Kilimanjaro December 1990
I've always enjoyed climbing mountains, and wherever I was living, I would always try to reach the highest point. Why? I suppose it's mainly because the view from a higher point enables you to see over a far wider area; what lies beyond the usual skyline. My first trip abroad without the family was a climbing holiday in the Pyrenees, and in the UK, I climbed the highest mountains of England (Skiddaw), Scotland (Ben Nevis) and Wales (Snowdon) between university and the move to Barcelona. While in Barcelona, I climbed the hilltops I could see from my living room window, above the Pederables Monastery and in Oman, I camped at the top of Jebel Akhdar several times, and scrambled to the top of the small jebel at the back of the building my flat was located in.
On the 20th of December 1990, I set off to climb the highest mountain in Africa. My flight arrived in Dar es Salaam, the largest in city in Tanzania, in the late afternoon, and I got a taxi to a hotel in the city centre. Usually I would set out to explore a new city on arrival, but for some reason I felt that it would be more intelligent to stay in the hotel, as I had an onward flight to Arusha early the next morning. In cases like this, I just follow my instincts, and maybe unfortunately, I was not in the mood to experience the delights of Dar es Salaam.
I was the only non-African on the small plane but the people around me were warm and friendly. When I got off the plane, I looked around to see if I could see the mountain I'd come to climb, but saw nothing. Only clouds. Then, one of the ladies I'd been sat with said "try looking up there!", I followed the direction she was pointing, and there was the summit of Kilimanjaro way up in the air, far above where I was expecting it to be! After checking in to my hotel, I went out to look around and took a photo of my objective in the distance.
I had one week to complete the climb, and the next morning, after breakfast, I went down to the hotel reception to arrange the trip. The clouds had gone by then, and the mountain was sitting majestically above the town. A deal was done whereby a group of three would have a guide and take three days to climb to the top and two days to come back down again. The other two guys in my group were from Belgium and the three of us were collected by a mini-van at about 11am the same day and taken to the base of the national park, where our guide, called August, secured the necessary permits. He asked us if we wanted to take the Whiskey Route, or the Coca Cola Route. "What's the difference", we asked. You needed ropes on the Whiskey Route and it was much tougher apparently, so we opted for the easier path.
The interesting thing about climbing nearly 6,000 metres (19,000ft) above sea level in tropical Africa is that as you rise, you go through several distinct biospheres. After leaving the park administration, we were walking through dense green jungle, with monkeys running around in the trees above (I tried to catch them in a photo, but it ended up as 'spot the monkeys'!). The next stage is known as heather and moorland, it reminded me a bit a cross between the heather you find in Scotland and the dry grasslands of Dartmoor in summer. The first huts were just before the start of this moorland and food was provided by August. The next day, I lost track to the Belgians and decided to match my pace with the African porters, who were carrying the packs of some of lazier or more feeble climbers, and also food and liquid supplies for everyone. In those days, I was a heavy smoker, so when the group of porters I was following stopped for a smoke, I would do so as well. There were a few parts of the track which involved a scramble, but nothing really challenging. As I reached the end of my second day on the mountain, the temperature had dropped considerably, and there were some plants near the second set of huts, which apparently only grew there (although I have seen similar plants in the Andes).
Day three was partly cloudy and I spent most of the time walking alone, once asking a fellow climber who was passing to snap a shot of me. By midday the skies were clearing and I was able to see the first snow at more or less the altitude I was walking at. Then came a surprise. The next climatic zone was known as 'African tundra', and according to August, the ultraviolet rays during the day were so strong, and the temperatures at night so cold, that nothing grew there. My rucksack appears in the photo of this weird desert three-quarters up a mountain in Africa!
I arrived at the last hut at the foot of the volcano cone at around five o'clock in the evening. Our guide explained that after some food, we should get to sleep early because we would have to set off for the summit at 4am. The reason for this was that the final stretch to the top was made of small stones, and if they weren't frozen, each step up would result in two steps slipping back. I had seen this film before on Monte Perdido in Spain, so for me 4am was fine! Of course, starting at that time would also result in being able to watch the sun rise over the Serengeti Plains! We reached Gilman's Point about 15 minutes before sunrise. From there I took one photo of the icy mountainside, and another of the rising sun, which unfortunately my camera was unable to handle! The next pics were of one of my Belgian colleagues and a distinctly uncomfortable person sat next to the sign stating our altitude. The crater (Kilimanjaro is an extinct volcano) still had quite a lot of snow in it, and it was possible to see the highest point of the summit a couple of kilometres away around the cone. I decided that I had come far enough, and after resting for a while, I made the journey back down. I was later to find out that being a smoker may have actually helped me! Due to the cigarettes, my body was used to receiving a lower level of oxygen than those who are fitter, and as a result, at high altitudes, I could function better. There was a marathon runner in our batch, who had to be taken down from the last hut on a stretcher, because he was unable to breathe enough oxygen for his body and mind to function effectively. I didn't reach the highest point in Africa, but I was still happy. Descending down on the shale on a sunny morning, meant that I could slide down on my bum* with the minimum of effort (you can see hut three in the distance)!
August had told us that we could either go down in one day or stop off at one of the huts and make it a two day trip. I decided to do it in one go because I remembered how good if felt to descend from high altitude. For a while, you feel like Superman (or Wonder Woman) due to the sudden excess of oxygen coursing*2 through your veins. I was able to take some nice photos of the journey back, including the first set of huts on the way up. I didn't stay there, I just stopped for some refreshments. The flight back to Dar es Salaam and then back to Dubai went without any problems, but things went wrong on the final leg. I had booked into a hotel in Dubai before my onward flight to Muscat in Oman the next morning. I had been flying so much recently that I had become a bit blasé about it. My flight was at 8.30 and I left the hotel for the airport at 8am. When I ran across the airport entrance hall to the check-in desk and arrived huffing and puffing at 8.15. I was politely told that checking for that flight had closed. Now, in those days, I had no credit card and had spent all my money on the trip! I had to take the embarrassing decision to call my boss in Muscat and ask her to buy a ticket back to Muscat for me! Thank you so much Barbara!!! You saved me from complete humiliation!! I was able to fly back later on that day and arrived sheepishly for work one day later than planned!
* Entry 2 (British English)
* V.tr (transitive verb) entry 1
