“This will probably be the hardest thing you will ever have done”, I was told in the briefing. Obviously the reference was to the actual climb, although the pain of having to pay a considerable sum of money for the privilege was still fresh in my mind! Since it was not quite peak season – and I was not prepared to wait a week to join another party – this was going to be a “Kilimanjaro Safari for One”! The embarrassing thing is that the party actually consisted of seven people: myself, my guide, a porter to carry my clothes and sleeping gear, a porter to carry the tents, a porter to carry the food and kitchen, a porter to carry the tent porter's things and finally a porter to carry the food porter's things. The chosen Machame Route has no huts en route, unlike the more common Marangu (Tourist) Route, so does not need to be booked in advance, but consequently needs more infrastructure, hence the need for all the porters.

Done it !

Read on for the full story ... it's quite long, but then it's not easy to summarise 6 days of slog ... you get the all the gory details whether you like it or not!

I read the brochure, and this is what it had it had to say:

The brochure:

1. Go slowly! This is the single most important piece of advice. There is plenty of time each day to reach the next hut, and you should enjoy the view and the experience. The way people approach the first two days of the climb often determines whether they reach the top. A good plan is to try only to breathe through the nose for the first two days. This forces you to go slowly.

   The reality: Despite this advice, I followed the guide's pace, and even on the final ascent found myself completing the routes quite a bit quicker than the specified times. There was one couple who were obviously very fit and were always well ahead of all the other parties. Well, on the final ascent, I was told that the man had to be virtually carried up – and the woman was screaming and swearing and refusing to go any further, even before reaching Stella Point, the furthest they got. So this advice is obviously to be heeded!

   The brochure:

2. At all times beware the sun. The ultra violet rays are very powerful at altitude so you must protect all exposed skin. Remember this particularly on the final ascent after the sun comes up.

   The reality: The atmosphere is half that at sea level. My lips were like cracked leather after the climb and Pat declared them unkissable for at least two weeks afterwards. Luckily I recovered without a lip balm addiction. At the summit, when I tried to apply my sunscreen, I found that it was frozen solid, hardly surprising since the temperature there is minus 25 degrees Celsius . I had to put this frozen bottle inside my shirt (quite unpleasant really) and could only apply it an hour later on the descent at Stella Point.

   The brochure:

3. Drink plenty – at least 3 litres of fluid every day. Urine should be copious and clear.

   The reality: Good advice and a very important aspect of preventing altitude sickness. Unfortunately this also means having to get up at least once during the night to urinate in the freezing cold. Even just getting in and out of a mummy-style sleeping bag is quite an effort!

   The brochure:

4. Be prepared every day for rain and sudden changes in the weather.

   The reality: We had fantastic weather. My advice is to do the climb during the dry season. It is tough enough without rain and must be absolute hell in the wet. The views are obviously also much better without rain.

   The brochure:

5. Obey your guide! He is very experienced and he will not advise you to do something unless he believes it to be necessary.

   The reality: Charles is a fantastic and strong guide with hundred of climbs to his experience. He is also a great cook, preparing each day's three-course meal personally.

   The brochure:

6. Normal and common symptoms of ascending rapidly to high altitude include a headache, nausea and even vomiting. Provided you still feel strong enough to walk, then these symptoms need not be feared. However, you must recognise the dangerous symptoms of high altitude sickness, when a person develops pulmonary and / or cerebral oedema. Pulmonary oedema is characterised by extreme shortness of breath – walking a pace or two makes you feel as if you've run 10 kilometres – and this is usually accompanied by a dry cough. The chest is noisy – the air can be heard passing through the fluid in the lungs. Lying down makes the sufferer feel worse and relief is obtained by sitting or standing up. On its own, pulmonary oedema causes no pain and this can mislead people into not realising how serious it is. Cerebral oedema causes the most painful headache imaginable. The sufferer is often disorientated and possibly delirious. Again, lying down increases the pressure in the head and makes the sufferer worse. Sitting or standing up brings little relief. Both types of oedema have only one treatment – immediate descent, even if this means descent at night. If descent is immediate, relief is often obtained after only a few hundred metres drop in altitude. If a climber forces him or herself to continue after oedema has started, a descent is likely to be on a stretcher and recovery will take much longer. Oedema is very dangerous. If in doubt, take your guide's advice.

   The reality: I was extremely fortunate not to experience any symptoms of mountain sickness, except for a nasty headache, which could have been due to other causes. The Machame route allows more time for acclimatisation and generally has the highest “success” rate. Some of the climbers were vomiting; one even passed out three times on the way up – it's all a matter of luck really and does not seem to depend on how fit or unfit you are. Some people take preventative medication, but I managed with only a headache tablet on the way down on day five.

If you're not bored yet, here's a day-by-day account of the epic climb:

The brochure:

Leave Marangu after breakfast, in company with the guides and porters. You will be introduced to the guides prior to leaving. Land Rovers take climbers to Machame gate at 1 800 metres at the entrance to the forest. (This is approximately a two-hour drive from the hotel.) At the gate, you must sign the register, showing your name, address, occupation and passport number. The park authorities insist on a passport number, so please know yours. From here, a 5 to 6 hour walk, gradually ascending through the forest to a ridge between two streams and then onwards to the hut which is just clear of the forest at 3 000 metres, but still surrounded by high vegetation. There are often good views to be had from the hut of two remnants of the Shira crater wall, called the Cathedral and the Needle. The forest path is frequently slippery, so take care of your footing, particularly where tree roots cross the path. In the evening, the crew will prepare your meal and put up your tents. After dinner it is normally early to bed.

The reality:

Let me say that Kili is not only the hardest thing I've ever done, but also the most terrifying! The terrifying bit that I am referring to is the drive from the hotel to the Kilimanjaro National Park Entrance Gate (and the return trip) at 120 km/h – in a 50 km/h zone – in a vehicle that did not have working seatbelts! We left the hotel at about 11:00, much later that planned. The advertised two hour drive from the hotel lasted less than an hour and that included the guide stopping off en route at a roadside butchery to buy some pork for rations, checking whether I was Muslim. The less said about the butchery, the better. The trip also included a diversion to the pharmacy at Moshi to buy some anti-diarrhoeals, since I was told at the last minute that these might be necessary to counter one of the other unpleasant effects of mountain sickness (and possibly the pork!).

The entrance gate was unbelievably crowded, with climbers, guides, porters, officials and hundreds of hangers-on and would-be porters milling about. After a brief registration process I was ready to set off, leaving my guide, Charles, who was last in the queue, to go through the remaining considerable paperwork and formalities – including checking each porter's load, which may not exceed 25 kg. The walk was steadily, and occasionally quite steeply, uphill, through the most beautiful and unspoilt rain forest. Fortunately it was the dry season, so the forest was only dripping wet, not soaking wet – it is a rain forest after all. I was surprised at how few birds and animals I could hear or see – most have been poached over the years.

John, one of my support team of six, carries the tents through the most beautiful tropical rainforest

After about three hours, my porter, John, and I eventually broke through the cloud belt – and there it was in the distance – my first view of Kibo Peak, the top of Kili. I just stopped and stared ... and stared ... and stared. It was an awesomely beautiful sight and rather daunting to think I was expected to climb all that way up! Time to share my packed lunch with John and head on upwards.

Just before we reached Machame camp-site on the edge of the forest, the rest of the porters and Charles arrived. They had been delayed terribly by the entrance gate bureaucracy. Nevertheless, it was not long before the tents were erected and tea and supper were served by Benson. As was the case every night, it was a hearty, three-course affair – tonight it was vegetable soup, followed by chicken and chips, finishing with a dessert of fresh fruit. As per the brochure, there were excellent views of the so-called Needle and Cathedral, though they could just as well have been called something like the Praying Hands or Monk's Cowl for all I could tell. Just before 6:00 pm, the sun set and it immediately became bitterly cold, so we all retired to our tents for some warmth. I found the sleeping bag, apparently rated “four seasons” to minus 25 degrees, to offer virtually no insulation and was glad to have brought an extra blanket with me, which was put to immediate use. This Mzungu is acclimatised to Botswana temperatures!

The camp-site was very busy. Charles estimated from the register that there were about 70 climbers on the route, with a total of well over 200 guides and porters. Before long I fell asleep to the background noise of the hundreds of porters still chattering away, singing and whistling in their tents into the early hours of the morning.

The brochure:

After breakfast, walk up a steep ridge from Machame hut through moorland to about 3 600 metres, heading straight towards the peak. Then, after about 4 hours, you reach a rock face that you have to climb carefully. Then the path turns left, flattening out into a gorge and ascending more gradually to Shira hut (3 840 metres) on the Shira plateau to the west of Kibo. Total time is about 5-6 hours. When the weather is clear, there are several places from which excellent views of the plains can be had. The evening procedure is the same, but be careful to dress warmly for sleep, as the weather here can be very cold.

The reality:

After a quick wash, I wolfed down a cooked breakfast of bacon, egg and toast, which miraculously emerged from the “kitchen”, served by the co-guide, Freddy. We set off at 8:00 am for a relatively quick and easy hike through Alpine heath-type vegetation to our next camp on the flat Shira plateau. We arrived so early that our packed lunches were still intact. As the other parties gradually drifted in, the full extent of our numbers became apparent as the plateau filled with a rainbow of different coloured and shaped tents. The only facilities available to the gathered masses were three pit latrines – not a comforting thought. There was plenty of time to bask on a rock, trying to catch as much warmth as possible and reading a book (“The Lexus and the Olive” Tree by Thomas Friedman, a thought-provoking view of globalisation and how it affects everyone on the planet – for better or for worse – a highly recommended, though controversial, read).

The brochure:

The path, which by now is very rocky, continues directly up the ridge towards Kibo. After about 4 hours, the path forks to the right close to a volcanic plug called Lava Tower, goes through a valley below the Tower, through which runs a small river called Bastion Stream, and then descends into a gorge (Barranco) and the night is spent at Barranco hut (3 950 metres). Total time is 6-7 hours. The descent to Barranco hut, as well as the descent into the previous valley, is very steep and care must be taken not to fall. Although light-walking shoes can be worn as far as Shira hut, you should wear boots with proper ankle support from the third day onwards. Barranco hut is in a magnificent position immediately below Kibo's breach wall, and the views are superb. Be ready with your cameras, especially if you have to wait for cloud to clear.

The reality:

Another great breakfast, this time oats porridge, toast and fruit, and it was off at 8:00 again. The landscape was getting noticeably harsher, rockier and less vegetated.

Charles, my guide, describing the route ahead, which can be seen on the right of the photo

Despite the steep, treacherous paths, our porters Robert and Amin passed us almost at a run! The views, as advertised, were great. The Lava Tower was most impressive and the route afforded plenty of opportunity for acclimatisation, rising to well over 4 000 metres before descending to our overnight stop. Once again we reached camp with plenty of time to spare at about 2 pm.

Barranco Camp offered stunning views of our target

Tomorrow night would be the final ascent and I was beginning to prepare myself mentally and physically for the challenge. I realised that if I was going to make it to the top, I would have to ensure a bowel movement – urgently. On inspecting the (single) pit latrine available, it was clear that this was going to be more difficult than anticipated – it was truly the most disgusting thing I have ever seen in my entire travels through Africa – in fact in my entire life! The briefing notes did nothing to prepare me for this.

I include this story, because it formed an important part of the “hardest thing you've ever done” experience, was a “critical success factor” in making it to the top and because – in hindsight – it is actually extremely funny. Please skip this section if you have a weak stomach. I mean that – this is your last chance – click here to move on to the next section.

Still reading on ... ? Are you absolutely sure? Well, imagine a pit latrine designed by a Muslim madman, and called a “plank toilet”. It's a large, smelly hole, covered by planks. In one of the planks there is a gap – in my opinion, far too small. Then have two or three hundred people attempt to defecate through this hole, usually in the dark. Well it becomes an unspeakably horrific slimy mess, punctuated by turds. There is no way that you could possibly use this contraption without getting your hands, clothes and body completely covered in other peoples' mess. No, there is no basin, no water, no nothing. Bring your own bottled mineral water if you want to wash! And believe it or not, there was a very long queue to use this “crime against humanity”, so you have a maximum of about two minutes – and absolutely no privacy. It was already getting dark and my porters had gone to sleep, otherwise I would have asked their assistance in digging a cat-hole a discreet distance from the camp. It would just have to wait until the morning.

Back at the tent , I prepared myself for bed. I took out my contact lenses, since even though they are designed for continuous wear, at this altitude the lack of oxygen is a problem. I got dressed warmly and then crawled awkwardly into the mummy sleeping bag, put on my gloves and hat and prepared for a long, uncomfortable night. Just as I had settled in, my digestive system told me that it just could not possibly wait a few more minutes, let alone the whole night. Oy vay. Ala Maddona. Contact lenses back in. This is not an easy task in the dark and dusty tent. Dust in the lenses – agony – feels like someone has taken a thousand red hot needles and poked them in my eyes - take lenses out and clean them again. Bowels screaming for action. Oh God, please let me die now! Lenses back in – this time slightly less agonising. Wriggle out of mummy-style sleeping bag - carefully. Put on boots – not a one-minute process. Unzip mosquito net. Unzip tent. Unzip flysheet – all the time trying to be discreet – surrounded by two or three hundred campers at close quarters. Torch, matches, toilet paper, walking stick – ready to venture out into the dark, freezing night. Find a sheltered, discreet spot. Hope I'll find my way back to the camp again!

Use walking stick to dig a hole in the very rocky, frozen soil. At this stage, I would have been prepared to dig the hole with my bare hands and nails and taken the soil and rocks out using my teeth if necessary. Bowels screaming. Eventually, ten excruciating minutes later I had dug a very respectably-sized hole almost to the centre of the earth – and relief was at almost there. I remembered reading about frostbite and how the affected limbs turn black, rot and then painlessly, but disgustingly, fall off. Well, I was quite prepared for both cheeks of my bum, penis and testicles to go through this process as long as I could have relief! Now there was just the simple task of removing layers of clothing, including Victorian-style long underwear. The rest is all history – it is true when they say that there is nothing quite as satisfying as a good grot! Ready to attempt the summit tomorrow – nothing will stop me now!

The brochure:

Climb a very steep and in places narrow path out of the Barranco valley. This takes about one hour. Then follow the Kibo Circuit for about 5-6 hours, in and out of river valleys. There are terrific views on your left hand of the Southern icefields and glaciers of Kibo, and about three hours from Barranco you reach Karanga valley, where you will probably stop for lunch. The descent into Karanga valley is steep and treacherous, so be careful. About two hours after Karanga valley you reach a crossroads. Turn left and climb up a steep ridge, which is strewn with loose rock, for about 2 hours to Barafu hut (4 600 metres). Altitude will affect most people by now and make you somewhat breathless. Go slowly and rest as often as you feel like it. At the hut, your crew will prepare a light meal for you, because the altitude makes many people lose their appetite. Try to eat because the following day is a very long and strenuous one and you will need plenty of energy. After the meal, try to get as much rest as possible. It is a good idea to put on a layer or two of the clothes you will be wearing the following morning before you get into your sleeping bag. Not only will they keep you warm, but it cuts down on the amount of work you need to do in the morning to get dressed.

The reality

At breakfast, I thought to myself “Tonight's the night” – Charles tells me we will get up at 11:00 pm for the final ascent to the summit! Leaving camp after another excellent breakfast, the scenery was starkly beautiful and we passed a number of frozen waterfalls. In places there was ice on the rocks, so we had to tread very carefully. We passed the last water-point at Karanga valley and got to the Barafu camp in very good time at about 2 pm. In the mist, the silhouette of another terrifying pit latrine loomed large ... fortunately I had no need for it.

Our camp at Barafu, just before the final ascent

The views of Kibo – the top – were stunning, but it still looked incredibly far away and high. I would later discover that it was as far and high as it looked. I relaxed as much as I could and made sure to drink plenty of water.

The brochure:

The guides waken you soon after midnight. This is where you put on all your warm clothing. Remember to put your sunglasses and sun cream in your pocket, and make sure your water bottles are full. (Keep the water bottle under your anorak to prevent it from freezing.) After some tea and porridge, leave hut at 1 or 2 am. Steep climb over rock and scree towards the Rebmann Glacier, pass a cliff and then enter the gap between two glaciers, arriving at the crater rim near Stella Point (about 7 hours). This can be a very tiring climb since almost everyone will be affected by altitude. Try to give yourself a target to aim for, even if it is only “Ten steps and then I shall allow myself a rest”. When you do rest, don't sit down (very difficult to persuade yourself to get up again!), and don't rest for too long. Try to keep the momentum going. Also remember to drink a little and often – it is easy to become dehydrated which will make you very weak. From Stella Point it is one more hour to Uhuru peak. Climbers then return to Stella Point and descend to Barafu hut. The descent to Barafu takes anything from one to over two hours depending on how the climber feels. After a rest and a drink, the descent continues to Mweka hut, which is just within the rain forest. From Barafu to Mweka hut takes about 3-4 hours. It is very steep, and if it rains the path turns into a stream.

The reality:

Well, contrary to the brochure, Charles woke me at 11 pm and after some biscuits and the ubiquitous weak tea, we left at midnight, an hour ahead of schedule. Almost forgot my sunglasses, which would have resulted in snow-blindness the next day! Right from the start, it was extremely hard going – the narrow path leading mercilessly uphill, directly up the side of the volcano wall. Looking backwards and forwards, all we could see on this moonless night were the torches of the climbers making their way pole pole (very slowly) up the slope. The path consisted almost entirely of volcanic scree (a slippery combination of loose rocks and dust) and for every two steps uphill, you would slide downhill for one or two steps – very disheartening! I started counting steps in order to keep myself going. I would count a hundred steps. I would say to myself “These hundred steps are for Pat.” The next hundred steps I would do for my parents. The next hundred steps ... I went through every friend, family member, colleague, everyone I have ever met (and a few I had never met, like the Pope)... one hundred steps for each ... and then started over at the beginning again. I even did one hundred steps for the tea lady at a large financial institution in Gaborone – those who worked with me will know who I mean ... and one hundred steps for the Passage Lady at Preston Place ... (don't ask).

By now we were between the two glaciers and every so often I would catch a glimpse of white on either side in my head-torch beam. It was extremely cold. I started grouping the hundred steps into thousands. And then started counting hundreds again, because the thousands were too difficult to remember. Then ... suddenly ... I realised I could no longer count ... not even to ten! I heard the guide behind me shout to my guide “Charles, energy!” as I felt myself totter dangerously and almost fall backwards. Charles grabbed me just in time. Charles made me sit down and rest to regain some energy – I actually lay flat on my back, exhausted physically and mentally. After a few minutes I continued, unsteadily. The slipperiness of the scree was a real energy-sapper and not being able to see where you were going made things worse, as my head-torch kept on slipping. A few hundred steps more. Then a thousand. Then another thousand. Charles said we were now halfway up. My heart sank – I thought we were at least two thirds of the way up! Then another hundred steps. Then a thousand. Then another hundred. ... then another ten, and I was tottering again – and becoming extremely cold.

I asked Charles to stop and help me put on my balaclava and thick gloves. Even this simple procedure took minutes and was exhausting – we were both beginning to feel the effects of the altitude. I carried on, each step a mammoth effort.

I stumbled. Charles took hold of my walking stick and made me hang on to it in order to steady me. I had to stop and take a breather every ten steps. Charles offered to carry my backpack, but I refused. He then offered to carry some of the heavier things, like the camera and the spare water bottle in his backpack – an offer that I felt was acceptable. I struggled on, feeling extremely cold and lethargic. Another hundred steps. And another .... and another. I asked Charles the time. It was 4:00 am. A little voice in the back of my head said “Isn't that the time of day that most people die ... when your body is at its weakest?”. I asked what time the sun would rise, because I urgently needed the warmth. Two more hours to sunrise. I didn't have the energy to carry on ... but if I stopped too long I knew I would get hypothermia – my clothes were sopping wet from sweat.

I took out the tiny slab of chocolate I had for energy food – and another for Charles. The chocolate slabs were frozen solid, but soon melted in our mouths. How I wished I had followed Pat's advice and brought the Mars Bar which was probably still lurking in her handbag. Another ten steps ... and another ten steps ... and another .... Charles said we were almost at Stella Point – and that once we got there we could turn back. I carried on a little longer, but could no longer keep upright – the legs had the energy, but the mind did not have the coordination and because it was pitch dark, there was no visible reference point to help maintain balance. Charles grabbed my arm to steady me and we continued like this – Charles providing the balance, me providing the locomotion. Step by step. Sliding backwards, sliding sideways, Charles keeping me upright. At one stage I thought “Let me just fall off the cliff – it will be easier!” Then I heard Charles saying “Philip, we are at Stella Point”. I remember saying “No”. I couldn't believe it. Charles said “Philip, look, there's the crater wall”. There it was, barely visible in the early morning light, with a big white thing behind it. “The southern ice-fields”, Charles explained. It was beautiful. I was cold and exhausted.

Charles said we could go down now. I said “You've got to be joking, not much further to the summit, I'm not giving up now!”. I would wait at Stella Point for dawn and the warming rays of the sun – only another hour till dawn. Walking slowly back and forth to keep the circulation going. Counting the minutes. One for Pat ... one for the tea lady ... and then it was dawn – and warmth! I had regained some of my energy by now – probably by burning up some fat or muscle – and said to Charles that I would tackle the summit now, but on the strict condition that he should not have to keep me upright! I wanted to do it on my own. Only another hour or so to go! Headache starting to kick in – altitude taking its toll – I must move on fast if I am going to make it. Some people were already on their way down from the summit, giving words of encouragement – “Not much further now” – “You can make it” - “Congratulations”. Then I could see it in the distance, the signpost that says “CONGRATULATIONS, YOU ARE NOW AT UHURU PEAK ... 5 895 metres”. Not much further now. I had to stop to catch my breath. Not too long though, the headache is getting worse! It would be terrible not to make it when I was so close. Must carry on while I can!

Then we were there! The view was stunning – even some gaps in the clouds where I could see all the way down to the plains below. I sat down at the edge to take in the view over the crater and the plains below ... and was shocked by my reaction ... I started crying! Uncontrollably. Crying out of sheer relief of having made it, crying for the magnificent beauty of the view, crying for the joy and privilege of being able to be there on the highest point of Africa... and most of all crying for Africa ... all the suffering and shit that the ordinary people go through every day of their wretched lives.

The compulsory photograph

Then followed the usual photographs and congratulations and thanks to Charles ... we spent a good 20 minutes up there – longer than most – and of course there was the fun of trying to apply frozen sunscreen. That wonderful, warm sun! Look at the size of those glaciers – the size of skyscrapers! What an awesome sight – and to think that the glaciers are melting at a rate that they might not exist in 15 years' time. George Bush are you listening – global warming is a reality, you arsehole. I tried phoning Pat from Charles' cellphone, but the network was busy and reception quite patchy – better from Stella Point, Charles said. Sunglasses on and back to Stella Point. Called Pat on her Tanzanian cellphone, to tell her I was on my way down - the wonders of modern technology! Now for the route down – it was still only 8 in the morning – all that activity already and a lot more to come – we would only get into our base camp at 4 pm this afternoon!

The brochure did not mention the next bit – the descent from Stella Point! We basically “skied” down the volcanic scree along a parallel route to the one we came up on. Yes – sliding down the stuff which we had spent the whole night sliding up! This felt a bit dangerous at first, but believe me this “scree skiing” is the most fun you can have with your clothes on! We were going down much faster than we had gone up. Volcanic dust everywhere. We had to keep our sunglasses on, not so much for the ice from the glaciers on each side, but more for the dust. As I paused to look back, I found it utterly unbelievable that I had actually gone up that far last night. We kept on going down and down for kilometres, and each time I looked back up, I felt a fantastic sense of achievement and found the climb to the summit more and more unbelievable. Then we were almost on the level and made our way back to our camp at Barafu, where the porters greeted us with warm smiles and a cold, complimentary synthetic orange cordial. Nothing has ever tasted better! Looking up at Kibo peak, it once again seemed so incredibly distant and high.

My headache was getting worse and I reminded myself that we were still at 4 600 metres! I was told that I could and should rest for half an hour. I lay down in the tent in the baking sun in my sleeping bag – and still felt cold. Anyway, half an hour and a headache tablet later, I felt somewhat re-energised and ready for the trip down. It was a long and demanding descent, because even though it required relatively little energy going down, it demanded all your concentration on the rocky and narrow path. Halfway down we passed Millennium Camp, built, you guessed correctly, for the millennium crowds. Imagine the pit latrines! We finally arrived at Mweka camp at about 3pm, feeling exhausted, but euphoric. It was actually possible to buy beer and cokes here from the park officials, but I did not feel like I had actually missed either of those, so declined. Another great meal and early to bed at 6 pm, when I fell asleep almost immediately and didn't wake until the morning!

The brochure:

The descent continues through the rain forest for 2-3 hours to Mweka gate.

The reality:

As you can guess from the brochure, a bit of an anti-climax! Yes, as per the brochure – a very pretty walk through the rain forest, even spotting a Colobus monkey! The couple who rushed up the mountain and never made it to the top came past us – rushing down again. Some people never learn! When we got to the gate, it transpired that the road was so bad that vehicles could not get to us, so all the climbers had to continue walking to the village of Mweka, where we waited a good hour for the hotel vehicle to arrive. There I met a Dutch climber – the one who had passed out three times on the last night and vomited countless more times – who told me of another nearby mountain he had climbed the week before – an active volcano called Oldoinyo Lengai. I made a mental note to put that on my To Do list. (See story "Active Volcano Safari"). The vehicle set off for the hotel – once again at breakneck speed. Ironic, I thought, that I should survive Kili and then die in a head-on collision on the way back! I phoned Pat, who made her way to the hotel to meet me, bearing fresh clothing. The rest is basically history, as they say. Drinks and farewells with my team, Charles and his trusty porters. Six wonderful days on a very special mountain! What a wonderful privilege.

A question that I have been asked quite often is: “Would you do it again?”. After considerable thought, the answer I have come up with is a qualified “Yes”, the qualifier being that someone else should pay for the expenses next time! Kilimanjaro is a very beautiful mountain, and apart from the challenge of reaching the peak, it is just wonderful to walk in such a varied and unspoiled mountain environment with stunning views around every corner.