Day 10: June 19th, 2009
I wake at 6:30am after a long and blissfully uninterrupted sleep. I'm still feeling weak and exhausted but at least this is the last time I'll have to fight with a thermarest, a washy-washy bowl or a bloody kit bag for the foreseeable future. Palma has been to see the doctor again and it turns out that she probably climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro with bronchitis. Words fails me. And then I start coughing and realise that I've almost certainly caught it as well.
After breakfast, which miraculously includes sausages, it's time for the tipping ceremony to take place. It was decided by the group that Brian would make the speeches and he does a fantastic job of conveying our thanks to the guides and porters who have supported us so well on this trek. There isn't a dry eye in the camp when the porters show their appreciation by singing and dancing for us, and it's a moment that I will never forget.
I can't begin to express just how brilliant and kind they were to us throughout this incredible journey. The guides (Meke, Jackson, Pablo, Henry, Elly, Florence and Betwell in particular) were amazing, offering advice, encouragement and good humour at every turn, while the porters never failed to impress me. I'm still conflicted by a lot of what I saw but when I discovered that our tips provided them with a months wages in one single day, I began to make some sense out of the madness.
And then we begin a five hour trek back to the gate. And I hate every single minute of it.
I'm in pain most for most of the descent and I choose to go it alone in order to spare anyone my foul mood. My stitch is still there but my motivation isn't. I gave absolutely everything I had to reach that sign at Uhuru and I didn't leave anything in reserve. If someone had offered to airlift me off the mountain at that point I would have snapped their hands off at the wrist. Even a cold bottle of coke can't lift my spirits.
As I stagger despondently along the trail I come to a large tree stump. Suddenly, three young boys, no older than eight years old, emerge from behind it and they proceed to strip me like a car. Two of them make off with my water bottles while another tries to have it away with my walking poles. And then, as if by magic, they disappear into the forest again. I can hear a monkey laughing at me but I may well be hallucinating by this point.
After what feels like an eternity I finally make it to the gate. I sign out of the park and walk a short distance to a small village where the rest of the group are already tucking into a hearty lunch. I take the opportunity to have a crafty cigarette or three.
And then we stumble into some dilapidated mini-buses and depart. On the way back to the lodge we stop for some ice cream, and I witness Karsten losing it completely. I sense that ten days spent dealing with us has finally gotten to him when he goes ballistic because the shop doesn't stock any spoons. It's by far the scariest thing I've seen on the whole trip.
A couple of hours later we make it back to the lodge. Oh, the simple joys of life: a bed, clean sheets, clean boots, clean clothes, and even though the lodge has the worst shower in the world (barely a trickle of hot water can be coaxed out of the tap), it feels like I've checked-in to heaven.
That night, we congregate for a celebratory dinner. There are a group of American climbers sitting at the next table to us who are due to set off for Kili tomorrow. They look exactly like we did nine days ago. Nine days. But feels like forever. We can't help but look down on them in pity. They have no idea what they are in for and we secretly mock their wide-eyed innocence. A small part of me envies them. Today, as I write this, a larger part of me envies them even more.
After receiving a certificate and a medal (a medal? I've never received a medal for anything in my life!) we get pleasantly drunk around the pool while a few brave souls take their chances by accompanying Karsten to a night club in Arusha. God, I feel old.
And then I head for bed. A real bed. With sheets and pillows and everything.
Neil
Well done Neil, I have really enjoyed reading your blog. Perhaps one day we might take you up on your offer of being a full time Charity Challenge blogger and videographer. Paul can't shut up about his fantastic travel partners-in-crime. thanks for looking after him!
Posted by: chad anderson | July 14, 2009 at 10:35 AM