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DAY 6 - 7 August 2009 - Barafu Camp to Summit to Mweka Hut 

Having essentially overslept and woken abruptly we immediately felt rushed and nothing seemed to be in the right place, despite having organised everything before getting our heads down.  We found ourselves scrabbling around in the semi-dark tent trying to find things and layer up with t-shirt, woollen long-sleeved shirt, powerstretch top, micro fleece, windproof fleece and down jacket, not to mention thermal leggings and lined winter trousers.  My, were we warm by the time we were dressed!

The final task before we could go was for Gary to get his contact lenses in.  In a rush in the dark with a credit card sized mirror swinging from the roof of tent and a small LED torch either illuminating nothing or shining straight in the eyes the darn things just refused to go in!  Then one got dropped, then Tino arrived and called, "10 minutes" and then nothing seemed to work - stress!  And as for hand hygiene, don't ask.  Suffice to say it was probably good that it was so dark!  In the end the eyes were sorted and we emerged hot and a little bothered into the darkness to pull on boots, gaitors, gloves etc before finally feeling ready to get underway. 

Our intention had been to get some night shots with our new video camera but search as we may we couldn't turn the autofocus off.  Indeed, it was not until back in the UK that we finally found some secondary menu options that control things like autofocus. Why they are not accessible from the main menu is a mystery.  Therefore apart from some blurred attempts at the start, the camera stayed in its padded pouch for the entire night.

Barbara was feeling really rough but still determined to attempt the summit and just before 00:30 we set-off for the Ice Cap zone with the expectation of doing "up" for the next 6 hours illuminated only by the light of the full moon and our LED headlamps.

The going seemed steep just picking our way through the campsite.  Whether this was because we were still half asleep or because it really was steep is difficult to say.  Then it got really steep and although not steep enough to require hands we were gasping for breath and couldn't seem to find a comfortable rhythm.  We were also too hot.  Off came the balaclava and the outer gloves, then the middle gloves and jackets were unzipped.  We were not sure whether it simply wasn't that cold or whether we had over-engineered our layering but on looking around we decided it was the latter because everyone else seemed to be well wrapped up.  Still, at the end of the day it is better to be over-dressed than under-dressed in such environments.

We were moving very, very, slowly, probably managing to move forward by no more than the length of a walking boot with each step.  Barbara was having to stop every few minutes to slow her breathing and heart rate.  It felt as if we were going nowhere fast.

After an hour or two of this and during one of our increasingly regular stops Fred spoke with a guide leading another team and suddenly announced that we must separate if either of us was to reach the summit and we must do that now and not delay!  OMG!   We had of course rehearsed this eventuality before setting off for Africa as statistically only 50% of people reach the top but when it actually happens it is difficult to take in.

Although the reason was illness and not altitude sickness we probably both knew that separating was logical but actually making that decision high up on an unforgiving mountain in the dark and cold is a whole different feeling.  In essence Fred gave us only 30 seconds to decide whether to follow his advice or insist we plod on together.  It was gut-wrenching but after a quick hug and a quick kiss we parted and then watched each other disappear into the darkness and wondered what the night would bring.  Assistant guide Tino, with rucksack, first aid kit and emergency oxygen etc, stayed with Barbara, while Fred went off with Gary.

For Barbara making progress was hideously tough.  She could barely lift her legs, each step moved her forward by no more than 10cm, breathing was a battle, her heart was racing and she was stopping every few metres to recover.  Two hours later she had nothing left and stopped at what we estimate was 5,300m.  All sorts of thoughts flashed through her mind, “With enough time and frequent rests surely I can get to the top” but then reality kicked in, “Don’t forget you have to get down in one piece too”.  The simple fact was, although she had done amazingly well to get as far as she had while fighting a viral infection, the mountain had won and she had to turn back for her own safety.  She talked with Tino and together they turned and climbed the 700m, equally slowly, back down to camp where she rested and waited for Gary to return.  Although she had no doubts he would make the summit she did worry about his fate in this most inhospitable of places.

After separating Gary slowly developed a new rhythm, shuffling slowly, slowly up the steep, dusty, path but without huge enthusiasm now that he was on his own.  People describe this section as scree but it is more like fine sand with differing amounts of gravel mixed in. 

It wasn't long before the Gary/Fred duo came up behind a large group of about 20 people snaking slowly through the sand and believe it or not they were going so slowly that it was tiring to slot in behind them.  Looking at the terrain to either side of the path Gary suggested they could pass the other team, so Fred branched off to the left and onto what looked like reasonably consolidated mud with stones embedded in it.  However, what looked quite stable in the silvery light of the moon was nothing of the sort.  Put simply, we stepped off the reasonably consolidated path, which was a bit like walking on a dry, sandy, beach and into knee-deep dust.  Mistake!

Having started to move past the other group there was nothing for it but to continue, so moving only a fraction faster we spent the next 30 minutes expending vast amounts of energy in the deep dust creeping slowly past them.  Finally we rejoined the path, gasping for breath and feeling totally exhausted, and vowed not to overtake any more groups.  If we caught up another group we would either wait for them to rest and then move past or take a rest ourselves and let them pull away again!

After another hour, which must have taken us to about five-thirty we approached an impossibly steep section just below Stella Point and the long awaited crater rim.  It is difficult to describe how steep this was but our stride reduced just half the length of a boot and with every step we seemed to slide back by at least the same amount.  It was energy-sapping and felt as though it would never end and can best be described as having someone sitting on your chest, suffocating you and forcing you to climb a 1,000m sand dune while blindfolded.  

All of a sudden Gary felt pain across his upper body and down both arms.  This was scary and stopped him dead in his tracks.  Was it simply the body complaining as it strained to take in enough oxygen from the thin air to sustain this physical exertion or was it something far more sinister?  Whatever the cause there was no point dwelling on it.  If it was serious there wasn't much we could do as Fred had left his rucksack and its contents with Tino and we were hours away from them; if it was just a tired body then it would just have to cope until we got to the top of this bleep bleep mountain!  Foolishly or otherwise he decided to assume it was the latter and when the pain subsided set off again. 

After what seemed like a lifetime the ground levelled and we emerged onto Stella Point (5,680m), leaving just 200m to the top.  The sun was coming up and Gary assumed we would stop to take photos but driven most probably by the knowledge that people who stop here risk not making the summit Fred said we should continue and rest at the top.  A little frustrated but too tired complain Gary followed, staying, as ever, about ten metres behind Fred.

The last 200m up and along the rim are much gentler and apart from one exposed bit where you clamber over rocks right on the edge of the rim, looking down into the crater, it is a gentle uphill walk to the top with the Rebmann Glacier and its 40m high ice cliffs on the left and a view across the crater to the right.

Unfortunately easier terrain meant the brain had less to do and began playing all sorts of games. Negative thoughts coursed through the head.  Things like, "Ok, so you're nearly at the top but it's hard work and you're tired. Why not just turn round and go down?", "What's the point of all this without Barbara? Just give up and go back!" and "All I am trying to do is keep you safe!  Go on, turn back!"  Then, about 50m below the summit, near where this picture was taken, the brain's message was, "Enough is enough!  You're not going any further!".  This was a real battle of mind over matter and try as he might Gary couldn't make his brain tell his legs to move another inch. Put simply, he was stuck!  Now what? 

It is hard to say how long trying to cajole the brain into playing ball lasted but it seemed like forever.  Maybe this was it.  Maybe there wasn't anything left in the tank and we would have to turn back when so close yet so far.  But maybe, just maybe, it was the mind playing horrible tricks in some bizarre expression of self preservation and if one can just break through those negative thoughts we might get the show back on the road and manage to traverse the last 300 horizontal and 50 vertical metres to the top.

Then, unexpectedly, two things happened. First the prospect of returning home to family, friends and colleagues to say he was so close yet so far from the top when he turned back seemed too gruesome to contemplate and second that wretched marching song used by the American army (dah dah, dah dah, daaaaah da,da) rang through his head.  Together these made something click in the brain and suddenly Gary found himself shooting up the remaining metres at marching speed, overtaking people by the dozen with dust flying everywhere. 

Fred appeared to think he had lost his marbles because he called him about 20m back down the mountain under the pretence of showing something down in the crater and seemed to suggest we should wait there for a while.  Not convinced, Gary pointed at the top and told Fred that this was his last push and that if we did not get there soon then we would not be getting there at all. 

Finally, after 6 hours of toil, at 06:58, we made it to the top, where the pain and self doubt ebbed away, even though the victory was hollow without Barbara there to share it.

It also proved that the problems just encountered were purely mind over matter, where the mind was winning because Gary had lost interest in overcoming adversity once he and Barbara had parted company.  To rationalise this he figured that if he had been physically at an end all the motivational tactics in the world would not have made a difference but as the brain was effectively saying it couldn't be bothered, it was "simply" a question of finding a way to motivate oneself to achieve what one had set out to achieve all those months ago - simple really?

The summit experience was amazing but completely hectic.  First there was the gentlemanly possession of the summit board to get those all important photos. Then there was the attempt to take in what one had achieved and the three-sixty degree vista and then, no sooner than we had arrived Fred was saying it was time to go.  What, already?  We had taken 6 days to get here and hadn't had enough time to really take in the views.  Gary therefore informed Fred, with a voice that sounded as though it was coming from outside his head, not to mention coming from a person who had had a little too much to drink, that he was not ready to go down and anyway had not captured any video of the experience having carried a kilo of video equipment all this way.

Fred said  he would shoot the video but after that we really must go down.  Unfortunately the camera would not switch on - a message about it being so cold that it was in lockdown to prevent damage to the hard disc.  This was partly because the camera had been left in its padded bag on the rucksack belt rather than being put away when it became clear that the night shots were off but also because it was so cold.  Anyway, annoyed, frustrated and a little disappointed, Gary was trying to get the camera working when he noticed Fred had left and was 300m down the path.  If that was not a steer to leave then it is not clear what would be!  Anyway, after a few minutes inside the down jacket with the now stronger sun shining on it the camera fired up and Gary captured a few rather hasty pans just below the summit, accompanied by somewhat slurred commentary, before deciding he should perhaps keep his guide company and head off down the hill. 

Quite why Fred was so keen to get off the mountain is unclear.  Perhaps he was cold, having left his rucksack with Tino, or perhaps there is a real risk that having ascended 1,300m above high camp, when the recommended daily maximum is just 300-500m, one can flip from feeling perfectly fine to suffering severe AMS, or worse, in a matter of minutes but whatever the reason he was keen to go down, so reluctantly we said goodbye to the Top of Africa all too soon and headed of in the general direction of "down".

We took quite a few pictures as we headed back to Stella Point, where Fred again showed no great inclination to stop.  However, by this time the sun was fully up and warming everything around. Gary's layers, capable of keeping him warm and snug down to a wind chill of about minus 50 degrees were now beginning to make the body struggle to regulate its temperature. In layman's terms, he was far too hot and simply had to "delayer". 

Much to the amazement of the dozen or so people resting on their way to the summit, off came the down jacket, which went straight into the rucksack, followed by layer after layer until this mad Englishman stood at 5,700m in just a t-shirt.  The windproof fleece was pulled on again and with his body now capable of regulating its temperature, picked up the rucksack and trekking poles and pointed in a generally downward direction for the greatest scree run of his life.

After almost skiing down the mountain for the best part of 2 hours we reached solid ground and leapt from rock to rock like a couple of mountain goats to arrive in camp in a cloud of dust at about nine-thirty and about 3 hours earlier than Barbara had been told to expect us.

After a drink and a couple of hours rest we packed our duffle bags and started the further 1,600m descent to our final stop at Mweka Camp at 3,100m, resting for a while at the new Millennium Camp.   The path is good and although very dusty does not cause toes to be ground into the front of your boots or the knees to call out in pain.  Indeed, having descended nearly 3,000m in just over 5 hours both knees and feet felt remarkably fine.

We arrived back in the rain forest at Mweka Camp in a misty drizzle at about three in the afternoon and spent the rest of the day relaxing in our tent and reflecting on what was and what could have been, happy that we had both survived in one piece. 

We found ourselves asking the inevitable, "Was it all worth it?  The answer was of course "Yes" but Gary could not help hearing Sir Steve Redgrave saying, when he won his Olympic Gold, "If you ever see me near a boat again, you can shoot me".  In our terms, that would become, "If you ever see us near a mountain again...".  But then, Mr. Redgrave went on to compete at the next Olympics four years later...!

You can view all of the pictures from day 6 here.

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