We were green but tough and that’s what counted!

THE KILIMANJARO DIARIES – THE FINAL CHAPTER

This story is far more than about climbing the tallest free standing mountain in the world, MT Kilimanjaro. It’s about ten women, virtual strangers, from different parts of the UK, but divided by class, age and experience and how they came together and will be forever bonded.

I joined this intrepid group via The Prince’s Trust’s Women Supporting Women campaign after a difficult period in my life, suddenly losing my best friend to cancer and then facing my own cancer scare which resulted in a major operation. I decided on a whim to say Yes, when the challenge was presented to me.

I walked, I think as many of us did during those restricted times of covid, taking that hour of exercise in the local park, but hiking up altitude was far beyond my experience. How hard could it be, surely its just a matter of one foot in front of the other and that’s how I approached it.

After a few zoom calls with the team, some on camera, some just voices, we started to get to know one another and a whats app group was created. We had been given an official training programme and kit list. Eager to be prepared I commenced with both, joining the gym and shopping frantically at outdoor pursuit retailers.

Over the months I took trips to The Lake District, hiking Old Man Coniston, sleeping in my sisters camper van at the foot of Snowdon, rising to depart at 1am for the summit trek, walking up to 25 miles a week, with blisters to prove it and alighting like John Wayne from the treadmill, after 50 minute sessions on the highest incline wearing ankle weights, I felt I had given it everything.

However, we were all warned that altitude sickness could send even the fittest and experienced home from Kilimanjaro. With this in mind we took to our local Altitude Training Centres and experienced exercise whilst our bodies were submitted to the air conditions we would face and our heart and oxygen levels monitored with probes on our fingers.

The week before our leave date our whats app group wash awash with comments  of work load, training, preparation and sheer exhaustion at trying to juggle so many plates whilst working and around family commitments. Finally, the time came for us to board our flights and come together for the first time at The Weru Weru Lodge, Kilimanjaro, Tanzania.

Our group ages ranged from 30 to 65, with varying degrees of fitness experience, cyclists, skiing, hiking, some avid campers to those who were going to sleep in a tent for the first time. What was apparent was that everyone had passion, were successful and driven.

Our chosen route was The Lemosho Trail, which would take us eight days and as we travelled to our starting point we saw giraffes grazing at the roadside, baboons and monkeys swinging from the trees. There would be very little wildlife after this, an occasional lizard, or a mouse scavenging for crumbs or the black crows that kept watch at our camps.

Over the coming days as we walked in a single line through the rainforest and across barren wastelands great friendships were formed as we chatted away. Needing a group name our guides named us the “Kili Chickens”, as our incessant chatter reminded them of clucking birds.

It was surprising how we all fell into a routine very quickly; rising just after 6am, repacking our bags each day with the layers increasing as it got colder, washing sparingly with a small bowl of tepid water and relieving ourselves behind rocks became very normal. Gone were our home comforts, hot showers, straighteners and all those can’t live without products.

The topography changed daily, dramatic landscapes and open wilderness with a different camp to call home at the end of each day and our allotted green one woman tents.

Under the watchful eye of our guides and our porters carrying the bulk of the gear precariously perched on their heads, we faced many challenges; from the dizzy heights of Barranca Wall with its sheer drops, the blistering sun, the volcanic dust that would penetrate your nostrils and the clouds engulfing us.

As the altitude increased many of us experienced issues from headaches, nausea and unpredictable tummies. Our guides were always there with the appropriate medicines, advice and checking our stats every morning from the prob on our finger to our emotional state.

We all felt bereft after one of our team was forced to leave after suffering from altitude sickness. Accompanied by one of our guides who had picked up a stomach bug, things started to get very real.

The night of our summit arrived and at 11pm we donned our head torches, all wrapped up with endless layers and with one shared thought, getting to the top.

We scrambled over scree, loose and tremulous under our feet, desperately trying to make headway, but battling the 25 mph winds and punishing -19 temperature. The lights of other climbers shining like fireflies ahead, this climb would ultimately take us 12 hours. With limited breaks we huddled shivering whilst fed glucose tablets and hot ginger tea. The emergency thermal body suit was placed on one of our ladies, whilst others vomited and had difficulty breathing. This was a tough climb but as the sun broke across the mountain it looked incredible and offered up hope and positivity.

We were all relieved when we reached Uhuru Point and wasted no time taking our group, then individual photos. Breathing was difficult and the sooner we headed back down the quicker the effects of altitude would dissipate.

I stole a moment on my own to spread my friends ashes, taken up by the wind across the volcanic top, formidable glaciers and over the clouds below. Then we were all assisted down by the porters back to the sanctuary of our little green tents where we could rest and reflect on what had just been an experience like no other.

We’ve raised just over £85,000 so far, but there’s still time to help us reach the magical £100,000 goal that we set ourselves. Every £ helps, together we can #ChangeAGirlsLife