Mt. Kilimanjaro - to the Roof of Africa

Dressed To Be Killed

I took a trip to Pickering with Sue this afternoon to get kitted out for my impending trip to Mt. Snowden next weekend (which just happens to coincide with the release of a film I've been waiting 21 years to see; not that I'm angry).

Once again, the staff in the Ryedale Rambler were fantastic and this time I was taken care of by none other than Neil Armstrong himself. He's a lot shorter in real life.

I spent over an hour picking out some of the essentials I'll need for Wales, including my day pack, a water bladder, some walking trousers, my waterproofs (including a ridiculously hi-tech jacket), some mittens, a hat, a head lamp and some walking poles. Bizarrely, I don't look as fetching as Ben Fogle but you've got to start somewhere. I also look more than a little evil, but Sue was determined to colour-co-ordinate my apparell so the bright maroon shirt was, sadly, a no-no.

Unfortunately, nothing I ever do goes smoothly, so I managed to leave two fleeces behind, and I also bought some women's pants by mistake. Sue said they looked a little tight but she was too polite to say anything at the time.

Sue also bought a pair of walking boots so she can accompany me on my training. She even plans to tackle Roseberry Topping with me this Sunday. Stay tuned.

Neil

Topping Out

Apologies for the lack of updates but I've been slumming it in Los Angeles! I was out there for a Doctor Who convention - it's a very long story that's explained much better here - and while I had an amazing time I had to sacrifice my training regime for the dizzy heights of a 3-star hotel in the middle of an airport. I admit that the furthest I managed to walk during the whole trip was the distance from the lifts to the bar - and I also admit that I succumbed to the odd cigarette or twenty. The only excuse I can give is that my nicotine patches were vacuum-sealed and I didn't have any scissors, but even I know that's lame. However, I did manage a short sprint on the way back home, thanks to BA's incredibly optimistic flight connection calculations. Even Dwain Chambers would have struggled - especially when he got to the fourteenth security check of the day.

 Anyway, while I was away in LA, my local paper, The Hartlepool Mail, ran a story about our climb. As you can see, Palma has been very proactive and creative when it comes to raising money for our charity. My attempts to raise funds have involved hob-bobbing with Doctor Who celebrities (one of whom told me to sit in a bath full of baked beans instead) and guilt-tripping people that I know on various Internet forums and social networking sites. Between us I'm sure we'll hit our target. We are also hoping that the publicity surrounding the celebrity Comic Relief climb next week will raise awareness about just how bloody difficult this thing is going to be.

Speaking of which, I managed to catch a couple of episodes of Extreme Dreams, on the Dave channel, where Ben Fogle and company attempted to summit Kilimanjaro. God, how I wish I hadn't; I'm more terrified than ever now. Half the of participants didn't make it, including a climber in her early 20s who looked incredibly fit until the very last night. Even Ben 'Superman' Fogle fell prey to altitude sickness as they struggled to Uhuru Peak (although he only displayed the drunk symptoms which appear far more entertaining than the exploding teeth and brain hemorrhaging I'm envisaging). The slow, inexorable pace at the very end looked like pure torture.

Pushing this thought firmly out of mind, I finally broke my Roseberry Topping cherry yesterday. Palma was my guide on this extremely pleasant 7 mile trek through some of North Yorkshire's most beautiful scenery to the top of its highest mountain; I was literally gobsmacked on more than one occasion. And yes, it is technically a mountain. Honestly.

For the very first time I managed to walk for more than 3 hours without my ankles hurting (I can't put into words how relieved this makes me feel) although my knees are really struggling today; I feel like an arthritic grasshopper.

Worryingly, I was hit by a tremendous wave of vertigo when I "summited". Roseberry Topping is a thousand feet high. Kilimanjaro is almost twenty thousand feet high.

This is slightly worrying.

Neil

Not Again...

Last Sunday thought I’d do some training this time so I prepared once again for Roseberry Topping. There was nothing stopping me now.  My boots on, my back pack fully loaded with enough water to last several days, hat, gloves, even thermal underwear.  No matter how prepared I thought I was, nothing prepared me for the amazing sight of Roseberry Topping completely white from head to toe covered in snow.  I was excited to rise to the challenge as I pulled into the car park. Open the door and fall flat on my behind!  I stepped onto ice!  Well fancy that, it’s not mud today it’s ice.  Oh yes, how could have I thought so confidently that this time would be different than the last time?  There was mud alright, under the several inches of ice!  Where there was no ice, there was enough snow to make an army of snow men.  I couldn’t believe my luck.  Of course my boots were great, I just needed crampons! 

There was some comfort in not being the only one falling over every few feet and there certainly in not being the only one sliding down the path on my behind.  You will be glad to know I was not one of the many people who turned around and I did get to the top, had my very quick lunch again and made my way down.  I was cold, very wet and tired, hard work trudging through the snow and glad to be back in my car. 

I can’t imagine what I will find the third time I try Roseberry Topping.  My experiences so far have been discovering unexpected mud avalanches, or waist deep snow!  Oh, I don’t know, maybe next time aliens have landed there and are waiting to snatch us up or some unknown tropical insects has taken it over and decided to reproduce by the millions and make Roseberry their home. I’ll wait and see ….

Guest speaker!

I am delighted to tell you about my experience as guest speaker at West Park School this week.  On Tuesday morning just before assembly I was invited to talk to the students, Teachers and Head Teacher about my charity challenge.  I presented a short 10 minute slide show telling them all about the mountain, where it was, how high it was, what sort of animals live there and of course about UNICEF.  I asked the students if they would like to come to school one day of this week and instead of wearing a uniform they could pay £1 to come dressed casual and all their money would go towards our target of £3000 for UNICEF.  They were a fabulous audience and they were all excited to help me with donations.  I felt rather proud to be part of this school (my two daughters Natalia and Sofia attend this school) and very supported by all the lovely faces staring back at me and that’s the best feeling ever.  It’s moments like this that really keep you going on with the challenge, even before I get to Africa, even before I’ve seen the mountain.  It left me feeling on top of the world.

Palma

Sunrise Over the A19

I've done some bloody stupid things in my life but today has to take the proverbial biscuit. For some unfathomable reason I decided to walk to the train station this morning, which sounds perfectly reasonable until you factor in one tiny detail: I live nearly 8 miles away - in the middle of the effing country.

I left the house bright and early at 5:30am, completely failing to realise that it would be pitch black outside and all that snow might prove to be a tiny bit hazardous, but when you plan on climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro suddenly anything seems possible. Any sane person would have changed their mind and called for a cab, but not me. I'm like Rocky Balboa on the steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art.

What was I thinking? It was bad enough that I had to navigate country lanes with no lights and no footpath to speak of, but the oncoming traffic (which by the second hour was truly terrifying) shaved 10 years off me. Six people beeped at me. Annoyance or sympathy? I'll never know.

There was one amazing moment though - when I saw the sun rise over the A19 flyover. Granted, it's not quite as romantic or epic as Kily (damn, I just called it Kily) but you've got to start somewhere, and the last time I was still conscious for a sunrise was probably 20 years ago.

Anyway, I felt great when I arrived at work in time for my 9am class. I even had enough time for a lovely breakfast. In retrospect I probably should have eaten before I started the walk. Several staff members said I'd never looked so cheerful at such an ungodly hour, and I felt quite giddy and overly pleased with myself all day. Endorphins, eh?

The bad news is that my other ankle is now killing me and I'm writing this with an ice pack on. Either the boots are faulty or I have incredibly weak ankles (I could have been a classic Doctor Who companion!). Either way, it doesn't look good.

Oh, and Palma's husband, Joe, seems to think that I walked two miles when I told him about my escapades this morning. TWO MILES??? In two hours??? Just how unfit does he think I am? Strewth!

Neil

One in a Million...

NEVER USE THE INTERNET TO CONDUCT MEDICAL RESEARCH!

I really should take my own advice. I'm scheduled to have my Yellow Fever vaccination tomorrow morning and, like the fool that I am, I decided to check out any potential side-effects online. I was prepared for the sore arm, the rash, the tiredness and the headache but I wasn't prepared for the fact that I have a one in a million of chance of dropping dead in the waiting room. If I'm really lucky I won't get any side effects for up to a week later - and then I'll drop dead six days after that.

I'm starting to believe that Joe and Sue have managed to come up with the perfect crime. What better way to get rid of their spouses so they can elope together? If the mountain doesn't kill us then the preparation might. It's like something out of an episode of Cracker.

And if the Internet isn't putting the willies up me, it's the TV. Ever since agreeing to this increasingly insane expedition I can't move for programmes about people risking certain death in the clouds. Last week I accidentally stumbled upon a documentary about people dropping dead on Everest, and today - while I was trying to eat my dinner - Extreme Dreams: The Ultimate Challenge showed a man moments away from dropping dead due to altitude sickness. He had to be wrapped up in what looked like a giant condom and if he had gone to sleep he would never have woken up. What a way to go.

What the hell am I doing?

I can't even escape it on the radio. Every morning on the way to work Chris Moyles is banging on about it and it's only going to get worse.

I'm also starting to feel frustrated at the lack of progress I'm making. After last week's two hour hike I appear to have damaged a tendon near my ankle bone. This means I can't wear my boots until the swelling goes down. It's thoroughly depressing.

However, in other news, I finally joined a gym. I did this over the phone. Well, it was too much like hard work to actually go down there myself. I have an induction scheduled for next week with an ex-Army Sergeant and I'm having flashbacks to school P.E. lessons already.

Neil

Get On Your Boots

This weekend has been fairly eventful. Yesterday, the wife and I took a trip to Pickering, North Yorkshire, to visit The Ryedale Rambler which Palma had recommended to me as a great place to buy my kit.

The shop looked tiny from the outside but once inside I was overwhelmed by the sheer choice of equipment that confronted me. Where to start? Everyone in the shop seemed to be seasoned walkers who knew exactly what it was they were after but I felt completely out of my depth. Thankfully, the staff (Anne and Jonathan) were fantastic and it wasn't very long before I was taken upstairs to get fitted for my boots.

Anne gave me a look of horror when I told her I was a hiking novice intending to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro but she seemed to think I'd given myself plenty of time to get into shape. She told me that some people came to the shop to buy their boots less than two weeks before engaging on a major climb and they had been known to refuse to serve people who didn't take things seriously enough!

Anyway, after lapping up Anne's great advice, and having tried on several pairs of boots, I finally plumped for a pair of Meindl Burma Pro MFS GTX, which sounds more like a brand of sports car than a pair of shoes. They come with Gortex lining and Memory Foam, which means they are, to use the technical term, the dog's bollocks.

They are certainly the most expensive footwear I've ever bought in my life but they are also the most comfortable.

I also suffered my very first walking-related injury - even though I never actually left the shop. In my haste at making sure that the boots were tight enough I pulled on the laces with such force that I tore all the skin off one of my fingers. Doesn't bode well, does it?

Today, I went on my first substantial walk. Two solid hours on the local cycle track. The first hour was wonderful and I had a bounce in my step (mainly thanks to these incredible shoes that make you feel like you are walking on air) but by the second hour I was battling against icy gale-force winds, sleet and a pain in the groin area that's slightly worrying.

When I returned home the only parts of me that weren't frozen solid were my feet. Result.

Neil