On top of the world, ah Africa

I was feeling nauseous and had a headache, although convinced it had nothing to do with my handstand on the top of Africa! I was also very disorientated and knew it. It was a strange disassociated feeling. I knew I should have been thinking more clearly but I just wasn’t and I was happy with that. A profound sense of accomplishment settled over me. We had made it.


Our pace up that hill had been fast, far from pole-pole. Even the guide was not himself and weaving on the path. It had taken less than 6 hours of walking to conquer the 1,300 meter climb and almost 5km in distance. Sounds poor when you consider I was walking 12km and climbing 1,000 meters up and down in just 2 hours at sea level. I cannot say it enough, altitude is the big leveler.


We took our photographs and then under the insistence of Aaron, headed for the exit, back down Stella Point. By now a number of other parties had started to appear on the top and the thin air aided some interesting conversations. We took a break at Stella Point for David to strap on his bionic knee brace. I lost about another 10 layers of clothing, finding innovative ways to attach them to the outside of my backpack, the inside having been long filled up! Some of my water was completely frozen. It must have been relatively cold up there for a moving liquid wrapped inside my warm clothing to freeze up!


Starting back down the mountain was a shock. I could not believe my eyes when I saw what I could not see in the night. The path up was a big patch of loose gravel up an incredibly steep slope. Lines of people were still struggling up this slope and we tried to give encouragement to all of them. Most of them looked exhausted! Perhaps we looked just the same to them.


What brought a tear to my eye was the number of older people at the top of the mountain. And by older, I mean 65 and upwards. This must have been tough for them and yet they had managed to do it. I was proud of my own achievement, but for them, this must have been very special. An almost confirmation of the fact that they still had lots to offer life. It was all very moving!


3 hours of work was what it took to get down the gravel slopes to our camp. The slope was relentless and we spent most of our time trying to sand ski, jump, and hop through the sliding gravel. For Dave the process was difficult, as he was trying to protect both knees and his back. But there was no stopping us, we were going home!


The clouds descended just moments before we got to our tent. We were happy to toss off our clothes and boots and climb into our sleeping bags for a good mid morning nap. We really tried hard to nap, but there was something about that site that would not let us sleep.

Our crew was happy to ‘wake’ us up and get on the move again. We were still left with a 7km hike straight down the mountain before the day was over. Certainly the hardest part of the walk so far. The slope was relentless and the end never seem to come. But it did and we were soon hunkered down for our last night on the mountain at Mweka camp.

And boy did we sleep!

To the top

All of that excitement was no good for me. I managed to get a whole ten minutes sleep. More than enough to prepare me for the adventure to come, surely? Whilst lying in my sleeping bag waiting for my 'wake up' call, I calculated that I had slept no more than 11 hours over the last 5 days on the trail. Altitude certainly had not helped my sleeping patterns.

Eventually Abbas wakes us up. I am out of my sleeping bag like a shot. Dave is a little groggy as he only fell asleep only a couple of minutes previously. We are served tea and biscuits in our tent. It seems a little bizarre to be eating these strawberry flavoured biscuits in freezing conditions in a tent. Altitude is supposed to decrease one's appetitite but I had no such problems, and tucked in happily. Despite all of our preparations it still took us about 40 minutes to kit up and exit our tent. There we were, dressed for the snow, and waiting for our guide.

Our guide was still in his tent. Shouting to each other through the tent, we established that he was not keen to leave until midnight, in 20 minutes time. We stamped our feet, cajoled him to hurry up, and wasted time until he emerged. Lines of lights snaked up the first of the mountain slopes as parties set off up the mountain, one after another. I was feeling rather anxious and after all of our preparation, I wanted to get moving.

Eventually, we set off at midnight.

My wife had advised me to dress warmly with the sound thinking that I can take something off, but I cannot put anything on if I am too cold. After 50 meters of walking I was overheating. Perhaps, I had gone too far with my 2 pairs of socks, 2 pairs of gloves, 3 pairs of pants, and 4 tops. I called a halt to our march and started to undress. Off came my beanie, a pair of gloves, and a top. The march resumed. I was still hot but unzipped my tops, and let the freezing air flow wherever it could to cool me down.

We marched and marched and marched. My world shrunk to the diameter of my head torch as I carefully followed Dave's slow footsteps as he slowly followed the guide. An assistant guide followed me in case one of us had to turn back at any point. Every now and then my mind would get the better of me and I would look up to see how far we still had to climb. I could not see very far but what I could see is that the hill just continued up. Then it was back to concetrating on following footsteps.

The moon soon rose over our shoulders, a beautiful orange quarter. It started to illuminate the profiles of the mountains around us. I could see a spur running to our right which reared up into the sky as it joined the top of the mountain. This was not good psychological news as it meant we still had some way to go. Our slow pace continued but not as slow as the pace of others as we soon overtook all of the parties that had departed some time before us. This was no race, but it gave me hope that we were making progress.



Aaron, our guide, called a break. This break in rhythm seemed like an imposition. We drank water which was already starting to freeze and I ate a frozen Crunchie. After a couple of minutes we set off again. It was just too cold, even for me, to sit around doing nothing.


Time was surreal as the path continued endlessly upwards. My mind narrowed to nothing but moving my feet. The surface we were climbing changed and my hope soared. Was this the start to the last climb to Stella Point? Aaron said no! I shut off my mind again and continued to walk. The ground was covered in sand and small stones. As I placed my foot, it would slip backwards as the surface shifted downhill. It was a little frustrating.


I could feel that I was tired. My lack of sleep catching up with me. I settled on a 3 word mantra and repeated each word with every step I took. This seemed to help, as the climb was endless. I kept wanting to close my eyes and have a quick nap. Completely nonsensical. I repeated my matra and plodded on. My brain was numbed and my world shrunk to the importance of just those 3 words.

I heard his words but did not understand at all. Aaron had said ‘Karibu Stella Point’. Where we there already? A few steps later and we were there. Way below us, lights in lines snaked up the mountain and we could see lines of lights on the other mountain spur. The sun was getting ready to rise and I was almost on top of the world. We did not linger and set off on the last part of the climb, a gentle walk to Uhuru peak, just 45 minutes away along the crater rim.


That walk was gentle but I was tired. The top was absolutely spectacular, views over banks of clouds, other mountains reaching up through the mist, a sunset about to break, and massive glaciers shining whitely below us. I struggled to take it all in. My mind was definitely moving in slow motion and I slowly realized that I should be photographing these great sights. Dave and Aaron, standing on the peak, were shouting at me to get a move on. I was not really perturbed and could not see the point in rushing.


Somehow we were the first there. The sun rose as we stood and watched. The moment was beautiful.


More beautiful was the fact that Dave, my brother, and I had done it together. And in the process we had rekindled our brotherhood. So special!