, and maybe one or two other things. I had none of these symptoms. In fact, up to about 4,500m I relatively waltzed up. However, from then onwards I experienced greater difficulty moving than probably anyone else. Just taking off my boots caused me to pant heavily.

From 3,000m we all had noticed that moving, especially upwards, was increasingly difficult. The longer we remained at altitude the harder it got and the higher we went (obviously) the harder it got.

13/16 of us made it to the summit, which is very good as only about half are generally expected to make it at the speed we did it. You really shouldn't try to get to 6,000m like we did in just five days! The summit day was the real tough one that made it so extraordinarily challenging. During the day we'd walked for nine hours from 3,900m to 4,600m. Afterwards, at 6.30pm, we went to bed and tried - and failed - to sleep. Less than five hours later we got up again and had tea and biscuits. That was our dinner, because we were about to attempt the summit, and high altitude makes you lactose intolerant and shuts down your digestive system. For the summit attempt we relied on sweets and glucose drinks. We could have nothing with caffeine in as it's a dangerous stimulant up there.

So at twenty past midnight we set off. I panted the whole way. It was unbelievable. Each step was a huge effort. For the seven hours and ten minutes it took me to climb those last 1,200m my heart rate was around 170bpm. It was exhausting. Despite being well equipped, my hands and toes suffered terribly from the cold. For the last couple of hours I was moving forward at just six inches for each step; my feet were overlapping. My body was protesting extremely against the effort. During that time I was stopping to catch my breath perhaps every minute. We couldn't have many rest stops, because the affects of altitude were compounding, plus we started to become hypothermic whenever we stopped for even 30 seconds.

When I made the summit (as the sun rose) I was frozen and exhausted. As much as I didn't want to move, I was concerned about hypothermia and worsening altitude problems, so I knew I had to get down. The problem was that there were things to sort out like photos, guides turning up...all sorts of things that delayed the descent by about 15 to 20 minutes. When we finally went down it was easier to travel faster, but it was important to descend as quickly as possible so that we could get warm and get to a safer altitude from altitude sickness. So my heart rate was still around 170bpm for another hour. That means my heart was struggling hard for over 8 hours. Quite frightening, huh?

To get down the first 1,000m or so we slid on scree (very loose small stones up to 30cm deep) using our heels as skis. You could cover a huge amount of ground very quickly doing that. It was hard work though.

Because everything is so much harder/heavier at altitude, I had only brought 2 litres of water with me for the summit night/day, with no opportunity to fill up until around lunchtime on the way down - more than twelve hours after we set off. (To compare, on all the previous days I had drunk an average of 8 litres of water. Altitude makes you need to drink more too.) I was very dehydrated, particularly as it got roasting hot as we moved rapidly below 4,000m. It is on the equator after all!

That day, from midnight to getting down, we walked for about 15 hours. During all this time I had a piece of bread, a glucose drink, a biscuit and a few sweets. At the end of the day, when we got to camp at a much safer 3,000m, I was too exhausted to wait for dinner, so I slept. By the time I got up I hadn't eaten anything substantial for 36 hours.

The next day we came all the way down. We were (and still are) all completely fucked, inside and out. Our bodies were so exhausted, abused, full of various drugs and pills and things, confused by strange diets and suffering from unhygienic conditions. That first night back down in the hotel I had a terrible fever. For the next day or two I was nauseous and retching, and I've had bowel and stomach problems and...other things. (Let's keep it vague, I'm trying to regain my appetite!) My heart rate is still above normal. I still can't eat properly. Altitude really messes you up.

...

Hey yeah! So, cheery stuff, huh? So, like, did anything good happen? A few days ago, I couldn't remember anything good, but it's all coming back now, especially after having seen some of the photos. With the scary stuff out of the way, I can think of a lot of great things about the trip. Most of the climb - the first three days in particular - was very pleasant indeed. The scenery was incredible. I shan't bother to describe it because describing scenery is never like being there. See the photos:

http://snipurl.com/1c2mk
http://picasaweb.google.com/kiliandrew2/AndrewSKiliPics

One of the many highlights (a champagne moment, to coin Andy) was scrambling up the Barranco Wall. The views were great and it was an enjoyable climb. It was 300m high at roughly 4,000m altitude at the base. At this stage, I was still relatively free from altitude problems. In fact, one of the local mountain guides, James (nickname Cheeky Monkey), put three rocks in my bag and I didn't realise until after we got to the top. Just one rock makes a huge difference at that altitude. I got him back by throwing snow in his face at 4,600m. The other mountain guides were very amused to see someone get James for a change!

I was lucky enought to see some colobus monkeys in the jungle at the bottom on the way back down. That was cool. I also learned a fair bit (relatively) of Swahili. Languages are always an enjoyable part of my holiday experience.

The local mountain guides and porters were great. They are also poor. At the bottom I gave them almost all my equipment (what little I hadn't borrowed or rented). They need it more than me and they earned it. The nine other guys in the party (non Kili6ers I mean) were cool companions. The tour leader, Hellen Bunn from t'Yorkshire, was a remarkable lady.

Another champagne moment was on the descent from the summit. We'd hurried for perhaps two hours. It had got warm again. We collapsed in the loose stones and lay down looking at the blue sky and the big red and black rock walls of the huge valley we'd entered. (Most of the mountain was 'regular' grey rock, but not in this area.) We just lay there and no one said anything in the comfortable heat for maybe five or ten minutes. I can't think of a more serene moment.

What else was good...Oh yeah, we did it! And it was an amazing experience.

...

Today my appetite is a bit better, so I'm recovering a little. I lost 4kg (9lbs) on Kilimanjaro, which is horrific, as I had no fat to lose. In today's measurement, that's the equivalent weight of two copies of the fourth Harry Potter book (in hardback) of mostly muscle that I lost. I'm stuffing food and 'build-up' drinks into me as I type. One solid month of gluttony and three of training will sort me out again!

I told a friend that this was fucking hard. She asked "Fucking hard good, fucking hard bad or just fucking hard?" I said "I can't really describe it. I don't know the answer." I still don't know the answer. What I do know is that I'm glad I did it. But I'm never going to do it again.

Monday, March 05, 2007

Andrew's Kili pics

Not quite as professional as Jon & Eszter's pics (see previous post and link) but my Kili pics are now online here: http://picasaweb.google.com/kiliandrew2/AndrewSKiliPics
Focus was on survival rather than snapping photos, so mine tend to be more of camps and rest spots than action pictures. Would have been great to record us all scrambling up the Barranco wall, or the head-torched procession on the final summit ascent, but my camera was safely tucked away in the rucksack as I concentrated on staying alive!
Regrettably all my 3 batteries froze on the summit, somewhere between Stella Point and Uhuru. But I did make it, trust me, and all the pain and joy of being on the crater rim is indelibly etched into my heart and mind. Fortunately, Jon returned to Uhuru with Eszter in a relationship-saving gesture and took some great photos. I hope others in the group will also have unforgettable shots that we can post here.
Photos are a great memory but I think all of us will remember every moment of the trip for a long time to come.....

The Big Picture

Our pictures are now online at http://snipurl.com/1c2mk

There may seem a lot, but we could have taken 10 times as many*, had 'logistics' permitted. But, even though we only walked relatively slowly (or pole pole, as the Swahili has it), we tended to walk 'consistently', and taking a lot of photos as we went along just wasn't realistic, as stopping & starting would have been very disruptive - hence quite a lot of pictures of either lunch stops, or camp sites.

* we did actually take twice as many as are online, but I've removed duplicates and ones that didn't "work".

Sunday, March 04, 2007

It's Good To Be Back Home Again

Eszter & I are back home in Bristol, after a gruelling 21 hour journey, involving 6 changes of transport (minibus, plane, plane, coach, train, coach and taxi), and a seemingly interminable changeover at the infuriatingly disorganised & seriously dull Addis Ababa airport - never mind the gruelling 6 days climbing & decscending Kilimanjaro.

Arriving back home is always a cause for mixed feelings - sadness that the adventure & the experience of a lifetime is over, mingled with a realisation that we had to return to "reality" at some point, and a sense of comfort at being back in familiar surroundings.

Do we have reflections? More than a hall of mirrors. Were there high spots & low points? Sure there were - treasured highs (literally & metaphorically) and thankfully few low points which, whilst bad or sad at the time, were overcome, as we moved onwards and upwards. Overall, we're left with an over-riding memory of a phenomenal mountain, and a week or so happily, if exhaustingly, spent with a terrific bunch of people - group members and local porters & guides alike.

But the washing machine's ready for the second load so far, and I think the last dose of Imodium is wearing off. More to follow...