Stage 4

Tuesday 22nd June:
Horombo Huts to Kibo Huts at 4705 metres

Tuesday morning and the start of the longest day of the trip. We had been told to expect a hard day. The plan was to walk from Horombo Huts to Kibo Huts, about seven miles including a climb of just 983 metres. On arrival at Kibo we would eat, get a little sleep, and then at midnight make our attempt on the summit of Kilimanjaro.

I'm guessing that could be why they referred to it as 'summit day'. Yesterday's exploits up to Zebra Rock were designed to prepare us as best as it could for what was to come with regards to the altitude. We would see. I still have a picture in my mind of me and Sara at the top so whatever yesterday did it, won't change that.

To make the whole summit thing a little easier to cope with I have decided to look at the next couple of days a little differently to most. Rather than think of it as walking for a few hours, getting a few hours kip today and then climbing to the summit tomorrow, I have decided to look at the whole thing as a 24 hour period of walking with a long lunch in the middle somewhere.

As usual we all set off together, quickly settling into a fantastic group of people who, for the most part, get on very well with each other. I don't recall exactly who I walked with and when. I know that, as usual, I walked with some very interesting people and shared some wonderful conversation. I do recall a few 'jokes' flying around on this leg though. Perhaps we were all very relaxed or perhaps quite the opposite and trying our best to cover up the nerves?

Personally I started the day in shorts and 'T' shirt [yes, my trusty orange 'T' shirt] but as we climbed higher throughout the day I put the legs back onto my shorts and covered my arms with a thermal shirt. We stopped after a while for a pee break and to check our 'bits and bobs'. It was at this stop that I managed to lose my hat - something I would come to regret as the day went on. The porters caught up with us here again. I never failed to be amazed at how these guys stay behind to clear up and then catch us up, walk straight past us, and arrive at the next stop in enough time to set everything up well before we get there. And all for about four quid a day!

Lunch was a fairly cool affair. We were over half way to Kibo Huts in an area referred to as 'The Saddle' - a long path stretching into the distance towards the peak. In reality, we were only about 1300 metres from the peak of Kilimanjaro so I guess the colder weather came as no real surprise. We all got ourselves firmly placed within the shelter of a few well-placed and very welcome rocks that did a sterling job of protecting us from the now biting wind.

Lunch today included a very interesting array of fayre including what appeared to be egg sandwiches that had been dipped in batter and deep-fried! These were to provide a very interesting theory for Sara later in the summit day in that anyone who ate more than one sandwich didn't make it to the peak.

After lunch we set off again for the final leg before the summit climb. The wind began to cool the whole thing down a bit but, as I was to discover later, it didn't take the heat out of the sun. I would definitely regret losing my hat before this day was out.

There was one more stop 1.4 kilometres from the huts where we could test our aim in a strategically placed toilet and then it was on for the final push to Kibo Huts. The walk today had been long and, for the most part, dead straight. We could see where we were heading almost since we set off so arriving at some huts at the bottom of a mountain peak came as no surprise to us. The cold we felt as soon as we stopped walking, though, did come as something of a surprise. It was time to start to put on all of that clothing that I was beginning to wonder why I had carried this far.

Once again the meal was first rate. I know I keep saying it but these guys could out cook most of the 'chefs' in any little chef at sea level, let alone some isolated huts 4703 metres above sea level. Warm tea, pasta, bread and meat [?] hit the spot then it was time for bed. We all retired at around half six to seven pm.

I have to admit here that for the first time in the whole trip I entertained a slight doubt as to whether I would make the summit. The reason was that I was feeling just a little sick. A bit like I do after about 10 pints of Guinness but without the fun or expense. I wrote down my fears in my diary before I crawled into my sleeping bag. The sentence finished with the words "F*** off - I'm going to the top!"

I don't know what Sara was feeling at this time but I do know that she looked snug as a bug in a rug wrapped up in her sleeping bag and I know that for about the tenth time this trip I fell in love with my hero all over again.

Sleep didn't come easy what with the snoring, several trips to the bog and everything going around in my head. I had about two hours in all I guess but at this point sleep was irrelevant. We were just about to achieve something phenomenal. It would be a VERY cool person who slept soundly tonight.

Something to think about...

Sometimes my internal dialogue needs a little chastisement. Using language like that described above is not usually something I see as constructive but on this occasion a 'gentle reminder' was needed to remind me of my major goal here.