Month: February 2015

Been thinking about what I read in a couple of the reviews of the climb on Exodus’ web site. They said that on the morning of their final assault on the top, that their water froze, within half an hour of starting out. It seems that walkers wear a special day pack, called a camel, which has a water container in it, from which you can sip while walking. Dehydration is a real risk – you have to drink gallons. I wonder if the camel can be filled with hot water? That might give you a fighting chance of it not freezing straight away, and it would be like a lovely hot water bottle on your back.

The mind boggles at the amount of stuff the porters have to carry up. Not just our tents and our baggage – we softies just carry our day packs – but also the food, cooking equipment, and enough water to keep us all going more more than a week. I don’t suppose they take too much by way of clean clothing or anything else for themselves. I am glad to read that Exodus pay their porters more than any other company; it seems to me that they must have one of the toughest jobs in the world. It’s brilliant that women are trained as porters too: I imagine that didn’t happen until recent years.

Went to see GP this morning, to ask a great list of questions I had about the climb. I knew I would get sensible answers, because I remember him talking about climbing Machu Picchu with his teenage sons about 15 years ago. Turns out he has done quite a few high climbs, including to Everest base camp. He said one son – also now a doctor – has climbed Kili, but had advised his father against it – and I guess his father (my GP) is at least 10 years younger than me and extremely lean! My doctor wasn’t sure which route his son had taken, but thought it was 6 days (we are taking 8). He said his son had got very wet in rain early in the climb and had almost frozen to death on the final day up to Uhuru: he had not been properly equipped. He said that if I was going to do the climb, maybe he would have to rethink and do it too – he was clearly quite jealous! He told me I would need proper footwear: he was pleased to hear that I’d already got new boots. I had already worked that one out without the benefit of medical advice. I really hope it doesn’t rain on us, as I am sure that if clothing gets wet through, it is impossible to get it dry again.

I went through my list of questions:
1. Diamox – for altitude sickness. He said he didn’t recommend it as it could mask a dangerous condition and that the only solution to altitude sickness is to get down the mountain quickly. I am happy to run with that: don’t like the idea of taking non-essential drugs anyway.
2. Injections. He agreed that I would need a whole lot of them and advised me to look at the GP Practice website, which has a form to fill in and works out the timings for them. Sounds very organised.
3. General health check. He said I seem healthy, but he would take my blood pressure, which he did. He said it was slightly raised, but to come back in a month to check it again, as it might be to do with him running late(?!) I said my cholesterol had never been tested – but he said it had been, without ever mentioning it to me! He said it was spectacularly low, which is nice to know.
4. Bone density scan. I had a scan done about a year ago after I broke my leg, but never heard the outcome. He said there was no problem there, thank goodness.
5. Big Toe. I have had painful arthritis in my right big toe for about the last 6 or 7 years, and know I could have problems with it. A friend at Pilates had suggested I ask about a cortisone or lubricant injection. However the doctor said if he was going to go up Kili, he would take Dicloflex Sodium, which is a strong pain killer, and would not recommend injections. He wrote me out a prescription for Dicloflex and said I should try it out, to make sure I was ok with it. The details of the potential side effects are scary – but I will give it a whirl on the Amalfi Coast next month, and see if it does the job.

So that was a pretty good use of a 6 minute appointment! I would have been pretty disappointed to be told I was not fit even to embark on the climb. Whether I will get anywhere near the top is another issue – but I have really got into the idea of it now.

Got an email today from a friend recommending that I buy some thermal underwear from Damart for the climb.  She concludes her message by saying “I presume you wear the same clothes all the time you are on the mountain”.  Odd presumption!  I know I am not renowned for being super clean – but 8 days of sweating into the same clothes – I don’t think so.  I imagine one carries at least a few base layers and sock changes, not to mention catering for mid-day equatorial temperatures and also below zero mountain top night temperatures. I am looking forward to being told exactly what I will need. I see there is a lot of reduced ski wear in the shops just now: don’t imagine there will be a similar opportunity come August.

This little text exchange about “four generations” will hopefully help you see why I want my mum on that mountain with me. She’s funny, practical and just the right amount of slightly loopy!

To give you some context, my fabulous Grandma – Margaret McArthur Miller – born in 1913, was a little Scottish lady who wrote my mum a list of foods my dad – her only child – didn’t like when they got married. She once painted tiny roses over the walls of an entire room when she couldn’t get hold of wallpaper, and she whipped up a trendy, plunging evening dress for my mum’s sister when she couldn’t afford a new frock for a ball in the 1960s. A talented, resourceful, kind woman she took mum (who lost her own mother when she was 12) to her heart and considered her a daughter.

When I went to stay with Grandma & Grandpa as a student, I took my boyfriend with me and we were shown into the spare room with the candlewick bedspread on its double bed. Grandma brought in cups of tea in the morning and, when we were alone for a moment, said how much she liked his “lovely long hair”!

She watched sport, loved dogs, helped her neighbours, and lived until she was 99. Despite the below all sounding a bit mad for a little old lady who lived in the same council house in Rutherglen for most of her life, I’m pretty confident she would have had a good giggle at the below, and raised a glass of Harvey’s Bristol Cream to our plans!

My brother, Robbie, phoned me the other day, and I told him about the proposed trip.  He is super fit – goes out jogging every day – and seemed quite envious.  He told me he had done a couple of very long rally drives, and had a couple of tips to give me as a result of that.  I struggle a bit with the comparison, but hey!  The tips were:
1. That I should buy cheap knickers and chuck a pair on the fire every night, to avoid having to carry dirty washing home and
2. Take a paper back – not hard back – book to read, and each evening I should tear out the pages I have read and put them on the fire too, to avoid unnecessary weight.

Quite why a few pages and some dirty knickers would be a problem when you were driving a car escapes me, though I can see the relevance up a mountain.  However, everyone says you should give what you don’t need to the porters, as the Tanzanian locals have nothing and appreciate whatever you don’t need.  But could I bear to give anyone dirty knickers?  If I tried to put them in the fire, would I suffer public embarrassment, if someone tried to snatch them off for reuse?  And tearing pages out every night might be an idea, but they could be passed to someone else to read the next night and so on.  If you were both reading the same book, it would be something to talk about – in fact there could be a whole stream of people a couple of pages behind each other.

I put my ski wear in an empty drawer, now called my Kili drawer.  I also popped in a pillow slip, as I see a lot of people recommend putting your down jacket in one at night to form a pillow.  And while I was at it, I also put in my red umbrella, which was part of my kit as a volunteer driver at the Paralympics, but which was never used.  One of the reviews on the Exodus website refers to all of the porters having brollies, and recommended taking one. It seems an unlikely item, but even if I don’t use it, I can leave it behind with the porters, who seem to be grateful for anything.  I quite like the idea of bits of my kit having a future life. I have to bear in mind, however, that my bag to go up the mountain mustn’t be more than 15kg.  I am very glad that I won’t have to carry it: I don’t think I would get off the starting block if I did.

Went Nordic Walking with Nordic Walking East Kent group first thing this morning.  I did 5 training sessions with them in September last year, mainly because I had been given the poles by Jae’s mother in law last year.  She has no use for them now, as sadly, she can no longer walk at all because of Motor Neurone Disease.

It was a lovely bright sunny, but freezing cold morning.  The leader/teacher Erika, was happy to see me back and remembered I had a £5 credit with her, because I left a review on her site after training.

I definitely think NW is excellent training for Kili.  I have no opportunity to practice high level walking in Kent, but I did work up a good sweat this morning.

One of the other walkers – a fellow Scot – was just back from doing the Inca Trail. She said she had got up to just over 4000 metres and had thought she was about to die!  She said they got to that in two days.  I see from the Exodus itinerary that it takes more than 5 days to get that high on Kili, so maybe I will survive.

She said the worst thing was the toilet arrangements.  She talked about poo pots and pee pots in the toilet tents, and the importance of making sure she was first into the tent in the morning!!!  Although she is a very fit woman, it was clear during the warm up exercises that she couldn’t squat.  She said she hadn’t been able to do so even as a child.  She had therefore acquired a Shewee for use on her walk, which she highly recommended. However she said it needed a fair bit of practice in the bathroom at home, before setting off.  The one bloke in the group didn’t look too comfortable by this line of conversation.  I think my squatting is probably up to scratch:  plenty of practice for years at Pilates will hopefully stand me in good stead.

Popped into Aldi on the way back to pick up some food.  Saw they had a fishing/ski wear promotion on.  I do love the arbitrary things they sell.  On looking through the ski wear – never been ski-ing in my life and don’t expect I ever will – I saw they had “ski & sports base layers” reduced to £4.49 a set. Each set comprises a long sleeved top and long johns which claims to insulate and moisture-wick and has no cotton content.  I know cotton is bad for climbing because it retains moisture.  So I bought two sets, as it seemed great value.  Can always use them as PJs on cold nights in the caravan, if I am told they are the wrong thing.

Took a careful look at my walking boots, which had dried out after Tuesday’s soaking.  Realised that there is a bit of wear on the soles, where I have pronated and also cracking on the uppers.  I suppose they could be 10 years old.  I went to local outdoors shop to get another pair.  Young lad in shop – big chain – really helpful.  He showed no surprise at all that a white haired old woman should be buying boots to walk up Kili.  He said he had done it 3 years ago as part of a charity fund raiser.  He said the most important things to get right were the boots, the day pack and the mid-layer.  When I asked what a mid-layer is, he walked me over to the other side of the shop to show me and explain.  He said I would need a day pack that carried water and allowed me to drink as I walked.  I bought a nice pair of leather boots, which seem to be quite soft inside. The lad told me they would give me the support I needed for Kili. He said he had climbed Snaefell recently and had thought that was an harder climb than Kili.  Really???  I won’t be trying that then.

Told my co-cooks at Catching Lives about the plan to climb Kili.  All 3 very encouraging, especially Paula (a nun) who reckons I have the determination necessary. She actually knew which continent Kili is in, (unlike me and most of friends) having spent time teaching sewing to African tribe women in the past.  She sewed prayer shawls with them, incorporating pictures depicting their lives. The women live in very close proximity and the idea is that if you want a bit of peace and quiet, you put on your shawl.  That is a sign to the others to give you a bit of space.

Talking in the kitchen about nights on Kili got us talking about bed and bedroom temperatures. Most of us said we liked a cool bedroom, but a cosy bed.  Paula, however, said she liked a cold bed.  Maureen, looking askance at Paula, said “oh that’ll be your sack cloth and ashes bit, then”. Paula was very quick to reassure us that she doesn’t do sack cloth and ashes.  We all fell about laughing about the bizarreness of the conversation.

Maureen lives in the one very high block of flats in Herne Bay.  She says I should come over to her place to practice for altitude, by climbing up her stairs.  It probably is about as high as I am likely to get in East Kent!

Got bus to Folkestone with Anne to meet Frances, who lives there, for a walk.  We walked to The Warren in sub-zero conditions, with rain, snow and sleet swirling around us.  We all got chilled and soaked through.  Frances was so wet, she went straight home. Anne and I went for a jacket potato in a miserable cafe before getting on bus back. Anne says she was so chilled she had a whiskey and went to bed, when she got home, missing Scottish dancing. Husband Ken went dancing without her.

Both Anne and Frances thought that the issue of cleanliness would be a problem on Kili.  Both wash their hair daily.  Frances wondered if there might be mountain streams where one could wash one’s hair.

Oscar asked me one evening what I’d been doing at work that day. I explained that I’d been writing about the fact that Exodus (where I’ve worked since September) had decided to allow teenagers to climb Mount Kilimanjaro with their parents. Exodus has been taking people up Kili for decades, and funds a Porter School to make sure local people can make a good living out of the mountain, and visitors get a great, safe experience. This summer will be the first family departures they have run.

Oscar immediately said, “I’ll be a teenager this summer. Do you think I could climb a mountain like that?”. Other parents will know that you feel programmed at moments like this to respond with something along the lines of, “You can do anything you put your mind to Darling”, but it got me thinking. If a 13 year old could do it, then my tall, clever 13 year old could surely do it. And if my 13 year old could do it, surely I’d be able to do it. I started Googling and wasted hours deep into the night reading everything I could find about climbing Kili.

I soon discovered what all trekkers know; that the enemy of Kili climbers is altitude sickness. Everything I could find said that climbing Kili, on most routes, isn’t a technically difficult challenge – there are only a few bits of scrabbling / climbing, but it’s completely exhausting, relentless, and the altitude makes you feel terrible. Just how terrible seems to be random – not based on age, or fitness, but arbitrary luck.

I started to think about climbing the mountain with Oscar and, just as when I was in labour with Oscar, I knew I’d want my mum there. My mum is my hero; she’s funny, kind, practical, generous and determined. She and Oscar went to visit my sister in Australia for a month when he was nine and they both loved it. I knew that if I could get mum to agree to come too we’d have found our “team”. And she did!

So on the 19th of August this year the three of us intend to fly off to Africa and see whether that mountain will let us reach her summit. Please cross your fingers for us.