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Kili-Queen

by Sue Hanisch

How could one resist the temptation of making some reference to the indomitable Freddie Mercury, when in Tanzania and so close to his native Zanzibar?

Background

You may be old enough to remember the good old days, when trains ran on time in the UK and there were litter bins on all British Railway Stations. That was all prior to Monday Feb 18 1991, when lots of things changed - in my life in particular.

At 7.50 on a crisp Monday morning, standing using a public phone in Victoria Station, London, within 5 yards of a cast iron litter bin which contained a 10lb IRA bomb, I was an easy soft target for angry men to vent their ire and frustration. This type of bomb always "goes for" legs and feet, so it did what it was designed to do. I lost my right leg and suffered horrendous injuries to my left leg as well. Chaos and panic reigned and 40 of us were taken to Westminster Hospital. The music stopped for me that day.

Amidst the mayhem and pure fear I knew, as an Occupational Therapist with 12 years experience, that I probably wouldn't die and that all would be well....ultimately. But of course, I could not have imagined how long and protracted my rehabilitation would take or how long it might be until I felt a little bit healed. Strangely enough, that morning, I remained perfectly calm, held a tangible conversation with a guy who was prepared to sit on the ground and hold my hand until the emergency services arrived, which was about 45 minutes. I did not lose consciousness and could even tell the emergency team my GP's phone number, both in Blackburn and Holland (where I was living at the time). What an amazing capacity the brain has for overriding pain and chaos when it needs to.

Three years later, I was able to return to work, but 7 years on, after my marriage had also ended in disaster, I was awarded a Douglas Bader Flying Scholarship for the Disabled and went to Big Bear in California for 8 weeks, where I gained my Private Pilot Licence. In 1999 I was presented with my "Wings" by Queen Noor of Jordan, who is Patron of the charity. The organisation of and involvement in many charity events followed over the subsequent 5 years, in which I was involved in a British record for Tandem-parachuting for Meningitis Research as well as fund-raising for Flying Scholarships for the Disabled with Polly Vacher and British Disabled Flying Association.

Ground School

Whilst musing over possible challenges in 2002, I jokingly said to a friend that it was not beyond the realms of possibility that I might try to climb Kilimanjaro! A rash statement, made in jest, but from little acorns, mighty oaks are formed.....and so it was with this seed of an idea, over the subsequent months, the thought became more and more fixed as a desire and a goal and I began to feel that this notion could actually become a reality for me and not be some wild dream....or pie in the sky!

Researching Kili using the Internet was time-consuming, but very satisfying and talking to people who had climbed Kili in the past inspired me to continue. Unfortunately, there were also stories of people's failed attempts and accounts of Acute Mountain Sickness, which I came across and for which I needed to pay due heed and respect.

Ironically, back in Sept 1989 I had seen Kilimanjaro from the plains of Amboseli in Kenya, while camping amongst the elephants. The view of such an enormous, majestic mountain was an overwhelmingly inspiring vision, but I had no desire or need at that particular time to even think that I might like to get to the top. We never know just what the future holds for us, do we?

Having set my heart on attempting to climb the mountain I contacted various companies using the Internet, explained my situation, my intention and then waited to see how they would each respond to my request and rise to this challenge, of guiding me safely up/down the mountain.

Various companies responded in a positive way, but by far and away the most positive and most encouraging response came from Ferris and Schoeman, go-kili.com. This would be to climb via the Western Breach in October 2004, summiting in day light of Oct 29th after the full moon.

I had requested that I would climb on my own, as my biggest concern was climbing with strangers, suffering from Acute Mountain Sickness, and holding them back due to my slow ascent. I also needed an extra porter to carry my day pack, as my task of getting myself up the mountain was enough for me to think about. Ferris and Schoeman seemed to be the answer to all my prayers. A relatively new, very professional, very caring outfit with a 100% success record of getting people to the summit safely ascending via the Western Breach. They also use the newest equipment and treat their porters particularly well, which was also of great importance to me.

Unicef

I decided at this stage that I would raise money for African children who had amputations, but who were not able to get limbs due to poverty. I decided, therefore, that the money I raised would be collected and sent to assist the children via UNICEF.

Getting in Training

I had already started trying to increase/improve my fitness levels as I was gathering the necessary information regarding the climb. I was swimming a mile a day on most days and trying to walk between 3 and 5 miles per day, and in February 2004 I made the rash move of making my booking to do the climb in October. At that point I knew for me that there was no going back and it was then up to me to put in the training and see things through to their conclusion (a bit like flying solo for the first time). Living with uncertainty seems to always be where I end up, but the need to take risks and the excitement and anticipation which is built up is such a thrill.

Much of my training took place in Australia, as I had arranged a house-swap with a friend in Maleny, Queensland. All went reasonably well, apart from the odd abrasion on my stump and a bit of backache as I built up my fitness regime. Disaster struck, however, in June when my prosthetic foot snapped in two, as I was doing too much activity! Not having a spare limb with me in Oz, I was panic-stricken, wondering how on earth I was going to get back to the UK with all my luggage, let alone how I was going to continue my training and climb to 19,340 ft! Fortunately, an orthotic/prosthetic company in South Brisbane were able to see me immediately and fitted a new foot straight away. All my immediate fears and anxieties were quietened, so my life (and my training) could continue. A glimpse of the route of the job ahead.............................

During the summer I was able to do some training at altitude. In California in the St. Bernadino mountains I was able to climb between 7,000 and 9,000 ft, but forest fires prevented me from climbing Sugarloaf, the highest peak. I also did some climbing in and around the Italian Alps from Lugano. The main problem for me was because it wasn't the real thing, it hardly seemed worth doing! Kilimanjaro still seemed so far away, but by the end of the summer the days were rapidly disappearing.

Lift Off

Before I was ready 15th October arrived on my calendar and I flew to Amsterdam with 9 friends for a long weekend in eager anticipation of my onward flight to Kilimanjaro on Monday 18th. KLM are the only airline who have a direct flight from Europe to Kili, all other companies fly via Dar es Salaam or Nairobi.

A friend Cathy joined me in Amsterdam from Oregon, USA. Her plans for writing a book (Women and Warriors) were taking shape nicely. Throughout my preparations for the climb I had shared with her a few of my problems regarding the training regime, ulcerations etc, but I had been reluctant to share with her all my anxieties, fears and self-doubt. Clearly by me not voicing these feelings to anyone I was trying to avoid facing them myself. I suppose by putting them into words I felt I would allow people to elaborate on how I felt and make me worse! Who knows? I was very excited, but very apprehensive and I just wanted to get on with it. My personal choice was to keep my feelings private and to myself. Cathy had decided that she would fly with me to Tanzania, but would not do the climb herself, but would wait in Arusha and keep in touch daily by satellite phone. (As it turned out these phones never worked as they had been scrapped by Iridium. My cell-phone worked for most of the time on the mountain and in fact the reception was better there than at home in Cumbria, England! )

Wilbert Mollel, aka Kili-Warrior was at the airport to meet us. There was no view to be had of Kili, as it was already late evening. The first three days were spent in and around the Mountain Village Resort and Arusha. These were days of preparation for the climb and getting to know Wilbert, who is from the Maasai tribe in Ngorogoro mountain region.

The trips into Arusha were vibrant and could be quite frantic, trying to avoid the local flycatchers, who all try to get your attention in any way possible. My only significant purchase was some throat/cough tablets, as on arrival in Tanzania I had developed a dry tickly cough which was causing Wilbert some concern, as he thought I might be developing a head cold. Prior to leaving home the BBC had given me a video camera to record daily goings-on, but still we had no sight of Kili, due to it either being too far away or covered in too much cloud.

Wilbert had put a suggestion to me prior to my arrival in Tanzania, that even though I wanted to climb by myself during the day, I might possibly want some company in the evenings in camp, with whom to share mealtimes and R&R in the evening hours. He had said that a couple from New York would be around, so I was looking forward to getting to know them. As it turned out, on arrival, Wilbert said that this couple had postponed their climb, but there was another guy with whom I would share camp, a Colin Neilson from Stockholm. On meeting Colin for dinner on the last night before leaving for the climb, it emerged that he was from Stockholm, as that is where he is currently working. He is, however, originally from Belfast!!! What an act of sheer genius on God's part to organise that behind my back! Brilliant!

The Mountain

On Friday 22 October we checked out of the hotel at 7.30am and travelled about 20 miles in a 4-wheel drive jeep to register at Londorossi gate. This was quite a time-consuming exercise and Colin and I were eager to get started. Sunhats and sunscreens were at the ready as we approached the trailhead at Lemosho to meet up with the porters, and as we approached we began to drive through huge puddles and mud-slicks. The rainy season had decided to start earlier than usual, so we had to put on gaiters and ponchos before we got out of the jeep to meet the porters. Our first few steps were taken sloshing around in ankle-deep red mud with the porters singing and dancing around us to greet us and sing us on our way. Between Colin and myself we had 2 guides, Wilbert and Faraja, as well as 21 porters to carry all our gear for the 9/10 day climb.

Faraja

At last we were on our way, at 7,500 feet, slowly taking one step at a time through the rain-forested slopes of Kili: onwards and upwards to our first camp in the mundane forest at 9,000ft.

Wilbert was the very best of guides, always positive, always encouraging, never allowing us to "catastrophise" our thoughts in our heads about what might happen. "Pole, pole" means slowly, slowly in Swahili and this would be our Mantra for the following days. We often walked in silence and in single-file, so all we would hear would be the swishing sound of our gaiters as they rubbed together along with birdsong and the occasional sounds from an odd monkey. Wilbert only ever briefed us for the forthcoming day, but both Colin and I knew which would be the toughest days. Certainly day 7 climbing the Western Breach was the one which concerned me the most.

Temperatures dropped very rapidly as we ascended through the various climatic zones. Vegetation changed on a daily basis and as we continued upwards wildlife and vegetation became more sparse and it all became much, much quieter. Due to the rainy season starting earlier than usual we only had very occasional views, as we were nearly always walking in low cloud. Evenings started very early and the temperatures dropped even lower. We did, however, experience the most spectacular sunsets. We soon got into a routine of early to bed and early to rise. Evenings were too cold to sit around for long, and there are only so many games of "Chase the Lady" we could have with Swahili speaking porters before we realised that their disadvantage was too great to be fair!

Each day the porters would sing and dance to us as we left camp to encourage us on our way. On our departure out of camp they would finish packing up and then overtake us higher up and carry on in order to set up camp again where they would again be out in force to welcome us at the end of the day with "Good Job" or "Karibu". All of them were such fantastic guys, who soon became friends.

Filming became a real chore as we gained altitude. Breathing became more and more difficult and even turning over in bed was exhausting. Wilbert would constantly remind me to drink more water, but the water was so cold I found this very hard to do. I drank large amounts of tea, coffee and energy drinks, but found that drinking plain cold water was very unpleasant. Fortunately, neither Colin nor I suffered any more symptoms of Acute Mountain Sickness than headaches and breathlessness. Neither of us had any nausea, vomiting or diarrhoea, and Wilbert constantly measured our blood-saturation levels, which remained good. We were both hoping that we might loose our appetites from about 10,000 ft upwards, but we had no luck in that department!

Often at the end of the day we would climb slightly higher than where we would be camping that night. This was to assist with acclimatisation and minimise the risk of getting AMS.

By this stage of the climb we were putting on more and more layers of clothing to wear both day and night. Showering was out of the question at this altitude, but a bowl of hot water in my tent each morning at 6.30 was very welcome, along with my early-morning cup of tea. Meat had been eliminated from the menu from 10,000ft upwards, as it is very hard to digest at this altitude and the intake of carbohydrates is more appropriate. Wilbert would supply me with 2 hot water bottles for the nights, but despite these, I would still wake up in the small hours as it was so bitterly cold. There was often snow and ice formed on the tent and one evening whilst having dinner in the mess tent a little brown mouse was looking for a source of refuge and thought he might hang out in my tent for a little while. Colin came to the rescue and sent the mouse on its way to search elsewhere! (Thanks again Colin!)

Day seven eventually arrived. Home, a warm bed and a hot shower seemed planets away and it felt like we had been climbing for ever. Colin had been up early at 4am to film the total eclipse of the moon, but as I knew it was Western Breach day and our biggest challenge, I had other worries on my mind. Waking up that morning I was full of apprehensions, a few fears about my physical fitness and for the first time I sort of questioned why I had got myself into this situation! What WAS I doing here?

We were up very early, had a good breakfast of hot porridge and toast and we were soon on our way, with the porters singing us along. One porter started to suffer from some symptoms of AMS so the other porters distributed his pack amongst themselves and he and another porter headed off to a camp at a lower altitude in order that he could quickly recuperate.

A long strenuous climb up and over huge rocky outcrops faced us this particular morning. This is the Western Breach and what Wilbert would call "The broken bit of the mountain". The guides Wilbert and Faraja let me climb in front at times for me to set the pace, which was SLOW! On occasions, when I needed both hands to scramble across the rock face I would hand Faraja my poles and he would pass them back to me when needed. Wilbert would sometimes need to give me his hand for added reassurance or assistance and at all stages I felt utterly secure and safe in their hands. This is certainly not a route for anyone with a fear for heights. There is one point where they call it the point of no return, so we scrambled over that and didn't look back!

At last we arrived at Crater camp at 18,500ft to the awful smell of sulphur coming from the ash-pit, but the most awe-inspiring view of the Fuertwangler Glacier. Surely it was all worth the extreme effort and exertion and at this altitude we were less than 1000ft away from the summit. My cough got worse at this point and my biggest fear was that Wilbert would not allow me to get to the top due to impaired bronchial function.

We were aware that there was only one more night to go before we would stand at the summit. At this point it was hard to believe how far we had come, but still be respectful of any dangers. There wasn't much card-playing done on this particular evening!

Summit Day

Having seen the last bit of the climb from Crater camp the day before, it all looked relatively easy in comparison to what we had already achieved. But even on that last morning there were occasions where I had to hand over my poles and ask the guys to be patient while I manoeuvred myself around the rock-face. Only six of us climbed to the summit, the porters headed straight down to Barafu camp where they waited for us to join them for lunch.

For the first day since the start of the climb Gidi also accompanied us to the top, which seemed unusual at first, but then we realised that he had all the emergency gear in his pack (oxygen etc!).

To stand on the top of Kibo at 7.30am on Friday 29th October, dancing, I must have been the happiest, most thankful person in all of Africa. I felt like God was smiling at me, I was full of such grace and peace. Standing on the top of Kili with Colin from Belfast made it even more special and even more of a healing experience for me. Colin and I had never discussed how I had sustained my injuries, as it wasn't appropriate and while we were climbing we clearly had other things to think about. As it turned out, he knew all along, but was discreet and sensitive enough to keep it to himself. What an angel he was, so thoughtful and so sensitive to me and my needs, along with Wilbert and Faraja.

We were only able to stay at the summit about 30 minutes, so we soon had to start making our way down. I was over the moon with sheer joy, so greeted other fellow-climbers with a bright "Good Morning" greeting. Few responded quite so cheerily. I hadn't realised that going up their route, they had probably already been climbing 7 hours that morning and most of that had been through very loose scree in darkness! Ah well, nobody was going to steal my peace, it was a fantastic experience for me.

From being at 19,340ft at 7.30 we descended very rapidly through what seemed like one enormous sand-dune for hours and hours. This soon became very tiring and very painful for my stump and my back. We had lunch at Barafu where I was able to inspect and treat my blisters, but we then carried on down to eventually camp at Mweka camp at 10,000ft. What a day! I was so happy, but I had rubbed skin off the tips of my fingers as well as my stump and my fingers were completely dead through having pressed onto my poles with so much constant pressure. I also realised that sooner or later I would be bidding "adieu" to my big-toe nail on my left foot. A small price to pay for such utter joy!

The following and last day was a 4,000ft descent from Mweka camp to the gate, where we signed out of the national park, had a celebratory lunch with the porters and took part in their tipping ceremony. It was their last trip of the season, so they were all happy to have completed it successfully and they were all glad to be going home a day early. I had originally thought I might need an extra day to descend, due to my physical limitations, but in the event, this was not necessary. One of the porters came up to greet us with full feather head-dress, which amused me so much....by this time, even though I was physically walking in agony I was ecstatic! Having tipped all the porters Colin and I were presented with our certificates, and it was at last time to bid all the porters a fond farewell and get into the jeep and return to Arusha.

Back at Arusha Mountain Village Resort I was relieved to remove my boots for the last time and never has a hot bath felt SO welcome. Such luxuries as a proper sink and sprung bed seemed so strange at first, how quickly we become accustomed to change when we have to. Apart from the sores rubbed on my hands and stump, a very sunburned nose and chilblains on my knuckles I got off with the expedition amazingly lightly. I would not hesitate for one moment to recommend the company I went with....truly the best of the best. The guides and the porters are loving, compassionate natured men who have so much experience and expertise, but deep respect for the mountain, the elements and any possible dangers. They also have a great sense of humour and keep a smile in all they do. How wonderful to enjoy and appreciate ones work so much and be treated so well by the employers.

Deep gratitude

It is impossible for me to explain or convey to anyone what this expedition has meant to me. It has been an incredible personal achievement which was only possible for me to do with a great deal of help, love and support from an incredibly large network of loyal and amazing friends. Their commitment and belief in me leaves me deeply moved....and ALMOST speechless!

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