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.
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