Finding my ceiling

Day 4: 4700m

Today began with the abrupt realisation that we were most definitely moving into MUCH colder temperatures. It was incredibly cold as we scurried out of our tents for the meeting room tents for breakfast. We all had stories of avoiding toilet runs until it became an aboslute necessity during the bitterly cold night or of feeling like a total couch potato upon realising that one no longer could run for the first large rock - we simply did not have the lung capacities anymore. A funny moment happened first thing in the morning when I was putting on my hiking boots. Debs had been out of the tent and came into to me puffing as though I had run a marathon. She asked me if I were okay, I told her that I was fine and that I had just put my boots on. She nodded in complete understanding. How pathetic!

The big plus thus far was that I am so far not feeling any muscular pain. Considering the distances covered and the gradients we have endured I am really pleased with that. The lack of altitude sickness combined with the lack of pain worked in some way to counteract my concerns regarding how incredibly hard it was becoming to breathe while tramping.

There seemed to be a different vibe to the crew today. Many had not had the best sleep and several were quite concerned about their intensifying altitude sickness symptoms. Despite this I was so proud of the continued optimism of the group as we set out for our next destination - Kibo Hut. We had a 6km walk ahead of us that would gradually ascend from 4350m to 4700m. The beginning of the walk put us in fantastic spirits - we descended for some time which meant added energy levels, spontaneous song led by Ingwe (our beloved Jambo song) and scattered lively conversations throughout the group. The temporary descent was a positive for us - we were in need of a little pick-me-up.

Once again I found myself engaged in several conversations surrounding the issue of poverty. I was energised by the inquisitive natures of my team who continued to affirm that I was indeed travelling with people with hearts for the poor. I answered question after question about the work of World Vision, why we operate the way we do, how long-term sustainability transforms communities, the benefits of Fairtrade (a personal soap box of mine) and of course how rewarding it is to be engaged in a career with an organisation like World Vision. My favourite moment was when several of the sponsors that had visited their sponsored children the day of the Magugu visit spoke with unrivalled excitement about how visiting their sponsored children had profoundly affected them. My own personal building excitement for my pending sponsor visit was palpable! Others joined in, sharing how the visit to the World Vision community of Magugu had been their primary motivation for registering for the challenge. The overall conclusion shared? World Vision works and the money gets there. I was reminded again that seeing the work of World Vision first hand is unparalleled in its impact on a donor.

Just before approximately halfway into our tramp for the day we entered into what is commonly called the saddle of Kilimanjaro - the section of land between Mawenzi and Kibo peaks. By this stage we had ceased descending and had been journeying on flat land for some time. We were surrounded by a stark moonscape type setting, a fine dust covering the ground. It was a fascinating landscape to be transversing - especially for a space geek like me.

We soon came across the wreckage of a small six seater airplane. We were told that all but the pilot had perished. Examining the remains, one of the guides called Martin, made the off-hand remark 'Kili kills' and simply walked away. Hmmmm not quite what we needed to hear considering our ongoing concerns regarding the seriousness of altitude sickness!

It was not long after this that we began just the slightest incline. Immediately we felt the change and it was not long before our 'pole pole' (slowly slowly) pace became what can only be described as extreme pole. Within an hour of this incline I began to feel an accelerated version of the chest tightening I had felt previously. Each step was requiring more energy than I thought I could possibly conjure up. We all seemed to be travelling in slow motion. It would have been quite the spectacle to watch. Phil Bish, arguably the fittest of us all and someone who had experienced altitude before said that his legs felt like those of a giraffe. This would be the beginning of the slippery slope down for Phil. I began to become quite fearful at this point. My breathing was so laboured. I had been told that this was normal but to be honest that is not at all comforting when it seems that your lungs have reverted to those of newborns and are incapable of taking in the air that you need to survive. I was close to despair and was struggling to find the confidence to continue on to Kibo Hut - the hut that could be seen and which seemed so close and yet was taking hours to reach. Each step seemed to take a slice of my remaining energy, robbing me of the enthusiasm I knew I would need for the final ascent.

The night previous I had spent time in my tent trying to supress such fears, reminding myself of what Seamus had said days previous... Retain a slow pace, put one foot in front of the other and keep your desire to continue.

Talk between participants became non-existant as we entered the camp. We were shattered. Somehow 4700m seemed so much higher than the 4350m from the day previous. I gazed up at the final leg of the journey we were to take later that night. It looked foreboding, impossible, ominous, completely unlikely. How on Earth were we to climb over 1000m up an incredibly steep mountain side in -10 degree weather if ascending less than 400m over a slow gradient in the warmth of the day had been so difficult?

Dinner that night was eaten in relative silence. We all had our final, somewhat terrifying leg of our challenge on our minds. Sharyn's altitude sickness had intenstified. She was now visibly overtaken with the vicious, all consuming nature of altitude sickness. Phil looked dreadful however at this point it was not overly apparent how altitude sickness had begun to hook its claws into him. Despite knowing that AS is not influenced at all by age, fitness, previous climbing experienced or the sex of a person it still amazed me to see Sharyn and Phil so taken. They both were outdoor enthusiasts with enviable 'we can do it' attitudes. Not having either of their smiling, enthusiastic faces at the dinner table that night was a bit disconcerting.

In less than 5 hours we would be woken in the dead of the night to climb to Kili's summit. I was feeling vulnerable, so enormously vulnerable. I had tried to keep my concern over the thinness of the air to myself for the most part in an effort to remain positive and upbeat. Several participants commented on how lucky I was to have avoided the signs of AS that all but one other participant and myself had experienced. I agreed but couldn't help but feel that my struggle for breath would be just as much a limitation.

I asked around the group what people did when they reached their ceiling. My voice almost cracked as I asked this, sending home a message to me that I was in deeper than I realised. Everyone at the table shared what helped them to push through: positive affirmations, reminders of what those less fortunate had to bare on a day to day basis in comparison, knowledge of praying friends. I listened to each, hoping to find a tactic to sink my teeth into, a key to assisting me to overcome the somewhat inevitable exhaustation I would feel climbing to the summit. One of the participants made the remark that I must feel pressure to reach the summit being the World Vision representative. I simply nodded, knowing I could not think of anything to say to that. I knew my friends, family and coworkers would understand if I did not make the summit but I didn't know if I personally would give myself the grace to not make it.

We all went our separate ways back to our tents. It was almost 6pm. We were to be woken at 11pm in order to leave by midnight. We had been instructed to pack our bags now and to either wear or lay out our clothing for the final leg. I slipped into my tent and was greeted by an optimistic Debs who I could see was doing a great job at distracting herslf with the details of her pack. She chatted to me happily as she stuffed supplies into her pack, completely unaware that tears had begun to stream down my cheeks. I tried to speak and ended up crying harder. A shocked Debs prayed for me and calmly listened to my fear of not being able to make the summit. She made me laugh and gave me room to exhale. I knew that the fact that I had been unable to reach family or friends while on the mountain was feeding my vulnerability. I had hoped to have spoken to some of them today, to hear that wonderful encouragement that I knew would be available to me if I could just reach them. It was an enormously lonely feeling. I joked that perhaps I needed to listen to 'Eye of the tiger' - my personal theme song. I did just that. Feeling much calmer I slipped off to sleep as I decided within myself that I would give the summit my best shot and that whether or not I made it I would give my all in the process.