Let's start with the nearest to a holiday I've had in 15 months. A 3 day trip to France. Big Kudos to Darren for cajoling me back in June into attending Michael & Amy's wedding. I thought it would be mental to go with the arrival back in the UK a mere 24 hours before leaving for the Mount Kenya climb. As it goes, it was the best decision for so many reasons.
It took 10 hours to get to the gite in Provence which was a mere hop and a skip away from the impressive fairytale setting of the Chateau de Robernier. It's a long story why we didn't have a key upon arrival so Rhian & I sat with our supermarche supplies making impromptu sandwiches by tearing bits of baguette and stuffing them with sliced cheese and ham. We had chosen the one bottle of wine with a cork so could only covet the rose until we had access to a corkscrew. As it goes, I had chosen unwisely anyway.
When everyone else arrived we got started the only we knew how. Pain, vin, du boursin (well, fromage of every other kind).
I was sharing a room with Darren, Helen & Mark. Darren & I took the bunks and we had a curtain separating the other sleeping quarters. Thanks heavens for ear plugs and eye masks to block out the snoring, coughing, swearing and light.
The wine was going down far too easily so after copious amounts I went to bed early as I was up to train. I heard the hardcore drinkers go to bed at 5 so knew that I could be out and back before Dan rose for his birthday breakfast.
The weather was beautiful as I set off walking through the vineyards. I picked up pace in the heat and disappeared beyond the chateau deep into the heart of the landscape. It was beautiful but strangely eerie with my iPod blasting out the surrounding sounds of France. I took photographs with my mind to keep and made my way back an hour later patting myself on the back.
Dan still wasn't up so I hadn't missed anything. After a shower and a quick breakfast we wished the birthday boy well before we went back to the supermarche for more of everything.
We didn't need to get ready until 4pm which meant extra caution on not getting too drunk. We lined our tums and proceeded to scrub up. Pretty well by all accounts, everyone looked so lovely. We made our way to the chateau to be greeted with the first of many champagnes. Lots of familiar faces all dressed up and wearing shades as the weather continued to be kind. The groom was relaxed moments before showtime.
As we took our places with cones of petals in one hand (hand-picked from Amy's Mum's garden) and bubbles in the other, we all faced forward with the most incredible view. The strains of Feeling Good
began and the door behind us opened to reveal another; the future Mrs. Morris.
We did a sterling job of singing God Only Knows (lyrics cunningly concealed under our seats) before the canapes began. A brilliant - if a little hazy - night ensued. The only grumble was being sat on the Cheese table rather than the Family Guy one. Ah no, there was another. I was dancing to Crazy in Love when a female leg adorned with a metal spiked Christian Louboutin wrapped itself around me digging into my leg. Ouch!
Very late to bed and a slight hangover for Pool Party day. The sun had been replaced with heavy cloud and my tropical look lasted all of 20 minutes before returning to the gite to ditch the swimsuit for full wool dress, tights and cardigan.
Other than accidentally locking myself in the bathroom for half an hour it was a great day. Rhian, Nick and I made our way back at a reasonable hour admiring the stars that appeared. Kenya was looming and I needed a good night's sleep.
Monday was an early start with cleaning and packing to be done before the hour or so drive to the airport.
I was being collected by Anthony at 10.15 in his flash BMW hire car. As he checked a text from me en route, he hit a ditch and got a flat. No spare. No repair kit. No time to wait for roadside assistance.
I felt sick. Anthony was flying to Japan the next day and I was of course off to Africa. We needed this like a hole in the head. We had to ditch the car (no pun intended) and get a 150 Euro cab to the airport. Thankfully Avis reimbursed that cost. Turns out Avis' policy is not to provide drivers with any of the aforementioned emergency kit as they tended to get stolen. It was a scary end to an idyllic trip but a possible prelude of things to come. Perhaps someone was trying to prevent me from going to Kenya after all...
Tuesday was a day of repacking, collecting currency, a final walk and ticking off the kit list. The rush hour cab arrived and we hit inevitable traffic and a mammoth tail back. Luckily we had a driver who lived near Heathrow and he proceeded to take every back route and break every road offence to get us there in record time.
It'd be pretty pointless to go through every single mundane clue to impending doom but trust me, there were hints everywhere alluding to my demise.
The flight wasn't so bad and I was pretty excited about the night having finally arrived. I managed a sporadic snooze, little did I know it was to be the longest sleep for the next 10 nights.
We had a lovely lunch at the foot of the National Park after a long bus ride from the airport. The peak of the mountain was concealed by cloud so we still didn't quite know what was awaiting. The first night was supposed to be a camp night but for one reason or another (lions or weather?) we spent it in a resort. It was basic but great food and meant a proper bed and unexpected shower before we started the real journey.
Our first wake up call was 6 a.m (as was every single morning bar summit day) and after a hearty breakfast we separated our kit into 3 piles. Daypack, bag for mountain, bag to stay down mountain for the last night and journey home. We split into small Rascal type vehicles to be transported about an hour to our first starting point at Sirimon Gate (2,800m). We see our first glimpse of the mountain. It's quite daunting yet seems so far away.
It was a warm morning and I knew I would struggle as I always do on Day 1 of any walk. My body needs to get into its rhythm and used to the inclines. Sadly as it was day 1 I was eager to chat and get to know people and that cost me dearly. I was walking faster than my comfortable walking pace. I commented to Tim "Gosh it's hot isn't it?" He replied that no, he was fine and that's when I noticed my heart rate had gone sky high and my shallow breathing was fast running out. I slowed down until I was at the very back with everyone disappearing over the horizon. I don't like (can't) a walk uphill and my body hates it even more but it was nothing I wasn't used to. Slow & steady was my way forward now. It's no fun walking alone and at the back but I'd always known that would be the case so I just took in the scenery (missed a monkey) as best I could whilst concentrating on my breathing. A couple of hours later I felt a familiar - albeit from 7 years ago - pain in my left hip. Uh oh. I tried to ignore it and other than massaging it with Tiger Balm I didn't really attend to it all week. Mistake in the making.
Things learned on first day/night: I will be last to the summit. There are lots of big personalities - mine will have to hang back. My sleeping bag is shit.
6 a.m start and a great walk up. Again, it was no surprise as I know that day 2 usually goes with me feeling on top form and getting into my stride. It's not feeling like Africa if I'm honest but it's stunning. It was a lovely camp (3,700m) but such a very cold night with rain.
The next day was very split for me, the first half was sunny and a great ascent, I loved it. The moment we got to the top to descend into a valley, the mist came in and brought rain. I felt my knee ping on the way down and needed medical attention. The rest of the walk was wet. Cold & wet. Marsh, bog, sleet, hail, rain, snow... I hated it. A turn occurred. I don't just mean the weather.
It became usual for me to listen to the people in front or behind and I learned a lot about folk this way but couldn't really join in as I was struggling. I think people would be surprised how much I know about them.
It was a brutal day but weirdly after an hour or so at camp (4,200m), the sun came out. It wasn't quite enough to dry everything out but was welcome nonetheless.
Our camp was pitched on very wet land so it was quite uncomfortable. We were going to be here for 2 days to acclimatise. I wanted to get up the mountain as soon as possible, get down as soon as possible and get on the first available flight home. Palpitations, headaches, dizziness and irregular heartbeat had materialised as high altitude side effects. I hit my wall when I awoke shivering with numbness in my left foot and a few fingers (I was wearing several layers including socks, hat and gloves) needing the loo. I waged that if it was around the 4 a.m mark I'd ride the pain. As it goes it was 23.45 and that created a panic. I struggled to manoeuvre in my sleeping bag and as I tried to get out, another panic. The zip on the tent was frozen. I couldn't get out. I panicked - again. I tried to regulate my breathing and began a mantra that everything was ok. It seemed to work and after a loo stop, I felt better if not frozen.
The next day I was so emotional. I fought back tears but couldn't. I missed everything and everyone. I wasn't scared of the mountain but I didn't like the unknown. It loomed over us for its second day and beckoned us with menace. I spoke to it a lot over those hours. I told it in no uncertain terms that I was coming for it. It wouldn't beat me though it may try to kill me.
Kerry & I decided perhaps unwisely that the song to lift us out of the slump (that seemed to have taken hold of a few campers) was Fix You. It brought tears but somehow the lyrics resonated with us.
The 12 o clock news was coming though (the rain that made its way in around midday). This gave time to have some me time playing scrabble on my Nintendo and snoozing for an hour in the tent. Anxiety was building but at a very manageable pace. In fact, I was more than happy at the prospect to be getting up at 1.30 a.m as it would mean less time in the sleeping bag and less time to not need a wee.
I went to bed at 10 with 7 layers on and was more than ready for the challenge when we got our wake up call.
It was -6 degrees and dark when we tackled breakfast. We stood in single file at 3 a.m and began to walk with our headlamps. I had a delightful natter with Freddie for the first part though the air was thin so it was difficult to sustain.
A lot of that walk was on auto-pilot. I remember all of it but it didn't seem quite as long as it was. Watching the moon rise quickly followed by the sun was an astounding sight. 
By this point there were 3 of us at the very back. Brigitte, Rox and myself accompanied by Rolfe were taking our time and really not concerned at all with deadlines or time restraints. We helped each other and still found time to take photos and sing appropriate songs pertaining to walking, mountains, sunshine... you name it, we probably sang it!
We reached the actual Lenana summit (4,895m) at 8 a.m. I was proud & tired as I drank in the view but I was surprised at my lack of emotion. It was incredible to see where we had worked our way from and to see where we were about to head for.
We ran down some of the mountain (like running on chocolate brownie mix I imagine) and headed for our next camp via a last minute short cut. It was beautiful but exhausting and hard on so little fuel. Bad news had reached us as we headed along teetering ravines above steep falls; the porters hadn't reached camp (4,270m) and were still behind us which meant no tents or food awaited us.
I would never have predicted that the next day was the worst. We again rose at 6. I had breakfast at 7.15. The plan was to have a show (Great Gig in the Sky) at 8 and be on our way by 9. It was such a great setting with amazing performances and really good fun.
Me and my precision timing started to twitch when we left at 11 and my snack supply was already being tucked into. Another warm day was quickly on the turn by this point and the first hour was up, up and more up. Something seemed to happen at this point. My legs gave up. I was dragging myself along on my poles. Kerry got sick. We were a slow group. Every estimated time of arrival seemed to grow further away. My snacks ran out. My willpower ran out. Oh to see an animal of note. I felt sure that would lift my spirits. I needed a lift. I needed a helicopter.
Just when I though the end was in reach I slipped on the red mud along a ditch and landed hard on my trekking poles. I couldn't get back up and I burst into tears. I needed Raj to head back to get me up. I threw my poles and had a huge diva strop. The dodgy hip had been menacing all day not to mention both knee joints causing me pain. My legs were shaking and I had no energy. It had now been 9 hours without a meal. I didn't think I had anything left to give. I could feel the lump under my trousers and knowing my bruise history, already hated the huge ugly thing that was forming on my skin.
Having Seraphin hold my hand after my fall attempting to hold me up was actually comedic. If he went, I went and vice-versa. I tried not to let go as he slipped more times than I did!
Although I'd had a dream the previous night that we spent our final night in a wooden hut, I couldn't help feel there was truth in it. One member of the group made a point of checking if there was. I was left guilty for suggesting such a rumour. I was more than happy to be proved right by whatever shamen means when we turned up at Bandas (2,950m) to find little huts with beds for the night. We had our "lunch" - it must have been 7 o clock - followed by chicken & chips for dinner a few hours later. An end of tour quiz rounded off the evening and given our team of 3 didn't come last to other groups of 6, we didn't do too badly. I am cross I took my eye off trusted John as he wrote "Baby, baby" rather than "Hit me baby one more time". Maybe it was cool to get that wrong though and did me good.
There was an emotional ceremony of thanks, tip giving and goodbyes. We'd had an amazing crew of some amazing guys.
All that remained was a 2+ hour landrover ride that apparently would be bumpy.
It was white knuckle for the most part and not without its drama. I secretly enjoyed it.
We arrived to the meeting point where we were to all get on one bus to our hotel for the final night. I called my Mum and tried not to cry. The bus journey was long, hot, frayed and quite frankly petrifying. I did not raise £9,259 and go all that way to conquer a mountain only to die at the hands of a driver falling asleep whilst overtaking on blind spots. I realise that's how they drive there but I did not welcome the custom with open arms or closed eyes.
By the time we reached our plush hotel we didn't have time to swim in the pool given a drink at the bar was certainly the priority. I opted for a Kir Royale by way of celebration. Sadly not of the feat achieved but of the impending departure that could not come soon enough for me.
A quick shower and spruce and we made our way out once again.
Carnivores was much the same as any churrascaria with the addition of a few curious meats - testicles and croc for example that I skipped. No jokes about me turning down balls eh?
Meat, booze, dancing, shots, more booze and bed at 3.30. I had no idea what time the wake up call or etd was until the telephone crudely rang at 6.30. Many of the group had a mere hour in bed and were still drunk but we all made it to the airport even if some of their belongings didn't.
I almost cried (again) when we touched down in London and as much as I did an amazing thing, I had more going on personally than I shared with anyone. It had meant more to me that I could explain and I'd still rather not. Suffice it to say, I put a lot of pressure on myself & the trip and it didn't deliver & neither did I but hey, I climbed a bloody mountain. If anything I am more proud of the people that showed such generosity and donated to the cause. The grand total was £10,391 before take off. I can't express enough gratitude for that and money is still coming in! Thank you to everyone. Hopefully in the coming days, weeks, months or years the trip will take on a new memory but just yet it's too soon, too raw and far too painful to recall. I love looking at the photos everyone took as if looking at some movie that I wasn't in. I'm glad everyone loved it at least.
I can't explain how happy I am to be home and for the sunshine to be here on my return. I feel I could sleep for a week and never complain about the cold again. I have a feeling that in a few weeks some will be reminding me of that last statement given I do feel the cold.
It's my birthday on Saturday and here's hoping 42 really is the meaning of life.
x
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