Mt. Kilimanjaro - to the Roof of Africa

Exploding Teeth

I just got back from the dentist.

Now, the Internet is a dangerous thing, and while I certainly wouldn't go so far as to label myself as a hypochondriac, Wikipedia can compel even the healthiest person to make a will.

My own personal hang-up is my teeth. I've never had the greatest luck with my teeth, mainly thanks to an addiction to a certain brand of fizzy drink (it's the heroin they put in it that makes it so tasty), far too much smoking and an extraction ten yeas ago that bordered on physical assault, and where I really should have called the police.

Anyway, over the last couple of years I have become increasingly paranoid about the state of my teeth. Some days I'm convinced that my tongue has swollen up due to neuralgia, the next day I'm stressing over the chances of a stroke brought on by peritonitis, and sometimes I actually think that all of my teeth will fall out overnight. And I mean all of them.

I blame my dentist. He's a lovely bloke called Neil but a few years ago he decided to give my latest attempt at kicking the habit a little prod with some "scare tactics" and, like Derren Brown in a blue smock, he subconsciously made me believe that this could actually happen. He probably didn't tell me that it would happen overnight but it felt a bit like that Marillion song where the Dr. tells Fish that he'll die if he doesn't give up drinking.

Anyway, one of the first things I did when I agreed to this expedition was to type the following words into Google: "high-altitude toothache", hoping that I'd get a googlewhack.

But no, there's pages of the stuff.

To be honest, if I had checked before I had agreed to the expedition then I wouldn't be sitting here now.

To be fair, a lot of the data is related to people who are either sitting in badly pressurised planes or hanging off the tip of Everest, but occasionally there's an anecdotal story where someone at high altitude gets some air trapped under a filling and then the pressure becomes so intense the tooth explodes! From the inside out!

I have a lot of fillings.

Anyway, it looks like I was worrying about nothing and I don't have to have any dental work done. Neil gave me a nice scale and polish while he told me about his friend's trip up Kilimanjaro and he didn't seem to think that I was in any danger of my teeth exploding halfway up a mountain. Toothache, however, still sits just behind 'sudden brain hemorrhage' as the thing that terrifies me the most about this trip.

Unfortunately, while all the books and safety guidelines suggest that you get a full dental X-ray before you leave - just to be on the safe side - I wasn't allowed one because I don't meet the criteria. I'm guessing that this is a good thing. Apparently, new regulations mean that you can't go around zapping people with X-rays willy-nilly anymore. Just in case they turn into the Hulk, probably.

Apart from that, there's not a lot left to report. My leg muscles hurt like hell on Monday and most of Tuesday (the wife tell me this is a good thing) but I still managed to get in a 3 mile walk which included a very steep incline. Early days, early days...

Tomorrow I am off to Pickering to pick up my boots. After that I have a date with Roseberry Topping.

Neil

Bring On the Mud

On Sunday Joe and I thought it would be a great idea to go and climb Roseberry Topping with our lovely children, Natalia 8 years old, Sofia nearly 5 years old and Joshua almost 3 years old.  We got there for about lunch time and the car park was full.  Wow, we weren’t the only ones, must be a nice day for it.  As we started off on the path, we couldn’t help but notice that the country roads we had to walk on were no longer roads, but complete mud slides.  The kids thought this was the best ever, jumping in muddy puddles; they had wellies they weren’t bothered, Joe had his walking boots, he wasn’t bothered, and I on the other hand had my riding boots so was I bothered?  You can certainly believe it; I was sliding all over the place.  Needless to say, while I joylessly walked on, I kept on saying “this was a stupid idea, we shouldn’t have come today.  (Of course I had far better descriptive words that I would have liked to use, but the presence of my children got in the way of that).

At one point, about half way up, Natalia tried to cheer me up by saying “Mummy why don’t you think of it as a river of chocolate?"?  Sofia added, “Mummy does the chocolate taste good?”  I shouted at the top of my voice, “There is no chocolate and it doesn’t taste good!”  As other walkers looked on in great concern, thoughts of buying my trekking boots came to mind.  We finally reached the top and it was absolutely freezing.  Of course we didn’t bring any warm hats, gloves, scarves.  It was one of the quickest lunches we’ve ever had.  We were all glad to be going, and as we made our way down of the beaten track, not one of us said a word.

Kit List Shopping

The very next day Joe and I decided to go shopping so we took the afternoon off and with our kit list in hand we drove to Rydale Rambler in Pickering.  There we were met by Neil and Jonathan.  They have experience in kitting people out for this very trek so they knew what they were talking about.  Neil spoke to me about my fitness, and even gave me statistics about altitude sickness and age.  They gave me a sense of confidence because they could name the different types of terrain I would be walking on.  It was like they knew the Mountain personally. They were also full of great tips like blowing the water back in the bag once you have finished drinking so the tube doesn’t freeze.

So my boots are on order (see pic) and my kit bag has been chosen.  Neil and Jonathan really looked after me, they were genuine, honest people, making sure that I understood the importance of my equipment and how to use it properly too.  Can’t wait to get my boots and I’m so excited that I’m even looking forward to climbing Roseberry Topping again.  Bring on the mud.

Palma

The Loneliness of the Short Distance Straggler

I went on my very first "run" today.

The plan was to start gently with a little jog around a simple two mile circuit, and after spending three hours procrastinating over the perfect iPod shuffle playlist, I was finally ready to begin my training. For some bizarre reason the world's press didn't turn up to wave me off.

The first quarter mile felt pretty good but then I reached the neighbouring farm where they appear to be genetically altering the smell of manure until it can actually stop a human being in their tracks. I've been told that I should practice breathing through my nose but that would be tantamount to suicide under these conditions. And you think Paula Radcliffe had trouble with poo...

By the time I reached the half-way mile mark my lungs were screaming at me to stop this bloody nonsense. Even the theme from Rocky blaring through my headphones couldn't help me. It shames me to admit this but I had to walk back.  Pathetic.

I knew that I was chronically unfit but this is ridiculous. When I returned home I was a hacking up phlegm and hyperventilating so badly, I almost asked Sue to break out the emergency bacofoil.

I finished the whole "experience" with a quick shower, a quick vomit and a very long nap.

Luckily for me, most Kilimanjaro training schedules that I've downloaded (and there are hundreds of them) all suggest a 12-14 week regime. I've got 19 weeks until the big day. This gives me a whole month to get myself into a position where a simple jog won't kill me.

I also managed to get in some less orthodox training this morning when I accompanied my daughter and her boyfriend to a clay pigeon shoot. I spent about 90 minutes standing in a large puddle until my feet resembled two blocks of ice.

Irritating beyond belief but strangely helpful.

Neil

Postcards from the Edge

I spent yesterday feeling discombobulated and slightly angry. This happened to me the last time I used nicotine patches: dizziness, headaches, dry mouth, confusion and an overwhelming desire to shout at someone; at least the first few symptoms might actually count as training for the trek. I've been forced to drop down to Step 2 patches which means I don't want to throttle anyone today but I do still fancy a tab.

The only time I wasn't thinking about smoking yesterday was, ironically, in a pub, where Palma and I met up with a lovely woman called Pauline Coates. Pauline successfully conquered Kilimanjaro in 2007 in aid of the Butterwick Children's Hospice and she was brilliant.

It was great to listen to her experiences first hand because - unlike the YouTube videos - you could ask plenty of questions. And I had thousands. Pauline's advice was invaluable, her photos were beautiful and her kindness was greatly appreciated. I came away from the meeting feeling excited and eager to begin my training.

Pauline also gave me a copy of her journal to read and share with you. It was a roller coaster ride of emotions but the pessimist in me inevitably got sidetracked by this bit:

As we came into camp we were  greeted by Addidas (the guide) and everyone was very pleased to see him. He told us Robert was fine - he was in hospital and improving all the time. There was nothing seriously wrong, it was just the altitude sickness that had struck him. Some people went straight to bed and were saying they had had enough and wanted to go back down in the morning. The rest of us gathered in the mess tent all huddled together, mostly in silence. We didn't have any appetites so we were force feeding ourselves because we knew our bodies needed the fuel. If you stopped a guide would appear and encourage you to keep eating. It was pretty grim.

The only saving grace about that paragraph is that they weren't forced to eat jam and cheese sandwiches!

In fact, the biggest eye-opener for me was that some of the fittest members of Pauline's expedition failed to reach the summit, including a marathon runner and someone who had climbed Snowden, Scarfell Pike and Ben Nevis as part of their training. What possible hope have I got? I haven't even bought my boots yet!

Thankfully, things improved for the group in the morning, and when Pauline finally reached her goal I felt exhausted and emotional too:

At Stellar Point you collapse on a rock in tears, absolutely exhausted but elated. A porter is trying to give you hot water to drink and fellow trekkers are hugging and kissing you and crying.

There are dozens of similar accounts to be found online. For example, Richard Mays provides a fascinating account while Marcee Kleinman kept an incredibly detailed and very helpful journal, but my favourite is probably this PDF from a man in his early 40s who had no hiking experience whatsoever. Each one tells a unique and inspiring story and I'm happy to report that I haven't read anything that has put me off completely. Yet.

To be honest, I'm still finding it difficult to place myself in any of these amazing situations and at this point I'm more worried about Cheryl Cole and Chris Moyles' attempt than my own. But as each day passes it is slowly beginning to dawn on me that this isn't going to be some walk in the park.

Well, technically it is a walk in a National Park, but you know what I mean...

Neil

Packing It In

Today's the day I smoke my last cigarette.

OK, I know I was supposed to give up on Monday but I decided to postpone the attempt. Mondays are depressing enough without adding to them, and I spent yesterday in a state of apathetic irritation that wasn't exactly conducive to bidding farewell to an old friend.

I have given up successfully before: the last attempt lasted 9 months so I know that I can do this. The only reason I fell back into the habit is because the wife (who had been clean for 4 years) suddenly decided to start again when the smoking ban came into force in July 2007. Go figure.

It's going to be tough - mainly because I love to smoke, I really do. I realise that admitting to a love of smoking these days is tantamount to being discovered with some Gary Glitter on your iPod but I just can't help it.

It's not even the nicotine that I'll miss - mainly because this will be pumped directly into my bloodstream via some miraculous patches that will make me experience dreams so surreal and vivid I'll think I'm Samuel T. Coleridge.

No, it's the fact that these cigarettes act as small but important markers throughout my day. They have become part of a long-established routine that's going to be hard to break.

There are so many wonderful cigarettes that I'll miss:

• The first one in the morning
• The first one after the first one in the morning
• The cigarette I always have as I pass the gas works in the car on the way to the office
• The first one next to the river in the middle of a blizzard because we live in a fascist state and if we are caught smoking anywhere on campus (for example, under a shelter) then a SWAT team are sent in to move us on
• The first one after my lunch
• The first one after a class
• The first one after that meeting that lasted 3 hours and nothing got done
• The first one in the car as I leave for home
• The first one as I check my email when I get home
• The first one after my dinner
• The first one after a shower
• The one I have when I'm walking the dog
• The one I have when I open a new blog post or a word document and I stare at a white screen for what feels like an eternity...

And that's just a normal day. I haven't even mentioned the cigarettes that have got me through various bouts of stress and anxiety, of which I've had plenty. Then there's the tabs that have helped me cope with deadlines, awkward conversations, several terrorist attacks, and long waits for trains.

Of course there are plenty of things that I won't miss: the smell, the lack of appetite, the social stigma, that lingering feeling that you are slowly killing yourself. Not to mention the cost. I've worked out that I'll be saving over £40 a week. That's a couple of Blu Rays and a takeaway! Or a nice pair of thermal underwear and a balaclava. I have to adjust my priorities now.

Incidentally, I discovered yesterday that Barack Obama is a 30-a-day man. He managed to keep that quiet, didn't he?

Sue is giving up with me. So instead of one tetchy, foul-tempered recovering drug addict in the house they'll be two. Great. Can't wait.

Finally, don't worry if you are a smoker, I won't spend the next 4 months bleating on about what a terrible thing it is that you are doing to yourself via some weird projected jealousy. Evangelical ex-smokers drive me nuts. So smoke 'em if you've got 'em.

The fitness regime starts tomorrow. My lungs won't know what's hit them. I've already purchased the most important item of equipment that I'll need: an iPod shuffle.

I'm also meeting up with someone tomorrow who has actually climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro so I'll have an opportunity to gather some valuable information. For example, these jam and cheese sandwiches I keep hearing about...

Neil

Jam and Cheese

I have begun Stage 2 of my research.

That's right, I've been on YouTube.

The place is packed with amateur video footage of poor souls huffing and puffing their way to the top of Uhuru Peak, and while many of these "movies" are simply photo montages with cheesy music slapped all over the top, if you dig around there are some real gems:

There's a particularly interesting one that shows a man suffering from altitude sickness being dragged down the mountain by two porters, while another features a group of climbers reaching the summit that feels really eerie because no one says a word. I only hope that this is due to acute exhaustion and not the result of experiencing a profound anticlimax. There's also a really moving video where someone fails to reach the summit and has a good cry about it, but don't worry, if you need cheering up there's always Monty Python.

But my favourite has to be a series of videos by somebody calling himself Grundlefly. Not only did he climb the same route that we'll be taking (Lemosho), he also imparts lots of important information about the effects of the altitude, the toilet facilities, the best drugs to take and the food. Yes, the food. The biggest shock is that our packed lunches could consist of jam and cheese sandwiches. It's as if peanut butter and jelly got lost in translation somewhere. Jam and Cheese - just something else I've got to get my head around on this journey.

You can reach the other four installments in this series here (or follow the embedded video links). Sadly, Part 5 has been done over for copyright infringement so that part of the climb will have to remain a mystery to me until I get there.

Neil

"You may think it's a long way down the road to the chemist..."

I've started my research.

I've already ordered The Snows of Kilimanjaro from Lovefilm.com, but I'm not convinced that a 1952 movie starring Gregory Peck will give me the advice that I need. The Wikipedia entry for the mountain isn't very helpful either; I keep getting distracted by the bit where it says: "...most people suffer some degree of altitude sickness. About 10 climbers die from this each year". However, I did learn that the summit was first conquered precisely 80 years before I was born; if only they'd hurried up and done this 20 years earlier then this little bit of trivia would have sounded really impressive.

So I've decided to hit the books. However, instead of starting in a sensible place, say with Kilimanjaro: The Trekking Guide to Africa's Highest Mountain or Preparation, Practicalities and Ascent Routes, I went for Douglas Adams' The Salmon of Doubt, mainly because I could skip to the middle where there's a really good bit about Kilimanjaro. Thanks to Paul for the heads-up via Facebook.

In this collection of his work that was published posthumously in 2003, Douglas describes a trip to Kenya where he encountered a couple of blokes who were about to climb the mountain dressed in Rhino costumes. But what's really interesting is how Douglas regarded Kilimanjaro itself:

"From base to apex, (Kilimanjaro) is the tallest mountain in the world. It's certainly a hell of a thing to climb in a rhino costume."

But what about Everest? Douglas continues:

"If you were going to climb Everest you would probably start somewhere in the Himalayas. Anywhere in the Himalayas is pretty damn high to start with, and so, to hear some people tell it, it's just a smartish jog to do the last little bit to the actual top of Everest."

So there!

You'll be happy to hear that I have no plans to wear any fancy dress on my journey, although I may take my Doctor Who scarf along with me. At least it'll be practical.

Neil

Palma's post - How it all began for me

It was in the weeks leading up to Christmas and I was listening to Chris Moyles going on about how he should have started his training but hadn’t yet and he was meeting up at a pub with someone to talk about his Comic Relief climb up Mt Kilimanjaro.  That night I said to my husband Joe how amazing it would be to do something as awesome as that and to make a difference in a children’s life, that would be a lifetime achievement etc.  I thought to myself, if Chris Moyles can climb mountains why can’t I?  Joe said that it was a great idea and that if I found a partner to go then he would consider it, as for him that would mean a safety net.  I asked every person that I knew: good friends, work colleagues, acquaintances, friends of friends.  Most people were saying “great I will sponsor you” but nobody could actually commit to coming along.

Weeks went by and there was no potential volunteer. I was now thinking that it was a great idea but that’s all it would ever be.  The day before Christmas I get a text at work from Joe telling me he has booked my flights to my charity challenge and Neil is booked to go with me.  I almost fell off my chair.  I text back saying “is this a joke?” as I clearly couldn’t believe what I was reading.  The only person in the world that I ruled out for certain was Neil; I was so certain he was the only person I didn’t ask - how ironic that he was the only one who, like me, jumped at the chance.

Where am I now?

So a month down the line where am I now?  Well like Neil, I too have been vaccinated for several diseases, which put me out of action, feeling so unwell that I’ve stayed home for two days running, not being able to do my usual horse riding or Wii fit and as I lay there feeling sorry for myself I had plenty of time to think that the challenge has really already started and I haven’t even left the country yet, let alone climb the mountain.

On Thursday 22nd January 2009 Neil and I will meet with a lady called Pauline Coates, she climbed Mt Kilimanjaro last year.  I am really looking forward to asking her loads of questions about her experience, what training she, what made her want to do this challenge, and endless more questions like that.

I started the training today (pictured left) - walking from Dalton Piercy to Elwick village, almost a mile through the countryside with the kids. Very cold (2 degrees) and very muddy - I'm going to need some serious wellies to survive the training I think!!

Raising the Money

On the sponsorship front UNICEF have been very supportive with emails and words of encouragement, advice and helpful information, which makes me feel this is worth it and I want to do this even more.  One of our fund raising ideas was to ask as many schools as possible to participate in a non-uniform day, with students bringing a pound with them to take part.  I asked teachers that I knew what they thought of the idea and they said they would love to help out and also to be a part of it.  They even went as far as taking our idea to meetings for us.  It has been a great positive response and we hope to get as many schools involved as possible.  The date we are proposing for the non-uniform day is Friday 13th Feb - more on this soon!

Palma

Yellow Fever And How To Cure It

I took the first tiny steps on my journey today. I went to the Doctors to have chat with a nurse about all the diseases I might catch while I'm away.

It turns out that I have to protect myself against just about everything:

• Typhoid
• Malaria
• Cholera
• Hepatitis A and B
• Meningitis
• Spectrox Toxemia
• Diphtheria
• Polio
• Tetanus
• Yellow Fever
• Rabies

Yes, rabies. 

This is apparently mandatory if you are more than 24 hours away from a hospital. When I told the nurse that this would indeed be the case because my trip to Tanzania involved the small matter of climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro her eyes narrowed. "Really?" she said, giving me the once over. "Are you sure?"

I have to go to a special clinic for the Yellow Fever jab. The fact that I have to travel to a "specialist" to have this vaccination administered to me fills me with dread. Is it a complicated procedure? Are the drugs extra dangerous? Does it take more than one person to pick up the needle? I'm almost afraid to ask. Still, it's a snip at 59 quid!

Luckily, I've investigated this early enough to spread the treatment over the coming months. When I muster up enough courage I will look up the side effects on Wikipedia.

Neil

What would Greg do?

I was lighting my nineteenth cigarette of the day when I opened the fateful email from Joe. The subject line had piqued my interest: "Fancy Climbing a (big) Mountain?". At first I thought it was an appeal to take on some extra marking (we're both teachers) but it soon became apparent that his wife, Palma, was about to do something insane.

When I discovered that she was looking for a partner to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro with, I would love to tell you that I yelled "Me! Me! Me!" at the top of my nicotine-smeared lungs, but the sad truth is that I simply trashed the email, made a mental note to sponsor her, and lit my twentieth tab of the day.

A few days later I asked Joe how his search was going and he showed me some pictures of the expedition and I have to admit that it all looked very pleasant. The part of my brain that associated the word Kilimanjaro with "bloody high mountain" must have been malfunctioning because I started to seriously consider the possibility that a 30-a-day, technology-obsessed, chronically unfit, couch potato could actually do something like this; I discovered much later that Chris Moyles is attempting the very same climb for Comic Relief but I honestly had no idea at the time.

Then my wife, Sue, started to encourage me: "You've been threatening to do something stupid for ages now," she said, sagely. She urged me to grasp this life-changing opportunity with both hands - not only would it be cheaper than buying a Ferrari to assuage my rapidly encroaching mid-life crisis, it would get me out of the house for a bit as well.