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
Friday, 17 April 2009
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.
Monday, 13 April 2009
Meru, Day 3.0
Day 3 – Midnight 3500m
Sleep, what sleep! I managed to get 2hrs sleep last night, which will no doubt begin to tell during our 13hrs of walking today. 13hrs just the number sounds draining on its own even without the attached exercise, and it’s not much better looking at the numbers which make up those 13hrs: starting in about 45mins we have a 5 hour climb from Saddle Camp to the peak, which will hopefully have us at the summit for 6am and sunrise. We then trudge back down mountain track for 8hrs before finally collapsing in our LandCruiser, our only break coming upon return to Saddle camp, allowing for a change out of our cold weather gear, and for a spot of breakfast
Let me just briefly explain how I managed to get into bed at 6pm and still not sleep for 4 hours. First off, the storm was quite effective at keeping me awake; I love to be in storms and to be able to experience the power that they hold. I think that in that respect we have been really lucky while in Africa, experiencing everything from the torrential downpour of the tropical storm, to the electrical storm brooding in the distance. So I was more than happy to lying in my bunk listening to the storm lash the hut around me and pound relentlessly on thin tin roof. After the storm, the next distracter from sleep would come from the wildlife.
First off are the crows; mutant crows might be a better description. These beady eyed blighters are about a foot in size, having a curious white collar around their neck and a propensity for walking around clacking their claws on the tin roofs above our head, and just to make sure that you were aware of their presence, they bang loudly on the roof with their beaks, which if you are not expecting it, and finally just beginning to drift off sleep, can give quite a start.
Mutant Mt. Meru crows!
As well as the crows, there was also *something* snuffling around the base of our hut, banging into the wall at a level with my head. After the beast had given up foraging near to my head, it was replaced by a slightly odd noise, sounding like something IN the wall. Grabbing my head torch, I gave a quick scan under the bed and confirmed that in fact my concrete floor was sealed firmly to the wooden wall and that whatever was in the wall was going to stay there. Maybe 10 mins later a similar sound came, but I could have sworn that this time it was in the room. Again I scanned around the room, and as if looking for an African equivalent of the Bogie Monster checked under my bunk.
Only the remains of an old chocolate wrapped could be seen, along with a ball of foil which had contained my sandwiches, but again, the wall and floor were solid. With that I turned off the torch, and turned over. 5 mins later the noise came again, my checks revealed nothing, again, but there was now a flake of foil next to my sandwich wrapped which I don’t recall seeing before. The scientist in my head woke up, and decided that an experiment was in order, if only to prove I wasn’t going mad. The foil ball was placed in the middle of the floor and again the room returned to darkness, and with it, a light sleep.
At 11pm I was woken again, a rustling now coming from the corner of the room near my feet. I bathed the room in fluorescent light, to find that the foil ball missing, and the rustling emanating from a large mouse. The mouse was half backed into a hole in the corner of the room, a hole, which I had previously convinced myself did not exist. The rustling was coming from the rodent’s efforts at attempting to pass a 10cm ball of foil into a 5cm hole.
Oddly enough at the advent of the light the mouse did not return to its hole, merely looking at me with a surprising level of indifference before returning to its task with the foil ball. The mouse bolted back into its hole when I disturbed the foil ball with a stick, but only so far in that its head was no longer protruding into the room, seeming content to sit and watch me from within the safety of its hole. Now the mouse itself I have no issue with, however there was plenty of food stored within my pack for the morrow and it is the potential nocturnal activities of the mouse I DO have problems with. I did not relish waking to find my bag peppered with mouse holes, thus I took the foil and carefully crammed it into the hole, hopefully blocking my nocturnal friends entrance back into the room. My task completed, the light was extinguished, again, and again I turned over in an attempt to sleep for the final hour before midnight.
Sleep, what sleep! I managed to get 2hrs sleep last night, which will no doubt begin to tell during our 13hrs of walking today. 13hrs just the number sounds draining on its own even without the attached exercise, and it’s not much better looking at the numbers which make up those 13hrs: starting in about 45mins we have a 5 hour climb from Saddle Camp to the peak, which will hopefully have us at the summit for 6am and sunrise. We then trudge back down mountain track for 8hrs before finally collapsing in our LandCruiser, our only break coming upon return to Saddle camp, allowing for a change out of our cold weather gear, and for a spot of breakfast
Let me just briefly explain how I managed to get into bed at 6pm and still not sleep for 4 hours. First off, the storm was quite effective at keeping me awake; I love to be in storms and to be able to experience the power that they hold. I think that in that respect we have been really lucky while in Africa, experiencing everything from the torrential downpour of the tropical storm, to the electrical storm brooding in the distance. So I was more than happy to lying in my bunk listening to the storm lash the hut around me and pound relentlessly on thin tin roof. After the storm, the next distracter from sleep would come from the wildlife.
First off are the crows; mutant crows might be a better description. These beady eyed blighters are about a foot in size, having a curious white collar around their neck and a propensity for walking around clacking their claws on the tin roofs above our head, and just to make sure that you were aware of their presence, they bang loudly on the roof with their beaks, which if you are not expecting it, and finally just beginning to drift off sleep, can give quite a start.
Mutant Mt. Meru crows!
As well as the crows, there was also *something* snuffling around the base of our hut, banging into the wall at a level with my head. After the beast had given up foraging near to my head, it was replaced by a slightly odd noise, sounding like something IN the wall. Grabbing my head torch, I gave a quick scan under the bed and confirmed that in fact my concrete floor was sealed firmly to the wooden wall and that whatever was in the wall was going to stay there. Maybe 10 mins later a similar sound came, but I could have sworn that this time it was in the room. Again I scanned around the room, and as if looking for an African equivalent of the Bogie Monster checked under my bunk.
Only the remains of an old chocolate wrapped could be seen, along with a ball of foil which had contained my sandwiches, but again, the wall and floor were solid. With that I turned off the torch, and turned over. 5 mins later the noise came again, my checks revealed nothing, again, but there was now a flake of foil next to my sandwich wrapped which I don’t recall seeing before. The scientist in my head woke up, and decided that an experiment was in order, if only to prove I wasn’t going mad. The foil ball was placed in the middle of the floor and again the room returned to darkness, and with it, a light sleep.
At 11pm I was woken again, a rustling now coming from the corner of the room near my feet. I bathed the room in fluorescent light, to find that the foil ball missing, and the rustling emanating from a large mouse. The mouse was half backed into a hole in the corner of the room, a hole, which I had previously convinced myself did not exist. The rustling was coming from the rodent’s efforts at attempting to pass a 10cm ball of foil into a 5cm hole.
Oddly enough at the advent of the light the mouse did not return to its hole, merely looking at me with a surprising level of indifference before returning to its task with the foil ball. The mouse bolted back into its hole when I disturbed the foil ball with a stick, but only so far in that its head was no longer protruding into the room, seeming content to sit and watch me from within the safety of its hole. Now the mouse itself I have no issue with, however there was plenty of food stored within my pack for the morrow and it is the potential nocturnal activities of the mouse I DO have problems with. I did not relish waking to find my bag peppered with mouse holes, thus I took the foil and carefully crammed it into the hole, hopefully blocking my nocturnal friends entrance back into the room. My task completed, the light was extinguished, again, and again I turned over in an attempt to sleep for the final hour before midnight.
Sunday, 12 April 2009
Top Tips for Climbing Mt. Meru
A lot of people have been asking what Meru was like, and that are there any specific tips that I'd give. Most of the obvious tips, are well, obvious, so I thought I'd give a list of things I feel are either just important, or a little less obvious:
- Spend as much as you can afford on climbing kit
- Bring an extra pair of light shoes, sandals, trainers, pumps, Crocs
- Energy bars are a must,
- Backups, backups of all sorts, extra batteries, extra film or memory cards,
- DEET
- Don’t over pack on things you don’t need
- Wet wipes
- Sunglasses
- Get a Buff
- Water tablets, or if you can afford it, a filter bottle
Meru, Day 2.5
Our camp rests on the edge of the Saddle, and sits itself in a small valley between Little Meru (3808m) and Meru proper, the afternoon spent initially kicking our heals at camp gave the elder American, Zach, and myself the opportunity to bag another peak, Little Meru, which for some reason I keep calling Mini Meru, while the two young Americans caught up with their sleep. Our guide informed us that the climb would only take us 45mins up and 25mins down, and that as we simply needed to follow the path; there was no need for him to accompany us - unless we wished it. To be honest as far as I’m concerned that has been a given for the whole hike so far, follow the path, it has only been when we have seen things like fresh leopard tracks, and the sounds of things moving about in the jungle that we have been grateful for the presence of the guard and his rifle slung nonchalantly over his shoulder.
We were about to set off on our own for Little Meru when a cloud blew over camp, obscuring our intended target, we delayed our hike by 30mins to allow for the cloud to clear and dinner to be better digested. The cloud across camp was neither particularly cold, nor damp; merely just an obstruction to the view, but it was enough to make us wait until we had better visibility, rather than just heading off to at summit of nearly 3800m in 5 meter visibility
The cloud lifted and we set foot on the little hill, the journey was measurably easier having left our packs back on our beds, however due to the cold at the base camp we were wrapped up warmly. Wrapped up for all of 5 minutes, we quickly stopped to disrobe our very insulating coats, hiding them under a bush just of the track – we were the only people climbing the mountain that weekend, and to be honest, apart from the group left at the camp, we were the only humans within about a 10km radius, so the risk of having our coats pilfered was practically zero.
Released from our jackets, we made a speedy ascent, reaching the summit in a very pleasing time of until 30:51mins, not that we were trying or anything!
Saddle camp below us disappearing into the clouds
During our short climb, one issue which continued to puzzle us - why did it need 5 hrs for the final ascent, sure Meru looked steep, but five hours was certainly over cautious. As we crested Little Meru, the cloud cleared completely across both peaks, and we realised why 5 hours would be required. We had mistaken Meru’s peak, and in fact a lot of the route as well which had also been hidden in the cloud. With the peak obscured in the mists, the ascent had originally looked only as hard as hiking Ben Nevis, admittedly approaching from the North Face valley but never-the-less it did not look like it was going to be the “gruelling, challenging climb” other members of the house had described it as. However, when the cloud was cleared by the wind blown up from the lower slopes, a sharp jagged peak stood starkly against the blue sky, showing the route to the top passing along several knife like arêtes. Tomorrow looks like a climb NOT a hike, hmm.
The route up Mt. Meru, as seen from Little Meru, although still slightly obscured with cloud
Back in camp now and on the final few meters descent Nana and Pa managed to call in – score one point for the Nokia E90 – I have found almost NOWHERE that it is not possible to get signal with this phone. For myself it was great to be able to quickly go over the days activities, while actually coming down from one of the peaks. After having completed the hike, the inactivity of the camp was helped a chill settle in, and so I have retired to shiver in my sleeping bag and type this missive, while I wait for dinner – only an hour, time passes really slowly when you’re hungry that’s for sure!
Our guide has just come into my room to say that dinner has been moved and will be ready in 10 mins, 40mins earlier than expected. So I’d better rouse myself, and will continue later.
3800m – 18:00
Just climbed back into my sleeping bag. While it is still light outside, the sun has just passed behind the mountain, casting out collection of huts in its shadow. Now we know why the chaps we saw on entering the camp had thick coats AND balaclavas on, the temperature drops quickly. It wasn’t long until I'd fished out my cousins Down Jacket - i certainly was grateful for that. We passed a good hour, everybody wrapped up tightly, sitting at a hewn rough wooden table playing cards - the fact that one of the young Americans refused to shut the window of the small room in which we were playing provided the only minor annoyance.
I've just got interrupt the narrative - it’s started raining. Hopefully this won’t affect our summit attempt tomorrow. All though the rat-rat drumming on the tin roof might affect sleep.
After giving the impression that it might be about to stop, the lull in the rain only seemed to be due to the storm having to catch its breath before ramping up the intensity, and with that in terms of sleep, i really don’t think that it will be affected, as it’s simply not going to be possible to sleep. The rain has largely changed to become hail now.
If you can imagine being inside a washing machine, filled with ball bearings, while on a spin cycle, you’ve probably got good ideas as what it is like.
18:15 - I’ve just been filming out of the window at the storm swirling around our little wooden huts, I'm not sure if the camera will have been able to pick up the thunder, but it certainly picked up the hail bouncing off the earth – the hail has now been falling so thick and fast that the floor is actually turning white! At this rate I’m actually really worried that our ascent of Meru will be affected.
Thankfully the rain and hail have stopped now, but I’ve realised i cant pack my bag for tomorrow yet – as I’m wearing most of it, and have no idea what the weather will be like tomorrow! I’ll have to wait and see what the morning brings - i think starting with waterproof trousers is a good idea, hopefully not too hot for walking in
Dinner was fairly simple fair, but no one really touched any of it. Not sure if it’s the altitude, but all three of the Americans were also complaining of headaches. Hopefully it’s just dehydration, and will pass as they take on fluids. So far I’ve not had a problem with the altitude in any respect - but i am beginning to feel a little bloated if you follow my meaning.
Ok I’ve to be up in 5:30hrs now. Must try and get SOME sleep!
We were about to set off on our own for Little Meru when a cloud blew over camp, obscuring our intended target, we delayed our hike by 30mins to allow for the cloud to clear and dinner to be better digested. The cloud across camp was neither particularly cold, nor damp; merely just an obstruction to the view, but it was enough to make us wait until we had better visibility, rather than just heading off to at summit of nearly 3800m in 5 meter visibility
The cloud lifted and we set foot on the little hill, the journey was measurably easier having left our packs back on our beds, however due to the cold at the base camp we were wrapped up warmly. Wrapped up for all of 5 minutes, we quickly stopped to disrobe our very insulating coats, hiding them under a bush just of the track – we were the only people climbing the mountain that weekend, and to be honest, apart from the group left at the camp, we were the only humans within about a 10km radius, so the risk of having our coats pilfered was practically zero.
Released from our jackets, we made a speedy ascent, reaching the summit in a very pleasing time of until 30:51mins, not that we were trying or anything!
Saddle camp below us disappearing into the clouds
During our short climb, one issue which continued to puzzle us - why did it need 5 hrs for the final ascent, sure Meru looked steep, but five hours was certainly over cautious. As we crested Little Meru, the cloud cleared completely across both peaks, and we realised why 5 hours would be required. We had mistaken Meru’s peak, and in fact a lot of the route as well which had also been hidden in the cloud. With the peak obscured in the mists, the ascent had originally looked only as hard as hiking Ben Nevis, admittedly approaching from the North Face valley but never-the-less it did not look like it was going to be the “gruelling, challenging climb” other members of the house had described it as. However, when the cloud was cleared by the wind blown up from the lower slopes, a sharp jagged peak stood starkly against the blue sky, showing the route to the top passing along several knife like arêtes. Tomorrow looks like a climb NOT a hike, hmm.
The route up Mt. Meru, as seen from Little Meru, although still slightly obscured with cloud
Back in camp now and on the final few meters descent Nana and Pa managed to call in – score one point for the Nokia E90 – I have found almost NOWHERE that it is not possible to get signal with this phone. For myself it was great to be able to quickly go over the days activities, while actually coming down from one of the peaks. After having completed the hike, the inactivity of the camp was helped a chill settle in, and so I have retired to shiver in my sleeping bag and type this missive, while I wait for dinner – only an hour, time passes really slowly when you’re hungry that’s for sure!
Our guide has just come into my room to say that dinner has been moved and will be ready in 10 mins, 40mins earlier than expected. So I’d better rouse myself, and will continue later.
3800m – 18:00
Just climbed back into my sleeping bag. While it is still light outside, the sun has just passed behind the mountain, casting out collection of huts in its shadow. Now we know why the chaps we saw on entering the camp had thick coats AND balaclavas on, the temperature drops quickly. It wasn’t long until I'd fished out my cousins Down Jacket - i certainly was grateful for that. We passed a good hour, everybody wrapped up tightly, sitting at a hewn rough wooden table playing cards - the fact that one of the young Americans refused to shut the window of the small room in which we were playing provided the only minor annoyance.
I've just got interrupt the narrative - it’s started raining. Hopefully this won’t affect our summit attempt tomorrow. All though the rat-rat drumming on the tin roof might affect sleep.
After giving the impression that it might be about to stop, the lull in the rain only seemed to be due to the storm having to catch its breath before ramping up the intensity, and with that in terms of sleep, i really don’t think that it will be affected, as it’s simply not going to be possible to sleep. The rain has largely changed to become hail now.
If you can imagine being inside a washing machine, filled with ball bearings, while on a spin cycle, you’ve probably got good ideas as what it is like.
18:15 - I’ve just been filming out of the window at the storm swirling around our little wooden huts, I'm not sure if the camera will have been able to pick up the thunder, but it certainly picked up the hail bouncing off the earth – the hail has now been falling so thick and fast that the floor is actually turning white! At this rate I’m actually really worried that our ascent of Meru will be affected.
Thankfully the rain and hail have stopped now, but I’ve realised i cant pack my bag for tomorrow yet – as I’m wearing most of it, and have no idea what the weather will be like tomorrow! I’ll have to wait and see what the morning brings - i think starting with waterproof trousers is a good idea, hopefully not too hot for walking in
Dinner was fairly simple fair, but no one really touched any of it. Not sure if it’s the altitude, but all three of the Americans were also complaining of headaches. Hopefully it’s just dehydration, and will pass as they take on fluids. So far I’ve not had a problem with the altitude in any respect - but i am beginning to feel a little bloated if you follow my meaning.
Ok I’ve to be up in 5:30hrs now. Must try and get SOME sleep!
Saturday, 11 April 2009
More pictures !!
The morning sunrise over Kilimanjaro after the first night on the mountain
The rocky ridge passing over the gorge during the ascent of Mt. Meru.
In the background, the edge of Little Meru can just be seen
One of my favourite pictures so far. It looks just like the clouds from the Lion King, when Mufasa appears in the clouds. Well I think it looks like a lion head anyway!!
I'm on a role now!!
Friday, 10 April 2009
Mt. Meru pictures
Not really sorted out how to upload pictures, but I'm going to give it a quick try, while the net is still working. I'll continue the saga that is the Ascent of Mt. Meru tomorrow...
For those of interest, all the pictures here were taken with either a Sony H50 or Sony T700. The share all the same peripherals and make for a great team, one the best bridge camera out there, and the other a pocketable indestructable warrior of a compact.
Here is the first picture - your favourite host Kaos sitting proudly atop Mt. Meru, which for some reason has a different, Left Wing, name to the actual peak? No idea why - Answers on a postcard, or at least in the commnents section
Meru, Day 2.0
First camp - 05/04/09
Wow, just tried to read over my last night’s musings, the spelling wasn’t exactly great but I’ve cleaned it up before uploading.
Today we have a 4hr walk to the next camp, so we will arrive about 12pm give or take, and then get some rest and shut eye, as we set off for the peak at midnight. The night walk should be quite fun, I’ve memories for night hikes with Scouts and Ventures running through my head now, I hope we managed to do a little better than back then!
i know that for some people the very fact I am writing this recount on an electronic device up the mountain, with my iPhone to keep me connected to my grandparents will annoy - but its a much lighter, more compact way to travel than lugging my A4 leather journal everywhere. That said, I am growing a little concerned about my battery status, the iPhone is naff as far as batteries go and i doubt will last the hike, and my E90, a paragon of stamina that other devices can only hope to match, i forgot to charge, so we'll have to see how long a half powered battery can last in the cold on top - I’ve been told that it can have a very deleterious effect on battery life - guess I'll have to wait to find out
As for the task at hand, I stocked up on water last night and now I’m ready for the off. No blisters from the previous day I’m glad to state, but last night my feet felt like they'd been pounded all day - which in actual fact they had, so I’ve moved onto some thicker socks today. Something else I’ve learnt for when I do Kilimanjaro - my Crocs will be coming with me. It’s not nice to have to keep wearing the same boots in camp as you've been hiking it - does really help with the drying.
Not quite sure what sort of environment we'll be in today, from the flora surrounding the camp, i think it will be closed "wet" montane forest day, which will provide a pleasant break from the "dry" montane forest of yesterday, which to be frank was largely just dry scrub - a typically African landscape to be sure!
Somehow we will have to ascend to the peak. I say somehow, as our camp is situated surrounded by massive buttressed cliffs, located as we are within an area called the Saddle, formed where Meru blew out its side thousands of years ago in its last major eruption, in a way that Mt. St Helens would be proud of. As you follow the cliff edges round (Ok cliffs is a poor description it conjures the image of The White Cliffs and short stocky bluffs of rock - these are 2000m of sheer, vertical rock, climbing steeply into the sky) the summit rises out from the top of these cliffs to our left, standing proud and isolated, and looking frankly unwelcoming.
Certainly it looks like the next few days will be quite difficult, but to be fair it looks quite like a peak of a mountain should do, and as for whatever she may try and throw at us, climbing a mountain like this is always going to be difficult - it SHOULD be difficult otherwise what sense of accomplishment would be achieved upon standing on the summit?
As for today’s route, there is no obvious way of directly ascending the cliffs, so we will be climbing out of the Saddle and approaching the peak from the West face, which hopefully won’t look as sharp as those cliffs!
Time will tell.
3500m - Saddle Hut – 16:30 05/04/09
Today was much easier than yesterday. The rest of the group however seems to have found the converse as going has been steeper. As the pace has gotten harder, the two youngest members of our group have slowed considerably. I have actually found the pace quite difficult, so rather than taking the small steps required to keep up, I take my time doing photography, and generally taking it easy, that then allow me to catch up with the group at my own pace – this can sometimes involve walking on my own for 15 minutes or more through the forest, and to be honest it is actually quite pleasant, being able to listen to the forest breathing, and things moving in the jungle, although occasionally you do get a bit of a start when you hear a branch, not a twig, but a branch crack in the canopy.
As for the pack, things have been much easier than yesterday. I think it was merely a need to get used to the weight. As it stood, my clavicles were sore this morning when i put the pack on, but with slight readjustments to the straps, I have managed to position the pack, so there is it actually barely resting on my back, and after that it has been a pleasant walk
Across the day, the summit has passed into cloud, being obscured for an hour at a time. Our guide informed us that there had been some rain on the mountain over the last few days – the snowy cap we had seen appear a couple of days ago from the sun deck attesting to that fact – and that with the cloud covering the mountain he would have to wait until we reached camp, and the summit cleared before he would be able to say if we would be able to do a midnight summit attempt. An approach to the peak at the Witching Hour is preferred as it allows the climbers to be able to experience the sun rising above Kilimanjaro. In fairness, we had been treated to a wonderful sunrise, light spilling from behind Africa’s highest mountain into the valley below, this very morning. So while a summit sun rise, would be a wonderful experience, at this stage I remain sceptical as to whether or not it is actually possible to eclipse this morning’s light show.
The environment we passed through has ranged from deep forest again, to scrub land, in which our camp is presently situated in. However this scrub differs from that of lower down the mountain, due to being mainly comprised of heathers, and surprisingly, sporadic collections of fiery red and yellow flowers, delicate blue flowers looking akin to clovers dotted around in crevices and green dry grasses brushing at the tops of our thighs. While we have heathers in the UK, they are normally about 40cm high and maybe 2meters wide, as best they could be termed a small bush. Here the heather is over 9feet tall! There are trees of heather, as when our path cuts through these heather forests you can see the trunks which support these colossal plants.
In terms of arriving at Saddle camp, so named as it sits on the edge of Meru's Saddle, giving a different view of the Saddle in which we slept the night before. We were told it would be a 4hr walk which if i am honest i though optimistic at best seeing the general pace of the group. In fact i was quite mistaken, we arrived at camp with 20mins to spare - At 12:10, lunch was again provided and our guide confirmed that since the weather was good, and the ground would be dry, we would set off for the summit at midnight that evening, meaning we would have to be bunked down for 6pm – sleep at that time of the afternoon might prove to be difficult.
Wow, just tried to read over my last night’s musings, the spelling wasn’t exactly great but I’ve cleaned it up before uploading.
Today we have a 4hr walk to the next camp, so we will arrive about 12pm give or take, and then get some rest and shut eye, as we set off for the peak at midnight. The night walk should be quite fun, I’ve memories for night hikes with Scouts and Ventures running through my head now, I hope we managed to do a little better than back then!
i know that for some people the very fact I am writing this recount on an electronic device up the mountain, with my iPhone to keep me connected to my grandparents will annoy - but its a much lighter, more compact way to travel than lugging my A4 leather journal everywhere. That said, I am growing a little concerned about my battery status, the iPhone is naff as far as batteries go and i doubt will last the hike, and my E90, a paragon of stamina that other devices can only hope to match, i forgot to charge, so we'll have to see how long a half powered battery can last in the cold on top - I’ve been told that it can have a very deleterious effect on battery life - guess I'll have to wait to find out
As for the task at hand, I stocked up on water last night and now I’m ready for the off. No blisters from the previous day I’m glad to state, but last night my feet felt like they'd been pounded all day - which in actual fact they had, so I’ve moved onto some thicker socks today. Something else I’ve learnt for when I do Kilimanjaro - my Crocs will be coming with me. It’s not nice to have to keep wearing the same boots in camp as you've been hiking it - does really help with the drying.
Not quite sure what sort of environment we'll be in today, from the flora surrounding the camp, i think it will be closed "wet" montane forest day, which will provide a pleasant break from the "dry" montane forest of yesterday, which to be frank was largely just dry scrub - a typically African landscape to be sure!
Somehow we will have to ascend to the peak. I say somehow, as our camp is situated surrounded by massive buttressed cliffs, located as we are within an area called the Saddle, formed where Meru blew out its side thousands of years ago in its last major eruption, in a way that Mt. St Helens would be proud of. As you follow the cliff edges round (Ok cliffs is a poor description it conjures the image of The White Cliffs and short stocky bluffs of rock - these are 2000m of sheer, vertical rock, climbing steeply into the sky) the summit rises out from the top of these cliffs to our left, standing proud and isolated, and looking frankly unwelcoming.
Certainly it looks like the next few days will be quite difficult, but to be fair it looks quite like a peak of a mountain should do, and as for whatever she may try and throw at us, climbing a mountain like this is always going to be difficult - it SHOULD be difficult otherwise what sense of accomplishment would be achieved upon standing on the summit?
As for today’s route, there is no obvious way of directly ascending the cliffs, so we will be climbing out of the Saddle and approaching the peak from the West face, which hopefully won’t look as sharp as those cliffs!
Time will tell.
3500m - Saddle Hut – 16:30 05/04/09
Today was much easier than yesterday. The rest of the group however seems to have found the converse as going has been steeper. As the pace has gotten harder, the two youngest members of our group have slowed considerably. I have actually found the pace quite difficult, so rather than taking the small steps required to keep up, I take my time doing photography, and generally taking it easy, that then allow me to catch up with the group at my own pace – this can sometimes involve walking on my own for 15 minutes or more through the forest, and to be honest it is actually quite pleasant, being able to listen to the forest breathing, and things moving in the jungle, although occasionally you do get a bit of a start when you hear a branch, not a twig, but a branch crack in the canopy.
As for the pack, things have been much easier than yesterday. I think it was merely a need to get used to the weight. As it stood, my clavicles were sore this morning when i put the pack on, but with slight readjustments to the straps, I have managed to position the pack, so there is it actually barely resting on my back, and after that it has been a pleasant walk
Across the day, the summit has passed into cloud, being obscured for an hour at a time. Our guide informed us that there had been some rain on the mountain over the last few days – the snowy cap we had seen appear a couple of days ago from the sun deck attesting to that fact – and that with the cloud covering the mountain he would have to wait until we reached camp, and the summit cleared before he would be able to say if we would be able to do a midnight summit attempt. An approach to the peak at the Witching Hour is preferred as it allows the climbers to be able to experience the sun rising above Kilimanjaro. In fairness, we had been treated to a wonderful sunrise, light spilling from behind Africa’s highest mountain into the valley below, this very morning. So while a summit sun rise, would be a wonderful experience, at this stage I remain sceptical as to whether or not it is actually possible to eclipse this morning’s light show.
The environment we passed through has ranged from deep forest again, to scrub land, in which our camp is presently situated in. However this scrub differs from that of lower down the mountain, due to being mainly comprised of heathers, and surprisingly, sporadic collections of fiery red and yellow flowers, delicate blue flowers looking akin to clovers dotted around in crevices and green dry grasses brushing at the tops of our thighs. While we have heathers in the UK, they are normally about 40cm high and maybe 2meters wide, as best they could be termed a small bush. Here the heather is over 9feet tall! There are trees of heather, as when our path cuts through these heather forests you can see the trunks which support these colossal plants.
In terms of arriving at Saddle camp, so named as it sits on the edge of Meru's Saddle, giving a different view of the Saddle in which we slept the night before. We were told it would be a 4hr walk which if i am honest i though optimistic at best seeing the general pace of the group. In fact i was quite mistaken, we arrived at camp with 20mins to spare - At 12:10, lunch was again provided and our guide confirmed that since the weather was good, and the ground would be dry, we would set off for the summit at midnight that evening, meaning we would have to be bunked down for 6pm – sleep at that time of the afternoon might prove to be difficult.
Meru, Day 1.5
On exploring round our camp after putting our sweat soaked packs to rest, i followed a track out of camp. Our camp is in the middle of the jungle and only 50meters from the boundary from the camp, a troop of baboons came out of the undergrowth crossing the path. I managed to quickly shoot of a few snaps before the noise of the camera cause the leader to raise his brightly coloured backside and hurry back into where they had cut from the undergrowth. Moving quietly I found that they had actually come from an obvious and wide trail, having little better to do at that moment in time, and hoping for a better picture, I followed the path under the canopy for a couple of minutes before finding it terminated at the drying remains of a watering hole.
The majority of the pool was not actually a pool, but rather a black mud sculpture, dried like concrete with the relief of many paw prints, but in the far corner there was still a dank pool remaining, buzzing with flies. In spite of the outside heat, the jungle itself was pleasantly cool, a warming, rather than baking heat providing a welcome change from the scorching sun on the exposed hiking route. Shafts of light coming down through the canopy, illuminated the long strands of hanging moss like ghostly fingers reaching down from the trees to caress the souls of hikers and animals alike.
Under the shade of the trees, the baboons seemed largely more interested in climbing from the boughs and mating randomly, than avoiding my camera lens. Their play pausing only briefly to squawk at me and jump around each time i would clumsily tread on a stick as I approached further, this flurry of activity would normally cease after a moment of two. Certainly these appeared wild baboons, not those greatly accustomed to humanity as the animals which happily sat for photos at Ngorogoro crater, before leaping to attack Mayhem after he pushed his luck.
My prize for waiting patiently in the cloud of buzzing insects, apparently oblivious to the DEET I had practically bathed in, was seeing the alpha male walk through his group, at least half as big again as the largest animal I had previously seen out on the road. His fur a rusty brown, providing a contrasting comparison to the grey brown of the rest of the group. He largely ignored me, content to walk through his troop with a commanding air. Unfortunately i was unable to get a shot of before he had returned to the thicket which was being used as a veritable jungle gym by the young members of the troop.
After several more minutes of watching the troop in action a bark emanated from the jungle, and the baboons bounced from their makeshift climbing frame and headed deeper into the jungle. Fed up with the buzzing of insects in my ears, and contented that I had taken some promising pictures, i turned, camera in hand and headed back to camp, where hopefully dinner was nearly ready
Coming back to the camp, we passed the time with the Americans playing Gin Rummy. The porters and guides apparently content to listen to a football match, being broadcast from a grainy radio.
We paused our game when we saw the beautiful sunset occurring outside of our window, scrabbling for cameras the four of us poured out onto the little wooden balcony, and watched as the sunset behind us. However it was not the actual sun we were watching, but the colours it was causing in West, casting in Kilimanjaro in a stately relief across the valley before us. Even the clouds enrobing the mountains feet, simply added to the majesty. If this is the views at only 1/3 of the way of the mountain, I can barely conceive of what the sunrise from Meru’s peak will be like!
As I have been writing this entry in my bunk at 10pm, listening to the jungle burp, fart and twitter around me, I’m finding that typing has become quite clumsy, coupled to my eyes getting quite heavy now so I'm going to call it a night
The majority of the pool was not actually a pool, but rather a black mud sculpture, dried like concrete with the relief of many paw prints, but in the far corner there was still a dank pool remaining, buzzing with flies. In spite of the outside heat, the jungle itself was pleasantly cool, a warming, rather than baking heat providing a welcome change from the scorching sun on the exposed hiking route. Shafts of light coming down through the canopy, illuminated the long strands of hanging moss like ghostly fingers reaching down from the trees to caress the souls of hikers and animals alike.
Under the shade of the trees, the baboons seemed largely more interested in climbing from the boughs and mating randomly, than avoiding my camera lens. Their play pausing only briefly to squawk at me and jump around each time i would clumsily tread on a stick as I approached further, this flurry of activity would normally cease after a moment of two. Certainly these appeared wild baboons, not those greatly accustomed to humanity as the animals which happily sat for photos at Ngorogoro crater, before leaping to attack Mayhem after he pushed his luck.
My prize for waiting patiently in the cloud of buzzing insects, apparently oblivious to the DEET I had practically bathed in, was seeing the alpha male walk through his group, at least half as big again as the largest animal I had previously seen out on the road. His fur a rusty brown, providing a contrasting comparison to the grey brown of the rest of the group. He largely ignored me, content to walk through his troop with a commanding air. Unfortunately i was unable to get a shot of before he had returned to the thicket which was being used as a veritable jungle gym by the young members of the troop.
After several more minutes of watching the troop in action a bark emanated from the jungle, and the baboons bounced from their makeshift climbing frame and headed deeper into the jungle. Fed up with the buzzing of insects in my ears, and contented that I had taken some promising pictures, i turned, camera in hand and headed back to camp, where hopefully dinner was nearly ready
Coming back to the camp, we passed the time with the Americans playing Gin Rummy. The porters and guides apparently content to listen to a football match, being broadcast from a grainy radio.
We paused our game when we saw the beautiful sunset occurring outside of our window, scrabbling for cameras the four of us poured out onto the little wooden balcony, and watched as the sunset behind us. However it was not the actual sun we were watching, but the colours it was causing in West, casting in Kilimanjaro in a stately relief across the valley before us. Even the clouds enrobing the mountains feet, simply added to the majesty. If this is the views at only 1/3 of the way of the mountain, I can barely conceive of what the sunrise from Meru’s peak will be like!
As I have been writing this entry in my bunk at 10pm, listening to the jungle burp, fart and twitter around me, I’m finding that typing has become quite clumsy, coupled to my eyes getting quite heavy now so I'm going to call it a night
Thursday, 9 April 2009
Mt. Meru - Post 1.0
Ok here is my entry to the blog for day 1 climbing Mt. Meru. It was written on my trusty Nokia E90 on the mountain side, and while wrapped up in a bunk house on the mountain side, so I apologise in advance for the lack of spell-checking, or cramped keyboard. – If there are any other problems, I’m just going to put it down to lack of oxygen up here – That’s my story and I’m sticking to it!
Arrived at the Meru camp car park and before we have even started, we've been given lunch. Pancakes, sandwiches, drinks, eggs, pasty, bicuit, apple and banana. Not a bad start to the food, this might be a tasty trip
I’m also walking with 3 Americans, they seem very nice, but occasionally i have to stifle a smile at their "local yocal" accents. Lunch boxes were promptly devoured under a little tin roofed lean to, keeping the mid-day sun from our backs, then biscuits and other left over’s from the boxes squirreled away into our bags for later on the mountain – was intending to nonchalantly call it a hill, but having seen it, its not a hill – by any stretch of the imagination.
The guide has been surprised at my insistence that I want to carry my own pack - the Americans have gladly off loaded their big packs and just opted only to carry their little day packs. Hopefully I’m not been foolish trying to carry a 17kg pack up the 5th highest mountain in Africa. But time will tell - and heck i always like a challenge. Once the porters have finished their packing we can be off, and to be honest I’m raring to go.
Ok its now 10 mins later and we are still waiting. My raring bordering on becoming a little impatient – its not an the anticipation is killing me!
2038m above sea level. Just stopped for a break in the shade of a tree and to be fair we need it. We've been going for about 1:45hrs, and its heavy work. There is part of me that wishes that I had not opted to carry my own pack. But for two points i) the break we are taking will make things better (or so I’m hoping) and ii) while very embarrassing, one of the porters just passed us as we paused for a break. Sweat was running of him, a small day pack on his back and a giant basket on his head. Having seen that I'm glad I’m carrying my bag, as i wouldn’t want to give them any extra burden. That said, with the sweat which is pouring off from us, i might regret not bringing that extra t-shirt that I decided was simply extra weight. We are going to smell by Monday
Arrived at first camp for about 1530, frankly to call it a camp is to insult the place, an open compound would be better, there are 3 bunk houses, each sleeping 30 people, with four bunks to a room. A gents and ladies shower block and separate toilets, a kitchen building, and a huge mess building which can easily seat the 30 people and frankly still have space for, for well something big. One of the best surprises here was the balcony; yes a balcony from the mess.
Now to clarify on the word balcony, it is a crude wooden platform, with a wooden handrail built upon 3meter high wooden posts, looking out over the forests and down to the plateau containing the Arusha national park. While it might only be a rough construction, it certainly is a great place to sit and enjoy a boiling glass of water. All of our water up here has to be boiled, to which the only options are hot chocolate powder, tea, coffee, and the option for most of us, gladly wait for it to cool have the water we constantly crave.
- Ok I have to put in an edit here, I happened to actually look at the water we were drinking the following day – I’m pleased that I was boiled but even that might not have been enough – there was a distinct brown tinge to it, and I’m sure that I saw at least three bodies floating about in my steel bottle!
Arrived at the Meru camp car park and before we have even started, we've been given lunch. Pancakes, sandwiches, drinks, eggs, pasty, bicuit, apple and banana. Not a bad start to the food, this might be a tasty trip
I’m also walking with 3 Americans, they seem very nice, but occasionally i have to stifle a smile at their "local yocal" accents. Lunch boxes were promptly devoured under a little tin roofed lean to, keeping the mid-day sun from our backs, then biscuits and other left over’s from the boxes squirreled away into our bags for later on the mountain – was intending to nonchalantly call it a hill, but having seen it, its not a hill – by any stretch of the imagination.
The guide has been surprised at my insistence that I want to carry my own pack - the Americans have gladly off loaded their big packs and just opted only to carry their little day packs. Hopefully I’m not been foolish trying to carry a 17kg pack up the 5th highest mountain in Africa. But time will tell - and heck i always like a challenge. Once the porters have finished their packing we can be off, and to be honest I’m raring to go.
Ok its now 10 mins later and we are still waiting. My raring bordering on becoming a little impatient – its not an the anticipation is killing me!
2038m above sea level. Just stopped for a break in the shade of a tree and to be fair we need it. We've been going for about 1:45hrs, and its heavy work. There is part of me that wishes that I had not opted to carry my own pack. But for two points i) the break we are taking will make things better (or so I’m hoping) and ii) while very embarrassing, one of the porters just passed us as we paused for a break. Sweat was running of him, a small day pack on his back and a giant basket on his head. Having seen that I'm glad I’m carrying my bag, as i wouldn’t want to give them any extra burden. That said, with the sweat which is pouring off from us, i might regret not bringing that extra t-shirt that I decided was simply extra weight. We are going to smell by Monday
Arrived at first camp for about 1530, frankly to call it a camp is to insult the place, an open compound would be better, there are 3 bunk houses, each sleeping 30 people, with four bunks to a room. A gents and ladies shower block and separate toilets, a kitchen building, and a huge mess building which can easily seat the 30 people and frankly still have space for, for well something big. One of the best surprises here was the balcony; yes a balcony from the mess.
Now to clarify on the word balcony, it is a crude wooden platform, with a wooden handrail built upon 3meter high wooden posts, looking out over the forests and down to the plateau containing the Arusha national park. While it might only be a rough construction, it certainly is a great place to sit and enjoy a boiling glass of water. All of our water up here has to be boiled, to which the only options are hot chocolate powder, tea, coffee, and the option for most of us, gladly wait for it to cool have the water we constantly crave.
- Ok I have to put in an edit here, I happened to actually look at the water we were drinking the following day – I’m pleased that I was boiled but even that might not have been enough – there was a distinct brown tinge to it, and I’m sure that I saw at least three bodies floating about in my steel bottle!
I SURVIVVED!!!
Ok I'm back from Mt. Meru and I say this with all sincerity, there are not sufficient words in the English language in order to describe the pain, the discomfort, the mind numbing cold, and the amazing views at the peak.
My climb, and please be under no illusions, we are not talking about a Sunday afternoon jaunt up Ben Nevis, or Snowdon, it was a proper, terrifying, wind swept, ice strewn climb, can be summed up with a simple quote. "The hallmark of a true adventure is that they are frequently not much fun while the event is taking place".
NOT MUCH FUN!!! now there's an understatement.
Having returned, having looked over my pictures, and having regained use of my knees, am I pleased that I completed the climb? Certainly. I'm I proud I managed to do so without allowing the porters to carry my 17kg pack? Absolutely. Would I ever do it again? Not if you offer a helicopter to fly me off the mountain at the end, and half of Bill Gates fortune. Ok in that case I might be tempted to do it again, but it certainly was not a pleasant experience.
I'll try and upload, what are actually turning out to be quite long winded accounts of my adventure on the Mountain.
Again our access to the net has been curtailed and I have had to swallow my pride and return to the internet cafe. On the up shot, and there usually is an upshot where food is concerned, the internet cafe is also a Patisserie and it does a very nice chocolate cake that fills a hole for 30secs while I'm waiting for a computer to be free.
Are there any other bits that might be of interest to the outside world?
- Oh I know - I bowed to peer pressure and went to the orphanage for 2hours. While they may be cute and cuddly and all the other adjectives that the girls at the house use to describe them. I also should point out that they are filthy, grubby, dirty, very good at football, looking at the amount of damage they can withstand and the number which I may have inadvertently stood upon, also apparently indestructible.
When I returned after only 2 hours, I looked like a native - I was BLACK!!! I felt like I needed a bath in something cleansing, like bleach or perhaps Chlorhexidine, anything that would mean that what ever had climbed on me, and was still attached would not be living on me anyway.
Right well I'll leave you with the first Meru post. I'll try and get this completed in the next few days, but it will be internet permitting
Oh and as for Mayhem, he was followed his Girlies over to Zanzibar and will probably be looking like a very crispy piece of bacon by now, as I may have already mentioned, the locals have said if you think Arusha is hot, Zanzibar is FIRE!!
KAOS - OUT
My climb, and please be under no illusions, we are not talking about a Sunday afternoon jaunt up Ben Nevis, or Snowdon, it was a proper, terrifying, wind swept, ice strewn climb, can be summed up with a simple quote. "The hallmark of a true adventure is that they are frequently not much fun while the event is taking place".
NOT MUCH FUN!!! now there's an understatement.
Having returned, having looked over my pictures, and having regained use of my knees, am I pleased that I completed the climb? Certainly. I'm I proud I managed to do so without allowing the porters to carry my 17kg pack? Absolutely. Would I ever do it again? Not if you offer a helicopter to fly me off the mountain at the end, and half of Bill Gates fortune. Ok in that case I might be tempted to do it again, but it certainly was not a pleasant experience.
I'll try and upload, what are actually turning out to be quite long winded accounts of my adventure on the Mountain.
Again our access to the net has been curtailed and I have had to swallow my pride and return to the internet cafe. On the up shot, and there usually is an upshot where food is concerned, the internet cafe is also a Patisserie and it does a very nice chocolate cake that fills a hole for 30secs while I'm waiting for a computer to be free.
Are there any other bits that might be of interest to the outside world?
- Oh I know - I bowed to peer pressure and went to the orphanage for 2hours. While they may be cute and cuddly and all the other adjectives that the girls at the house use to describe them. I also should point out that they are filthy, grubby, dirty, very good at football, looking at the amount of damage they can withstand and the number which I may have inadvertently stood upon, also apparently indestructible.
When I returned after only 2 hours, I looked like a native - I was BLACK!!! I felt like I needed a bath in something cleansing, like bleach or perhaps Chlorhexidine, anything that would mean that what ever had climbed on me, and was still attached would not be living on me anyway.
Right well I'll leave you with the first Meru post. I'll try and get this completed in the next few days, but it will be internet permitting
Oh and as for Mayhem, he was followed his Girlies over to Zanzibar and will probably be looking like a very crispy piece of bacon by now, as I may have already mentioned, the locals have said if you think Arusha is hot, Zanzibar is FIRE!!
KAOS - OUT
Friday, 3 April 2009
Mt. Meru
Right ho kids, this is it, adventure part I. It has taken at least an hour today to pack my rucsac in order to be ready for Meru. Frankly I've over packed, with my bag coming in at 16kg, but I want to make sure that I have everything that I need, and then I can pare it down to only the essentials for Mt. Kilimanjaro.
At the moment the kit list for Meru might be a little over kill, but I'd prefer to be warm and dry, rather than cold and wet. which sort of happened on the Safari. I wasn't prepared for the cold at night when the sun had gone down (as opposed to the cold at night when the sun is still up?!), and looking at the fact that there was a slight snow fall on Meru a couple of days ago (it has since cleared in the sun) I dont want to make the same mistake again.
So I've full waterproof gear, a fleece jacket a down jacket, and clothes to protect me from the sun, hopefully that will all be ok.
So on that note, I leave at 0830 tomorrow morning, and should return to the House at 2000 on Monday if all goes to plan, in the mean time, there are unlikely to be any posts as Mayhem is flying off with his girls for heat in Zanzibar, but I'll try and post on Monday evening, internet permitting, if only to say that i'm not dead!
TTFN
Kaos
At the moment the kit list for Meru might be a little over kill, but I'd prefer to be warm and dry, rather than cold and wet. which sort of happened on the Safari. I wasn't prepared for the cold at night when the sun had gone down (as opposed to the cold at night when the sun is still up?!), and looking at the fact that there was a slight snow fall on Meru a couple of days ago (it has since cleared in the sun) I dont want to make the same mistake again.
So I've full waterproof gear, a fleece jacket a down jacket, and clothes to protect me from the sun, hopefully that will all be ok.
So on that note, I leave at 0830 tomorrow morning, and should return to the House at 2000 on Monday if all goes to plan, in the mean time, there are unlikely to be any posts as Mayhem is flying off with his girls for heat in Zanzibar, but I'll try and post on Monday evening, internet permitting, if only to say that i'm not dead!
TTFN
Kaos
Thursday, 2 April 2009
Blasted public services
There are a lot of people here in the Work the World House (Yes I know that makes it sound like the Big Brother house, and frankly at times thats not far from the truth) who are going to be leaving this weekend. As a result of all the packing and triple checking of flight plans, I decided to check all of mine:
- on the 25th of April I am evicted from the house, after returning from Kilimanjaro at 9pm the previous night. I then have the 6 hour overland drive, crossing the border with Kenya (something that does fill me with slight trepidation, due to potential for delays) to arrive in Nairobi airport - and from what I have heard from people who flew in, it does have the air of ramshackle operation about it. One of the girls had to carry her own bags out to the plane on the tarmac, where they were all then unceremoniously thrown into the hold - the bags not the people that it! I'm hoping with an international, rather than a internal flight, a BA flight at that, that they will be slightly more professional.
My flight leaves at 2350 on the 25th and after 8.5hrs, arrives in Heathrow at 0625, so I'm gaining time. It is at this point that the problem arose. I said that I flew on the 25th, technically correct, and someone kindly purchased a train ticket, to allow me to experience the horrors of the public transport system. Can you see where this is headed yet? Of course the ticket is only valid on the 25th of April, not the 26th when I actually need it.
Thus a rapidly typed, grovelling email has been sent to NationalRail to see if they can help change the tickets without too much of a problem, but at this moment, anxiety is running slightly high.
I'm hoping that I get a reply tomorrow, before I ascend Meru tomorrow, but to be honest, I've been looking at these mountains for so long now, its doubtful that anything could actually dampen the trip. At the moment the mountain is bereft of clouds in the early morning as we walk to work, and by approx 1000 it has been wreathed in clouds again. But even though it looks like I'll be getting wet up there, I'm still almost giddy with excitment. 0830 Saturday morning, when the guide picks me up from the house, cannot come soon enough.
- on the 25th of April I am evicted from the house, after returning from Kilimanjaro at 9pm the previous night. I then have the 6 hour overland drive, crossing the border with Kenya (something that does fill me with slight trepidation, due to potential for delays) to arrive in Nairobi airport - and from what I have heard from people who flew in, it does have the air of ramshackle operation about it. One of the girls had to carry her own bags out to the plane on the tarmac, where they were all then unceremoniously thrown into the hold - the bags not the people that it! I'm hoping with an international, rather than a internal flight, a BA flight at that, that they will be slightly more professional.
My flight leaves at 2350 on the 25th and after 8.5hrs, arrives in Heathrow at 0625, so I'm gaining time. It is at this point that the problem arose. I said that I flew on the 25th, technically correct, and someone kindly purchased a train ticket, to allow me to experience the horrors of the public transport system. Can you see where this is headed yet? Of course the ticket is only valid on the 25th of April, not the 26th when I actually need it.
Thus a rapidly typed, grovelling email has been sent to NationalRail to see if they can help change the tickets without too much of a problem, but at this moment, anxiety is running slightly high.
I'm hoping that I get a reply tomorrow, before I ascend Meru tomorrow, but to be honest, I've been looking at these mountains for so long now, its doubtful that anything could actually dampen the trip. At the moment the mountain is bereft of clouds in the early morning as we walk to work, and by approx 1000 it has been wreathed in clouds again. But even though it looks like I'll be getting wet up there, I'm still almost giddy with excitment. 0830 Saturday morning, when the guide picks me up from the house, cannot come soon enough.
Wednesday, 1 April 2009
Rains, giant doctors, and fish & chips
Over the last few days, there has been a slight turn of the worst with regard to the weather, just to put that in context, the girls are only getting about 3 hours of unbathing time rather than the usual 5hrs. WIth that 5 hrs being determined by getting abck form work between 12 and 1 and the shadows movmenet across our communial balacony. However this change in the weather had brought with it occasional downpours, downpours whihc would even put the UK to the shame. all the roads of the main road, are only roads in the loosest sense of the word, they are more dirt tracks, adn the sheer volume of ater which has fallen during the night in the last few days has scored deep runnels in them, which has decreased teh quality od the taxi rides even fruther.
While the local weather had been wetter, it appears that other weather a little further form our hill in the Arushian countryside might have been a little colder - Mt. Meru which we look out on to has been wrapped in cloud for most of the day, and when the cloud did clear, it left in its wake a fine dusting of snow. Snow which I may very well be seeing on Saturaday when I start my ascent. Certainly i can barely contain my excitament at finally getting to climb the mountain which fills my view almost daily.
On on aside tonight we went to see the new film Benjamin BUtton - quite good by the way - and when we returned to the house, we found the girls playing the Worlds Largest Doctor. Essentially carrying one another around the house wearing an oversided lab coat. What with my height and abundent strength, I was roped in as well, in order to carry Mayehm around on my shoulders, as the worlds largest Male doctor. there was even a quick video shot of the bizzareness.
Anyway its time for bed here now, so I'll try and do a proper catch up tomorrow
TTFn
KAOS
Well that has been quite a random day. torrential down pours,
we came home from watching the filmn to find the group which didnt go along,
While the local weather had been wetter, it appears that other weather a little further form our hill in the Arushian countryside might have been a little colder - Mt. Meru which we look out on to has been wrapped in cloud for most of the day, and when the cloud did clear, it left in its wake a fine dusting of snow. Snow which I may very well be seeing on Saturaday when I start my ascent. Certainly i can barely contain my excitament at finally getting to climb the mountain which fills my view almost daily.
On on aside tonight we went to see the new film Benjamin BUtton - quite good by the way - and when we returned to the house, we found the girls playing the Worlds Largest Doctor. Essentially carrying one another around the house wearing an oversided lab coat. What with my height and abundent strength, I was roped in as well, in order to carry Mayehm around on my shoulders, as the worlds largest Male doctor. there was even a quick video shot of the bizzareness.
Anyway its time for bed here now, so I'll try and do a proper catch up tomorrow
TTFn
KAOS
Well that has been quite a random day. torrential down pours,
we came home from watching the filmn to find the group which didnt go along,
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