The Scary Bit

"Extreme fatigue, persistent headache, dizziness, a loss of appetite and disturbed sleep" This cheery sounding description leads into a more serious side to our Kili adventure, altitude sickness, or as it is often referred to Acute Mountain Sickness (AMS). The symptoms above sound like (and indeed are compared to) a hangover but actually refer to mild AMS as experienced by the majority of people who attempt this climb. You might think a lack of fitness would be a major reason people fail to reach the summit but this is not the case. The vast majority of those who fail to complete the trek fall victim to AMS. So what is it? And why are we taking it very seriously indeed?

We all know we need oxygen to breathe and many of us have a vague idea about the air getting thinner as you get higher. At sea level oxygen forms around 20% of the atmosphere and this percentage remains constant as the altitude increases. What does change is air pressure, this reduces by approximately one tenth for every 1000 metres of altitude. It is air pressure which helps push air into our lungs as we breathe so as the pressure decreases the amount of air we take in with each breath reduces. AMS symptoms can start to appear at 2500m and Kilimanjaro's peak stands at almost 6000m meaning that climbers take in 50% less oxygen than at ground level.

Ok, so mild AMS although unpleasant doesn't sound unbearable, a small price to pay for the experience surely? After all you can just take an aspirin can't you? And anybody can cope with a few days of feeling a bit tired? Unfortunately this is where the real risks begin and I start to scare our mothers (sorry mum!).

I have described mild AMS but there are two further stages - moderate and severe. If you are unlucky enough to progress to moderate AMS the nausea becomes actual vomiting, aspirin and paracetamol will not touch the headache and you will be permanently out of breath even when sitting still. Not pleasant. But it can and does get worse.

Severe AMS has a new range of fun symptoms on top of the existing ones including confusion, slurred speech, lack of coordination and an inability to stay awake. It can also include a gurgling sound on breathing, a watery cough and blueness around the lips. The risk of death is very real. At this point the only option is to go down the mountain, and quickly. Figures are difficult to find but my book says that there are at least ten deaths per year. As many as 50% of people are forced to descend because of AMS. Surprisingly the fittest people are more likely to suffer from AMS as they tend to ascend faster and not follow the advice to go slowly. Dele and I would not be classed as superfit and have every intention of going slowly, in fact we may be in danger of being asked to hurry up a bit!

So having thoroughly scared our families, what can we do? Although it is impossible to predict how our bodies will react there are some things we can prepare for. We have chosen a longer route with a higher success rate and have included an extra day to acclimatise and thus improve our chances of success. The body can, given time, adapt to higher altitudes. It does this by producing more red blood cells, making your heart beat faster and making you breathe faster and deeper - our bodies really are miraclulous things! On the mountain eating and drinking are very important (which shouldn't be a problem for us!) and we have a pact to look after each other and force each other to descend if necessary.  Other than that we have to wait and see!

So, when you start to receive sponsorship requests from either, or both of us please pause and remember that although this will be an amazing experience we are taking significant risks and would really appreciate all you can offer our chosen charities.

How We Lost the Malverns

After our slighlty problematic first walk we decided to go bigger and better and headed off for the weekend with the intention of tackling a route across the Malverns. Walking boots on, waterproofs packed, water bottles filled and packed lunch checked we set off from Dele's house in Ross on Wye. Having learnt our lesson in Horsham (or so we thought) we stopped along the way and purchased a range of maps and carefully selected a challenging but straightforward route across the hills. Knowing that we were going to be walking for several hours we stopped at the public toilet for an essential last stop. Chatting away and laughing at my Dad's joke about rescue helicopters we followed the path into some trees. Stopping to admire some flowers we forgot to actually check the map and had in fact headed off in completely the opposite direction to the hill footpaths.

Dele and the pretty flowers

Unaware of our error we strode on happily confident that we wouldn't go wrong this time. We were slightly puzzled when we came to a fence with no gates or gaps but shrugging we clambered over and continued. We did start to wonder about the lack of hills but as we could see one in the distance we weren't too worried. Why it didn't occur to us to check the map at this point we'll never know.

We became increasingly aware of the lack of hills and also of the fact that we seemed to be the only ones who had used this route in weeks. I think we both knew we had made another mistake although neither of us wanted to admit it.

A tad overgrown!

It was at this point we found the cows. Now we both grew up in a small village and had in our schooldays even milked a cow. This however was something different. At the sight of us what seemed like hundreds of cows started running across the field cutting us off from the exit. We were convinced that they would move once we got nearer but they didn't, they just started heading closer in what we somewhat hysterically decided was an attack pattern. Whilst I gibbered incoherently Dele decide to phone her other half to inform hin we were being chased by mad cows. Quite what we expected him to do I don't know. We eventually escaped the mad cows by essentially shutting our eyes and running for the gap.

They look small and harmless here but trust me they were big and loud and very very scary!

An hour later we found ourselves near a very tempting looking pub. We discussed our options in depth and eventually (and somewhat reluctantly) decided to continue walking as if we gave up so easily in England how would we manage halfway up a mountain in Tanzania? Little did we know it but the car was in fact a mere 15 minutes up the road. I won't repeat what we said when we discovered this fact later but it would require a lot of bleeping if broadcast before the watershed.

Several more hours later the rain had set in and we were to be found at a road junction, swearing at our multitude of maps and wondering where on earth we were. Convinced we had found a route we decided to cut round the edge of a farmer's field. What with a recent ploughing and the almost constant rain we were quickly back in the muddy hell of our first walk. My boots acquired an inch thick layer of mud which weighed a ton and my sense of humour faded rapidly as once again we ended up back where we started. Finding yet another footpath we ended up in a field of corn taller than we were. This time it was Dele who lost her sense of humour!

Seriously muddy and cross!

Trudging along in despair we sought directions from a woman on a horse who I think thought we had escaped from a lunatic asylum. We were wet, scratched, hot, tired and extremely muddy so I can't say I blame her!

Not a happy face!

Following the directions we found ourselves at a church that didn't appear on any of our maps and which had at least five different footpaths leading from it. It was late afternoon and starting to get dark so we finally admitted defeat and summoned a taxi to take us back to civilisation.
Our final conclusion: thank god we'll have guides on Kilimanjaro!

Things we learnt

- we cannot read maps
- we have little sense of direction
- cows can be scary
- we can laugh at ourselves and each other
- even in stressful situations we didn't argue
- it is possible to lose very big hills
- mud is very heavy


More recently we have successfully both found and walked the Malverns without a hint of a problem (unless you consider being overtaken by little old ladies and their dogs a problem!).

Training Walk One

Having decided to climb a mountain we decided we ought to practise this walking lark. As a gentle introduction we decided to walk around some local woods. Route plotted and maps in hand off we headed only to be greeted by pouring rain and lots of mud. Undaunted we set off in good spirits and munched our way through some energy giving supplies (lollies!). About an hour later the path ran out and we were faced with a rather busy looking road. The rain had become heavier and our mood had changed somewhat. After trekking along the verge for what seemed like forever and ignoring the puzzled looks of speeding drivers we finally found a route off the main road. We then encountered another problem with a rather friendly dog that followed us for at least a mile before finally losing interest.
Back on muddy footpaths once again we felt very wet but increasingly pleased with our progress.We walked on happily chatting and ignoring the rising mud levels before realising we were now ankle deep in it and finding it increasingly difficult to move at all. As we struggled on we came across a sign declaring that the footpath was closed due to muddy conditions under foot. After wondering how we ended up on a closed route we forged a route through some bushes and brambles onto a sturdier and drier path. We checked the map carefully and concluded we must be at that particular spot. Happier now we confidently strode on ignoring the strange feeling of deja vu. However it became impossible to ignore the fact that we had gone in a complete circle and were now back where we started only significantly wetter and muddier. Clearly we need to work on our map reading skills!

Getting Fit

As I mentioned before I am not exactly known for my physical fitness but it was finally dawning on me that this was going to be quite difficult and perhaps I ought to start the mysterious process known as ‘getting fit’.  This was where Dele stepped in; she had been frequenting a gym for at least a year and suggested I joined her. Several classes later and the discovery of muscles I didn’t know I had I realised that I was actually enjoying the classes, well most of them. We never quite got the hang of Zumba, it requires a degree of coordination which we clearly lack and after repeatedly bumping into people, heading in the wrong direction and getting very frustrated we admitted defeat. Boxercise became a favourite, mainly because it involved punching things which proved a fantastic stress relief after a manic day.  With the fitness schedule going well we decided to start some training walks. However things did not quite go to plan...

And then there were two

Quite early on I realised that while I was happy to climb alone it would be much nicer to travel with a friend. So I took to Facebook again and employed my best persuasive skills (obviously I didn’t mention the sickness and death part!). After various rejections I finally found a travelling companion. Adele (Dele) and I have been friends for as long as we can remember. We’ve had the odd falling out – I slapped her because someone told me to; she retaliated by chasing me home and hitting me with her lunchbox – but our friendship has lasted over 30 years, surely it could survive ten days up a mountain? With the two of us the planning took on a new dimension – what sweets should we take (for energy of course) and exactly how many toilet rolls would we need? We also started thinking about equipment and visited an outdoor leisure shop. It was a whole new world with its own language. Within days I was discussing the wicking properties of various fabrics, the thickness and thermal qualities of socks and the merits of different types of water purification.  Shopping lists compiled we finally sat down and set the date – August 2012.

The Beginning

So there I was in the summer of 2010 having listlessly done all the usual holiday pursuits – the beach, the ice cream, the frustrating attempts to get a suntan (people need to put on sunglasses to avoid the glaring whiteness of my legs)  I thought to myself, let’s find a new challenge. This proved trickier than expected – all the usual options sprang to mind – bungee jumping, a marathon, jumping out of a plane – but none seemed appropriate. I don’t trust what is essentially a piece of elastic, collapse in a wheezing heap if I run ten yards to the bus and spend my time on aeroplanes praying for them not to fall out of the sky, jumping from one just seemed ridiculous.  Quite by chance I noticed a picture of an old work colleague on Facebook and remembered that she had climbed Mount Kilimanjaro. A spark was ignited and so began an obsessive research process where I read everything Google had to offer and purchased two books in as many days.  Somehow whilst making careful observations about the importance of eating and the lack of toilets I skirted around the issue of altitude sickness (more on that later) and potential death. Kilimanjaro madness had caught my imagination and that was that - the decision was made and the planning began in earnest.