13th September - Barranco Camp

So I’ve reach the end of day 3 and boy was it tiring. I awoke with a mild headache which quickly vanished and breakfasted on the usual porridge and omelette. Had a fruit salad thrown in too, so I was fully fuelled for the journey ahead. The night/afternoon before I had done some scouting and met a woman called Stephanie. She was German and we had a good time chatting as we wandered some of the trails around camp. We crossed some of these of the way to Lava Tower which stands at 4800m. On the way the party had to withstand continuously changing weather: hard winds, instant clouds, brilliant sunshine. It seemed that out lives had become continuous hill and continuous changes of clothing.

I started to feel a bit breathless during this stage and developed the technique of breathing a lot harder than the physical exertion required. It worked. So long as I kept breathing deeply, my headache was kept at bay. And then nausea struck and I began to wonder what I was doing here. I looked up and saw the towering peak that was Kilimanjaro lofting above me and I knew that I was here to make the summit. I loosened my hip clasp and immediately felt better. It’s the little things that make all the difference.

Being absolutely fastidious about hygiene is essential. Dust and dirt get everywhere so it’s imperative that hands are kept clean or it’s going to end in diarrhoea. And, believe me, the last thing you need out here is a continuous pressing need to visit the long drops. A quick description of the lavatorial facilities is called for:-

A black shack standing alone,
A place where only spiders call home,
A great heaving smell,
Reminds one of Hell.

A little slotty for the potty,
An awkward squeeze,
And that’s your lotty,
In a place that’s bad for your botty.

(I’m not a poet)

Once we reached Lava Tower we were all feeling a lot better. The headaches had mostly subsided and I had discovered an addiction for Kendall Mint Cake. Also known as Rocket Fuel. Fair dues, it got me out of a lot of sticky patches.

So we climbed the tower – straightforward rock scrambling – and took lots of piccies at the top. But we had ascended very slowly and we were the last of the people still walking that day so Freddy set a fast pace downhill. After 2 hours of near continuous steep descent my knees were starting to complain. The cloudbase had rolled in and everything looked very spooky and isolated. The headache was still being kept at bay, but only just, and it was only through sheer grit and determination that I made camp. I was shattered, right at the end of my line and all I wanted to do was crawl into my sleeping bad and sleep. But first I had to have supper.

Clemence made a lovely soup, meat with two veg. and a fruit salad to finish up. With great effort I managed to eat most of the meat, soup and fruit but then I had to call it a day. I had taken on loads of fluid throughout the day so I braced myself for the inevitable Midnight Dunny Run. There’s something special about waking up with a pressing need and having to extricate oneself from the cosy sleeping bad; fumble for boots and finally step out into the sub-zero inky blackness. Only problem is: I can’t see it. A bloody pain the arse is what it is. And the worst thing is trying to find the tent where are no clear paths and there is no depth perception because you’re still half asleep.

Still, it’s all part of the Kilimanjaro experience.