Kilimanjaro - The Peaks and Troughs
Ever since I could walk and talk, I’ve looked up at the worlds highest peaks with complete awe. Never did I think that over the next 20 years I would build up the confidence and competence to take on some of these beasts.
But that’s where I find myself today. Years of gradual improvements from climbing my first mountain, Mount Snowdon at 19 years old, to my most recent ascent of Mount Kinabalu (4095m), the highest in Borneo at age 25.
I find myself at the base of Mount Kilimanjaro, the worlds highest freestanding mountain and the highest on the African Continent. My Instagram followers know the attempt is about to start and the almost £2000 has been spent. There’s no turning back. The stage is set.
Ascending to 5895m altitude means that altitude sickness, not fitness, would be my number one enemy. It’s a six day ascent with the first five for progress up the slopes and acclimatisation, and the sixth day for the 1300m summit push and over 4000m descent.
The full story is on my YouTube channel, but I want to cover new ground today. How the darkest moments came about and how I overcame them.
It’s 08:00 on Day 3. We’re at 3800m elevation after ascending over 1000m per day over the last two days. Todays agenda is to climb to 4600m to acclimatise, and then to sleep back down at 4000m.
The climb goes well. Walk in the park. Air is getting thinner but there’s no issue. The hearts working hard, lungs are sucking in all the air they need, and the head feels good.
Fast forward to 19:00 that night. After having descended down to 4000m with no issues 6 hours ago. A head tingle and nausea is starting to set in. "Fine. Suck it up, eat your dinner, you’ll have adjusted in the morning"
But dinner time had come around, the starter was soup. One sip and my stomach is running in circles telling me not to drink any more. Then the salivation starts. Despite having not thrown up in over 4 years, I know what’s coming next.
I must have lost around 3 litres and all my lunch in that first round. The slight stomach relief after was welcome… for 20 minutes. Before the 20 minute intervals started from 19:00 all the way to 22:00.
At 22:00 I’d seemingly lost all my fluid, nothing was coming up, my head was spinning like the worst hangover you can imagine, stomach was tied in knots, abs were cramping, and my body screaming at me to get down the mountain.
If it wasn’t pitch black and almost midnight I just might have done exactly that. 0% chance I thought. 0% chance I make it to the summit now. "It’s not even a difficult mountain Adam, you want to climb more of the seven summits and you can’t climb this? A 9 year old has climbed this mountain. All your followers know you’re here, you want to be a symbol for strength and achievement, if only they could all see you now."
This is when voice two steps in. Stop worrying. You’re not getting off the mountain tonight. Try and drink, Go to sleep, tomorrow we will re assess.
And re assess we did. There were no more attempted stomach ejections since 22:00 and although the sleep was horrific, my head was still, stomach calm, and ready to push on. I re established my mindset. If there was no severe head pain and I wasn’t collapsing, I was getting to the top.
As the next two days progressed sleeping at a similar altitude, I managed to take some water in but could consume no food for over 48 hours. the next night I only threw up once. I was still in the fight.
Following that first 4000m sleep, we slept at 4200m then 4600m. A gentle acclimatisation. 4600m was the final base camp before the midnight summit push. It was 15:00 at base camp and something changed. I'd got some water in me and finally felt a sense of calm and comfort at this height. No appetite but at least no nausea. Some respite exactly when I needed it. Thankfully this was the end of my purely physiological troubles. But the psychological troubles were not over yet.
I got to sleep at 22:00. Woke at 00:00 and at 01:00 we commence the summit push. Mildly dehydrated and with only glucose biscuits in my stomach, it was going to be a tough one.
The air at this altitude contains 50% of the oxygen there is at sea level. The walk is painfully slow, we’re a team of four. Two guides and two clients. After days of easily keeping up with the others, I’m now falling way behind. In the pitch black and -15 degree temperatures, all I need to do is, step, step, step, step. 6 hours of this. Walter my guide would not let me rest, I was angry but I knew he was right. We rested for only 10 minutes in those 6 hours. My heart was working overtime, my lungs were dragging in all the air they could, but it was still barely enough.
But I’ve felt this before. I’ve worked hard before. I refer to my previous sentiment. Do I have a headache? No. Have I collapsed? No. We keep working.
There was one overriding thought that kept me moving, kept me motivated, and kept the fire inside my head.
As you can probably guess by the nature of the Headright Project, I’ve had my fair share of mental health battles. I’ve felt almost as low as I'd ever want to feel, with nothing but a weak flicker at the end of the tunnel to keep me going. There were times when that flicker almost vanished and I truly thought I’d never find happiness again and my life will never get better.
I’m out of that deepest hole now (a story for another time) but I still have to wrestle that grey cloud making it’s way over my head on a regular basis when my seeds of self doubt grow into forests of inaction and procrastination.
These experience gives me strength. They allow me to ask myself one simple question to re frame the psychological suffering from physical stress. I ask myself:
"Would I rather be on this mountain, dehydrated, under fuelled, blowing out my ass, wanting it to all be over, but with a goal, a mission, an achievement I'll be able to touch in a matter of hours?
Or would I rather be on the sofa, in bed or back in my old job, with that grey cloud smothering my brain, no purpose, no mission, no goal, no motivation?"
I choose this mountain every time.
07:00. The suns peeping out, my toes and fingers are coming back to life, we take the final steps to the summit. We made it.
But that’s where I find myself today. Years of gradual improvements from climbing my first mountain, Mount Snowdon at 19 years old, to my most recent ascent of Mount Kinabalu (4095m), the highest in Borneo at age 25.
I find myself at the base of Mount Kilimanjaro, the worlds highest freestanding mountain and the highest on the African Continent. My Instagram followers know the attempt is about to start and the almost £2000 has been spent. There’s no turning back. The stage is set.
Ascending to 5895m altitude means that altitude sickness, not fitness, would be my number one enemy. It’s a six day ascent with the first five for progress up the slopes and acclimatisation, and the sixth day for the 1300m summit push and over 4000m descent.
The full story is on my YouTube channel, but I want to cover new ground today. How the darkest moments came about and how I overcame them.
It’s 08:00 on Day 3. We’re at 3800m elevation after ascending over 1000m per day over the last two days. Todays agenda is to climb to 4600m to acclimatise, and then to sleep back down at 4000m.
The climb goes well. Walk in the park. Air is getting thinner but there’s no issue. The hearts working hard, lungs are sucking in all the air they need, and the head feels good.
Fast forward to 19:00 that night. After having descended down to 4000m with no issues 6 hours ago. A head tingle and nausea is starting to set in. "Fine. Suck it up, eat your dinner, you’ll have adjusted in the morning"
But dinner time had come around, the starter was soup. One sip and my stomach is running in circles telling me not to drink any more. Then the salivation starts. Despite having not thrown up in over 4 years, I know what’s coming next.
I must have lost around 3 litres and all my lunch in that first round. The slight stomach relief after was welcome… for 20 minutes. Before the 20 minute intervals started from 19:00 all the way to 22:00.
At 22:00 I’d seemingly lost all my fluid, nothing was coming up, my head was spinning like the worst hangover you can imagine, stomach was tied in knots, abs were cramping, and my body screaming at me to get down the mountain.
If it wasn’t pitch black and almost midnight I just might have done exactly that. 0% chance I thought. 0% chance I make it to the summit now. "It’s not even a difficult mountain Adam, you want to climb more of the seven summits and you can’t climb this? A 9 year old has climbed this mountain. All your followers know you’re here, you want to be a symbol for strength and achievement, if only they could all see you now."
This is when voice two steps in. Stop worrying. You’re not getting off the mountain tonight. Try and drink, Go to sleep, tomorrow we will re assess.
And re assess we did. There were no more attempted stomach ejections since 22:00 and although the sleep was horrific, my head was still, stomach calm, and ready to push on. I re established my mindset. If there was no severe head pain and I wasn’t collapsing, I was getting to the top.
As the next two days progressed sleeping at a similar altitude, I managed to take some water in but could consume no food for over 48 hours. the next night I only threw up once. I was still in the fight.
Following that first 4000m sleep, we slept at 4200m then 4600m. A gentle acclimatisation. 4600m was the final base camp before the midnight summit push. It was 15:00 at base camp and something changed. I'd got some water in me and finally felt a sense of calm and comfort at this height. No appetite but at least no nausea. Some respite exactly when I needed it. Thankfully this was the end of my purely physiological troubles. But the psychological troubles were not over yet.
I got to sleep at 22:00. Woke at 00:00 and at 01:00 we commence the summit push. Mildly dehydrated and with only glucose biscuits in my stomach, it was going to be a tough one.
The air at this altitude contains 50% of the oxygen there is at sea level. The walk is painfully slow, we’re a team of four. Two guides and two clients. After days of easily keeping up with the others, I’m now falling way behind. In the pitch black and -15 degree temperatures, all I need to do is, step, step, step, step. 6 hours of this. Walter my guide would not let me rest, I was angry but I knew he was right. We rested for only 10 minutes in those 6 hours. My heart was working overtime, my lungs were dragging in all the air they could, but it was still barely enough.
But I’ve felt this before. I’ve worked hard before. I refer to my previous sentiment. Do I have a headache? No. Have I collapsed? No. We keep working.
There was one overriding thought that kept me moving, kept me motivated, and kept the fire inside my head.
As you can probably guess by the nature of the Headright Project, I’ve had my fair share of mental health battles. I’ve felt almost as low as I'd ever want to feel, with nothing but a weak flicker at the end of the tunnel to keep me going. There were times when that flicker almost vanished and I truly thought I’d never find happiness again and my life will never get better.
I’m out of that deepest hole now (a story for another time) but I still have to wrestle that grey cloud making it’s way over my head on a regular basis when my seeds of self doubt grow into forests of inaction and procrastination.
These experience gives me strength. They allow me to ask myself one simple question to re frame the psychological suffering from physical stress. I ask myself:
"Would I rather be on this mountain, dehydrated, under fuelled, blowing out my ass, wanting it to all be over, but with a goal, a mission, an achievement I'll be able to touch in a matter of hours?
Or would I rather be on the sofa, in bed or back in my old job, with that grey cloud smothering my brain, no purpose, no mission, no goal, no motivation?"
I choose this mountain every time.
07:00. The suns peeping out, my toes and fingers are coming back to life, we take the final steps to the summit. We made it.
