Zanzibar - Mt Kilimanjaro - Livingstone Victoria Falls

Hi Tony, thanks for your reply.

My plan is just that so far, but (since this is my favourite route) I plan to start with a flight in to zanzibar (klm) and after a nice relaxing couple of days on the east side coupled with trips to stone town will travel by ferry across to Dar es salaam. A short time there and then a leisurely bus trip from Dar to arusha,visiting the entry gate to Kilimanjaro national park (which btw is higher than ben nevis!) Later a leisurely trip down via dodoma to the Zambia - Tanzania border.
Again, The route takes us close to Serengeti and Ngorogogo crater so options are available, this route is around 1300 km.
In Zambia it is a further 1200km to Livingstone but will stop at several roadside lodges, Livingstone is where I have several holiday accommodation units, A car is also available for Client general use including visiting Victoria Falls if of interest. There are several game parks in the region. The flight back is from Livingstone.
I am writing a book on my experiences (some 15 years work in progress) but following is my own experience of kilimanjaro!.
You are No.1 of 2 visitors, if i gain sufficient interest, i will provide a web site where many photos and better information will be available.

CLIMBING KILIMANJARO
AN EPIC OF BIBLICAL PROPORTIONS !
“Kilimanjaro, Kilimanjaro, Kilimanjaro. Mlima mrefu sana ...................” Well yes, it is a big mountain, in fact a bloody big mountain, all 26,000 +ft of it above sea level rising above the surreal African plains, only 8 degrees south of the equator.
So there we were, all thirteen of us, hot blooded british males, arms around each other in lifetime bonding, singing our hearts out, along with the local guides, as they taught us this new triumphant eulogy to this mother of all mountains . We had done it!
Yet three days earlier it had all seemed a very daunting task. We were going to climb a mountain!
We drove by bus from Dar es Salaam, a journey of some 15 hours, passing through mile after mile of fertile, if very black soil. Exotic trees and plants bought to life the many years of contentment in England, without appreciating their reality. Bananas, oranges, lemons, coconuts, sisal . We stopped for a break and bought a beer in the local tavern, where we were the only non Tanzanians.... what a reception. Everyone was so keen to greet us and to practice their English, and the beer. On a warm winter day the aptly named Kilimanjaro beer was going down like nectar, and sitting on simple plastic chairs and tables watching life pass by, it was difficult to prise ourselves out of this idyll and get back on the bus.
We also had to deal with the local wildlife. We had been warned about tsetse flies and how they could cause sleeping sickness so on the odd occasion when one managed to enter the bus via the small ventilating windows there was near panic as grown men jumped around with rolled up papers, t shirts and towels, trying to evict the blighter.
Some four hours later another stop, this time in the middle of nowhere, but in the clearing someone has set up a stall with simple timber branches set into the ground making the legs, with more roughly hewn and of similar size branches making a simple deck. On sale were various items of food and drink, of course coca cola, sprite etc in cool boxes, swimming in ice and water so that getting one out brought an instant refreshing freeze onto your hand . Locally fried potato chips, fried in oil on an upturned drum forming a simple wok and then packed into sealed small transparent plastic bags just the right size for your hand. Imagine the shock to discover the chips were in fact bananas !
Our guide suggested we tried the coconut milk. What a treat! So sweet, refreshing , and overwhelmingly Moorish. This was definitely one of those simple experiences, the memory of which would remain with us for all our lives .
Back onto the bus again for another few hour’s driving, until almost suddenly and abruptly the driver started pointing out of the window. In the late afternoon, the sun was starting to lower and the striking colours, distinctly African with browns greys, greens and yellows were reminiscent enough of England to remind us of autumn, and yet with the steep sided and dark brown hills all around, it was clear we were far from home. There, clearly in the distance, clear as anything was Kilimanjaro ! The reason we were here. Majestic, with its distinctive shape and snow capped peak, and yet in this middle distance not looking too daunting at all. All too soon it was gone again, lost behind the hills and trees along our roadside.
We arrived at our destination, Moshi, the nearest town to Mount Kilimanjaro, just as darkness was falling. We carried our bags into the hotel reception and took in the scene. After a quick refreshing wash we decided to hit the town. Ten minutes later and to our surprise we were back at the hotel !. Even at 8pm it was very quiet, with very few signs of human activity.
So it seemed that sleep beckoned, and we all drifted off into a fitful sleep, dreaming of the days to come.
Awaking in the early dawn, we were surprised that it had been raining but had now stopped. The air was clear and fresh and the streets and surroundings clean and overwhelmingly bright. The clouds swirled around just overhead, but just for a moment parted to reveal our baby, and boy was it big. Now you had to crane your neck upward to take in the view. It was fantastic ! We couldn’t wait.
After a very hearty breakfast we set off for the gates of the Kilimanjaro national park. Imagine: the entrance is 1,200m, 4300 ft above sea level. That’s higher than Ben Nevis and we haven’t even started our climb! Everything is lush and deep jungle green and so tall, making it difficult for sunlight to pass. Where it succeeded it played crazy patterns on the surrounding bushes and floor highlighting the vibrant and stunning variations of green and browns. We spent an enjoyable time in the souvenir shop buying useful items such as guide books, chocolates, maps and brochures.
Next we were introduced to our guides, there to help us though the journey. It was one guide per three of us, and we were surprised to see that not only did they carry all our luggage, they also took up all the food drink and other essentials needed, such as firewood. Imagine, everything you needed on the mountain for the next three days was carried up – and down. We only had to carry our daily rucksacks and felt guilty for having brought so many changes of clothes, adding to the guides load.
Our guides explained in English, but with a delightfully local dialect which meant a constant question of sorry what did you say ?... and they showed us the route on a scale map. We were going to scale the Marangu way – (somewhat disparagingly described as the coca cola route !)
We started at the gate at 1200m (only some 4,500m to go!) past the Maundi crater, with a calculated journey time of 4 - 5 hours to Mandara hut at 2,700m. We walked fitfully with our back packs and walking sticks, climbing quite easily up a reasonably steep slope, but well cleared and mainly grassed with the path itself well worn. The sides were bounded by trees and shrub and the differing hues, shapes and colours distracted us as we took photos of flowers, patterns and of course ourselves. The annual rainfall of 200mm was evident in the lush verdant vegetation. The sun was shining , the ground good and we found our coats were not really needed so walked in tee shirts. Some of us braved it with shorts as befitting mad-dogs and Englishmen. A pattern soon emerged ,as our group split into two factions. The young bucks, fit and trained over months in the UK surged ahead, eager to reach the first destination and ultimately the top. The second group , a motley crew of try hards, die hards and down right lazy were much slower. Years of beer abuse, late nights and partying, with only a recent nod towards the anticipated rigours of the climb, which appeared to be a couple of 4 mile circuits around their home in the weeks before the trip, with a distinct reduction in the alchohol content during the final week (this proving to be the most severe test of our training regime).
For my part, I was the original proposer of this trip during a beer fuelled brainstorming session , who, as an African veteran, was very quickly voted in as trip organiser. As Round Tabler’s, we were always trying to find novel ways of combining charitable work, good camaraderie and a few beer bonding sessions on the way. With four dentists in our team it easily became apparent that a link with dentistry and medicines was to form the central core. So in the previous six months we had collected x-ray machines, dentist chairs, wheelchairs and all manner of wierd and wonderful usefull but defunct dental equipment. By the time we set off we had raised around 50,000 pounds ,which we had already donated to the speech and hearing centre in Lusaka Zambia and a childrens hospital in Moshi -so we were now fully focussed on our bonding area.
I might add, something which is of particular pain to me, and a great source of amusement to everyone else, that I was without a camera. I am a keen amateur photographer, and had obtained a good Olympus camera for this trip. On the bus to the airport, i carefully entwined the strap around the seating handle so that it swung freely without damage as we journeyed to Heathrow. A few beers later, we dropped off all the luggage and most of the team. Just as we were about to return to the car park, some 40 minutes away, I was told of a huge problem at check in. Telling the bus I would be 5 minutes I went to sort it out. Half an hour later I returned to find the bus had gone !
Another thirty minutes later and the remnants of the crew arrived with the last of the luggage. I was given mine. “what about my camera i asked... What camera ?? “ no one had noticed it hanging on the seat and by now it was too late to go back to collect it. So a ten day trip ensued minus any memories.!!!
So while the YB’s yomped ahead, we meandered onward and upward, until eventually, some 7 hours after the start, we became aware of human activity, of ever louder voices and as we turned a corner, where by now the vegetation had changed from a gentle English woodland to an evergreen forest, we broke the high surroundings into a savannah type landscape with lush grass, solar panels dotted around and wood smoke hanging heavy over the area. The smell of woodland smoke is thick and flavourful and something always remembered. The camp is formed of Danish style chalets sleeping 80in rudimentary dorms. As we orientated ourselves we heard the jeers and catcalls from the YB,s lounging comfortably on chairs on a timber verandah feet up and drinking beer! “What kept you ??”
We have risen a further 1,500m and you can feel the change. In the last light before dark it is noticeably cooler and moist, and surprisingly during theclimb of the last hour we had noticed a discernable drawing of breath, which we had initially put down to being unfit, but were now happy to attribute to change in altitude. Coming from gently rolling farmland of north Essex the church steeply was normally the highest point above sea level, so being at 8,900ft above sea level was strangely awe inspiring.
There is no TV, radio or any other activity to distract you, and with the clear advice that 2 beers is the maximum, zero being optimal ,and having exhausted planning the route to the next camp named Horombo we were all set for bed by 08pm. The rigours of the climb meant we all slept well and awoke at 06.00 for the next leg.
Horombo is the next camp of call, at some 1,000m higher and with a journey time again of around 6 hours covering 17 kilometres. The vegetation starts lush with dense tall woodland, scrub and path ways but by midday had noticeably thinned out and became less dense and not so high. Tree heights were now maximum 4-5 metres and resembled the moorlands of England and Scotland.
We also noticed more and more the down ward travellers. Words of greeting were exchanged and they always gave words of encouragement. With an overall climb success rate of only around 60 -65%, the one question we always wanted to ask, but never did, was “ did you make it ??” and although we made light of it, the statistics suggested that only 7 or 8 of our group of 13 would succeed - Surely not. Sometimes we discussed who would be most likely, clearly the fit YB’s 6 of them, which left only 2 of our motley crew to fill the remaining places, but mostly we kept our thoughts to ourselves, since the thought of coming all this way and failing was too much to consider. And yet as we ascended, it was clear that our steps were already becoming more slower and considered. Our breath was definitely short and we found more and more we needed climb breaks. Still two camps to go. In contrast these “downees” were always cheerful, breathing well and almost running down the mountain.
The view was at time boring and spectacular in equal measure, sometimes a turn in the path revealing a delightful vista of the farmland below stretching out into the far distance. By now it was jumper’s, long trousers and coats. The crisp dry air was exhilarating to breath in and the weather had stayed dry so we were still in good spirits.
By the time we reached Horombo, we were tired and had felt the journey. The YB’s had maintained their planned time, but we staggered in around 6.30 . To a casual observer it may have looked like a reconnaissance war platoon returning to base after 3 days in the jungle as we slowly traipsed in and flopped heavily onto the nearest chair. This time the YB’s were less piss taking/critical and much more supportive as we entered camp. We are now standing 3,720m above sea level. That’s 12,300ft in local currency. And it feels high. And cool. Not cold yet but definitely chilly. We took in the spectacular view far down into the hinterland, stretching out miles into the distance, washed by a early evening haze.
We ate our evening meal prepared by our guides, more rice and chicken stew , washed down by strong sugary tea. Beer was available but only the brave few tried it and then only one bottle to celebrate getting this far.
We all slept well again, although the noticeably chillier night meant that we snuggled deep into our sleeping bags reverting back to our happy childhoods with the blankets tucked up deep around our lower face. Several of our team has already succumbed to the use of thermal underwear.
Some of the team also complain of listless sleep and to low headaches. Not a good sign.
Next morning we awake and dress for the journey. It is another 8- 10 hours climbing, travelling a similar distance of 18 km, but slowed by the distinctly higher altitude. It is cold and we are all wearing coats, gloves and balaclavas or similar headgear. We start at 3,720m and will ascend to 4,703m to reach Kibo hut, which is our final rest point. This time we decide that we should all stick together, but after time the YB’s once again stretch out, buoyed by their own need to finish this leg as soon as possible and leave us behind. One of the group stays with us at our pace. This is now hard work. The path gets narrow in places, the rate of ascend starts steep but surprisingly shallows out. In the near distance is Mawenzi the first of the two craters, its distinct shape forming our clear route marker forward. Although we started well our lack of breath takes it’s toll. Steps are shorter, breathing more shallow and breaks more frequent. It’s cold too, noticeably so despite the sun, but as the weather closes in it becomes damp and uncomfortable. The climbers still pass us on the way down but their happy demeanour of yesterday has been replaced by dogged determination to get down. These guys have just been up to the top and down again. They are on route to Mandara, missing the Horombo Huts on the way down.
We stop for lunch and a welcome respite. The sun comes out and it feels pleasant. The last watering point is a chrystal clear mountain spring fed by the glaciers and we refill our drinking bottles and take in the surroundings. Low grassland, heathers and strange giant heather lobelias .We pass through the desert zone where there is no water, little soil and extreme temperature variations of +/-40 degrees
The afternoon is a real effort for us all. The weather has worsened and the only question we keep asking is how much further. We keep checking our watches but nothing shows in the far distance to indicate our destination. The grassland has been replaced by lava rock, a lot of it loose which adds to our difficulty.We are close to the summit. Here there is not enough oxygen for plants and far too cold for anything other than lichen and the odd hardy flowers. This is the saddle, the slightly concave part of the link between Mawenzi and Kibo the two volcano’s. Kibo is our destination but it defiantly refuses to show itself. The last three hours really worsen. Unbelievably it starts to snow, slow at first and then a mini blizzard, whipped up by the cold wind driving across the saddle, and which blows the snow into our faces. This is not what it says in the brochure!
We finally see Kibo huts in the distance.It is already late and we are truly exhausted. The YB’s are safely in camp but come out to meet us and to help us in the last 400m.No more jokes, just encouragement and relief that we have arrived safely. Several of our team have already given up and declare they cannot go any further. They are nauseous and have blinding headaches – all symptoms of altitude sickness. They forego conversation and any food or drink and go straight into their sleeping bunks, curling up into a foetal position .
In the fading light we take in the view. Outside toilets were not expected but with a view like this you can really take your time.
I recall the advice that you should climb a little higher, say 20m, and then descend which gives relief from the altitude sickness. Several of us try it and it appears to work. We are now standing at 4,703m.Only another 980m to go. We look at the route. No easy task. You can only guess at the exact location of the common high point, which is Gilman’s point (5685m - 18,760 feet) but it is clear that the route up is a steep coll between two ridges. The clouds swirl around the top and snow and ice can clearly be seen.
We have been briefed on the plan. We sleep as best we can and are awoken at 11pm. Starting at midnight, it is a slow 6 hour trek up the last part, constantly traversing across the steep slope until you reach Gilman’s point at dawn. The highest point is a further one and a half hours which takes you round the edge of the glacier to Uhuru peak -at 5,895m (19,454 ft) the true highest point in Africa.
We all retire to our sleeping bags, but the cold penetrates, making it so difficult to sleep, even with thermals hat and gloves. At the appointed time the light comes on and the guides enter. Time to go!
It is no surprise that four of our team can’t go on. One of the four dentists,shaun, is determined to make it, although already he has been vomiting and with cramps and headaches. As we start our final stretch I feel surprisingly fine and confident. It is mid February and there is no moon. We use our head torches to pick out the path in front of us, often doing no more than following the boots in front of you. Unbelievably, the sky is filled with stars, bright and shining in the millions and every now and then I stop to take this all in . Our defiant dentist is faltering. He has already vomited around ten times and nothing is left. I admire his resolve and decide as organiser it is my job to get him over this final hurdle. My encouragement is as constant now as his demands to give up. “It’s only another hour, are you going to give up now” I say, as he tries yet another feeble attempt to vomit !
Our journey is painfully slow, one guide remains with us and the others fade out of site. As we do finally reach Gilman’s point people are already descending. Helping Shaun to the rim, I look around for our group. Several are close by . Where are the rest ?? Four of our team have already left some two hours ago for the high point – SHIT ! My patient has already started his descent wasting no time at the top. I ask if there is any way, no, you can only go with a guide and they have long gone.
I curse my bad luck then consoling myself with the fact I helped another, I settle to take in the view. With no camera, these views need to be locked into my mind ! It is amazing and true that at that height you can see the curvature of the earth . The clouds below mask our previous three days efforts, but above the sky is clear blue ,crossed by several vapour trails. Truly wonderful and awe inspiring.
Climbers are all around and I am part of a unique club - the 100% ers !! All too soon it is time to descend. The scree is now becoming loose as the evening ice binder is now melting, making it potentially lethal.
I read that the best way to descend is to skip, and try this - it works ! In no time I am back at Kibo and I regroup. Soon after the four top men return also.
So there we were, all thirteen of us, hot blooded british males, arms around each other in lifetime bonding, singing our hearts out, along with the local guides, as they taught us this new triumphant eulogy to this mother of all mountains . We had done it!
“Kilimanjaro, Kilimanjaro, Kilimanjaro. Mlima mrefu sana ...................”
But that’s not the end of this story !
Statistics tell it like it is. Eight made it, four of which made the extreme top. Of the remaining five, Ramon is decidedly off form. This is surprising because he is the body builder, the one who claimed he was the fittest of us all, who didn’t partake of the amber nectar, and clearly looked the strongest.
Two of the guides break from our group and do a quick exam. Speaking in Swahili, orders are barked at several bystanders who rush off, returning with a stretcher, resembling a canoe, with a single large wheel underneath and steel handles at the front and back.
One guide comes to explain our body builder is suffering from extreme altitude fitness and may need hospitalisation. They are going to call for an ambulance to meet us at the gate, but we have to nominate four of us to run at pace down this bloody mountain, along with a guide.
We were supposed to descend to Mandara today at a leisurely descent, finally returning to the gate tomorrow.
As coordinator I am instantly nominated as team leader. I choose three of my best mates, all dentists and all who earlier made it to the extreme top. The patient is strapped in and covered up to his chin with rainproof material. And we set off, taking turns to act as brake and steerer, we career at a reasonable pace down- hill. We shortly pass the earlier descenders, who look shocked as we sweep past. After a few hours we meet the first of the long line of people climbing the last leg up. All stop, move aside and just look aghast at what they are seeing. They all wonder if this fate will befall them !!!
Unbelievably, by lunchtime we have reached Horombo and charge through without halting. By now the clouds envelop us in a damp mist and it doesn’t take long before we are in a full blown heavy rainstorm. We stop to put on rain coats and to completely cover the patient and speed on. By now the previously firm ground has turned to mud, with torrents of water accompanying us down the path. We slip and slide all over, and it is unrelenting. Another few hours and we recognise the environs of Mandara hut. As we turn the bend we screech to an almost stop. In front of us is a large group of local school kids out for the day. Few have rain protection and all have taken off their shoes and socks. Despite being drenched, they are all smiling broadly, with that clear white smile that shines brightly against their shiny brown skin. As we pass through they all take the opportunity to practice their English. “Good morning “ they chorus “ How are you ??”, totally oblivious of the serious problem facing our patient.
In what seems no time at all we are at the gate, where the ambulance awaits. Coming to a final stop, drenched, covered in mud and absolutely exhausted , we pull back the cover to reveal the patient. We have covered almost 50 miles downhill in about ten hours .All right lads?” he says, in a thick brummie accent “are we there yet ?”
The medical reveals a complete return to normality, with no need for further treatment. Tee-totaller or not, he has got a few beers to buy tonight !!!
We wait in the bus, not for a very long time, until the remaining teams members also arrive, having decided that they should also get down fast to check on the patient’s condition and they are also shocked to see him walking around laughing and joking. All’s well that ends well I guess.
AN EPIC OF BIBLICAL PROPORTIONS !
“Kilimanjaro, Kilimanjaro, Kilimanjaro. Mlima mrefu sana ...................” Well yes, it is a big mountain, in fact a bloody big mountain, all 26,000 +ft of it above sea level rising above the surreal African plains, only 8 degrees south of the equator.
So there we were, all thirteen of us, hot blooded british males, arms around each other in lifetime bonding, singing our hearts out, along with the local guides, as they taught us this new triumphant eulogy to this mother of all mountains . We had done it!
Yet three days earlier it had all seemed a very daunting task. We were going to climb a mountain!
We drove by bus from Dar es Salaam, a journey of some 15 hours, passing through mile after mile of fertile, if very black soil. Exotic trees and plants bought to life the many years of contentment in England, without appreciating their reality. Bananas, oranges, lemons, coconuts, sisal . We stopped for a break and bought a beer in the local tavern, where we were the only non Tanzanians.... what a reception. Everyone was so keen to greet us and to practice their English, and the beer. On a warm winter day the aptly named Kilimanjaro beer was going down like nectar, and sitting on simple plastic chairs and tables watching life pass by , it was difficult to prise ourselves out of this idyll and get back on the bus.
We also had to deal with the local wildlife. We had been warned about tsetse flies and how they could cause sleeping sickness so on the odd occasion when one managed to enter the bus via the small ventilating windows there was near panic as grown men jumped around with rolled up papers, t shirts and towels, trying to evict the blighter.
Some four hours later another stop, this time in the middle of nowhere, but in the clearing someone has set up a stall with simple timber branches set into the ground making the legs, with more roughly hewn and of similar size branches making a simple deck. On sale were various items of food and drink, of course coca cola, sprite etc in cool boxes, swimming in ice and water so that getting one out brought an instant refreshing freeze onto your hand . Locally fried potato chips, fried in oil on an upturned drum forming a simple wok and then packed into sealed small transparent plastic bags just the right size for your hand. Imagine the shock to discover the chips were in fact bananas !
Our guide suggested we tried the coconut milk. What a treat! So sweet, refreshing , and overwhelmingly Moorish. This was definitely one of those simple experiences, the memory of which would remain with us for all our lives .
Back onto the bus again for another few hour’s driving, until almost suddenly and abruptly the driver started pointing out of the window. In the late afternoon, the sun was starting to lower and the striking colours, distinctly African with browns greys, greens and yellows were reminiscent enough of England to remind us of autumn, and yet with the steep sided and dark brown hills all around, it was clear we were far from home. There, clearly in the distance, clear as anything was Kilimanjaro ! The reason we were here. Majestic, with its distinctive shape and snow capped peak, and yet in this middle distance not looking too daunting at all. All too soon it was gone again, lost behind the hills and trees along our roadside.
We arrived at our destination, Moshi, the nearest town to Mount Kilimanjaro, just as darkness was falling. We carried our bags into the hotel reception and took in the scene. After a quick refreshing wash we decided to hit the town. Ten minutes later and to our surprise we were back at the hotel !. Even at 8pm it was very quiet, with very few signs of human activity.
So it seemed that sleep beckoned, and we all drifted off into a fitful sleep, dreaming of the days to come.
Awaking in the early dawn, we were surprised that it had been raining but had now stopped. The air was clear and fresh and the streets and surroundings clean and overwhelmingly bright. The clouds swirled around just overhead, but just for a moment parted to reveal our baby, and boy was it big. Now you had to crane your neck upward to take in the view. It was fantastic ! We couldn’t wait.
After a very hearty breakfast we set off for the gates of the Kilimanjaro national park. Imagine: the entrance is 1,200m, 4300 ft above sea level. That’s higher than Ben Nevis and we haven’t even started our climb! Everything is lush and deep jungle green and so tall, making it difficult for sunlight to pass. Where it succeeded it played crazy patterns on the surrounding bushes and floor highlighting the vibrant and stunning variations of green and browns. We spent an enjoyable time in the souvenir shop buying useful items such as guide books, chocolates, maps and brochures.
Next we were introduced to our guides, there to help us though the journey. It was one guide per three of us, and we were surprised to see that not only did they carry all our luggage, they also took up all the food drink and other essentials needed, such as firewood. Imagine, everything you needed on the mountain for the next three days was carried up – and down. We only had to carry our daily rucksacks and felt guilty for having brought so many changes of clothes, adding to the guides load.
Our guides explained in English, but with a delightfully local dialect which meant a constant question of sorry what did you say ?... and they showed us the route on a scale map. We were going to scale the Marangu way – (somewhat disparagingly described as the coca cola route !)
We started at the gate at 1200m (only some 4,500m to go!) past the Maundi crater, with a calculated journey time of 4 - 5 hours to Mandara hut at 2,700m. We walked fitfully with our back packs and walking sticks, climbing quite easily up a reasonably steep slope, but well cleared and mainly grassed with the path itself well worn. The sides were bounded by trees and shrub and the differing hues, shapes and colours distracted us as we took photos of flowers, patterns and of course ourselves. The annual rainfall of 200mm was evident in the lush verdant vegetation. The sun was shining , the ground good and we found our coats were not really needed so walked in tee shirts. Some of us braved it with shorts as befitting mad-dogs and Englishmen. A pattern soon emerged ,as our group split into two factions. The young bucks, fit and trained over months in the UK surged ahead, eager to reach the first destination and ultimately the top. The second group , a motley crew of try hards, die hards and down right lazy were much slower. Years of beer abuse, late nights and partying, with only a recent nod towards the anticipated rigours of the climb, which appeared to be a couple of 4 mile circuits around their home in the weeks before the trip, with a distinct reduction in the alchohol content during the final week (this proving to be the most severe test of our training regime).
For my part, I was the original proposer of this trip during a beer fuelled brainstorming session , who, as an African veteran, was very quickly voted in as trip organiser. As Round Tabler’s, we were always trying to find novel ways of combining charitable work, good camaraderie and a few beer bonding sessions on the way. With four dentists in our team it easily became apparent that a link with dentistry and medicines was to form the central core. So in the previous six months we had collected x-ray machines, dentist chairs, wheelchairs and all manner of wierd and wonderful usefull but defunct dental equipment. By the time we set off we had raised around 50,000 pounds ,which we had already donated to the speech and hearing centre in Lusaka Zambia and a childrens hospital in Moshi -so we were now fully focussed on our bonding area.
I might add, something which is of particular pain to me, and a great source of amusement to everyone else, that I was without a camera. I am a keen amateur photographer, and had obtained a good Olympus camera for this trip. On the bus to the airport, i carefully entwined the strap around the seating handle so that it swung freely without damage as we journeyed to Heathrow. A few beers later, we dropped off all the luggage and most of the team. Just as we were about to return to the car park, some 40 minutes away, I was told of a huge problem at check in. Telling the bus I would be 5 minutes I went to sort it out. Half an hour later I returned to find the bus had gone !
Another thirty minutes later and the remnants of the crew arrived with the last of the luggage. I was given mine. “what about my camera i asked... What camera ?? “ no one had noticed it hanging on the seat and by now it was too late to go back to collect it. So a ten day trip ensued minus any memories.!!!
So while the YB’s yomped ahead, we meandered onward and upward, until eventually, some 7 hours after the start, we became aware of human activity, of ever louder voices and as we turned a corner, where by now the vegetation had changed from a gentle English woodland to an evergreen forest, we broke the high surroundings into a savannah type landscape with lush grass, solar panels dotted around and wood smoke hanging heavy over the area. The smell of woodland smoke is thick and flavourful and something always remembered. The camp is formed of Danish style chalets sleeping 80in rudimentary dorms. As we orientated ourselves we heard the jeers and catcalls from the YB,s lounging comfortably on chairs on a timber verandah feet up and drinking beer! “What kept you ??”
We have risen a further 1,500m and you can feel the change. In the last light before dark it is noticeably cooler and moist, and surprisingly during theclimb of the last hour we had noticed a discernable drawing of breath, which we had initially put down to being unfit, but were now happy to attribute to change in altitude. Coming from gently rolling farmland of north Essex the church steeply was normally the highest point above sea level, so being at 8,900ft above sea level was strangely awe inspiring.
There is no TV, radio or any other activity to distract you, and with the clear advice that 2 beers is the maximum, zero being optimal ,and having exhausted planning the route to the next camp named Horombo we were all set for bed by 08pm. The rigours of the climb meant we all slept well and awoke at 06.00 for the next leg.
Horombo is the next camp of call, at some 1,000m higher and with a journey time again of around 6 hours covering 17 kilometres. The vegetation starts lush with dense tall woodland, scrub and path ways but by midday had noticeably thinned out and became less dense and not so high. Tree heights were now maximum 4-5 metres and resembled the moorlands of England and Scotland.
We also noticed more and more the down ward travellers. Words of greeting were exchanged and they always gave words of encouragement. With an overall climb success rate of only around 60 -65%, the one question we always wanted to ask, but never did, was “ did you make it ??” and although we made light of it, the statistics suggested that only 7 or 8 of our group of 13 would succeed - Surely not. Sometimes we discussed who would be most likely, clearly the fit YB’s 6 of them, which left only 2 of our motley crew to fill the remaining places, but mostly we kept our thoughts to ourselves, since the thought of coming all this way and failing was too much to consider. And yet as we ascended, it was clear that our steps were already becoming more slower and considered. Our breath was definitely short and we found more and more we needed climb breaks. Still two camps to go. In contrast these “downees” were always cheerful, breathing well and almost running down the mountain.
The view was at time boring and spectacular in equal measure, sometimes a turn in the path revealing a delightful vista of the farmland below stretching out into the far distance. By now it was jumper’s, long trousers and coats. The crisp dry air was exhilarating to breath in and the weather had stayed dry so we were still in good spirits.
By the time we reached Horombo, we were tired and had felt the journey. The YB’s had maintained their planned time, but we staggered in around 6.30 . To a casual observer it may have looked like a reconnaissance war platoon returning to base after 3 days in the jungle as we slowly traipsed in and flopped heavily onto the nearest chair. This time the YB’s were less piss taking/critical and much more supportive as we entered camp. We are now standing 3,720m above sea level. That’s 12,300ft in local currency. And it feels high. And cool. Not cold yet but definitely chilly. We took in the spectacular view far down into the hinterland, stretching out miles into the distance, washed by a early evening haze.
We ate our evening meal prepared by our guides, more rice and chicken stew , washed down by strong sugary tea. Beer was available but only the brave few tried it and then only one bottle to celebrate getting this far.
We all slept well again, although the noticeably chillier night meant that we snuggled deep into our sleeping bags reverting back to our happy childhoods with the blankets tucked up deep around our lower face. Several of our team has already succumbed to the use of thermal underwear.
Some of the team also complain of listless sleep and to low headaches. Not a good sign.
Next morning we awake and dress for the journey. It is another 8- 10 hours climbing, travelling a similar distance of 18 km, but slowed by the distinctly higher altitude. It is cold and we are all wearing coats, gloves and balaclavas or similar headgear. We start at 3,720m and will ascend to 4,703m to reach Kibo hut, which is our final rest point. This time we decide that we should all stick together, but after time the YB’s once again stretch out, buoyed by their own need to finish this leg as soon as possible and leave us behind. One of the group stays with us at our pace. This is now hard work. The path gets narrow in places, the rate of ascend starts steep but surprisingly shallows out. In the near distance is Mawenzi the first of the two craters, its distinct shape forming our clear route marker forward. Although we started well our lack of breath takes it’s toll. Steps are shorter, breathing more shallow and breaks more frequent. It’s cold too, noticeably so despite the sun, but as the weather closes in it becomes damp and uncomfortable. The climbers still pass us on the way down but their happy demeanour of yesterday has been replaced by dogged determination to get down. These guys have just been up to the top and down again. They are on route to Mandara, missing the Horombo Huts on the way down.
We stop for lunch and a welcome respite. The sun comes out and it feels pleasant. The last watering point is a chrystal clear mountain spring fed by the glaciers and we refill our drinking bottles and take in the surroundings. Low grassland, heathers and strange giant heather lobelias .We pass through the desert zone where there is no water, little soil and extreme temperature variations of +/-40 degrees
The afternoon is a real effort for us all. The weather has worsened and the only question we keep asking is how much further. We keep checking our watches but nothing shows in the far distance to indicate our destination. The grassland has been replaced by lava rock, a lot of it loose which adds to our difficulty.We are close to the summit. Here there is not enough oxygen for plants and far too cold for anything other than lichen and the odd hardy flowers. This is the saddle, the slightly concave part of the link between Mawenzi and Kibo the two volcano’s. Kibo is our destination but it defiantly refuses to show itself. The last three hours really worsen. Unbelievably it starts to snow, slow at first and then a mini blizzard, whipped up by the cold wind driving across the saddle, and which blows the snow into our faces. This is not what it says in the brochure!
We finally see Kibo huts in the distance.It is already late and we are truly exhausted. The YB’s are safely in camp but come out to meet us and to help us in the last 400m.No more jokes, just encouragement and relief that we have arrived safely. Several of our team have already given up and declare they cannot go any further. They are nauseous and have blinding headaches – all symptoms of altitude sickness. They forego conversation and any food or drink and go straight into their sleeping bunks, curling up into a foetal position .
In the fading light we take in the view. Outside toilets were not expected but with a view like this you can really take your time.
I recall the advice that you should climb a little higher, say 20m, and then descend which gives relief from the altitude sickness. Several of us try it and it appears to work. We are now standing at 4,703m.Only another 980m to go. We look at the route. No easy task. You can only guess at the exact location of the common high point, which is Gilman’s point (5685m - 18,760 feet) but it is clear that the route up is a steep coll between two ridges. The clouds swirl around the top and snow and ice can clearly be seen.
We have been briefed on the plan. We sleep as best we can and are awoken at 11pm. Starting at midnight, it is a slow 6 hour trek up the last part, constantly traversing across the steep slope until you reach Gilman’s point at dawn. The highest point is a further one and a half hours which takes you round the edge of the glacier to Uhuru peak -at 5,895m (19,454 ft) the true highest point in Africa.
We all retire to our sleeping bags, but the cold penetrates, making it so difficult to sleep, even with thermals hat and gloves. At the appointed time the light comes on and the guides enter. Time to go!
It is no surprise that four of our team can’t go on. One of the four dentists,shaun, is determined to make it, although already he has been vomiting and with cramps and headaches. As we start our final stretch I feel surprisingly fine and confident. It is mid February and there is no moon. We use our head torches to pick out the path in front of us, often doing no more than following the boots in front of you. Unbelievably, the sky is filled with stars, bright and shining in the millions and every now and then I stop to take this all in . Our defiant dentist is faltering. He has already vomited around ten times and nothing is left. I admire his resolve and decide as organiser it is my job to get him over this final hurdle. My encouragement is as constant now as his demands to give up. “It’s only another hour, are you going to give up now” I say, as he tries yet another feeble attempt to vomit !
Our journey is painfully slow, one guide remains with us and the others fade out of site. As we do finally reach Gilman’s point people are already descending. Helping Shaun to the rim, I look around for our group. Several are close by . Where are the rest ?? Four of our team have already left some two hours ago for the high point – SHIT ! My patient has already started his descent wasting no time at the top. I ask if there is any way, no, you can only go with a guide and they have long gone.
I curse my bad luck then consoling myself with the fact I helped another, I settle to take in the view. With no camera, these views need to be locked into my mind ! It is amazing and true that at that height you can see the curvature of the earth . The clouds below mask our previous three days efforts, but above the sky is clear blue ,crossed by several vapour trails. Truly wonderful and awe inspiring.
Climbers are all around and I am part of a unique club - the 100% ers !! All too soon it is time to descend. The scree is now becoming loose as the evening ice binder is now melting, making it potentially lethal.
I read that the best way to descend is to skip, and try this - it works ! In no time I am back at Kibo and I regroup. Soon after the four top men return also.
So there we were, all thirteen of us, hot blooded british males, arms around each other in lifetime bonding, singing our hearts out, along with the local guides, as they taught us this new triumphant eulogy to this mother of all mountains . We had done it!
“Kilimanjaro, Kilimanjaro, Kilimanjaro. Mlima mrefu sana ...................”
But that’s not the end of this story !
Statistics tell it like it is. Eight made it, four of which made the extreme top. Of the remaining five, Ramon is decidedly off form. This is surprising because he is the body builder, the one who claimed he was the fittest of us all, who didn’t partake of the amber nectar, and clearly looked the strongest.
Two of the guides break from our group and do a quick exam. Speaking in Swahili, orders are barked at several bystanders who rush off, returning with a stretcher, resembling a canoe, with a single large wheel underneath and steel handles at the front and back.
One guide comes to explain our body builder is suffering from extreme altitude fitness and may need hospitalisation. They are going to call for an ambulance to meet us at the gate, but we have to nominate four of us to run at pace down this bloody mountain, along with a guide.
We were supposed to descend to Mandara today at a leisurely descent, finally returning to the gate tomorrow.
As coordinator I am instantly nominated as team leader. I choose three of my best mates, all dentists and all who earlier made it to the extreme top. The patient is strapped in and covered up to his chin with rainproof material. And we set off, taking turns to act as brake and steerer, we career at a reasonable pace down- hill. We shortly pass the earlier descenders, who look shocked as we sweep past. After a few hours we meet the first of the long line of people climbing the last leg up. All stop, move aside and just look aghast at what they are seeing. They all wonder if this fate will befall them !!!
Unbelievably, by lunchtime we have reached Horombo and charge through without halting. By now the clouds envelop us in a damp mist and it doesn’t take long before we are in a full blown heavy rainstorm. We stop to put on rain coats and to completely cover the patient and speed on. By now the previously firm ground has turned to mud, with torrents of water accompanying us down the path. We slip and slide all over, and it is unrelenting. Another few hours and we recognise the environs of Mandara hut. As we turn the bend we screech to an almost stop. In front of us is a large group of local school kids out for the day. Few have rain protection and all have taken off their shoes and socks. Despite being drenched, they are all smiling broadly, with that clear white smile that shines brightly against their shiny brown skin. As we pass through they all take the opportunity to practice their English. “Good morning “ they chorus “ How are you ??”, totally oblivious of the serious problem facing our patient.
In what seems no time at all we are at the gate, where the ambulance awaits. Coming to a final stop, drenched, covered in mud and absolutely exhausted , we pull back the cover to reveal the patient. We have covered almost 50 miles downhill in about ten hours .All right lads?” he says, in a thick brummie accent “are we there yet ?”
The medical reveals a complete return to normality, with no need for further treatment. Tee-totaller or not, he has got a few beers to buy tonight !!!
We wait in the bus, not for a very long time, until the remaining teams members also arrive, having decided that they should also get down fast to check on the patient’s condition and they are also shocked to see him walking around laughing and joking. All’s well that ends well I guess.
Kind regards

Kevin

hi terry, new to silversurfers but cant see Talos post ?

Hi Kevin, when I responded to your post re your planned trip in Africa,
I inadvertently sent it to someone called Talo, who had posted just
before you. Any way, all I wrote was that I had done 5 overland trips
through East and Southern Africa, but now aged 74, am a bit too old
to come with you. I also said that if anyone was interested in going
with you on your trip, that I would highly recommend it to them as
the places you are planning to visit are places that should be enjoyed.
I hope that you may get some interest, and wish you a great time.
Best wishes, Terry.