Kibo 4700m – Gilman’s Point 5680m – Uhuru Peak 5985m - Kibo 4700m
12 hours
So it’s midnight and we are walking by the light of headtorch in single file. It’s so cold you don’t want to lower your gaiter from your face, and we need to preserve oxygen, so no one is really talking. All we can hear is the guides trying to keep our spirits up by singing and making animal noises – we think it works.
Geordie urges us to look ahead further up the mountain – all you can see is lines and lines of headtorches, people who like us have come to conquer this mountain. Some are raising money for charities, some have their own individual reasons for being there and every single one is having a personal battle with their own bodies.
 |
| Lines of headtorches heading up to the summit |
The climb to the summit consists of two main sections. The first, and longest part, is getting to Gilman's Point at 5,681m. This should take around 6.5 hours and the idea is to get there in time to see the sunrise over the crater rim. From there it's another hour or so to walk, past Stella Point at 5730m, to the true summit, Uhuru at 5,895m.
This is tough, tougher than we ever imagined. We are walking on frozen scree which is loose beneath our feet – it feels like one step forward and two steps back, and breathing becomes more strained as your body is crying out for oxygen. With only about 40% oxygen to supply our muscles our legs feel like lead and it saps your energy just lifting your feet to walk.
It's funny how only a few days ago walking 'pole-pole' felt ridiculously slow, and yet now its the top speed we can manage. We are soon overtaken by some of the other groups but no-one's really bothered too much. We're all keen to conserve our energy.
The summit attempt is an endless series of switchbacks - imagine zig-zagging up a sandy hill. Every time I look up, all I can see is a never ending line of lights from people's head torches zig-zagging towards the Gilman's Point. They aren’t stopping which means no one is there yet – we have hours of cold darkness ahead of us.
Whilst walking you have to look down at your feet, there’s no where else to look. However, don’t look down too much. You realise that on the odd occasion there are sheer drops either side of you, and with only scree beneath your feet if you pause for too long the scree moves and you start to slide with it. We have to block that out and concentrate on the job in hand.
We start to lose some of the team along the way; Susan, Emma, Kelvin, Gemma, Alex, Steve W and Alice – all to the effects of altitude; vomiting, nausea and extreme fatigue. Again, its sad to see them have to turn back after getting so close, but they’re all heroes.
The wind is bitterly cold and we are thankful for our down jackets and two pairs of gloves. You don’t want to stop for too long as your feet start to get cold – even through the two pairs of merino wool socks and thermal layer. It must be -20C at least. Even the mighty Moses said he was only 50/50 as his feet were cold!
When Geordie tells us we have about 2 hours left until we get to Gilmans Point Lisa says “I don’t think I can do this”. My response to this is “yes you can, it’s only 2 hours, it took us longer to buy your car”. Her head goes down and she digs deep.
Eventually Gilman's point is within reach, and we are buoyed by the knowledge we are going to make it. For the last 100m or so, the scree gives way to a series of huge boulders to scramble over.
It's about 0530 by the time we finally haul ourselves over the last boulder to Gilman's Point. We sit down for a quick drink and something to eat before attempting Uhuru Peak. It’s now the Lisa is sick. I shout for Jenny and she administers some anti nausea pills. Lisa tells me that she doesn’t feel like she can continue to Uhuru Peak. This is hard, we’ve done this together, all of it, and the altitude has taken away the chance for us to finish it together. I honestly feel as though I can carry on though and have my own personal battle to win and Lisa is adamant I should. I know she’ll be ok as others are descending at this point too, so after a quick rushed photograph at the Gilman’s Point sign we go our separate ways and she starts the descent with Jonathan, Leanne and Paul.
With the assistance of Onyx, one of our guides, Lisa descends as dawn breaks. As the terrain turns from boulders to scree, Onyx helps Lisa scree run down the mountain side. Scree running is hard, especially when your legs are like jelly, and Lisa is allowed a break every 100m. Meanwhile Leanne is also helped by a guide, but Paul and Jonathan tackle the descent on their own. Jonathan is frequently seen on his knees, and nodding off with exhaustion. The total feeling of exhaustion overwhelms you. The group can see Kibo, but the staggered descent isn’t bringing them any closer.
After 2 hours the group finally arrive into Kibo. They are met by other members of the group who descended earlier in the morning. Luckily all are well and they share some refreshments. Lisa then takes the opportunity to go and rest in the tent as the camp awaits the arrival of the rest of the team.
While Lisa, Leanne, Paul and Jonathan are descending, the remainder of the team continue to Uhuru Peak.
 |
| The walk from Gilmans Point to Uhuru Peak |
The final push to Africa’s highest point, along the crater rim, is the toughest thing I have ever done, no question. It’s an effort just to lift the camera for a photo of the incredible glaciers. When I left Gilman’s Point it was dark, it’s now broad daylight, when did the sun come up? Every step is exhausting. I feel fine considering, no headaches or nausea, just the overwhelming feeling of exhaustion. It’s now you need your team mates, but no one can talk; there’s now only 50% oxygen and it takes all your emotional energy just to tell your body to continue. I walk to Stella Point with Allyson and Foxy; none of us are talking, we are all struggling and want to will each other on; we just look at each other, we know what we are trying to say.
Just past Stella Point 5730m I meet some other members of the group and take a rest until we are all there and can reach the final summit together as a team. I sit down and try and eat something for energy but my mouth is so dry and I don’t even have the energy to chew, my cereal bar is frozen anyway. I could easily just go to sleep here.
We move off as a group to Uhuru Peak. I thought I was exhausted before, now I am even more so, maybe I shouldn’t have stopped. However, I am determined to make it, so trudge onwards, one foot in front of the other, it's like walking in quicksand. We are all doing and thinking the same. After what must be the longest hour in my life, I am finally standing next to the famous sign. It might all be a bit of a blur and my body is screaming at me, but I made it. We summited at approx. 0645.
There are hugs and tears at the top and suddenly the pain is all forgotten – until you try to move again of course. 19 of us, including Jenny and Geordie, have all made it to the Roof of Africa. We are all so proud of each other and a team photograph is in order. It’s fight to get your photo taken at the sign but we proudly hold up our Marie Curie banner thinking of our team mates further down the mountain and every person that has ever needed the care and support of this fantastic charity.
It’s stunning up here. The glaciers are huge; it’s a shame to think they are predicted to have disappeared by 2020, the sky is postcard perfect and the crater is immense. During the brief moment of taking it all I can just make out the curvature of the earth. But this beautiful environment is also a harsh one; I want to stay longer but we need to descend as fast as we can.
Battles have been won, now we need to get back down to Kibo, and then walk for another 4-5 hours on to the next camp at Horombo Hut before dusk.
I remember the summit perfectly, how can you not remember seeing something so out of this world, but coming down was a blur, it must have the lack of oxygen. We descended the way we came, but the scree was much looser due to the slight rise in temperature. Climbing back down the boulders at Gilmans Point I make the mistake I sitting down, I just want to sleep, I have nothing left to give.
A guide links arms with me and we scree run. I couldn’t have done it without him. We descend for what seems like hours, (I’m sure it wasn’t), but the camp wasn’t getting any closer. All I can think about is sleeping. I tell him I need a rest, there are rocks falling from above and someone nearby gets hit, he's ok but this highlights what a harsh environment we are in, I don’t care, my body is saying no and screaming at me to stop. It’s at this point that Geordie and Jenny catch up with me. Geordie gives me some food and Jenny gives me a steroid tablet. These start to kick in and I feel a bit better and start walking again.
I see other members of our team descending too, it’s good to see them. There are also a lot of others descending; all those headtorches from early this morning. Most also being helped by guides and no one looks happy or well.
Finally I reach Kibo, greeted by Lisa and her camera! Lisa has had strict instructions from Jenny to get me into the tent to rest; I’m not arguing, even if I had the strength to.
We’ve never felt complete exhaustion like that before; it takes every last bit of physical and emotional energy you have, and then all your reserves, and then some more. You would think the sense of achievement of getting to a summit would negate the exhaustion; it doesn’t, its overwhelming, but we are sure it will in a few days. It’s a strange and very personal feeling that is hard to convey to anyone other than those that have been through the same experience.
