Yes I know, so far I'm feebily missing my Thursday updates, and I STILL havn't managed to complete my Kili recount. But I'm sure you understand I'm busy being unproductive in a myriad of ways.
Just before we get back to Kili, here is a quick insight into the mind of medical student:
When asked, now that she was a final year, what hobbies she had time for, the medical student - lets call her Chuckles ( it will become apparent after a few posts), responded first by delivering a glare sufficient to melt steel and replying very slowly, in a measuredly cold tone "Breathing"
Day 2 - Shira camp 3856m
Today has been wet, very wet, while we were in the rainforest the clouds kept us damp, but this has been something else.
This morning we woke, to a cloud free camp, and Kili's peak jutting out from behind the edge of the rise we were camped upon. The day started well, even getting in at least 5 mins of sunshine before we were engulfed in cloud. In fact things were so good i had sweat beading on the forehead, I’m sure you really wanted to know that!
Our journey to the next camp would consist of a 5 hr trek largely through scrub and what I was reliably informed would be “light and intermittent clouds”, well we walked in light cloud for the first hour anyway. The clouds then began to thicken, mixing in very light drizzle, but we were already damp from sweat and continued in our t-shirts, warmed by our exertions. At the turn of the first hour our guide demonstrated remarkable psychic/meteorological powers by suggesting we put our rain gear on. I dutifully dismissed him saying my t-shirt was already wet from the drizzle, 5 mins later the rain started with vigour and I was forced to stop, eat my own words and suit up.
The guides response to the rain was quite unique to say the least, I have never seen a sight quite comparable to a man walking up a mountain, scrambling up rocks, while holding a brightly coloured golfing umbrella aloft. I did chuckle a lot, before once again eating my words, or at least chuckles, the umbrella covered both him, AND his pack, and as it turned out that my pack wasn’t waterproof it would have been a real boon – I simply hoped that while my pack was wet, my DrySacs within would prove their worth
After about 3 hours, the powers that be an Kili decided that light rain was boring, and that a torrential downpour would liven our day so much. I have never been in rain like it for that period of time, constantly hoping to find somewhere to shelter so that I could check my pack. Finally lunch time arrived, and we took a break under a large overhang rock face, thankfully my things weren’t too bad. The rain had just begun to penetrate through my sleeping bag sack, but the pause allowed me to with a great deal of force, to cramp everything that could get wet into one DrySac. I also decided to completely suit up as well, I was putting a lot of faith now in a pair of heavy duty waterproof trousers and jacket for the next two hours.
I’d finally finished faffing, just as the guide finished his lunch, I’d not even started! He simply shrugged, picked up his umbrella and toddled off into the undergrowth for a toilet stop.
Lunch was a simply fair, half a chicken breast and one leg, a boiled egg, a plantain banana (which I have just never been able to develop a desire for), a carton of mango juice and sandwiches filled with jam, the colour of the aforementioned jam could only be described as radioactive, but when your wet and hungry, you hope it will imbue you with superpowers!
I didn’t think it could rain any harder, but after we set off it did. The path was under a standing 5cm of water, torrential rainfall implies a fair amount of heavy rain. I have stood under less efficient power showers, for a hour we trudged, muddy to our knees, and water dripping everywhere, but under our waterproofs, thankfully still dry. After an hour the intensity increased still further, how I don’t know, by now it was hammering on our heads, and the guide said it would be about 45mins to camp. At that we picked up the pace to fair trot and made it within 25mins.
Upon seeing the tents, we actually broke into a run, so damp, demoralised and dreary were we. I unzipped my tent, and literally dived in, and then promptly found myself confined to the tent for 3 hours, and the rain and wind tried to lift up the tent. I honestly can’t impress strongly enough, if you’re climbing Kili, take some good books for times like this. You’ll be tired, wet, and you can only play cards for so long before going crazy.
After 3 hours the rain stopped as abruptly as it had started and I bolted from my tent, surely faster than I had dived in, sometimes you’ll only know true happiness when you are sitting on a toilet!
After the rain clouds had been blown away, they were replaced by a warming sunshine and the camp, looked like the area surrounding widow Twankies wash room. The Shira camp is MASSIVE. A colossal scar on the side of the mountain, it looks like a tremendous war was fought there and finished with an atom bomb and we were the first people to return to grown zero after the scrub had returned. The guide explained, it looks so bare, because in the summer, up to 350 people could be stopping here every night. I just couldn’t imagine how horrible that must be. As I wandered through the scrub, sun warming my back and cool wet grass pushing into my Crocs, again the feeling of discovering the mountain for the first time came back to me.
The view from our camp looks directly over to Mt. Meru and it is a terrific view, the mountain I have already climbed, looked so close – so much closer than Kili had appeared when we were climbing it. As ever the rains came back, not with any great ferocity, but enough to have us scurry back to our tents. I read until dinner was brought to the tent, happy to be resting my feet. Night falls suddenly on the mountain, and by 8:00pm the stars were full and not another human light could be seen.
Now the stars, I thought they had been impressive in the Serengeti, but here, probably due to the height and the reduction in the atmosphere above us, they were like nothing I have ever seen. The sky practically looked 3-dimensional, rather than some dark blue sheet with pin pricks on it. I spent 10 mins walked around, wrapped against the cloud, and eventually found myself standing on a cliff edge in the dark in order to be able to get signal to make my phone call home. I tried as hard as I could to explain the wonder that was right over head, and practically shouted down the phone as a storm broke out across the valley on the slopes of Mt. Meru. It was a night that will stay with me for ever, and after my phone call, as I watched the lightening, standing on the cliff edge in the dark, I had a small weep. I’d been away for 6 weeks. Longer than I’d ever been away from Nana and Pa in my life, and I dearly wanted to be able to show this sight to them, to have them experience it back in England, and it was at that moment, that I felt very conscious that I was in a group of one, and that I was alone. Standing somewhere I had dreamed of being my entire life, but that non-one was there to share it with me.
I walked back into my tent, curled up into my bag and slept like a log, one of the deepest sleeps I can ever remember
Sunday 31 May 2009
Tuesday 19 May 2009
Kilimanjaro day 1
Ok its 4 weeks late, but here is the first days report from Kilmanjaro - Warning they are not quite what could be described as short
Kilimanjaro day 1
Altitude:3000m
Machame hut camp
19:00
The weather at the camp has been fair, with no real wind, the only reason the chill set in was that upon arrival here, I was wearing a t-shirt, damp from a combination of sweat and trekking through the clouds all day, which upon stopping quickly cooled
I dearly hope this isn’t a sign of things to come. Its 7pm and I’m lying in my sleeping bag trying to keep warm. In fairness when we arrived at the camp for 5pm, our tents were still being pitched, necessitating 20mins of sitting around outside, allowing for a very unpleasant chill to set in, and with the subsequent completion of our tents, a frantic run for the sleeping bag in the vain hope that it’s down filled walls would quickly warm me up. After 15mins in my bag had begun to warm up VERY slowly, but I could still feel a chill beneath the surface, thankfully after 2hrs zipped up in my bag like some form of regal blue grub I’ve warmed through!
In spite of being warm now, I am now becoming conscious of my tent size. My home for the next 5 nights is a capacious 2 man tent – which at the moment is fine, I have more than enough space to lounge about and generally expand my stuff into like some form of Noble gas, however as I climb higher, and the temperature drops outside, I wonder if the space will prove to be a negative in terms of keeping it warm.
Our hike up the mountain has been the most amazing experience, genuine rainforest -
- I’ll return to the rainforest in a moment, I’ve just been disturbed - dinner has been brought to my tent!
A porter has turned up at my tent, spreading out a green Zebra print cloth for the floor of the tent, upon which he carefully laid out napkins, plates and a little candle stuck to a tin of beans as a rudimentary candelabrum, which will go magnificently towards extending the life of my batteries.
This is not LIKE being waited upon hand and foot; it simply IS being waited upon hand and foot! The fact that I have two porters, a cook, and a guide, all here to take me, no one else, up the mountain is a bizarre feeling. A feeling that i can only imagine is akin to what it used to be like to actually have personal staff. Without question it is certainly an odd feeling, I have a constant desire to go and do something, or help out, rather than sit here like the Rich White Man, a stereotype I have learned to hate here in Africa. I suppose it’s all relative though, if you can casually afford a Coke or Pepsi in the middle of the day, for no reason other than you fancy it, over here, does make you a rich man.
The starter tonight - oh yes the starter, as I said waited on hand and foot - is soup and bread, exactly what the soup is i don’t know, they all taste suspiciously of chicken stock, either way it is more than sufficient for keeping the bread moist.
Overall this is one of the oddest meals I've ever sat down at; served in my tent on a zebra motif cloth, by a man in a yellow puffer jacket, while I’m sitting balled up in my sleeping bag with my days socks, underwear and t-shirts hanging from the ceiling of the tent! Without question this is a once in a lifetime trip.
Ok next course has arrived, fried potatoes and bits of beef, I really can’t complain at this! I'm hoping that the little candle sitting flickering by my head will help provide some heat in here - not for me, I’m snug as a bug, but some heat and possibly movement of air to help m clothes to dry out - while the rainforest was an amazing place to visit, as the name would suggest it is very effective at soaking you through.
I just can’t get over how odd this all feels, it’s probably augmented by the fact I’m here alone. I feel like a Roman Caesar, reclined casually on my roll mat, casually slicing roast potatoes and beef - potatoes which, i hurriedly point out, are considerably superior to some which would be served in British restaurants
This is getting absolutely ridiculous, the guide has just dropped by to say that breakfast will be about 7:30am, but that porter, or concierge as he also seems to double as, will come and wake me when it is ready. This is insane!
Now dinner is in the process of being digested, I’d better return to the hike, which should really be the main focus of the posting, not the tent service! Today I found myself walking in true rainforest, massive trees, vibrant greens, thick creepers, and it was simply beautiful. Mt. Meru has Montane forest covering its slopes, forest which i had hoped terribly would turn into rainforest at some point on that climb, but never did. On various points of the Meru climb it looked tantalisingly as if the Montane forest was going to give way to Virgin Rainforest, but the woods remained comparatively quite dry and with a real sense of openness. The sense of openness is one of the first major differences I noticed between the two forests, apart from the humidity and overall size of the forest which creeps you on you as you progress deeper, even on the edges of the forest, the density of the life in the rainforest is staggering
While it never actually rained while in the forest, something which I’m a little disappointed by, there were plenty of opportunities to get soaked to the skin, being in the cloud in the forest meant hours of trekking through fine drizzle. Drizzle isn’t really the word to correctly describe it, as that suggests precipitation, as it was, the best way I can think of describing it was like walking through very thick, very wet, heavy mist. It was quite unlike any type of rain I've experienced and frankly being British that’s quite a statement!
Walking along a broad ridge, the mist gradually thinned, allowing a contrast to return to the world which had previously been washed out by the low cloud. It was only at this point that you could truly appreciate the colossal size of the canopy, the largest trees easily 3 to 4 stores high, leading to you craning your neck back in an attempt to take in the awe inspiring size of the forest.
As we walked, it was like being in a video from Mrs Scales' geography lessons at GCSE. Giant buttressed root systems, covered in thick vines, rose from the forest floor to support trunks up to 4m in diameter, and in turn these trunks raising a canopy so far overhead it was frequently hidden by the clouds. That in itself was a terrific experience, being so high, and similarly being under a forest canopy of such height that often there was cloud obscuring our view of the trees overhead.
Thick branches would snake over us, with vines hanging low over the path. The branches themselves bowed with age, with leaf litter collecting in their hollows and dips, building up over time to form loam, allowing for the massively ancient trees to be festooned by other plants like some kind of natural hanging garden. Across the myriad of greens occasional pin pricks of colour would catch the eye, tiny ice blue flowers, delicate in the extreme but standing proud, as a bold divergence from the uniform green of the other plants
A subtle change could be perceived as we climbed higher. As we progressed along our route, after 3 hrs in the jungle, we began to transition into scrub like woodland, with the size and majesty of the forest diminishing at the same rate as the canopy dropped and the trees thinned. While at chest level, the towering 12ft ferns of the dense under forest were replaced with chest high grasses rather, until the forest finally melted into high scrub as we have seen on Meru. By the time we hit camp, we had already been clear the forest for a good 15 mins, a low wind was blowing, putting a chill in my damp clothes
The camp is a series of large clearings in the scrub, where the brush had been cleared back a soft dark volcanic soil was left exposed, and provided to provide a surprisingly pleasant soft surface for our tents ground sheets. The overall site is made of 8 different clearings, all sitting like black petals around a central administration building, with each camp separated from its neighbouring camps and auxiliary buildings by islands of scrub.
In spite of being told that it was now the slow season, I hadn’t fully understood quite how slow that was - there was only one other group climbing, an Australia couple. A very pleasant pair we met several times on our hike to the camp, the different timings of our breaks, as decided by the guide, leaving us overtaking and being overtaken in a massive version of leap frog
- Now that a interesting noise to shoot across the valley as dusk falls! - i think it may be a troop of baboons having a fall out, the noise sounds very sharp, the cross between a dog barking and a man banging on sheet metal with a hammer. One thing is for certain, it is an impressive noise that carries well. I’d like to think if I was an animal involved in a dispute, I’d be the animal able to make that sound, the disputer would easily concede. I wonder what other wildlife we’ll come across as we travel higher? We’ve picked up the same type of crow as would try and steal food when we were climbing Meru, but at least there are no tin roofs now for them to clatter about on!
Yes where was I? Leap frogging Australians. Speaking of set stops, my guide on this climb is a heavy set, chain smoking man called Raphael. He has been climbing Kilimanjaro as a guide for 3 years now, having worked his way up from porter, to cook, to assistant guide, to the top job over the previous 5 years. In spite of his experience (although probably related to his smoking - I personally think he keeps Camel in business singlehandedly) he is depressingly slow when it comes to walking up hill. Oh when he's on the flat or going downhill he's like greased lightning, but the minute the ground starts to rise up he slows to a crawl, I wouldn’t mind so much, but the pack I’m carrying in 5kg more than his! I think a difference in our stride length augments the problem; I keep having to stop after walking three steps to prevent me walking up his heels. Looks like most of my photography will be done on the uphill sections, allowing me to shoot to my heart’s content and the quickly recover the distance that will have build up between us, allowing me to stretch my legs.
In terms of stretching legs, compared with Meru, even the first day on Meru, today Kili has been an absolute walk in the park, easy paths, wonderful views, and a pleasant incline, I really don’t know what i was worrying about (famous last words). I accept there will be difficult sections, but i don’t think it will be as gruelling as Meru was in terms of day to day walking (such a naive fool). That said I’m sure that the ascent from the final camp at 4600m to Uruhu peak at 5895m won’t exactly be a picnic, especially considering what the temperature was like on Meru's summit at only 4500m. I'm sure the later stages of Kili will give me a whole new meaning to the word "cold"
Kilimanjaro day 1
Altitude:3000m
Machame hut camp
19:00
The weather at the camp has been fair, with no real wind, the only reason the chill set in was that upon arrival here, I was wearing a t-shirt, damp from a combination of sweat and trekking through the clouds all day, which upon stopping quickly cooled
I dearly hope this isn’t a sign of things to come. Its 7pm and I’m lying in my sleeping bag trying to keep warm. In fairness when we arrived at the camp for 5pm, our tents were still being pitched, necessitating 20mins of sitting around outside, allowing for a very unpleasant chill to set in, and with the subsequent completion of our tents, a frantic run for the sleeping bag in the vain hope that it’s down filled walls would quickly warm me up. After 15mins in my bag had begun to warm up VERY slowly, but I could still feel a chill beneath the surface, thankfully after 2hrs zipped up in my bag like some form of regal blue grub I’ve warmed through!
In spite of being warm now, I am now becoming conscious of my tent size. My home for the next 5 nights is a capacious 2 man tent – which at the moment is fine, I have more than enough space to lounge about and generally expand my stuff into like some form of Noble gas, however as I climb higher, and the temperature drops outside, I wonder if the space will prove to be a negative in terms of keeping it warm.
Our hike up the mountain has been the most amazing experience, genuine rainforest -
- I’ll return to the rainforest in a moment, I’ve just been disturbed - dinner has been brought to my tent!
A porter has turned up at my tent, spreading out a green Zebra print cloth for the floor of the tent, upon which he carefully laid out napkins, plates and a little candle stuck to a tin of beans as a rudimentary candelabrum, which will go magnificently towards extending the life of my batteries.
This is not LIKE being waited upon hand and foot; it simply IS being waited upon hand and foot! The fact that I have two porters, a cook, and a guide, all here to take me, no one else, up the mountain is a bizarre feeling. A feeling that i can only imagine is akin to what it used to be like to actually have personal staff. Without question it is certainly an odd feeling, I have a constant desire to go and do something, or help out, rather than sit here like the Rich White Man, a stereotype I have learned to hate here in Africa. I suppose it’s all relative though, if you can casually afford a Coke or Pepsi in the middle of the day, for no reason other than you fancy it, over here, does make you a rich man.
The starter tonight - oh yes the starter, as I said waited on hand and foot - is soup and bread, exactly what the soup is i don’t know, they all taste suspiciously of chicken stock, either way it is more than sufficient for keeping the bread moist.
Overall this is one of the oddest meals I've ever sat down at; served in my tent on a zebra motif cloth, by a man in a yellow puffer jacket, while I’m sitting balled up in my sleeping bag with my days socks, underwear and t-shirts hanging from the ceiling of the tent! Without question this is a once in a lifetime trip.
Ok next course has arrived, fried potatoes and bits of beef, I really can’t complain at this! I'm hoping that the little candle sitting flickering by my head will help provide some heat in here - not for me, I’m snug as a bug, but some heat and possibly movement of air to help m clothes to dry out - while the rainforest was an amazing place to visit, as the name would suggest it is very effective at soaking you through.
I just can’t get over how odd this all feels, it’s probably augmented by the fact I’m here alone. I feel like a Roman Caesar, reclined casually on my roll mat, casually slicing roast potatoes and beef - potatoes which, i hurriedly point out, are considerably superior to some which would be served in British restaurants
This is getting absolutely ridiculous, the guide has just dropped by to say that breakfast will be about 7:30am, but that porter, or concierge as he also seems to double as, will come and wake me when it is ready. This is insane!
Now dinner is in the process of being digested, I’d better return to the hike, which should really be the main focus of the posting, not the tent service! Today I found myself walking in true rainforest, massive trees, vibrant greens, thick creepers, and it was simply beautiful. Mt. Meru has Montane forest covering its slopes, forest which i had hoped terribly would turn into rainforest at some point on that climb, but never did. On various points of the Meru climb it looked tantalisingly as if the Montane forest was going to give way to Virgin Rainforest, but the woods remained comparatively quite dry and with a real sense of openness. The sense of openness is one of the first major differences I noticed between the two forests, apart from the humidity and overall size of the forest which creeps you on you as you progress deeper, even on the edges of the forest, the density of the life in the rainforest is staggering
While it never actually rained while in the forest, something which I’m a little disappointed by, there were plenty of opportunities to get soaked to the skin, being in the cloud in the forest meant hours of trekking through fine drizzle. Drizzle isn’t really the word to correctly describe it, as that suggests precipitation, as it was, the best way I can think of describing it was like walking through very thick, very wet, heavy mist. It was quite unlike any type of rain I've experienced and frankly being British that’s quite a statement!
Walking along a broad ridge, the mist gradually thinned, allowing a contrast to return to the world which had previously been washed out by the low cloud. It was only at this point that you could truly appreciate the colossal size of the canopy, the largest trees easily 3 to 4 stores high, leading to you craning your neck back in an attempt to take in the awe inspiring size of the forest.
As we walked, it was like being in a video from Mrs Scales' geography lessons at GCSE. Giant buttressed root systems, covered in thick vines, rose from the forest floor to support trunks up to 4m in diameter, and in turn these trunks raising a canopy so far overhead it was frequently hidden by the clouds. That in itself was a terrific experience, being so high, and similarly being under a forest canopy of such height that often there was cloud obscuring our view of the trees overhead.
Thick branches would snake over us, with vines hanging low over the path. The branches themselves bowed with age, with leaf litter collecting in their hollows and dips, building up over time to form loam, allowing for the massively ancient trees to be festooned by other plants like some kind of natural hanging garden. Across the myriad of greens occasional pin pricks of colour would catch the eye, tiny ice blue flowers, delicate in the extreme but standing proud, as a bold divergence from the uniform green of the other plants
A subtle change could be perceived as we climbed higher. As we progressed along our route, after 3 hrs in the jungle, we began to transition into scrub like woodland, with the size and majesty of the forest diminishing at the same rate as the canopy dropped and the trees thinned. While at chest level, the towering 12ft ferns of the dense under forest were replaced with chest high grasses rather, until the forest finally melted into high scrub as we have seen on Meru. By the time we hit camp, we had already been clear the forest for a good 15 mins, a low wind was blowing, putting a chill in my damp clothes
The camp is a series of large clearings in the scrub, where the brush had been cleared back a soft dark volcanic soil was left exposed, and provided to provide a surprisingly pleasant soft surface for our tents ground sheets. The overall site is made of 8 different clearings, all sitting like black petals around a central administration building, with each camp separated from its neighbouring camps and auxiliary buildings by islands of scrub.
In spite of being told that it was now the slow season, I hadn’t fully understood quite how slow that was - there was only one other group climbing, an Australia couple. A very pleasant pair we met several times on our hike to the camp, the different timings of our breaks, as decided by the guide, leaving us overtaking and being overtaken in a massive version of leap frog
- Now that a interesting noise to shoot across the valley as dusk falls! - i think it may be a troop of baboons having a fall out, the noise sounds very sharp, the cross between a dog barking and a man banging on sheet metal with a hammer. One thing is for certain, it is an impressive noise that carries well. I’d like to think if I was an animal involved in a dispute, I’d be the animal able to make that sound, the disputer would easily concede. I wonder what other wildlife we’ll come across as we travel higher? We’ve picked up the same type of crow as would try and steal food when we were climbing Meru, but at least there are no tin roofs now for them to clatter about on!
Yes where was I? Leap frogging Australians. Speaking of set stops, my guide on this climb is a heavy set, chain smoking man called Raphael. He has been climbing Kilimanjaro as a guide for 3 years now, having worked his way up from porter, to cook, to assistant guide, to the top job over the previous 5 years. In spite of his experience (although probably related to his smoking - I personally think he keeps Camel in business singlehandedly) he is depressingly slow when it comes to walking up hill. Oh when he's on the flat or going downhill he's like greased lightning, but the minute the ground starts to rise up he slows to a crawl, I wouldn’t mind so much, but the pack I’m carrying in 5kg more than his! I think a difference in our stride length augments the problem; I keep having to stop after walking three steps to prevent me walking up his heels. Looks like most of my photography will be done on the uphill sections, allowing me to shoot to my heart’s content and the quickly recover the distance that will have build up between us, allowing me to stretch my legs.
In terms of stretching legs, compared with Meru, even the first day on Meru, today Kili has been an absolute walk in the park, easy paths, wonderful views, and a pleasant incline, I really don’t know what i was worrying about (famous last words). I accept there will be difficult sections, but i don’t think it will be as gruelling as Meru was in terms of day to day walking (such a naive fool). That said I’m sure that the ascent from the final camp at 4600m to Uruhu peak at 5895m won’t exactly be a picnic, especially considering what the temperature was like on Meru's summit at only 4500m. I'm sure the later stages of Kili will give me a whole new meaning to the word "cold"
Friday 15 May 2009
Senior academic half day
Week 3
Academic Half day.
Junior rotation Academic Half Day was a task, a chore, certainly something to be endured, and rarely an effective learning experience. Junior Academic Half Day, or JIHAD as it is politically and acronymically incorrectly known, was broadly a waste of time. However, we have been warned, SENIOR Academic half day will be a source of great knowledge and attendance will be desirable, if mandatory. Vast and vital swathes of knowledge will be disseminated by entertaining and vibrant lecturers. Information which will allow us to sail through our finals, and become the gifted and intellectual doctors of the future. Well that’s what the PR machine would have us believe anyway.
Would it have killed them to have started on a high note? We all sat eagerly, brains sharpened by the countdown to finals, ready to receive the engaging homily.
The first lecture was delivered by a slightly rotund, shaggy looking microbiologist, and within 10mins of the lecture beginning, our shine, our zeal our desire had oxidised and dulled. We had been grossly miss-sold our new lecture sets. They were as dull and impenetrable as ever.
On a high note this week, my clinical partner has managed to acquire a new pen. One of the virtues of being a medical student is that there is a plethora of individuals and companies eager to thrust their brand encrusted stationary towards you. Some of these writing implements are superb; others would make a charcoal stick look reliable. Amongst the bland ballpoints occasionally a pen will be handed out with some bizarre twist or a design which endears them to our hearts. My clinical partner managed to acquire such a pen this week, a bone coloured pen, a bone coloured pen shaped as a femur, with a miniature femur affixed to the outside acting as a pen clip. This little piece of anatomically accurate moulded plastic has brought her significant levels of joy, and this is the nature of a medical student. The gloom, the oppression, the dour glare of your consultant and the cutting words of his registrar all mean that is it little things, such as a pen or a free pastry which can really brighten the day
But returning to our lecture... While I was attempting to prevent myself slipping into a lecture induced coma, my partner was so affronted by the lecture she was considering sacrificing her pen. A pen which had been her world, she was considering using in an act of Hari Kari. However she was unable to disassemble the plastic femur. Knowing the nature of a medical student’s life, the pen was smooth, rounded and sealed; with no edges of any sort could be found between its plastic condyles or tubercles which could be used to provide a blessed relief from the boredom.
Suddenly the noise level ramped up; the lecturer had stopped speaking it was over! But before we could leave, the stage was taken by insurance sales woman. A short young woman then proceeded to explain to us that while life might be rosy, pleasant and fun at the moment (obviously she had no concept of how little sleep and how much stress the average medical student is under) but that all of that could come to the end with one bought of illness or a severe accident (Come to an end, sure I’ve only just come back from elective, but the concept of fun is a rapidly fading memory) and as a result we desperately needed her companies medical insurance in the case of said accident. Certainly she provided a compelling argument, but at this stage of the game, I have all on deciding whether or not taking time out to do my washing is an effective use time, let alone signing up for medical insurance in the hopes of graduating.
Academic Half day.
Junior rotation Academic Half Day was a task, a chore, certainly something to be endured, and rarely an effective learning experience. Junior Academic Half Day, or JIHAD as it is politically and acronymically incorrectly known, was broadly a waste of time. However, we have been warned, SENIOR Academic half day will be a source of great knowledge and attendance will be desirable, if mandatory. Vast and vital swathes of knowledge will be disseminated by entertaining and vibrant lecturers. Information which will allow us to sail through our finals, and become the gifted and intellectual doctors of the future. Well that’s what the PR machine would have us believe anyway.
Would it have killed them to have started on a high note? We all sat eagerly, brains sharpened by the countdown to finals, ready to receive the engaging homily.
The first lecture was delivered by a slightly rotund, shaggy looking microbiologist, and within 10mins of the lecture beginning, our shine, our zeal our desire had oxidised and dulled. We had been grossly miss-sold our new lecture sets. They were as dull and impenetrable as ever.
On a high note this week, my clinical partner has managed to acquire a new pen. One of the virtues of being a medical student is that there is a plethora of individuals and companies eager to thrust their brand encrusted stationary towards you. Some of these writing implements are superb; others would make a charcoal stick look reliable. Amongst the bland ballpoints occasionally a pen will be handed out with some bizarre twist or a design which endears them to our hearts. My clinical partner managed to acquire such a pen this week, a bone coloured pen, a bone coloured pen shaped as a femur, with a miniature femur affixed to the outside acting as a pen clip. This little piece of anatomically accurate moulded plastic has brought her significant levels of joy, and this is the nature of a medical student. The gloom, the oppression, the dour glare of your consultant and the cutting words of his registrar all mean that is it little things, such as a pen or a free pastry which can really brighten the day
But returning to our lecture... While I was attempting to prevent myself slipping into a lecture induced coma, my partner was so affronted by the lecture she was considering sacrificing her pen. A pen which had been her world, she was considering using in an act of Hari Kari. However she was unable to disassemble the plastic femur. Knowing the nature of a medical student’s life, the pen was smooth, rounded and sealed; with no edges of any sort could be found between its plastic condyles or tubercles which could be used to provide a blessed relief from the boredom.
Suddenly the noise level ramped up; the lecturer had stopped speaking it was over! But before we could leave, the stage was taken by insurance sales woman. A short young woman then proceeded to explain to us that while life might be rosy, pleasant and fun at the moment (obviously she had no concept of how little sleep and how much stress the average medical student is under) but that all of that could come to the end with one bought of illness or a severe accident (Come to an end, sure I’ve only just come back from elective, but the concept of fun is a rapidly fading memory) and as a result we desperately needed her companies medical insurance in the case of said accident. Certainly she provided a compelling argument, but at this stage of the game, I have all on deciding whether or not taking time out to do my washing is an effective use time, let alone signing up for medical insurance in the hopes of graduating.
Tuesday 12 May 2009
We're back
My word, well as anyone who was reading the blog and watching the count down knows, we returned, and then seemed to fall off the planet.
Yes we are back, yes we made it safely, and no, to the best of my knowledge, in spite of my best efforts Mayhem did not end up recieving a body cavity search.
This is mainly just a quick post to say thanks to everyone for reading while we were in Africa, and to also talk about the future.
Yes the future, that horrible word, suggesting progress, a change, hopefully improvement, and undoubtedly the need to do work.
So to the future, when we began warming up the blog before heading to Africa, we had a hilarious time writing about the goings on in our various hospitals, and to be honest, a lot of the comments we recieved were regarding blogs of the medical school.
I still have to finish off the saga that was Kilimanjaro, so of it is truly hilarious, within 15mins of arriving at the mountain, I was locked in a toilet, which I think set the tone for the rest of the day.
So how do I intend to run things? Well at some point I'll finish off the Africa story, its simply a case of checking spelling and legibility, writing on a bouncing bus travelling between subsaharan African countries isnt easy.
As for over here, I'll give the blog a quick make over to reflect the dark grey British climate, and as for posts, I will guarantee a minimum of one post a week, post day will be Thursday, but I will attempt to put up two a week, monday and Thursday, but we'll see if there is enough material.
Ok thats the house keeping done, I'll see you all on Thursday, hopefully with a Kilimanjaro story, and possibly even some information regarding Mayhem!
Yes we are back, yes we made it safely, and no, to the best of my knowledge, in spite of my best efforts Mayhem did not end up recieving a body cavity search.
This is mainly just a quick post to say thanks to everyone for reading while we were in Africa, and to also talk about the future.
Yes the future, that horrible word, suggesting progress, a change, hopefully improvement, and undoubtedly the need to do work.
So to the future, when we began warming up the blog before heading to Africa, we had a hilarious time writing about the goings on in our various hospitals, and to be honest, a lot of the comments we recieved were regarding blogs of the medical school.
I still have to finish off the saga that was Kilimanjaro, so of it is truly hilarious, within 15mins of arriving at the mountain, I was locked in a toilet, which I think set the tone for the rest of the day.
So how do I intend to run things? Well at some point I'll finish off the Africa story, its simply a case of checking spelling and legibility, writing on a bouncing bus travelling between subsaharan African countries isnt easy.
As for over here, I'll give the blog a quick make over to reflect the dark grey British climate, and as for posts, I will guarantee a minimum of one post a week, post day will be Thursday, but I will attempt to put up two a week, monday and Thursday, but we'll see if there is enough material.
Ok thats the house keeping done, I'll see you all on Thursday, hopefully with a Kilimanjaro story, and possibly even some information regarding Mayhem!
Friday 17 April 2009
And they're off...well nearly
7hrs and I'll be off to Kilimanjaro, so just a reeeally quick post to say thats it for at least the next 6 days, and to be frank the next post that comes up will probably be from the UK, rather than here, hecek, Mayhem might even have resurfaced by then. Either way I'll keep rambling on my trusty E90 so there should be something to post.
Wish me luck!
TTFN
Kaos
Wish me luck!
TTFN
Kaos
Kilimanjaro Troubles
I now have 17hrs until I leave for Mt. Kilimanjaro, I have tried in vain to pack my bag, having opted to leave the task until the sun has gone down. That said I have spent the rest of the day making energy bars for the trip and doing my washing, so still unfortunately voiding the sun.
The way I felt when finally descending Meru has come back to haunt me to some degree, in packing my bag I am trying as hard as humanly possible to keep the weight down. At the moment, my bag is standing at 12kg. But I think it may hit 14kg by the time it is packed, which is something I’m concerned about. I want to be able to carry my pack again on Kili, if for no other reason that the heat which I will generate when carrying it, but I’m not sure if in attempting to I will cause myself problems. Will I actually be able to carry that weight, up Africa’s highest mountain, and will I be able to do so for 6 days. The three things that I am holding onto in that respect are that i) I have actually managed to climb Meru, successfully, ii) I feel much fitter than before I did Meru and before I got here – since arriving I have probably run 100km, only on Wednesday I ran the 12km from my hospital back to the house in only 1:39hrs, and with no significant difficulty, and most importantly iii) everyone keeps on saying that Kili is much easier than Meru, and is a much shallower hike apart from the summit day. I certainly hope that they will be correct; one thing that is certain is that before Meru I was jumping around and raring to go, today, it’s a solemn trepidation.
I keep returning to a piece of advice I read somewhere, “Respect Kilimanjaro for he can kill you”
The way I felt when finally descending Meru has come back to haunt me to some degree, in packing my bag I am trying as hard as humanly possible to keep the weight down. At the moment, my bag is standing at 12kg. But I think it may hit 14kg by the time it is packed, which is something I’m concerned about. I want to be able to carry my pack again on Kili, if for no other reason that the heat which I will generate when carrying it, but I’m not sure if in attempting to I will cause myself problems. Will I actually be able to carry that weight, up Africa’s highest mountain, and will I be able to do so for 6 days. The three things that I am holding onto in that respect are that i) I have actually managed to climb Meru, successfully, ii) I feel much fitter than before I did Meru and before I got here – since arriving I have probably run 100km, only on Wednesday I ran the 12km from my hospital back to the house in only 1:39hrs, and with no significant difficulty, and most importantly iii) everyone keeps on saying that Kili is much easier than Meru, and is a much shallower hike apart from the summit day. I certainly hope that they will be correct; one thing that is certain is that before Meru I was jumping around and raring to go, today, it’s a solemn trepidation.
I keep returning to a piece of advice I read somewhere, “Respect Kilimanjaro for he can kill you”
Tuesday 14 April 2009
Meru, Day 3.5 - The final ascent!
- this is final installment of the Mt. Meru saga. Its a long one, but so was that final day!
We left camp wreathed in darkness, our head torches providing blue pools of light for our feet as we stepped over the rocks beginning the 5 hour ascent. The heather forest, have dropped from their 10 feet height, to about 7 and continue to reduce as we carry on up the path. A waxing moon, 7 days from being full, lent the heather and ethereal yellow glow, its light sufficient that between the clouds we were able to save your batteries, walking under moonlight. As with Little Meru, we began the walk wrapped up against the cold night, but within 20mins, our journey is peppered with a series of micro stops as we shed layers into our packs in order to cool off. While the temperature may be low, the route is steep and we found, that protected from the wind by the heather we quickly heated up
I had honestly begun to think that the uphill would never end. I have no great problem with going uphill, but usually there is some variation, for an hour we continued at the same angle, zig sagging up the mountainside, before, sweat relief, we came to the summit of the first peak, a place referred to as Rhino Point (3800m, we seemed to spend a lot of time in the region of this altitude!). Rhino Point gets its name from the Rhinoceros bones found mixed in with the stones on the top of the kern. The story is that years ago, a rhino had climbed to the top of the peak before dying there; the first climbers to ascend the peak found its weathered bones on the summit, and Christened the peak in honour of that animal – I did find one of the bones up there, but I’m ashamed to say I have no idea what it was, it might have been a badly damaged skull, but Rhino bones are not really covered at Warwick
After Rhino peak, joy of joys, we came to a downhill stretch, signally the beginning of the undulating ridge walk which would take us to the base of the summit. The hail from the storm was thick on the ground now, in the chill of the night, it had frozen with the rain water giving a sensation of walking on a thin sheet of Plaster of Paris, our feet easily passing through the sheet to the soft volcanic ash below.
We were taken aback slightly to find a large rocky buff baring our way at the base of one of the dips, giving us our first taste of rock climbing. Everyone inched across the rock face, hands and feet outstretched, looking for grip. After only a couple of minutes negotiating the face we realised the need to look out for one another as well as our footing, as one of the group took a small slide after missing his footing. In the dark we were not able to see the size of the outcrop, giving us no idea how far we had to go, making each of the 15 minutes it took for us to traverse its girth an eternity.
During our climb, every member of the group, including porters, took a stomach lurching slip down the face, each time, being caught by their own footing, or someone’s lighting reactions, flashing out to steady their packs. Certainly it was the scariest part of the climb so far, our fear heightened by the darkness, hiding the true penalty should we have failed to stop someone sliding down the face
After our climb, we returned to drudging up the ash hillside, the path winding close to the edge of the world so it seemed as our torch beams disappeared into darkness on our right, to the left, a steep slope and dimly outlined rocks just discernable in the gloom, descended rapidly to the valley floor, both options keeping us all actively seeking to walk carefully in the middle of the path. Conscious of the choices that a stray foot fall would bring us, on the one hand a terminal descent into night and on the other a tumble into the waiting arms of the of dark jagged sentinels, this was probably one of the most mentally tiring sections, a fact that was shortly to make itself shown.
Our path had returned to a having a very pleasing safety margin on both sides of us, allowing us to briefly relax. The path was becoming steeper again, with our progress slowed further by the loose volcanic ash, your feet slipping slightly with every foot fall, making it feel like we were ascending the world’s highest, black sand dune. This slow progress began to rapidly tell on the group, highlighted by the increasing frequency of our 5min stops, usually taken even 45mins to an hour.
I had set my sights on making it to 4am before taking another proper break, and slowly trudged through the last 30mins. At 3:45am on of the young Americans called a halt, we were near to my goal, so I didn’t feel that I was stopping too early. One of the problems with taking breaks near to 4000m is that you have to balance getting a rest and catching your breath against the onset of the cold. After only 2minutes of inactivity, you can begin to feel the cold setting in.
The headache that one of the young Americans had complained of down in the Saddle camp was still present, and combining with a growing feeling of nausea was looking considerably like altitude sickness. However he gamely fought on at the back of the pack. However at 4:00am just 10mins after our last break, he called a break again. Sitting on a small outcrop he apologised to the group, everyone knowing what was to come next, before saying that he didn’t think he would carry on. Unfortunately at the same time the other young Americans mental reserves, weakened by the resignation of his friend also broke, stating that his feet were killing him and that he would return to base with his friend.
I can thoroughly understand why they both called it a day at that point, the journey simply to get us half way to the summit had been gruelling, and the knowledge that we still had another 2:30hrs to go before the peak, coupled with an acceptance that the route was only get harder, made it very difficult not to simply accept defeat – especially as by now my pack was really starting to ache.
We agreed that the best thing would be to split the group, Zach – the older American, two porters and myself would push on for the summit, although we were told we would be unlikely to hit the 6am, sunrise deadline, while the guide and a porter would take the others back to base. As the moon paled and passed behind the clouds for the final time, the group split and we steeled ourselves to carry on.
I must admit by this time I was thoroughly grateful of Zach’s company, I swapped stories with the easy going American and together we pushed on through the ice and snow, which had now become much thicker underfoot. As we came into the last hour, we also came to the hardest sections of the route; we were bent double, walking along a ledge under an overhang. Darkness only a foot away to our left. To don’t mind saying that it was at this point i developed a touch of vertigo, and cannot remember the last time I felt trepidation and genuine fear so acutely. Thankfully we were only on the ledge for at the most 50m but I found it a truly unnerving 50m, scrambling along with my heart in my mouth the entire way.
Finally we came to the actual summit approach. Just beyond the rocks we stood at the base of, we would be within 200m of the summit. I could practically taste victory – or perhaps just the remains of my Powerbar still stuck to my teeth – or so I thought until the guide said it would take us another 40mins. We set of off at a steady through, at times resorting to using both our hands, elbows and knees to scramble over the rocks. I really was thinking at this point that I was ready to give up, and then, just above the rocks, perhaps 200m vertically as the guide had said, I could see the corner of a metal flag illuminated by torch light. That little reflection gave us the drive we needed and Zach and myself set off like men possessed. Taste it, we could damn well see it and it was within our grasp. Our muscles burned and we gasped the thin and kept going. A final boulder and we were sat on the summit, almost too tired to breathe I gasped out a phrase that had kept me going for the last 10mins “Not, dead, YET!” and with that sat down heavily to try and catch my breath.
The thin air meant that it was at least 10mins of being at the summit before I had finally caught my breath. We had arrived at 5:55am, before the 6am deadline which our guide had thought we would miss, and as we that there, cold and isolated on the 5th highest mountain in the continent of Africa, we turned to the East to watch dawn beginning to break over Kilimanjaro. I had said that I didn’t think that adding a little altitude could have really improved the sunrise that we had experienced the other morning, but I was wrong. To be able to look down on the clouds, across to Kili and down to the mountain we had just fought our way up was a truly wonderful feeling. Oh don’t get me wrong, it was flipping cold, I could still feel my heart pounding in my chest, and every time I stood up to take a picture I felt nauseous with the altitude. Was it worth it? Undoubtedly. Would I do it again? Not if you paid me!
And then, after all of that, we turned round and walked back down.
We left camp wreathed in darkness, our head torches providing blue pools of light for our feet as we stepped over the rocks beginning the 5 hour ascent. The heather forest, have dropped from their 10 feet height, to about 7 and continue to reduce as we carry on up the path. A waxing moon, 7 days from being full, lent the heather and ethereal yellow glow, its light sufficient that between the clouds we were able to save your batteries, walking under moonlight. As with Little Meru, we began the walk wrapped up against the cold night, but within 20mins, our journey is peppered with a series of micro stops as we shed layers into our packs in order to cool off. While the temperature may be low, the route is steep and we found, that protected from the wind by the heather we quickly heated up
I had honestly begun to think that the uphill would never end. I have no great problem with going uphill, but usually there is some variation, for an hour we continued at the same angle, zig sagging up the mountainside, before, sweat relief, we came to the summit of the first peak, a place referred to as Rhino Point (3800m, we seemed to spend a lot of time in the region of this altitude!). Rhino Point gets its name from the Rhinoceros bones found mixed in with the stones on the top of the kern. The story is that years ago, a rhino had climbed to the top of the peak before dying there; the first climbers to ascend the peak found its weathered bones on the summit, and Christened the peak in honour of that animal – I did find one of the bones up there, but I’m ashamed to say I have no idea what it was, it might have been a badly damaged skull, but Rhino bones are not really covered at Warwick
After Rhino peak, joy of joys, we came to a downhill stretch, signally the beginning of the undulating ridge walk which would take us to the base of the summit. The hail from the storm was thick on the ground now, in the chill of the night, it had frozen with the rain water giving a sensation of walking on a thin sheet of Plaster of Paris, our feet easily passing through the sheet to the soft volcanic ash below.
We were taken aback slightly to find a large rocky buff baring our way at the base of one of the dips, giving us our first taste of rock climbing. Everyone inched across the rock face, hands and feet outstretched, looking for grip. After only a couple of minutes negotiating the face we realised the need to look out for one another as well as our footing, as one of the group took a small slide after missing his footing. In the dark we were not able to see the size of the outcrop, giving us no idea how far we had to go, making each of the 15 minutes it took for us to traverse its girth an eternity.
During our climb, every member of the group, including porters, took a stomach lurching slip down the face, each time, being caught by their own footing, or someone’s lighting reactions, flashing out to steady their packs. Certainly it was the scariest part of the climb so far, our fear heightened by the darkness, hiding the true penalty should we have failed to stop someone sliding down the face
After our climb, we returned to drudging up the ash hillside, the path winding close to the edge of the world so it seemed as our torch beams disappeared into darkness on our right, to the left, a steep slope and dimly outlined rocks just discernable in the gloom, descended rapidly to the valley floor, both options keeping us all actively seeking to walk carefully in the middle of the path. Conscious of the choices that a stray foot fall would bring us, on the one hand a terminal descent into night and on the other a tumble into the waiting arms of the of dark jagged sentinels, this was probably one of the most mentally tiring sections, a fact that was shortly to make itself shown.
Our path had returned to a having a very pleasing safety margin on both sides of us, allowing us to briefly relax. The path was becoming steeper again, with our progress slowed further by the loose volcanic ash, your feet slipping slightly with every foot fall, making it feel like we were ascending the world’s highest, black sand dune. This slow progress began to rapidly tell on the group, highlighted by the increasing frequency of our 5min stops, usually taken even 45mins to an hour.
I had set my sights on making it to 4am before taking another proper break, and slowly trudged through the last 30mins. At 3:45am on of the young Americans called a halt, we were near to my goal, so I didn’t feel that I was stopping too early. One of the problems with taking breaks near to 4000m is that you have to balance getting a rest and catching your breath against the onset of the cold. After only 2minutes of inactivity, you can begin to feel the cold setting in.
The headache that one of the young Americans had complained of down in the Saddle camp was still present, and combining with a growing feeling of nausea was looking considerably like altitude sickness. However he gamely fought on at the back of the pack. However at 4:00am just 10mins after our last break, he called a break again. Sitting on a small outcrop he apologised to the group, everyone knowing what was to come next, before saying that he didn’t think he would carry on. Unfortunately at the same time the other young Americans mental reserves, weakened by the resignation of his friend also broke, stating that his feet were killing him and that he would return to base with his friend.
I can thoroughly understand why they both called it a day at that point, the journey simply to get us half way to the summit had been gruelling, and the knowledge that we still had another 2:30hrs to go before the peak, coupled with an acceptance that the route was only get harder, made it very difficult not to simply accept defeat – especially as by now my pack was really starting to ache.
We agreed that the best thing would be to split the group, Zach – the older American, two porters and myself would push on for the summit, although we were told we would be unlikely to hit the 6am, sunrise deadline, while the guide and a porter would take the others back to base. As the moon paled and passed behind the clouds for the final time, the group split and we steeled ourselves to carry on.
I must admit by this time I was thoroughly grateful of Zach’s company, I swapped stories with the easy going American and together we pushed on through the ice and snow, which had now become much thicker underfoot. As we came into the last hour, we also came to the hardest sections of the route; we were bent double, walking along a ledge under an overhang. Darkness only a foot away to our left. To don’t mind saying that it was at this point i developed a touch of vertigo, and cannot remember the last time I felt trepidation and genuine fear so acutely. Thankfully we were only on the ledge for at the most 50m but I found it a truly unnerving 50m, scrambling along with my heart in my mouth the entire way.
Finally we came to the actual summit approach. Just beyond the rocks we stood at the base of, we would be within 200m of the summit. I could practically taste victory – or perhaps just the remains of my Powerbar still stuck to my teeth – or so I thought until the guide said it would take us another 40mins. We set of off at a steady through, at times resorting to using both our hands, elbows and knees to scramble over the rocks. I really was thinking at this point that I was ready to give up, and then, just above the rocks, perhaps 200m vertically as the guide had said, I could see the corner of a metal flag illuminated by torch light. That little reflection gave us the drive we needed and Zach and myself set off like men possessed. Taste it, we could damn well see it and it was within our grasp. Our muscles burned and we gasped the thin and kept going. A final boulder and we were sat on the summit, almost too tired to breathe I gasped out a phrase that had kept me going for the last 10mins “Not, dead, YET!” and with that sat down heavily to try and catch my breath.
The thin air meant that it was at least 10mins of being at the summit before I had finally caught my breath. We had arrived at 5:55am, before the 6am deadline which our guide had thought we would miss, and as we that there, cold and isolated on the 5th highest mountain in the continent of Africa, we turned to the East to watch dawn beginning to break over Kilimanjaro. I had said that I didn’t think that adding a little altitude could have really improved the sunrise that we had experienced the other morning, but I was wrong. To be able to look down on the clouds, across to Kili and down to the mountain we had just fought our way up was a truly wonderful feeling. Oh don’t get me wrong, it was flipping cold, I could still feel my heart pounding in my chest, and every time I stood up to take a picture I felt nauseous with the altitude. Was it worth it? Undoubtedly. Would I do it again? Not if you paid me!
And then, after all of that, we turned round and walked back down.
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