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.

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!

   

Jabbed up!

So the visit to the Quack passed without too much hassle. At the time of writing Yellow Fever was not necessary (although this changes frequently so check), so I got away with just Typhoid and Hep A. I am already covered for Tetanus, thanks to being bitten by a (thankfully non-rabid) dog at the South Africa World Cup.  Talking of which, Rabies jabs probably a good idea for Tanzania, especially if close encounters with animals or bats expected, but we've left it too late to finish the course before we go, so will just need to be careful.  I for one have definitely learned my lesson about petting African animals and won't be doing that again. Gift - the African nurse who administered the jabbing, wearily lifted her eyes upwards and did all she could to avoid tutting when I told her about how I got bitten by a pub dog in Port Elizabeth as I tried to tickle it through an iron gate. "You might let them sleep in your beds over here" she said "But back home dogs are for hunting and protection - we leave them well alone."  Good advice, Gift. I just wish we'd had this conversation a year ago!

Welcome Back Mr and Mrs Aged H!

And what a tremendous effort for a great title...from "From South Wales to New South Wales"...that's what I call blog dedication.

The group is coming together nicely. The Aged H's are back and look to be fully prepared. JG's face by now should have got back to the shade it was before it turned that funny pink colour in the Brecons, Punky is training full on (no shocks there, the guy is a machine), and JK is over his sprained ankle, and holidayed. Mrs Backspin and I are off to the French Alps this weekend for a bit of up and down mountains and the group are having a final sit down next Thursday night to avoid the inevitable "I thought you'd brought the......", oh and a few beers.

Kilimanjaro is now looming large.

From South Wales to New South Wales - the mountain looms

Suddenly we're into the final few weeks and all is looking real. Very real indeed. We're talking 3D, HD, 1080i, better-than-the-movies Widescreen real. And as doubts about fitness levels start to creep in, Mr and Mrs Backspin (the nicest couple in England), Mr and Mrs G (the nicest couple in Wales) and the Ageing Hipster and Gooner D (the nicest couple in North London, although given the recent rioting a mile up the road from us this isn't difficult) - all decide to have a training weekend in the Brecons.

The training gets off to a flying start courtesy of Great Western Railways, who make the Backspins stand for the entire two and a half hour journey from Paddington to Newport. Fate stepped in to give them this extra workout, as they had seat reservations but were unable to gain access to their carriage. Running trains is obviously much harder than we think, after all they've been trying to get it right for more than a century and they still can't quite manage to get the train out of the station AND the people into the seats they've paid for. Still, if we had to settle for one out of the two, at least they managed to get the iron horse to run along the steel roadway and stop at the places it was meant to. Hooray for British industry!

Having survived (although Mrs B bottled it and sat on the carriage floor from Slough), we were picked up by JG and driven at high speed to the waiting pub for a decent meal and some well deserved booze. Might as well start as we mean to go on.

After a good night sleep, and a huge breakfast, we hit the hills for a brisk 2.5 hour trek, which had a higher climb than any of the planned days on Kilimanjaro. Thankfully all knees and ankles survived so well we did an even harder trek the next day. This time, despite the fact that our host's village was always in sight, so we'd always know where we were, we managed to get lost on the way down. But never mind, our trek team on Kilimanjaro will be responsible for maps and compasses, leaving us free to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. No major accidents here, except a couple of nettle stings, some blistered toes and heels, and some bruised pride as JG took an unexpected dip in a stream. Could have been worse.

The weary travellers returned to London feeling pretty confident in everyone else's ability to make the trek, with just a few nagging doubts about ourselves.

Not being the sort to let the grass grow under our feet, The Ageing Hipster and Gooner D flew to Australia the next day to visit friends and do more trekking in the North Queensland Rainforest. Specifically the Mount Sorrow Ridgewalk in Cape Tribulation. So called because, having smashed his ship to firewood on the Great Barrier Reef here, Captain Cook sent two scouts up the ridge to see what was what. They were never seen again. You'd like to think they stumbled upon a natural paradise and decided to set up home together growing exotic fruit, but historians suspect the worse.

Sorrow and Tribulation indeed, and perhaps Pain and Stupidity could also be added into the mix.  It's a 7 hour trek (3.5 there and 3.5 back) that goes from very steep to even steeper, to practically vertical, through dense, unforgiving rainforest.  For large parts we were on all-fours pulling ourselves up using trees, roots and vines.  Having hauled ourselves through this assault course we finally reach the small viewing platform, only to be joined a minute later by a local lad who had run up in 59 minutes. The bastard! And as that sank in, so did the realisation that we had get our weary legs into action and get down before the light went.

Anyone who has climbed a tree will know that going down can take as much time as coming up, and so it was. We had to retrace our steps, every single one of them, very very carefully, until, laughing in the face of Tribulation and Sorrow (possibly through joy but probably through some form of mild delerium), we made it back to the road, and even declined a lift to our campsite. Take that Mt. Sorrow!

Confident that Kilimanjaro won't throw anything like that at us, and keeping fingers crossed that we avoid yellow fever and altitude sickness, we give a cautious "Bring it on".

Next stop - the Doctors.

To Hire or not To Hire

Thinking about survival at -32 degrees really focuses the mind. The big stuff's obvious - ski-wear ain't gonna cut it, so we definitely need to get our hands on some down filled mountaineering jacket. The Africa Walking Company hire Anapurna Jackets by Mountain Equipment, which  are generally considered the dog's doo-dahs, and we're happy with that.

The boys all agree that it's best to hire one first time round and buy one if we get bitten by the mountaineering bug (although bearing in mind the jacket is filled with natural fibres and would have previously adorned umpteen sweaty, unwashed and generally "mountain filthy" bodies, I'd be amazed if it's the only bug we get be bitten by).

JK might buy his own, so he can put it on every now and then in the future to remind himself of the trek. Nice touch, and it would definitely help out with the heating bills.

Gooner D, rightfully concerned that the only sizes available for hire (M, L and XL mens) would swamp her, decides to buy herself the women's version - the Cho Oyo jacket. This turns out to be much more difficult that anticipated, with only two available on the world wide web during the Springtime - but she will never freeze at the Arsenal again.

Would-be travellers be warned, it's much easier to get this stuff in winter, so planning ahead is a good idea.

The not-so-obvious things that we also decide to hire are: 4-season sleeping bags (so we can sleep easy, knowing our tits and knackers will still be attached when we wake up), a foam mattress (so we can get some sleep in the first place - much more comfy than just the half-inch insulating mat), and walking poles.

I wasn't sure about walking poles,  but JG has severe knee-knack, mine are a bit dodgy, JK wants all the help he can get, and Cousin Ken, who has spent the last 40 years skipping up mountains on the Isle of Skye looking at Eagles, can't recommend them highly enough.  Apparently you need one for on the way up, two for on the way down.

Your knees and ankles will spend the rest of your life thanking you, but be warned, most people get so focused on where to place the poles, they forget to stop and admire the scenery. Good tip!

OUTSTANDING lunch to celebrate JG's 50th birthday at the Savoy Grill. Food, wine, cooking, FUN. Somewhat alarmingly there doesn't seem to be much going on training-wise for Kilimanjaro. JG has purchased a rowing machine but has only done a total of 8k so far (plus some hill walks). He has also developed a hacking cough. JK is thinking about starting his training "soon", but he is a naturally fit guy (and I think he's been at it really - he looked as if he'd lost weight). The Aged H looks in good nick (better now than 10 years ago IMHO) and I have no doubt that Mrs Aged will be in fine fettle cometh the day....