Stage 5c

The group who had dragged me this far were all there - Anna, Moses and the others. We had the statutory group photo taken with the Scope flag. I stripped off to my Leeds Rhinos shirt and had my picture taken wearing that. It was surprisingly warm up there so I was happy to keep my coat[s] off for a while as I took in the scenery.

I have NEVER seen anything like the sights I saw that morning. If I'd had any to lose it would have taken my breath away. My emotions up there were mixed though. On the one hand I had just achieved something way beyond anything I have ever achieved physically before. But on the other hand, Sara was not there to share it with me, and I missed her terribly. I decided that I would shoot a short video with a message for her but as soon as I started talking into the camera to her the tears started again so I left it.

The whole thing was an emotional roller coaster for everyone involved I guess. Tears at the top for us and at the bottom for the others. The ones I was shedding now would not be the last.

Scenery admired and photographs taken it was time to set off on the long trip back down. This was the first time I had actually thought about the return trip. I have to say I wasn't exactly relishing the prospect of another seven hours walking. Besides anything else, I had a headache to die for [or from]. It was reminiscent of a massive hangover without the fun of Guinness and Karaoke. If only those hangovers were as easy to get rid of though.

Some of the others had already set off while I was doing my David Bailey thing, so at first it was just me and my trusted guide whose name, I am embarrassed to say, I do not know to this day. The 210 metres journey back to Gilmans Point was actually a pleasure. We reached the point it had taken us ninety-minutes to climb from in a little over twenty minute. If this was a sign of what was to come, the trip back to Kibo Huts would be shorter than I at first expected. What is more, the lower I got in altitude the less intense my headache became.

At Gilmans Point we got our first opportunity to actually see the rocks that had provided us with one final challenge on the way up. They were indeed formidable. The sight of them only served to add to the feeling of achievement we [certainly I] felt at making the climb. And so to the walk home. I looked at my watch as we set off, it was almost nine o'clock in the morning. The sun was up and the temperature was infinitely more civilised than the last time I had been on this peak. So much so that I stripped off several layers of clothing prior to leaving the peak. However I was also to suffer sunburn on top of the frostbite I had acquired going up. The result was that the skin on my nose and bottom lip would eventually fall of in layers over the next few days.

Having negotiated the rocks it was now back to the dreaded 'scree'. Only this time we would have a little more fun. I had never experienced 'scree' before let alone 'scree skiing.' My guide explained that it would be much quicker to go straight down the 'scree' rather than zig-zag as we had done coming up. I was about to experience one of the most exhilarating games I have ever played.

We started by walking gently but this eventually turned into almost a jog. Before I knew it my feet were just sliding over the scree and I was indeed skiing down a mountain for only the second time in my life, and for the first time without snow underfoot! The trip back to the caves that had taken over three-hours earlier in the day took just thirty-five minutes. I was pumped up. What an experience it was, and I never fell over once!

Moses had caught up with us [my trusty guide and I] by now and he sent my guide back up the mountain to help some of the others down. [Remember these guys get about four quid a day for this and he never questioned his instructions once]. The rest of the journey down, a further thirty-five minutes, was spent chatting with Moses and a few others that we had caught up on our way down. We reached Kibo Huts at about ten minutes past ten in the morning. The trip down the mountain had taken us a little over one-hour and ten minutes.

Sara had been watching through her binoculars, waiting for me to get back. She knew by now that I had reached Uhuru Peak. When she saw me she started to walk up to meet me. What transpired as we met again was an unprecedented outpouring of emotion. She was overjoyed for me but desperately disappointed for herself. I was overjoyed for me but desperately disappointed for her. So we just held each other tight and wept together again. For the second time in just twelve hours I fell in love again with my hero. It had been just ten hours since we left the huts but I honestly felt like I had been away for a whole weekend. So much had happened in such a short time.

That done it was time for a cup of tea and a slice of toast and a chance to swap stories with the others. Heartache and conquest, congratulations and commiserations, everything was shared between the group. Then I had to find Roger - I found his brother David first, or at least he found me. I needed to know that Roger had returned through choice and not because we [I[ had left him behind on Gilmans Point. Happily, Roger told me that his only goal had been to reach Gilmans Point and he had achieved that. He was kind enough to say that he had done so because of my encouragement. I was quick to tell him that I had been driven on by his example and inspiration. Mutual appreciation all round I guess - and why not?

Some of the group had already set off back to Harombo Huts. Those of us who had reached Uhuru Peak would be setting off at one o'clock in the afternoon. The idea was to get a little sleep, something to eat and then set off to walk the seven miles back. Sleep, for me at least, was not on the agenda. I was so excited about what I had achieved that the last thing I wanted to do was sleep. I did eventually eat some beans on toast though and consumed numerous cups of tea before packing everything up and setting off back with Sara. We walked back together and for the most part, it was just the two of us. There was one quite surreal moment when we were on the saddle and there was no one else in front of us or behind us for what must have been about a kilometre either way. Thousands of miles away from home in the middle of nowhere with the one person you love more than any other, how cool is that?

Despite our endeavors we walked fairly briskly arriving back at Harombo Huts in the late afternoon early evening and there was only one thing I REALLY wanted at that point. A quick word to my mate Onyx, along with a $3 tip, and a bowl of piping hot water turned up at the hut. Clean again, at last!

What followed next can only be described as amazing. I was stood outside the dining hut having a conversation with a few of the group that had just arrived at Harombo Huts on their way up the peak when I was approached by a guy who's face was more than a little familiar. "Do I know you?" he said. I replied that he did look strangely familiar. "Were you in the fire brigade?" he asked. Of course, I said that I had been for ten years. It turned out that the guy was Tim Ralph, a station officer in fire prevention based at York at the same time I was there back in 1990-92. We had a great time catching up on a few things before swapping emails and promising to keep in touch.

One of the personal achievements that I am most proud of is the fact that wherever I seem to go in the world, someone knows me and, for the most part, is more than happy to bump into me. A small world indeed.