Get lost! – by Sheila

One thing is for sure – we will not get lost up Kilimanjaro!  I just Googled “Lost Kilimanjaro” and what came up were references to the snow cap gradually being eroded because of global warming, the guy who had lost his legs climbing the mountain and people having lost their luggage during the flight there.  I suppose the last of these is a bit of a worry.  We have been advised to take our warm clothes and walking boots on the plane and essential items as hand – not hold – luggage, in case our kit disappears into the ether.  At least we will be easily able to identify other lunatics heading for Kili when we get to Heathrow by their outfits, intended for sub-zero temperatures!

It is good to know, therefore, that there seems little possibility of us getting lost on Kilimanjaro.  A few people who climbed the mountain many years ago have told me sad tales of being misdirected on Kili – but nowadays the ratio of guides to climbers is such that getting lost would be nigh impossible.  Exodus Travels will provide us with one guide or assistant guide for every two climbers, which is lovely.  It means we can go at our own pace and not feel we are keeping others from going at theirs.

I have not been such a good guide to some of my friends recently!  My friend (and yesterday’s guest blogger) Mary visited us recently, and we recalled the time last year when I got us lost on a cycle ride between Seasalter and Faversham.  It was my fault for trying to take a short cut across a field instead of keeping to the well marked cycle path.  Mary, however, is one of these people who always finds something wonderful in every bad situation.  What she remembers is not my stupidity, but the fact that in a corner of the field she came face to face with a fox a few yards from her and they both stood stock still looking into each others eyes for a minute or so.  It is up there as one of her most exciting wild life moments!

Fox

More recently, I arranged to meet up with Irene, a friend I made when doing a teaching course in the early 1980s.  We had not seen each other for about thirty years, but she got in touch having read about 3GKiliClimb in our local paper, the Kentish Gazette.  She agreed to meet me for a country walk and pub lunch, so that we could catch up.  I think she envisaged that more of the chat would be in the pub than on the walk, but we got so engrossed in conversation that we got totally lost, and ended up walking for three hours.  Poor Irene!  She ended up having to squeeze down overgrown paths and climb over high gates.  She finally drew the line at walking through a field of horses: fortunately an alternative route got us speedily to the pub, before she collapsed!

Irene climbing over locked gate
Irene climbing over locked gate
Irene squeezing along an overgrown football
Irene squeezing along an overgrown footpath
Irene refusing to take the footpath through a field of horses
Irene refusing to take the footpath through a field of horses

Irene has just retired from being an extremely successful headteacher at a local school – I used to read about her in the local paper – and I was absolutely enthralled listening to how she had made a school in a very deprived area into an outstanding one.  Her most interesting innovation was in having piped classical music in every area of the school at all times.  It was possible for teachers to switch it off in the classrooms if appropriate – but the default position was good music in the background.  I can imagine that her school became a more peaceful and calming environment for many troubled children as a result of this, apart from the educational value.

I don’t think Irene holds a grudge against me for getting us so lost.  We were put right by two fishermen we met, who turned my map the correct way up, to help us find the pub, when we were miles off our course.  However, she did suggest that we didn’t meet again until September when KiliClimb will be over, and I will not be marching across the countryside quite so frenetically!

I am looking forward to meeting new people to talk to during the climb.  It is funny to think that by the time we get to (or fail to get to) the summit, we will probably have spent more time with some of these unknown people, than we have with many of our friends.  I can understand why many folk say that they have formed lasting bonds with other climbers, given how closely we will be living with them.  Just as well it will not be me holding the map, though, given recent experiences.