And we’re off again. Another jaunt, into the unknown to find/lose myself depending on who you talk to. Having been at a wedding the night before, little or no sleep and being filled with stories of kidnappings, altitude deaths and scam, to say I was on edge would have been putting it kindly. The first of three flights went off without a hitch, however I wouldn’t get so lucky on the second.

I settled in nicely to my window seat, content with my lot and inevitably sleep. Suddenly, I am aroused to the site of a larger elderly woman fainting and wetting herself in the aisle. Ah shite. We are pulled out of our seat and rehoused in the emergency aisle. Now instead of sleeping I am trying to workout how I get my stuff back. I eventually sum up the courage to go get my stuff, my socks getting wet in the process. As I am reaching for the bell to ask the flight attendant for another eye mask and ear plugs, there is another cry from just behind me. An old Indian dude has fainted and the place is carnage again. For fucksake, this is a Famine coffin ship. Get me off it.

Thankfully the next leg went unscathed. Out of the airport in Dar, go left to the Internal transfer terminal, into a weird holding area, flight to Kilimanjaro is fine and taxi I’d booked through Monkey Adventures for $35 was there waiting for me. I am not sure how much it should cost but considering the journey I was happy to pay it.

Lindrin Lodge was also part of the payment. I was initially worried when we turned down this dirt road, however when we entered the property it was actually really nice. A quick bite to eat, that took about an hour to make, and I was straight to bed to sleep as our briefing for Kilimanjaro wasn’t until 6pm.

Knock knock! Wtf, this briefing is two hours early and I’m pulled out of bed. Two of our guides, Tino and Keekenja were joined by a bubbly German girl, Marina. The briefing was grand but we realised we’d no snacks and some of the equipment, ski pants for example. The list they used was slightly different from the one on their website, which was annoying.

That night, post another nap and an hour long wait for dinner, I sat with Marina and two American lads. The two lads had just finished Kili and were offering tips. One had vomited 25 times on the way to the summit. Great, that really helped with the background anxiety. Anyway, feck it, more sleep is all I care about now.

And yes Ma', I'm fine.

The bedside phone rings to inform me I still haven’t got breakfast and the guides were here. A lie it transpired, but I hurried none the less. We collected the rest of the group and heading to the rental shop. I rented: Ski Pants (needed), down jacket (needed), extra water bottle (not needed, was a fucking nuisance carrying it, the 3L camelback was loads) and mittens (needed) all for $60. We withdrew cash, stopped at a supermarket for snack. I got some chocolate bars with was loads and then finally we were on the way.

A note about withdrawing cash for tips. I would strongly advise withdrawing and organising before you get to the mountain. Once you are there, there are no ATMs and you will spend ages in the office after dividing up and calculating what you want to give. It is generally about $270-$300 depending on how much you have or how good they are. You could aim for the higher end and then reduce if they are shit. It is also worth understanding, the porters etc. don’t get paid as far as I know. About $1000 of your fee goes to the National Park and the Forestry. Your porters you barely meet but they carry your bag, tent, mess tents, toilet (if you get one) all the way up. Then they set the up and cook for you. Madness.

There were seven hikers in my group. Rod (English, 63, living in Canada), Marina (German, early 30s, travelling for 8 months and my tent mate), Elizabeth and Kelly (two English school friends, 28), Hailthor (Iceland, 40, living in Switzerland and looked about 30) and lastly, Alfredo (Costa Rican/USA, 57, a top baby doc in Houston).

The bus ride took a few hours to the starting point of the 7-day Lemosho route. A stop in a village for tea, a stop at the Forestry check point and then lunch at the National Park station where all our gear was weighed and we were given lunch and chatted. The actual start point for the trek is actually several kms away from there through dirt roads. With the heavy rain, the road was slippy and all the buses were getting stuck. Our driver floored it and skidded his way through the mud. Never thought I’d say I was rallying in a bus.

The route kicks off in the forest zone. The one thing everyone say is “Pole Pole” meaning “slowly slowly” in Swahili. Fuck me, they weren’t kidding. The pace could be best described as ‘looking for something on a supermarket shelf’. Ponderous stuff. I tried to silence the competitive instinct and try enjoy it. And it was good. We chatted, saw Columbus monkeys, baboons and the rainforest and sunset was gorgeous before arriving at Mkubwa Camp (2650M) for our first night.

The toilets in all the campsites are rotten but thankfully for us Rod and Alfredo had rented ones. If you are with a group going the extra bit to rent one is worth it. Dirty Protest stuff. We were treated to our first meal and my God they stuff you. No one stayed up after dinner so after a minor incident of being bitten by some angry ass ants we hit the hay.

And yes Ma', I'm fine.

I woke slumped into the bottom corner of the tent. It’d been pitched on a slope so every time I rolled over I’d fall further and further down. The course of Diamox had commenced and I was pissing non-stop. At 3am, I decided I could squeeze it in no longer. Thank God, I did. The moon was out and it was nearly like daylight. Mixed it the rolling wave of monkey shouts, informing me just how close they were, it was an epic moment. Not even the toilets could ruin this.

I washed myself in a basin before hammering into a colossal breakfast; fruit, pancakes, porridge and more and then got on our way. I had been acutely aware of a problem which was ever present for the week. How do you fart when hiking? Genuinely, you need to go but if you let it fly considering the height difference, you’d essentially be forcing someone else to task your breakfast. The constant squeezing in hurt like fuck though. My constant peeing did offered some opportunities but honestly, not much.

Today we would be having lunch in Shira 1 camp but unlike the 8-day trek we would be skipping that and continuing to Shira 2 (3850M). The first half of the day was really nice. The weather was good, Mount Meru and its surrounding flat lands crept through the forest canopy before transitioning to the heather zone.

I’m carrying all these snacks I was told to bring. Fecksake, I’m basically carrying weight here but I’d a simple solution. Give it all away. I was passing out chocolate like Willy Wonka. For a few days, this was a genius idea but later in the week as I began to crave sugar and my genius idea was no longer looking so sharp.

We climbed through thick heather hillsides, slowly gaining attitude and singing to keep the mood light but unfortunately into the fog. My theory was to stay in short and t-shirt as long as possible but the winds were thwarting that now too. Shira 1 is in a barren, exposed location and the wind was whipping through the mess tent. It hadn’t gotten cold yet though so I wasn’t concerned.

After lunch, the heather thinned back live just exposed rock and a much cooler landscape. All the while my primary concern were the clouds rolling in, in the distance. As I staring at the horizon my frustration was being to build with the girls peeing. Look, we all need to pee but fuck me, you don’t need to become Dora the Explorer to find a quiet spot. Anyway, we were still about an hour from camp when the rain did come in, so I was mad to get into camp. I was still in shorts so I wasn’t majorly impressed but it wasn’t too bad.

Another huge feed and the guides took our vitals; heartbeat and oxygen levels. There is always a bit of competition to see who will have the best. They advocate drinking about 3Ls a day of water. The idea is to dilute your blood so it circulated easier. I was busting a shite and was waiting for everyone to go to bed so I could nip into one of the private toilets on the sly. Stuck at the back of the tent, I was squirming under the table and Marina kept asking question. God damn, shut up, shut up! Christ, someone else weighs in. People, I’m hurting here. Finally, they call it a night and I hung about for a few minutes. Relief, thank God.

And yes Ma', I'm fine.

Iced tents and clear skies greeted us. We got our first glimpse of a snow capped peak too, although not the main on. We watched the sunrise creep towards us with Mount Meru in clear view. Amazing views and we got to eat breakfast outside too. The hike out of camp was straight uphill, finally we are gaining altitude. The vegetation that surrounded the camp faded to desert. Again, I could see the clouds starting to roll in and we were having extended pee breaks. Great, fucking great! We started to cross a volcanic valley and as we hit the peak on the far side it was time for the wet gear.

The purpose of today’s hike was for acclimatization. We would go from Shira 2 (3850M), up to the Lava Tower (4650M) and then back down to Barranco Camp (3900M). The guides were telling us most people who will struggle with altitude later struggle at Lava Tower. The only thing I was struggling with was this poxy rain. From the time put the wet gear on, to getting to Lava Tower I barely remember. It was head down and plod along miserably.

Getting into mess tent for lunch was a welcome relief. After a huge lunch, we waited for as long as possible before leaving, cowering from the elements. Alfredo arrived in after we’d finished so we were happy to convince ourselves it was to keep him company. Unbeknownst to us, to leave Lava Tower we would have to climb down a rocky cliff that had essentially become a waterfall and due to our delaying it was packed with porters. Large sacks were falling and tumbling down, porters were cutting you off and overtaking and muddy water was bucketing down.

The rest of the day was fairly uneventful. I just put the head down and trudged along. We did come across a forest of cool trees called Giant Gorundsels. They are 100’s of years old but are only about 15 feet high. They have a cotton bark that keeps them warm from the exposed elements. A few of them had a load of cotton missing, probably be dead in a few years. Another fuck up by the humans.

With about 30 mins to camp, Marina needed to go toilet. As we stood there in the pissing rain, she went off exploring for the perfect toilet rock. Ah, fuck off! I’m done! G’luck! I marched off into Barranco camp alone.

Because we were so late leaving lunch we had to set up right at the edge of camp. I nipped into the bushes for a piss and when I came out there was a waft of shite. Ah ffs, you’re kidding me. Who the fuck shits in the bushes?! I cleaned it off as much as possible and then porters cleaned the rest. Spent the rest of the night in flip flops then. At least the moon was out and it was epic.

And yes Ma', I'm fine.

The Barranco Wall is a 300m high cliff wall above Barranco Camp (3900M). We were climb the wall taking us to 4200M and then slowly descend for the rest of the day to get to Karanga Camp (4000M). It was still pissing rain and the streams we crossed to get to the Wall had transformed into gushing, turbulence rivers. Upon crossing the Wall was actually a fairly interesting climb. We were using both our hands and feet and you had to stay focused as porters and hikers founded various routes up. Despite the rain, I was really enjoying it. Every step you were gaining altitude, you were forced to stay tuned in and crucially I was warm.

There was a mini sense of achievement at the top as we waited for the girls to pee. Diamox was going to work. However, they all went one by one, on top of this exposed cliff face. Any sense of warmth, had evaporated. Great, fucking great. Eventually, when everyone was ready, Elizabeth wanted to get a photo. A photo?! What the fuck do you want a photo off?! Were are on top of an exposed cliff, soaked and cold and you can barely see a thing. Who is there right mind is going to see that photo and say ‘Class photo, look epic. Wish I was there’. No one!! Fucking no one!! That’s who.

For the next hour and half we marched with barely a word said. I mulled over getting that stupid photo and how poxy social media is for the duration. My train of thought was briefly interrupted by our guide Johnson stopping and informing us there was coverage at this spot. Great, I can post the photo of me in a fucking cloud, get the fuck!!! Thankfully, everyone was in a similar mood and we continued. In fact, Rod who was told to lead us, as he was the slowest, pushed on constantly. Honestly, without his continued pace I may have lost my shit. I thanked him of as much that night.

As we got towards Karanga we zig-zagged down into a valley and there were small trees and shelter again. A few rays of sun almost penetrated the clubs. Relatively speaking, it was bliss. We paused in the stillness of the bottom, unaware of what we would face above.

The short hike to the top left us totally exposed in the cold and wet gale. We signed in as quick as possible and ran to find our tents. Sadly, our tents weren’t pitched. The mess tent was just about up but struggling majorly in the wind. It was miserable. Everything was soaked and the porters had all been hiding around the gas stove in the kitchen tent. Keekenja, went ballistic. For the rest of the night everything was soaked. The tents are hung inside first meaning the rain was lashing into the inner section before the outer waterproof section could be hung. The mattresses were soaked, my bag wasn’t waterproof so it and the clothes within were wet. I spent a while using dirty socks and clothes to dry out the tent. The book in my day bag was now double the weight.

The only upshot was there was a cake for Elizabeth after dinner. The porters all came in and sang before sharing around the cake. Elizabeth drank half a small red wine bottle, she’d pay for that the next day.

And yes Ma', I'm fine.

Sunshine, finally. I’d every item of clothing hanging out. The fear I had now is that if my clothes were wet now, they’d free on the summit. Sadly, it didn’t last overly long. We were also greeted with the sad confirmation that Alfredo would be heading back down. His race was run. The night before we had tried to convince him to continue even as far as base camp but he decided, probably wisely, it was time to head back. He’d arrived at camp every night after dark. Going any further would have been a risk physically. 7 became 6.

The hike itself wasn’t overly memorable, it started to rain soon after we left camp so I just had the head down. There was no vegetation just exposed rock. The rain turned to sleet, then snow in instant. You could a have drawn a line at the exactly altitude it switched.

Having completed the reasonably short day from Karanga Camp (4000M) to Barafu Camp (4673M) a large crowd of shiver hikers, huddled against the wall of rangers hut. We were waiting for the porters to erect everything I think. Poor Elizabeth was shaking like a leaf. Wearing only leggings she was soaked through and the wine the night before had made her sick. It was a grim scene. Personally, though I was actually in pretty good form. This cheap ass poncho was working wonders, would recommend investing in a decent one if you ever head up Ma’.

So here we were, Base camp. Fuck me, tomorrow we’d be summiting. We couldn’t see a thing but we were fed lunch and sent to bed to try sleep. The thing you have to realise here is you will start hiking at 12am for the summit, therefore every bit off sleep is essential just to prevent you getting a tiredness headache. That being the first symptom of altitude sickness you don’t want to bring it on prematurely, I now know. Instead, sitting in my flip flops, I wrote down some things that had been on my mind and chatted to Kelly before eventually trying to sleep.

No joy there, up again for dinner, big feed and back to bed again. I decided now that everyone was asleep I’d nip into the toilet tent. It had been a few days so it hurt like fuck. When I went to flush it there was no water in the tank. Ah balls. Timidly, I went and found the toilet porter and guiltily reported my crime before scuttling into my tent.

This is the first time that I’ve had to wear something more than boxers to bed. I was covered up in under armour top and bottoms. Thankfully, the sleeping back I had was very good. It’s something I’d highly recommend Ma’. The head porter brought me my sopping boots. They were steaming but from as I set them down in the icy tent, I knew that would be that.

And yes Ma', I'm fine.

Here we go! With little or no sleep got we were woken at 12am. Judging by the numbers of people passing us, we would be one of last ones starting. The scene was incredible. The ski was clear and the stars and moon felt but touching distance away, slowly getting ever closer as we climbed. The white torch lights of the climbers flicked and flashed with every head rotation in the distance like a trail of illuminated snakes dancing up the mountain.

The first leg of the trek was up a slanted icey rock face before it become a more snowy and zig-zagged trail. The problem with this part of the climb is overtaking slower climbers. Ma, you can’t just overtake them, need to overtake them and continue going for a bit so they don’t pass you again once you take a break.

At the bottom of the slopes I was singing away and trying to keep spirits up. I’d no altitude effects as we were still likely below 5,000m and was feeling fresh. For some reason, over the course of the week I’d been singing Spancil Hill and the Foggy Dew in my head, or at least trying to remember the words as much as possible but I treated the crew to a few cheesy boyband classics like Robbie Williams and Backstreet Boys. After a while the guides to me to stop and to converse energy which was fair enough.

We continued overtaking our way up the mountain in the dark, after a while though the air began to thin and I was starting to feel the effects. I had three litres of water on my back and figured the quicker I suck that down, the lighter the load would be. This meant whipping off the gloves and going rooting, not the easiest. It also meant closing my mouth to suck it in which led to a big inhale of air after every drink.

I was at the back of the group with Hailthor in front of me. Every hundred metres in altitude he would call it out: “5,100m, 5,200m, 5,300m”. I would consider asking for an update but figured we had already passed it, ten minutes later I would here the call for the milestone I had mentally already surpassed. Bollox!

I was stuck in my own internal monologue, all of which I thought I would write here. Unsurprisingly, I forgot. The guides were singing now at this stage. In fact, they were singing that fucking Kilimanjaro song. The lack of oxygen was starting to get infuriating. It’s like the next morning after a gaff party and as you’re sitting there suffering some bastard is full of beans, pumping tunes and trying to get everyone going. One bullet, Bang, Bang.

At about 5,500m I was starting to get a headache. I figured it was a lack of oxygen as I would try hyperventilate. It worked a little bit but not enough to clear it. The sun had risen by now and the snow capped mountain was astonishing. The mountains was starting to turn into battle field. Hikers were slowing to a stop and guides could be seen literally pushing people up the mountain. With about 100m still to hike I was told to go on my own. Head down I trudged past other hikers, slightly cutting the switch backs. This wasn’t any display of machismo, in fact the opposite. I was lucky enough to have a energy left in my legs and wanted the fuck off this mountain, so I was going for it.

I hit the top of the crater called Stellar Point first and waited for the rest to arrive. The summit is about 70m higher but it’s just a gradual walk around a third of the crater. A few photos and I was ready to go as I’d been hanging around. Next minute Elizabeth sit down and opens her bag. Out comes make-up. Are you fucking shitting me?! We are running out of oxygen and you are doing your fucking make-up. Ah piss off. My patience was done and fucked off to the summit.

The top is just spectacular. Everything covered in snow, passing glaciers in the bright and brilliant sun, class. The queue for a picture at the summit sign was a bit mad. One as a group, one alone etc etc. I got two by myself and was then just hanging around for the rest of my group. Tino our head guide was asking me to hang around until Kelly made it. At this stage I’d been at the summit for 20mins or more. As soon as the group picture was taken I was gone. They sent a porter with me but he couldn’t keep up so I dropped him.

I tried to run down alone but kept falling in the snow as I got tired and my feet would bury in the snow. An aussie girl and her guide eventually offered to give me a hand so I followed them safely back to camp for some breakfast and a nap.

The mist was about when I got up for lunch. Straight after we descended but the mist transitioned to rain again and the poncos were back out. The only thing of interests for the first half was seeing the injured hikers getting carried down by porters and then when they overtook us when they got the patient on a bike single wheeled stretcher. The air did start to become richer though and the headache soon totally passed. Elizabeth, Hailtor and I tore down.