Altitude Sickness tablets - a Dentist's perspective

With all necessary permissions now in place, and the trip definitely a go-er, Gooner D heads to the Dentist with the feel-good factor coursing through her veins. Quite how the subject of altitude sickness cropped up in the Dentist's chair is beyond me (the surgery's only on the 4th floor after all), but it did.

"I haven't done Kilimanjaro myself, but I climb Mont Blanc quite often" said the Dentist, before offering an interesting tip. "There are two types of tablets. Diamox is the most common. It's a diuretic, so you pee a lot, and frankly it doesn't touch the sides with me. I felt like my head had been hit with an axe"

 Ouch!

"Then there's Dexamethasone" 

Now this does sound promising. It's three whole syllables longer, and more difficult to pronounce.  

"It's a steroid, so not to be taken too often, but it really works. Although it might make you go a bit puffy"

We can also hire a personal oxygen system - a cylinder of O2 with those little plastic sticky-up-the-nose things you see on ER. Think this might be a good complimentary option.

So there you have it. Diamox - where you could be up half the night with your hat in your hand, wearing the type of head usually reserved for the morning after a night that included (but was not limited to) Red Wine, Guinness, Tequila AND Black Sambucas. 

And then there's Dexamethasone. Tena's worst nightmare, but you might look all Jo Brand in your holiday snaps.

The African Walking Company supply Diamox, but Dexamethasone is prescription only. The choice is yours, best to consult your Doctor (or knowledgeable Dentist) first though.

Better than the Movies II - The Sequel

So just like the best Hollywood thriller, our emotional need plot just had to have a few final twists and turns. And this one reads like something from a teenage Rom-Com.

Wink and Candy couldn't both go to the ball-game because one of them had to sit in the porch with Baby-Bubba and Jim-Bob until the start of the fall semester.  They toss a coin and decided Candy should go with her BFFs Mary-Beth and Aleesha.
This left Wink's homie Ross floundering. "I don't wanna let my buddy down, and do I really wanna sit behind Coach in the in-zone in all that bad weather?"
"Well I ain't going to no ball game with no girls" said Bud "Suki-Lou won't like it none"
Meanwhile Zeke, Billy-Ray and Shania adopt the frontier spirit and proceed to get their pitching arms in shape. After all the show must go on.
A dark cloud descends on Smallstown Arizona and time passes .... slowly.
Finally, Candy says:"Hellz-a-boppin', we could have more fun going to the next ball-game"
"Yeah" says Mary-Beth and Aleesha "With no boys to ruin things with their a-farting and a-snoring!"
"Well waddya know!" thinks Wink. "If they ain't a-going, I guess I can go to the game after all"
"In which case Suki-Lou won't be giving it no never-mind neither" said Bud.
"And if my best bosom buddy can go, then I guess I can too" said Ross.
"You're the best wing-man in the whole wide world" says Wink
"Well that's decided" they all declare in unison "We will go the the ball game after all. Go team! Go team! Go team!"

Cue life-affirming power ballad. Roll credits.

Wow - this is better than the movies!

Ever noticed how every Hollywood movie is essentially the same scraggy old lump of meat mouldering under a slightly different gravy? They consist of two plot lines: emotional need and material goal. The emotional need is often the rediscovery of a relationship (e.g. a long lost love, the pet dinosaur you thought had perished as an egg, or your old school mates aged 49). The material goal is a conscious action undertaken by the players (e.g. to rob a bank, to defend your planet against an evil genius, to climb Kilimanjaro aged 50)

Usually, the two plots are cleverly integrated, climaxing at the same moment (heaven help us).

Invariably Act One reveals two or three initiating events, to introduce characters and plot (the boys have a lunch, they decide to climb a mountain to mark their 50ths, A Charidee will benefit).

 But Act One always closes with a complicating event.

“I can’t make the climb, but my partner and some of her friends are coming in my place” says JK a little awkwardly.

“That’s cool” says The Ageing Hipster, having missed the first bit.

“Child care issue” says Bobby Backspin

“The good news is there’s women there to keep Gooner D company” says JK  

(Not sure if he's trying to sell it to us, or make himself feel better, but Gooner D’s not worried one way or the other).

“Did he really say he’s not coming to his own 50^th birthday event, so that his partner and some of her mates can come?”  I ask off camera.

“That’s about the long and short of it.” says Gooner D

Hang on a second! Family and friends coming with us is great. Family and friends coming instead of us is just a bit odd. Not even Hollywood’s lowest budgeted, "B"-est of "B" movies would have thought of that one. End of Act One!

Act Two sees the ensemble adjust to these new problems. The emotional need plot reaches its climax, altering the material goal plot (e.g. the little furry animals get lost in the woods as night starts to fall, a distant roll of thunder is heard and it starts to get all scary, they spend the night in a cave and discover a secret world of tiny people, where they are treated as deities.  Or the supporting cast decide it won’t be the same without JK, and if he feels he can’t take the time away from the family, which is fair enough, we should find some other way of marking our half century).

By the end of Act Two, the Hollywood plot takes an unexpected twist in order for the material goal to be resolved. (e.g. Earth’s been destroyed by the Lizard Men, but it’s OK, we’ll find a new planet to colonise. Or, Jodie will be a cheerleader, despite having to live in an Oxygen bubble. We’ll just play the match in her hospital ward!). 
And then there's the British version. (JK not being there fundamentally misses the point, but sod it, if he can't get this cleared by HQ, we'll just have to go without him! )

It would be good to get Act Two resolved sooner rather than later, so we can get into Act Three (Will the crime get solved?  Will the aliens take over?  Will JG manage to sleep in a tent?)  Hollywood dictates a secret will be revealed, or some other twist will complicate the material plot one last time. Personally I hope not. In porn parlance, I prefer money shots.  I just want to get to the epilogue, that’s the bit where the characters ride off into the sunset, half way up a mountain in Africa.

Punky Paul and his MOT

Punky's much vaunted MOT was delayed by a few nerve-wracking days, because "the Professor's had to attend an emergency." I wonder what that was? Has Jordan snagged a fingernail? Did The Queen's have a touch of the vapours after seeing the guest list for the Royal Wedding? Or maybe Professor CBE is doing something useful for a change,  like attending to his NHS pro-bono work (although quite what dog biscuits have to do with it is beyond me. Perhaps he feeds them to the poor and needy at his TB clinic in the East End).

And what is Punky supposed to do now his old MOT's expired? Take himself off the road because his insurance is invalid? Who knows.

Thankfully the days go by quickly enough, and the news finally arrives. The nation can breathe a sigh of relief. Jordan has had an extension glued on. Her Majesty has had the wedding list ethnically cleansed. The oikier element have been put in their place (i.e outside the palace gates), leaving a cathederal-load of pure inbreds who all know their whats from their pardons.

And Prof CBE has given Punky the all clear - in fact he passed with flying colours. We're in!

The ethics of going up Uhuru

The only ethics usually associated with the world of high finance is that county to the north-east of London that thupplies the thtock exchange with barrow-boy traders. And the marketing industry is no better, often displaying morals that are as loose as Jordan's knicker elastic. But therein lies the difference between corporate-self and mountain climbing-self.  So while JK's predatory instinct in business would make a Great White Shark blush, and The Ageing Hipster's younger exploits would've made even Berlusconi think twice, when we scramble up the Uhuru peak we want to do so with a clear conscience.

So choosing an ethical tour operator is a priority. One that treats its people fairly, pays a decent wage and makes reasonable demands on porter and client alike.

Africa is different, there's no denying this, so expecting European standards is a mistake. But Kilimanjaro is a major industry, and Tanzania isn't exactly backwards, so there's no need to settle for anything less than professional standards of care, a well-resourced and well-manned party and decent quality equipment. After all we are attempting the highest peak in Africa - this is a serious exercise.

IMEC, an international body dedicated to improving conditions for mountain-tourism workers, has set guidelines regarding the number of guides and porters per person, and the maximum weight they should carry. They also run a special project to improve conditions for porters and guides in Africa and Nepal. I decide to get all Health and Safety on this, and make sure our Tour Operator is IMEC approved and that our party exceeds the guidelines.
  
It seems that getting an official Kilimanjaro Tour Guide's licence is easier than getting a Harvard degree from China - so a licenced operator does not mean a good one. You could be trusting life and limb to a bandit with as much regard for your life as the US Government has for your human rights.

So going into it with eyes open, and after much research, The African Walking Company is my preferred operator. They are well established, claim a high success rate, subscribe to IMEC, are very frank about the challenges and are totally flexible on routes and dates. They have three-man tents, but only put two people in them, and they set up a mess tent with proper chairs and a table for breakfast, supper and the evening chill out. We had this on the Inca Trail and it was a right touch.

More importantly, they have excellent feedback on Trip Advisor, and are recommended in Bobby Backspin's How To Climb Kilimanjaro Without Farting book. So far so good.

I also like the fact they directly employ all of the porters and guides, drawing people from different local tribes into each tour. This feels like our money will help a wider economy, and we'll get a richer experience of Tanzanian culture. It also guards against any single person effectively being guide, leader and paymaster to a bunch of his mates.

Punky's MOT is due on Jan 27th - assuming this goes well, we have a date, we have a party, we have a tour guide.

As Captain James T Kirk might say to an orgasmic Trekkie convention, we're going up Uhuru!

Happy New Year

"Happy New Year" says text from Bobby Backspin. "Got Kili book from Santa, just acquired a mountain bike and started on step machine"  Christ, he didn't waste any time! "Suggest we have conference call next week ... agenda to follow"

A conference call - now we're in business. Getting the boys together usually involves several hundred texts, a shed load of compromises and a large dollop of luck, all over a 6 week timeline. But we value the time together - so much so that it was only after suffering several years of curry nights that JG, JK and Bobby all admitted they don't actually like curry - so it's been Bangers n Mash since then (or in Bobby's case fish finger sandwiches. Marvelous. If only the S+M Cafe still did Ambrosia Cream Rice, I'd happily spend the rest of my life there).

Agenda duly arrives - 1) Punky's MOT. 2) Confirming commitment. 3) Agreeing date.  4) Route - tents v huts.  5) Kit.  6) Agree training weekend in Wales. 7) AOB.  This is uber efficiency at its German best  - I feel like I'm entering the jet set and wonder if I should dig the Cerrutti suit out especially for the occasion!

Predictably me and Bobby Backspin hit the call first. Punky and JK are fashionably late, followed by JG, who is so fashionably late it's virtually haute couture.

Punky's in for his MOT at the end of January, and he's already in training to make sure that he passes! Good lad. Fingers crossed.

Ideally we'd time the trip to reach the summit on Sept 12th, which is a full moon (the final ascent starts at midnight, climbing with torches strapped to head not as romantic). Sadly Punky has a global corporate wank-in that week, and Gooner D starts college after that, so we decide on the first week in September, as near to the full moon as we can.

Bobby Backspin confirms Crispy Backspin's not coming after all, which is a shame. It'd be nice to get to know her better, and seven's a magic number that works well on trips. Luckily JK knows a fellow dad of a Down's lad who'd like to come and raise money for the Charidee, and all agree he'd be welcome.

JG not too keen on tents, and wondered if the more comfortable huts option includes satellite TV, so he can watch the rugby World Cup. Ponce! Can't decide whether he's just taking the piss or if he really hasn't grasped what he's letting himself in for. Probably the former but decide to take a tent to Wales to give him some idea - if nothing else it'll be a laugh (as long as nobody drinks Guiness the night before).

Some discussion on routes follows, based on web research (especially the entries from the African Walking Company on www.africatravelresource.com) and Bobby's book, Kilimanjaro: the Trekker's Guide to Africa's Highest Mountain (available from all good book shops, and some crap ones as well - although I'm a tad disappointed it's not called "How to Climb Kilimanjaro Without Farting" - we were big Monty Python fans back in the day).

Two routes stand out - Rongai and Machame - these seem to offer the highest success rate for inexperienced climbers (read middle-aged fat blokes), and include an element of ascent followed by descent early on to minimise altitude sickness - so we agree to further research these and make final decision after Punky's MOT. And here endeth the first call.

Blimey, that was easy. Big decisions made, action points allocated, date of next meeting set. This conference call mullarkey's so much more efficient than Bangers n Mash - and you don't get a monumental hangover the next morning. I'm a convert.

Boy's Trip, Schmoy's Trip

"It's a boy's thing - you won't want me there" says Gooner D, rather unconvincingly. She usually says this about curry nights when she doesn't want to come.  But Kilimanjaro's a step up from Brick Lane, or even Whitechapel, so I know she really wants to.  After all, we went to the World Cup in South Africa for her 50th and had a brilliant time, despite England's best efforts to ruin it for all concerned, and we made a pact to do something equally memorable for mine.  To make her feel welcome I try to dexterously navigate that fine line between assertive and caring.

"Don't be stupid, and don't exclude yourself. You know you want to come" Not the most sensitive start, I'll grant you.  "I know it might looks like a Boys Own adventure, but everyone's welcome - the more the merrier. We'll have a great time, and it's for Charidee." That's a bit better. Sensing a softening, I go for the kill "And Crispy Backspin fancies it - it'll help her to know you're coming"
Bobby's better half interested but wavering - I wonder if she's having similar "best not to get in the way of all that male bonding" thoughts.

I'm not sure whether it was the knee in the groin opening, the we-can't-let-the-kiddies-down-now-can-we angle, or the lure of doing it for the sisterhood, but something's clicked and Gooner D is in. Great news.