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
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