On the Roof of Africa

Kilimanjaro for Endometriosis

I wake ahead of the alarm clock, sometime before 11pm. As I lie in my sleeping bag, listening to the familiar sounds of eleven other people in various stages of wakefulness, I contemplate the challenge ahead and reflect on the past days that have brought us close to the ‘roof of Africa’. Although I am accustomed to mountain and wilderness walking, Kilimanjaro represents a very real physical and mental challenge. For others in the group, with no previous experience of mountains, it’s the equivalent of climbing Everest. Except that the women in our group, all of whom suffer from endometriosis, have already climbed Everest in the course of their daily lives. They are the real stars of this trip.

By 11.30pm I am in the dining area of our rudimentary hut sipping black tea – the powdered milk ran out two days ago – and trying to fasten a stubborn snow gaiter. A call of nature has meanwhile confirmed it is a clear, starry night with a nearly full moon, and freezing. I try to finish the tea, conscious of its warmth and the fact that here at Kibo Hut (4,700m) every drop of water has been carried by the support team from the last camp, six hours and 1,000m below us. Other members of our party come and go, busying themselves with their own preparations for the climb ahead, but nobody is saying much. My thoughts return to events of the last five days, which have already formed a rich kaleidoscope of memories.

It seems only yesterday that we all arrived at Kilimanjaro ‘International Airport’, amid the usual heat and chaos of such euphemistically titled places. An all-too-short night of comfort at the Nakara Hotel, and by 11am the following morning we are inside the Kilimanjaro National Park on the first leg of our trek, climbing trough tropical rain forest – ‘rain’ being the operative word. It’s supposed to be the dry season but by lunchtime it is pelting down. No-one can tell us if it’s the monsoon arriving early or the short December rains come late, but the effect is the same. We arrive at Mandara Huts (2,700m) four hours later, soaked to the skin, but are revived by the culinary skills of our excellent cooks. If anyone wants to write a book called ‘Gourmet Cooking on a Primus Stove’, these are the people to see.

The weather pattern is repeated the following day, as we climb to our first training base at Horombo Camp (3,700m) where we spend two nights. Our training day involves an acclimatisation climb to 4,300m, returning to the camp to sleep. The acclimatisation day coincides with my 55^th birthday, and I am touched and delighted when the cooks produce an iced and individually decorated birthday cake, complete with candles. They have carried it 2,000m up the mountain through two days of tropical downpour. It’s big enough to go round everybody, including the cooks, and allow for second helpings. Mohammed, our Head Cook, makes a little speech on behalf of the support team, thanking me for allowing them to share in my birthday celebration. I am moved by their gentle humility.

Above Horombo Camp, the mountain becomes harsher and more serious. We climb steadily over high savannah and enter the high altitude desert zone, crossing the flat and windy ‘Saddle’ area, which we quickly nickname ‘The Yellow Brick Road’. The air is thin here and it has taken us a while to get into the right rhythm. We try various tunes to help pace ourselves, discovering that even the funeral march (‘Dum dum de-dum, dum de-dumdy dumdy dum’) is too fast. In the end I settle for two songs that seem to work: the playground ditty, ‘One potato, two potato, three potato, four, …..’ and, to my dismay, Boney-M’s ‘By the Rivers of Babylon….’. Ah well, there’s no accounting for taste.

I am hauled back from my reflections by a sharp ‘Right, time to go’ and we form up as a group outside the hut, ready to leave for the summit on the dot of midnight. As we shuffle off in the bright moonlight, moving nose-to-tail in a close line, someone likens us to the Seven Dwarfs and chants ‘Hiiiiii-Hooooo!’ The chorus (‘Hi-Ho, Hi-Ho, It’s Off to Work We Go…’) is taken up briefly, but soon peters out as we return to the serious business of breathing and moving upwards with minimum effort. After a couple of hours we pass the 5,000m mark, the highest point we reached yesterday on our second acclimatisation climb, and we enter the unknown. From here on the climb gets steeper, we lose the moon behind the ridge, the air gets even thinner, and the temperature falls sharply. Underfoot, we are climbing through steep, ankle-deep volcanic ash, and the wind is stiffening. It is all very hard going.

Dawn begins to break just before we reach the first summit, producing stunning views over the neighbouring peak of Mawenzie (5,149m). A quick photograph provides a welcome excuse to catch our breath, and we head on up to the rim of the volcano. At Gillman’s Point (5,681m), our first objective, the temperature is minus 10ºC before wind-chill, so we don’t hang around. After a few minutes, and a couple of photos, we move off east for the 1½-hour, gentle but exposed trek to Uhuru (5,895m), the highest point in Africa. Now we can really savour our achievement and take a moment to look at the amazing scenery of this high, ice-bound volcanic crater. But not for too long, as the challenge isn’t over yet. This isn’t like ‘I’m a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here!’ – you can’t just walk across the bridge to sip champagne and be interviewed by Ant and Dec – we have get down again, safely. In terms of distance, it’s like completing a marathon and, just as you cross the finish line, being told to turn around and run back to the beginning. Except that the finish is 4,000m above the start, and it’s rough underfoot.

So we head down and return the way we have come, stopping for lunch at Kibo Hut and then on to Horombo where we fall into our bunks after nearly 20 hours on the mountain. We sleep for 10 hours and then set off on the last leg of the journey, arriving at Mandara Huts for lunch and eventually passing out of the National Park at 4pm, where we are met by our Tanzanian agents with champagne and a second lunch. And so back to the Hotel for that first, glorious shower in 7 days, a celebratory dinner, and some serious bar propping.

This was a wonderful experience in the company of a remarkable group of people, for a worthwhile cause, in the most beautiful surroundings. It was also personally satisfying, a huge achievement for the group as a whole – six of the women on the team came away with a certificate to say they had climbed Kilimanjaro, and three made it to the second summit – and an outstanding success for the National Endometriosis Society. What more could one ask?

Richard Nicholls

March 2004

Endometriosis is a chronic and debilitating disease that affects one in ten women. Its cause is unknown and at present there is no cure. On average, it takes 11 years to diagnose. Almost two million women in the UK are affected, and there is a real need to improve current levels of knowledge, awareness and support. The UK National Endometriosis Society (www.endometriosis-uk.org) was founded in 1981 to promote services for women with endometriosis and their families, to raise awareness of the condition, and to promote research into the disease.

The trip was organized by the National Endometriosis Society, and raising £45,000 in sponsorship to boost the Charity’s modest income. In all, Richard raised £5,014, with thanks to the many individuals and orgaisations who contributed to this worthy cause.