Pending Aged's blog I thought I'd post a picture of us together after our epic feat.....
Tuesday 20 September 2011
Saturday 17 September 2011
From Shoveling Grit to Shoveling ....
A mundane practicality of life is man's need to drop a log every now and then. But while we had our own private toilet tent, complete with chemical khazi (expertly erected by Peter the Bog Porter and associates) at camp, there was a distinct lack of facilities on the trail.
And judging by the amount of bangers and mash left behind any reasonably sized off piste rock, no shortage of people getting caught short and taking what became euphemistically known as a "Countryman" (aka sending an email with attachments).
"Did anyone else bring a shovel, or is it just me?" asked JG
"A shovel?"
"The list said shovel or trowel, so Bex packed the shovel we use for gritting the road in winter"
So, from shoveling grit in Wales to shoveling $*!% in Africa, I bet that shovel will be the talk of the valleys when it gets back home.
And judging by the amount of bangers and mash left behind any reasonably sized off piste rock, no shortage of people getting caught short and taking what became euphemistically known as a "Countryman" (aka sending an email with attachments).
"Did anyone else bring a shovel, or is it just me?" asked JG
"A shovel?"
"The list said shovel or trowel, so Bex packed the shovel we use for gritting the road in winter"
So, from shoveling grit in Wales to shoveling $*!% in Africa, I bet that shovel will be the talk of the valleys when it gets back home.
Friday 16 September 2011
Oh feckin' Yes!
We made it - all of us - there's even a photo somewhere to prove it. And we're very proud of what we've achieved. After 5 days trekking we reached base camp in various states of disrepair. Mainly altitude sickness (and yes, it is as bad as everyone tells you), blisters and dodgy knees and ankles. But not being the type to be put off by such trifles, and armed with oxygen (thank gawd for the Altox), poles, down filled jackets and the most amazing team of porters, guides and helpers, we started our final assault at midnight. This was the steepest part of the week, which we crept up at 0.00001 mph, finally summitting at Gilman's Point some seven hours later. What a feeling. Probably not as bad a childbirth, but a close second! Full details of the extraordinary trip will follow. Phew!
Friday 26 August 2011
Huge Piles and Wet Wipes for the bum
It's the day before we fly out and Chez Hipster is a buzz of activity. Gooner D has put everything in piles on the bedroom floor and is ticking things off the tick-list with almost surgical precision. Who'd have thought a saunter up some rock in Africa would need half this stuff? But then again the trek starts on an African plain in Summer, peaks at minus Christ knows what, and is hot again at the other end.
"Did you see the ten day weather forecast for the mountain" says JK "Between minus 5 and minus 10 at the top, and sunny!"
"Blimey, let's hope we don't all melt up there!" Assuming this accounts for wind-chill, this is positively balmy. We had been warned it could reach minus 32 (although it probably will at 4am, when we're half way into the final ascent).
"Have you packed?" I ask
"Not yet, have it all in piles on the floor" he says (I'm glad to see we're not the only ones who favour the 'pile it high and stuff it in' method of packing) "and there seems to be four times more stuff than I can fit into my backpack - think I overdid it on chocolate bars for the trek"
"Don't leave the chocolate, leave some clothing instead" I say "And travel in your boots"
It seems a good idea to travel in a complete walking outfit as well as your boots, just in case any luggage goes missing. And to stuff all available pockets to the brim with Walnut Whips!
Remembering another top tip - cut your toenails short - I repair to the bathroom for a clip, wondering if Hillary did his own nails or whether he and Sherpa Tenzing ritually clipped each-others at Everest base camp. Or maybe they had extensions done before they left? Having pondered the mysteries of the mountains, and with pedicure complete, I remember we need to pack our own bog rolls for the trip (two each), plus the packet of what I can only describe as 'wet wipes for your bum' that I found in Morrison's today - whatever next?
I wander into the bedroom to see by how much bigger our huge piles are than our backpacks. Unable to see the carpet, I'm guessing it's more than 4 to 1.
Hey ho! Looks like we'll be eating Walnut Whips for a fortnight when we get home.
"Did you see the ten day weather forecast for the mountain" says JK "Between minus 5 and minus 10 at the top, and sunny!"
"Blimey, let's hope we don't all melt up there!" Assuming this accounts for wind-chill, this is positively balmy. We had been warned it could reach minus 32 (although it probably will at 4am, when we're half way into the final ascent).
"Have you packed?" I ask
"Not yet, have it all in piles on the floor" he says (I'm glad to see we're not the only ones who favour the 'pile it high and stuff it in' method of packing) "and there seems to be four times more stuff than I can fit into my backpack - think I overdid it on chocolate bars for the trek"
"Don't leave the chocolate, leave some clothing instead" I say "And travel in your boots"
It seems a good idea to travel in a complete walking outfit as well as your boots, just in case any luggage goes missing. And to stuff all available pockets to the brim with Walnut Whips!
Remembering another top tip - cut your toenails short - I repair to the bathroom for a clip, wondering if Hillary did his own nails or whether he and Sherpa Tenzing ritually clipped each-others at Everest base camp. Or maybe they had extensions done before they left? Having pondered the mysteries of the mountains, and with pedicure complete, I remember we need to pack our own bog rolls for the trip (two each), plus the packet of what I can only describe as 'wet wipes for your bum' that I found in Morrison's today - whatever next?
I wander into the bedroom to see by how much bigger our huge piles are than our backpacks. Unable to see the carpet, I'm guessing it's more than 4 to 1.
Hey ho! Looks like we'll be eating Walnut Whips for a fortnight when we get home.
Saturday 20 August 2011
Money, Pride and Acute Embarrassment
This is Theo - isn't he lovely!
He's the reason we're raising money for Down Syndrome Extra 21
Setting up the Just Giving page, a piece of cake.
Letting all your mates know about it through Facebook and Linked-in, a small slice of heaven.
Getting all competitive with fellow trekkers, a bit like pissing on your own chips.
"How's the fundraising going?" I ask the boys.
"I got mine up today and it's at £1800" reports JG www.justgiving.com/john-goreing
"Mine's a slow burn" says Bobby "I've been going for a month or so, got £3500, my firm is going to match it pound for pound, and a friend of ours is organising a pub quiz for us" www.justgiving.com/Rob-ClaytonO
JK's up and running, and in one day raised more yours truly has in two weeks, mainly thanks to JG who bizarrely donated £100 of his own cash (not that we're getting all competitive - the bastards) www.justgiving.com/john-kearney1
"I really should get mine going" says Punky, although as he has half of the Forbes' Richlist on his Blackberry, we suspect he'll do well.
For our part, our friends and family have donated a respectable £500 so far. www.justgiving.com/AlexandDi
"Guess we just don't have any rich friends" says Gooner D.
Actually we do - the trouble is they're all coming on the trek with us!
Friday 19 August 2011
The Toad in the Hole and the nine and a half year passport.
With the trip barely a week away, we have a final get together at the Sausage and Mash cafe, to make sure we're all on the same page. Our party consists of a CEO/COO; a Chairman; a General Manager; a Finance Director; an ex film reviewer and an unemployed bloke who used to be a Corporate Liar (that's a PR to the uninitiated). Looks like a board meeting, sounds like a board meeting, Bobby's even got a notepad.
Item 1 - dinner. Toad in the Hole with Bubble and Squeak and Heinz baked beans. Bloody marvelous. I wonder if they might rustle this up on Kilimanjaro? Wouldn't that be something.
Item 2 - the checklist.
"First up - passports" says Bobby."Does everyone have one"
"Check"
"Check"
"Check"
"Check"
"Er - No" says JG "Actually runs out in November, but needs to be valid for six months"
Jesus Christ - we've fallen at the first hurdle! But why do they issue a 10 year passport if the bloody thing is only valid for 9 and a half? Why don't they just come clean and admit they're diddling you out of 5% of your money by selling you a passport that doesn't reach its sell by date. And why do we stand for it? If you'd bought some food from Tesco's and it went off before the due date, you'd take it back and give them what for - but we all just casually accept our Passports blowing up in our fridge without giving it a second thought.
"I'm on the case" he assures us "And I do have my vaccinations certificate" I somehow doubt UK Border Control will fall for that one - unless the current Home Office policy is no-one shall pass unless we're sure they won't be a burden to the NHS.
"Has anyone had laser surgery?" asks Punky
"Me" say Gooner D (both eyeballs in fact).
"Right, well something might happen at 4000m and you could get tunnel vision"
"OK - what can I do about it?"
"Nothing really- just don't panic if it happens"
The other weird thing that happens at 4000m is Lithium batteries pack up, and if the altitude doesn't get them, the sudden change of temperature might. This gives us all grave concerns about capturing that once in a lifetime achievement. Further research concludes that we need to keep batteries inside our innermost pockets of our innermost clothing (and in our sleeping bags at night), and hope! And on the final assault, assuming we get that far, one camera is going into an underwater case, along with couple of hand-warmers. Might just do the trick.
Talking of batteries, we're investing in a solar battery charger, which sounds great, except there's no official way of attaching them to your rucksack, so some elastic bands, bulldog clips and good old-fashioned ingenuity are also being employed. Let's hope it's not cloudy when we need it.
JG and Robbie seem very keen to get medical requisities organised, so that we don't end up all bringing talcum powder but no Immodium. This seems a very sensible idea, even if it does feel like we're taking a small branch of Boots up the mountain with us.
Amid much discussion about wicking underwear, thermal trousers, toilet paper rationing, and top tips for keeping water from freezing (dose it up with Diarolyte apparently), all the remaining items on the checklist pass without incident. JK seemed to glaze over after two minutes, and so, concerned he's not going to be equipped enough, we leave him with this thought from other climbers: "You're never going to be too warm, so go for maximum thermals and lots of layers"
Last item - haircuts and beards. Apart from Gooner D, we all have to report with a number 4 crew cut, and be clean shaven, so that we can all grow a beard on the mountain. Quite why we're going to turn up looking like a bunch of skinheads is beyond me. And why exactly do blokes hold beard-growing competitions? Answers on a postcard please.
Meeting adjourned. Next time we'll all be together will be on the plane. Assuming they allow gangs of middle-aged skinheads on board.
Item 1 - dinner. Toad in the Hole with Bubble and Squeak and Heinz baked beans. Bloody marvelous. I wonder if they might rustle this up on Kilimanjaro? Wouldn't that be something.
Item 2 - the checklist.
"First up - passports" says Bobby."Does everyone have one"
"Check"
"Check"
"Check"
"Check"
"Er - No" says JG "Actually runs out in November, but needs to be valid for six months"
Jesus Christ - we've fallen at the first hurdle! But why do they issue a 10 year passport if the bloody thing is only valid for 9 and a half? Why don't they just come clean and admit they're diddling you out of 5% of your money by selling you a passport that doesn't reach its sell by date. And why do we stand for it? If you'd bought some food from Tesco's and it went off before the due date, you'd take it back and give them what for - but we all just casually accept our Passports blowing up in our fridge without giving it a second thought.
"I'm on the case" he assures us "And I do have my vaccinations certificate" I somehow doubt UK Border Control will fall for that one - unless the current Home Office policy is no-one shall pass unless we're sure they won't be a burden to the NHS.
"Has anyone had laser surgery?" asks Punky
"Me" say Gooner D (both eyeballs in fact).
"Right, well something might happen at 4000m and you could get tunnel vision"
"OK - what can I do about it?"
"Nothing really- just don't panic if it happens"
The other weird thing that happens at 4000m is Lithium batteries pack up, and if the altitude doesn't get them, the sudden change of temperature might. This gives us all grave concerns about capturing that once in a lifetime achievement. Further research concludes that we need to keep batteries inside our innermost pockets of our innermost clothing (and in our sleeping bags at night), and hope! And on the final assault, assuming we get that far, one camera is going into an underwater case, along with couple of hand-warmers. Might just do the trick.
Talking of batteries, we're investing in a solar battery charger, which sounds great, except there's no official way of attaching them to your rucksack, so some elastic bands, bulldog clips and good old-fashioned ingenuity are also being employed. Let's hope it's not cloudy when we need it.
JG and Robbie seem very keen to get medical requisities organised, so that we don't end up all bringing talcum powder but no Immodium. This seems a very sensible idea, even if it does feel like we're taking a small branch of Boots up the mountain with us.
Amid much discussion about wicking underwear, thermal trousers, toilet paper rationing, and top tips for keeping water from freezing (dose it up with Diarolyte apparently), all the remaining items on the checklist pass without incident. JK seemed to glaze over after two minutes, and so, concerned he's not going to be equipped enough, we leave him with this thought from other climbers: "You're never going to be too warm, so go for maximum thermals and lots of layers"
Last item - haircuts and beards. Apart from Gooner D, we all have to report with a number 4 crew cut, and be clean shaven, so that we can all grow a beard on the mountain. Quite why we're going to turn up looking like a bunch of skinheads is beyond me. And why exactly do blokes hold beard-growing competitions? Answers on a postcard please.
Meeting adjourned. Next time we'll all be together will be on the plane. Assuming they allow gangs of middle-aged skinheads on board.
Wednesday 17 August 2011
The miracle of Insurance
Death, Taxes and Masturbation - the three inevitabilities in all of our lives. Although these days I'd suggest Insurance has to be added to the list. And for Kilimanjaro climbers, it's essential. So, with a sense of foreboding, I phone the insurance company to see how much this is going to cost us.
"We're climbing Kilimanjaro so I need to extend our cover"
Gooner D corrects me "It's a trek, not a climb"
"Any specialist equipment" says the lad from Post Office Insurance "Ropes? Crampons?"
"Nope - just blister packs, surgical supports and prayer"
"And are you sticking to recognised tourist trails"
"Absolutely - but it's at high altitude"
"There are no altitude restrictions on the policy, so as long as it's a trek not a climb and you stick to the path, you're already covered"
Feckin' hell, the computer says "Yes" - hallelujah!
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