9. Mandara Huts – 2700m

We arrive at Mandara Huts, our accommodation for the night, a grassy area cut out from the rain forest. We’ve now climbed to 2,700 metres above sea level (almost 1000m climb today). Although still relatively low altitude, air at this level contains around 75% of the oxygen that it does at sea level.

As we’re a big group, instead of the small but homely huts, we get put in the dorm. The term dorm, although relatively bleak and depressing anyway, does this jail, this cemetery for all that is good, no justice at all. A concrete prison of three rooms, decorated solely by baby-sized industrial metal bunk beds, padlocks and fear. Right next to my bottom bunk is an empty void that may have once been a chimney but is now just a big, cold, empty place with what appears to be a dead mouse deep inside. I vow to sleep facing the other way. Never have I felt more like a wronged movie hero, doing time for a crime I never committed…I’ll spare you details of the outdoor toilets around the back of the dorm, except for the fact that they leaked and were ankle high in what I truly hope was just water.

We head to the dinner hut which, although a simple, A-frame wooden structure, looks like Eutopia itself right now, compared to our home for the night. Dinner is a carb-loaded tasty affair kicked off with soup and bread, and washed down with plenty of tea, coffee and hot chocolate – to become our standard evening meal.

It’s dark and very cold when we finish and, mistakenly, decide to get our heads down early. I won’t share too many details of the next few hours – mainly so I don’t have to relive them as much as not wanting to put you through the pain of what was undoubtedly the worst night of my life. Put simply, the dorm from hell managed the hellish and otherworldly feat of being absolutely freezing cold and yet utterly boiling at the same time, meaning I didn’t know how best to employ my sleeping bag.

Every time someone went to the toilet (every 3 or 4 minutes due to the Diamox…”Helps with altitude sickness but makes you piss like Seabiscuit” as the advertising for that particular drug should read) the door banged shut. The salt in the bleeding, seeping wound was that the only person able to get any sleep was the guy whose bunk was right next to mine and who snored like a walrus with a cough (and a megaphone) making love to a loud pig.  My continuous attempts at kicking him/waking him up resulted only in a momentary pause before he started up louder and more curious than before…

I went for a pee outside…again (although Jamie and I had decided to forego the Diamox in favour of the real altitude experience…but I'm still leaking like The Titanic due to the monstrous amounts of water I drank during the day). I strap on the head torch and read my book for a while. Any time I thought I was slipping off, someone moved and, as the bunks were all tied together (the only way they remained upright, I’m sure), we all moved.

Hell, thought Jean-Paul Sartre, is other people. At that point in time, I had to agree.

This can only last so long, I thought. We’re up early, I thought. It must soon be time for breakfast, I thought. I dared a glance at my watch…1am. Bollocks. Then, like being smacked in the face by a barn door, it hit me…I hadn’t changed the time on my watch since we’d left Dubai. It was actually only midnight. I don’t mind admitting that I think I may have wept a little at this point. I envied the dead mouse lying uncomfortably close by…

Early on in the trip, Jamie and I had both said that, no matter what the challenge threw at us and whether we summitted or not, we’d enjoy it and have a laugh. By the end of the first day, we already had a bit of a reputation as the jokers in the group but, by the time breakfast arrived after that first long, long, long, long night bringing with it less than an hour’s sleep, cracks had started to appear in that particular plan. I was not a happy bunny and scowled my way through my bowl of porridge. 

8. Sunday July 4 - and we're off...

In spite of being the first day proper of our adventure, today is fairly unadventurous in many ways. 

It begins with breakfast, and we then go to our rooms to sort our gear out – a lady from the hotel visits each room in a Quartermaster kind of way to check that we all have the necessary gear and equipment to tackle Kilimanjaro.

That test passed, I sort my things into three bags – one bag will stay at the hotel, another will be carried by a porter and then there’s my day pack, containing what I need (extra layers, water, food) for the day ahead. I make a point of travelling as light as possible but, when I see the vast bags that the others are carrying, I feel a little inadequate…

Next, Seamus (who co-owns the Marangu Hotel and, in spite of his good Irish name appears to be as English as rainy afternoons, sporting failure and curry) tells us what to expect. It’s an excellent talk – nothing we haven’t heard before, but it puts our minds at rest about certain things and tells us exactly what to be on the lookout for. In short, the message is simple: go extremely slowly (“as though walking your grandmother through a park”, drink water till it’s pouring out of you and, should you, well, let’s call a spade a spade here, be hit by a case of the shits, swallow down Imodium in the sort of quantities that could block a river.

Altitude sickness will, almost certainly, play its part. If you take it slowly slowly (or ‘pole pole’ as the guides say in Swahili) and have plenty of water, all you can hope is that it doesn’t hit too bad. When it does, explains Seamus, it feels like “the mother and father of all hangovers”. Which is something to look forward to…  

Next, we’re introduced to the vast team of guides, cooks and porters who’ll accompany us on our Kili attempt (led by Charles), then it’s into the vehicle (not sure what else to describe the part-minibus-part-tank beast as) and we head for the park gate. En route we pass all manner of colourful shops, bars and, ominously at one point, an undertaker. Outside, a bright purple coffin lays…we all hope the recipient is done in by old age and not altitude.

The gate of the Mandara route is just like the gate or visitor centre of any big national park – parking, little (and extortionate - $3 for a bar of dairy Milk!) shop, toilets, picnic benches etc. In short, not much of a clue to what lies inside.

As always seems to be the case with a group of 20 people, the relatively easy task of signing in takes a monumentally massive amount of time, as extra chocolate bars are bought for energy, toilets are visited and photographs are taken.  It doesn’t matter too much today – the first stage is only a short three or four hour walk to the Mandara lodge where we’ll spend the night.

We finally head off through dense, Tarzan style rainforest. It’s as lush as anything I’ve ever seen, if you stumbled just a few metres from the path you’d likely struggle to find your way back. Green, thick and stunning. Jamie and I remember the ‘pole pole’ advice and stick as close to the back of the group as possible, as we’re determined to do for the whole trip. If we don’t make it to the summit due to altitude sickness, it won’t be for lack of following advice.

A few others have also clearly decided on the same approach and it gives us our first chance to all get to know each other – the hours and hours of walking are whiled away making new friends and learning about their lives and motivations for taking on Kili…it’s a real treat.

Perhaps the most exciting part of the afternoon comes when a few of us spot some Grey Monkeys playing in the trees above us. Amazing.

7. Saturday July 3 - quite a day

Well, I tried to dream, at least. I actually slep very badly – overtired and, just as a final glorious hour of slumber seemed to be on the cards, people began knocking loudly on the door of my room which, it seems, had been allocated the store room for all our bags!

I arrive at breakfast to find it’s all been hovered up, so I have to make do with some pineapple slices and coffee strong enough to make warriors weep. Not a great start to what turns out to be one of the most memorable days of my life.

Bizarrely, I can’t even bring myself to explain exactly why today’s so great. In summary, we visited the school (Laishene Primary in Tamzania) where the money we raised will build classrooms and teacher accommodation. Miles out in the boonies, it’s a run-down, rickety handful of buildings where 500 kids are educated – kids who walk 5kms cross-country each day just to get to school.

As we walk towards the school with some of the kids tagging along and playing ball, we hear the sweet sounds of the children singing their school song for us. A lump appears in my throat, tears well in my eyes, something indescribable takes hold of my heart – and there they all stay for the next few hours.

We give them presents of balls, pens, games…they return the compliment with locally made gifts of necklaces, bracelets and keyrings. We take their photos and they giggle in amazement at their own images on our digital cameras. 

The women of the village perform traditional songs and dances for us. 

On the football pitch – a rocky crop of ugly land with goals made from sticks and crossbars of rope – a select Gulf 4 Good XI gets a lesson from the Laishene Primary School team. ..2-0. Although the second was a dodgy penalty decision and we’re fairly certain our keeper had taken a bribe!

I’m still unable to go into more detail than that. Maybe one day I’ll be able to talk more openly about this day. Probably not. 

The kicker..? That as we boarded our bus to head for Kilimanjaro, it was the children and teachers that thanked us..? It was the wrong way around. Unless you’ve done something like this visit yourself, nothing I say will help you understand. Never have I felt more privileged than to be welcomed in by the people of Laishene school and village.

The return to the hotel was quiet. Lunch was quiet. The journey from Arusha to Kilimanjaro was quiet…till, out of nowhere, SHE appeared, “as wide as all the world” as Hemingway described her, majestic and snow-capped. She draws all of our gazes. “Me and you,” we all silently tell her, “we’ve got business…”

We arrive at the beautiful Marangu Hotel (in a former life, it was a coffee plantation – now it’s a hotel comprising of many different byuildings sat in lush gardens) and grab lovely, warm showers – imagine how good the shower upon our return will feel. 

We have dinner, do some team building activities and  a couple of us watch the remaining quarter-finals with a Kilimanjaro or Serengeti beer in hand, hearing the tales and advice of those who are on the reverse leg of their journey. Tomorrow, it begins...

6. Friday July 2 - into Africa

A tough, long day but we make it to Tanzania...finally. 

It was mainly so tough as it feels like today started three weeks ago. Last night, we all met at Dubai Airport at 11.45 ready for a 2.15 flight; however, this being Kenya Airways (I know...we should have guessed), we ended up taking off a little after 5am.

Jamie and I managed to amuse ourselves with beers and chicken wings in the bar for most of that time, but I was fit to drop by the time we boarded. The moral: if you ever have to make the decision between, well, just about any airline on earth and Kenya Airways, go for the former. For the first couple of hours of the flight, the aircon didn't work – the temperature was hellish...too hot to sleep and I felt like I was going to throw up (basically, exactly how I'd been warned altitude sickness would feel...so maybe this was a form of training!).

Eventually, I managed to sleep for a little but I was far from refreshed when we landed in Nairobi. Some of the group grabbed a bite to eat, while a few of us just laughed at the car parked near our minibus that, in lieu of an actual bumper, had just welded a bit of scaffolding on...genius. We threw our bags on the roof and headed off.

The journey between Nairobi (Kenya) and Arusha (Tanzania) would usually take 5 hours, our guuide Emanuelle informed us, but due to roadworks we could expect it to take closer to 8. Now, when he said roadworks, what he actually meant was that, for the vast majority of the journey, there weren't any roads. And so we set off on a rickety journey, stopping only to cross the Kenya-Tanzania border, a journey that was my introduction to Africa. In spite of being tossed around like a stray penny in a washing machine, I loved every minute of it.

The stunning scenery, greener than I'd ever imagined. The rolling hills, disappearing into eternity. The abundance of bright, colourful, vibrant life in all its forms. The strange mix of agriculture and industry so closely linked. The amazing people, dressed in so many different ways...wow.

This is Masai country and we saw plenty from that ancient people. What hit me most was how at one and comfortable they appeared to be with their surroundings...and that I also really, really wanted a big stick to carry around with me.

We arrrived at the hotel just in time to watch Holland beat Brazil in the World Cup, take much-needed showers, grab dinner and pass out while, on the streets below, people loudly cheer on Ghana. Arusha is full of life and, in many ways, it reminds me of towns in Thailand; in other ways, its a million miles away and a thousand years ago. Tonight, I dream of Africa.

5. Thursday July 1 - D-day

So, we fly out to Nairobi tonight. Fortunately, I've been really busy with work so not had too much time to think but feeling a tad apprehensive now. I've been reading a few other blogs and hearing tales from other people who have done this before...

It may sound ridiculous but I've sort of brushed over the physical challenge till now but apparently it's fairly huge. I was doing a lot of trekking last year in preparation for the Abu Dhabi Desert Challenge so I know I can walk for long periods. Climbing is another matter - Dubai is one of the flattest places on earth, so training has been limited to climbing up and down the stairwell at the Marriott Harbour Hotel - 56 storeys and the most I managed was up and down it three times, which was tough. It may not be mountain climbing, but it's the same muscle groups, and our guide for the trip (Guinness World Record adventurer Adrian Hayes, no less) recommended it as the best type of training we could do.

There are two things I'm worried about - mentality and altitude sickness. Staying positive is essential, and all the horror stories I've read have been from people or groups that have allowed themselves to get down. Altitude sickness...well, I can't do much about that. I've been on Vitamin C tablets which apparently helps. I naturally hydrate well thanks to my sporty background, which also helps. I have three different forms of painkillers, which are bound to help. I'm also happy to leave my ego in Moshi and go nice and slow the whole way up, which is essential, it seems, when you're heading six kilometres straight up into the air to reach a point which is only a little lower than your average passenger plane flies.

Unfortunately, there's no telling who'll suffer badly from altitude sickness (apparently, we'll all suffer in some way).

Anyway, any apprehension is balanced about my excitement of going to Africa - a big dream of mine (I've done Morocco before but that's not Africa, is it!). Can't wait to get going now.

4. What do you need to climb Kili?

Well, quite a lot it seems...

The problem is that you pass through all different zones, apparently, each of which brings different conditions. So:
Footwear: trainers for easier walking/flip flops for before, after and getting around camp at night, and big, tough boots for the big, tough days.
Bottoms: shorts, lightweight walking trousers, thermal pants and full on big ski pants
Tops: sports wicking t-shirts, light fleece, waterproof, hoodie, big fat fleece, big fat coat

Extras: underwear, thick socks, bandannas, scarves, three pairs of gloves...that's before we get to all the water bottles, walking poles, sleeping bag, medicines, blister creams, mosquito sprays...

Oh and a giant bag to keep it all in.

3. Wednesday June 30 – 1 day till we leave for Africa

Anyway, the point of this blog is to tell the full tale – a diary, if you like, but one that everyone can read and, I hope, enjoy. I obviously won't be able to post at certain times but I'll be taking a notebook and, when we get back, I'll post my exact thoughts as and when they appeared during the trip.

With just a couple of days to go before the great Kilimanjaro adventure begins, you’d expect us rugged outdoorsmen types to be preparing ourselves mentally and physically for the journey ahead with a strict, well-balanced regime….right? Wrong.

Last night, I left work pretty late, went to the supermarket and chemist to pick up some last minute necessities (wet wipes – there’ll be no water to clean ourselves up with for a few days up near the top; two multipacks of Mars bars – they’re like energy bars only cheaper; industrial strength Iburprofen – altitude sickness can lead to awesome headaches).

I got home, thought about packing, decided against it and headed to the pub to watch Spain v Portugal. Got a bit tipsy and had three hours’ sleep due to the Mefloquine (lariam) anti-malarial meds that I’ve had to start taking already that are famously a bit trippy to say the least. Think the side-effects are settling a little now but some people have a rotten time on them. Two months of nightmares is no exaggeration.  

So, not exactly perfect preparation but I have booked myself in for a little back and foot massage later on. And I’m persuading myself that last night’s beers were basically an advanced form of hydration…

If I’m 100% honest, I’d hardly considered the reality of this adventure till a couple of days ago – a few small doubts are starting to creep in….

Well, they were creeping in till I took my second weekly Mefloquine...the side-effects are pretty rubbish but the first few hours have me high as a kite!

2. Who’s involved

The NGO that organised the trip is called Gulf 4 Good and it organises a couple of adventures each year – later this year, challengers will cycle across Cuba and take on northern Thailand on bikes, in kayaks and by foot.

The charity that our adventure will ultimately benefit is Community Projects Africa which does all manner of amazing things for women and children, predominantly in Tanzania.

We’ll be spending time at the Laishene Primary School as part of the trip and, in many ways, I think that could turn out to be the highlight. We’ve been told we’ll have the opportunity to actually get our hands dirty and build classrooms (which is what a lot of our sponsorship will be used for) which I’m all for, even if I secretly harbour thoughts of slipping away and getting involved in a big breaktime football match…I can then tell everyone that I also represented England in Africa in 2010!

1. Tuesday June 29 – 2 days before leaving

So, how the hell do I find myself two days away from leaving Dubai and heading, with a group of around 20, to Tanzania to climb Kilimanjaro?

It probably started at the end of last year when I was invited as part of a media team to take part in the Abu Dhabi Adventure Challenge. One of the world’s very hardest multi-day multi-discipline races, that involved kayaking ridiculous distances, cycling up dunes, trekking almost 100kms through the world’s biggest sand desert…it was tough but I loved it.

A few months later, I found myself on holiday in Thailand climbing barefoot upa  giant waterfall to dive into a pool at the top and look out over a canopy of green that took the breath away. I promised myself there and then that my recent taste for adventure (and extreme fitness) would be nurtured in 2010.

Having always been quite passionate about the bigger issues, I also promised myself that I’d do something to ‘give back’ during the year. When the opportunity to climb Kili and raise money/increase publicity (I’m a journalist, y’see) for Community Projects Africa (more about those folks later) came about, it seemed pretty gosh-darn perfect. So I signed up. And I told my mate Jamie about it. And he signed up.

So…in a nutshell, that’s how we got to this here point.

It’d also be remiss of me not to thank all the hotels (JW Marriott, Radisson Blu, Towers Rotana, Monarch, Crowne Plaza and many more) who dedicated prizes (as well as Sharjah Paintball Park and  Noukhada kayak tours too) which we raffled, sweepstaked and pub quizzed off to raise lots and lots of sponsorship.

Thanks also to my family – mum, dad, Uncle Mike and my cousin Stephen for the signed England shirt which we’re currently auctioning off. All stars by my book.