A trip of extremes

Jan at Stella Point, 5756m, where she reluctantly admitted she was ‘banjaxed’. Pictures by Jan Clare

Gisborne homeopath Jan Clare heeds the advice she read on the ‘Dear Esteemed Climber’ sign as she makes her attempt to summit Kilimanjaro . . .

The summit attempt is made at night. Afterwards we were convinced this is a psychological ploy by the tour companies, because if you could actually see where you had to go — especially after days of walking a relatively gradual incline — you mightn’t! That night there were dozens of us, bodiless headlamps zig-zagging on the switch-backs. Pausing to turn and look behind, or looking almost vertically upwards at the darting lights gave an eerie sense of being suspended in the blackness.

Our group, only four because Canice had made the heart-wrenching, but eminently sensible call not to climb due to a cough and a niggling Achilles, was separated into fast and slow walkers from the beginning. Halfway up, my climbing partner, Sara, and I became separated — was this supposed to happen? I had no idea where the others were. I plodded on with my guide, a stern fellow of few words: “stop here” or “keep moving” was all he said.

After some hours, a biting breeze came up and the back of my neck cramped; the fingers on one hand froze after a toilet stop. There was only undrinkable icy cold water and I’d been promised hot tea! Fatigue overtook me and my usual optimism started to wane. Dawn came and we passed several drooping climbers with ashen faces being supported down. And then, as our surroundings became visible, we were there: the summit!

But no, it was the false summit. We’d reached Stella Point (5756m) technically on the summit but not the highest point.

That was 45 minutes to an hour away! I was told to sit. Gratefully, I perched on a ledge and ate half an energy bar while my guide went off through the throng of climbers in search of the much needed tea.

“We go on?” he asked. I almost said yes, somewhat revived by the hot sweet drink, but then recalled the Dear Esteemed Climber sign I’d dutifully noted far below: “Do not push your body to go if you are exhausted or you have extreme mountain sickness”.

Reluctantly, I admitted I was falling-down tired; ‘banjaxed’ (Irish/British slang for ruined, incapacitated, or broken) as I once heard an Irishman colourfully call it.

We took a selfie under the Stella Point signpost and I scanned the crowd hopefully for a familiar face. Snowy Uhuru point (5895m) beckoned, glittering in the brilliant sunshine. I wavered, realising I’d probably be a liability if I stayed up here much longer. But it was so close! My guide looked on impassively while I decided.

Eventually, I said “We’d better go down.”

“Your decision, then,” he replied.

As all experienced climbers know, and I was about to discover, getting off the steep part of a mountain is a lot quicker than the climb up, but just as physically demanding, due to the effects of altitude, the use of different muscles and the energy already expended.

My guide took my arm and set a frantic pace marching down the scree slopes, each stride plunging almost ankle deep. Overheated and as inelegant as the Michelin man, I breathlessly begged him to slow down; he took my pack and put it inside his own and I shed the bulky outer layers and drank some water; in a quarter of the time it took to ascend we were back in camp.

My first words to Canice were: “That was horrible!”

Canice nodded sympathetically — he’d known it would be.

It was sweltering in the tent and the noises of camp precluded sleep but there was no option but to try to rest — we still had another 3-4 hours walking to do in the afternoon. From my bed I heard the porters’ cheers and the singing to welcome the other three — they’d all made it to Uhuru, an amazing accomplishment! But crucially, they were safely back, for the Kili is not to be underestimated. That day, the rescue helicopter came from Moshi six times to airlift struggling climbers off the mountainside, and every year there are dozens of medical evacuations.

Kwaheri to KiliThe path downhill to the last camp at Mweka mostly resembles a boulder-strewn river bed. Even before setting out my knees were screaming but by mid-afternoon they were well and truly wrecked. I sucked on homeopathic Ruta anyway, previous experience telling me I could heal, even from this. Armani led me, unfailingly cheerful and charming, and with the patience of a saint. I was determined not to complain, but the truth was I’d never been so worn-out in my life.

As mentioned, this was a trip of extremes. Waking refreshed after the best night’s sleep I’d had on the whole trek, I mused about the possibility of bottling the exhaustion of extreme effort, the elation of achievement, combined with the soporific effects of a large plate of pasta. Insomnia would be universally abolished . . .

There was an air of jubilation in camp on the last morning. Instead of the usual single wake-up call from Omari there were three very cheerful wake-up calls from the porters. We clapped along to the farewell songs and for the dancing, one of the porters, Mr Kata (who likes to dress up) was resplendent in lacy stockings and sunglasses and a new dress for the occasion. The tips were presented; in that moment everyone was happy.

The final hike was a pleasant three-hour stroll, apart from a few slippery bits from the previous night’s rain, through a tree-lined track down to the busy Mweka gate.

Here, after more delicious food and a visit to the souvenir shops, and getting our boots cleaned for US$1, it was time to board the bus back to the hotel in Arusha. We lined up for hugs to say asante sana (thank you very much) and kwaheri (goodbye).

And the Kili was done. Hakuna matata! (no problem).

Fact file:

Jan Clare went to Tanzania with Homeopathy for Health in Africa (HHA), which was established in Tanzania by Jeremy and Camilla Sherr 10 years ago to treat AIDS patients. http://homeopathyforhealthinafrica.org/ and https://www.facebook.com/ homeopathyforhealthinafrica/Ian Taylor Trekking: To trek with the dream team go to: www.iantaylortrekking.com and www.facebook.com/IanTaylorTrekking/Kilimanjaro Chippy Challenge: Malachy and Alan raised £27,000 in their year-long campaign. £7,000 was donated to the Fortune Ki ds Orphanage in Arusha and £20,000 for The Fisherman’s Mission https://www.facebook.com/ChippyChallenge/See also these excellent videos:

https://pitstopfastfood.com/mount-kilimanjaro-challenge-2018/

From Base to Barafu: Canice’s You tube video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z4wYCO4otUw