Survivor: Gilman's Point

Day 4/5: 5685m

11pm came very quickly - as expected. Debs and I had gone to sleep to the sound of our precious guide Ingwe speaking to Mark's video camera, 'No much pain, not much gain'. We had laughed at the time as Ingwe's mantra had all but become a thorn in our sides. He had progressed to saying quite regularly 'There is no pain. There is no mountain'.

I woke to the sound of our guides waking up my fellow team members. It was promising to me that I had woken in an attitude of optimism. The fear and despair of the day had somehow escaped me in the night. I was glad for this - I needed all the help I could get for this next leg.

I quickly threw on as many layers I could find only to find that when I left the tent I was on the verge of overheating. I decided to find a guide and seek their advice on my attire. I found one at the meeting tent. Unfortunately he did not speak much English so I simpply pointed to my outer layer and said 'one', unzipped that layer and pointed to the second layer and said 'two' and so on. The poor guy seemed to be quite confused about why I was apparently undressing in front of him. He cottoned on quickly and laughed, quickly informing me that I was wearing too many layers. I raced back to the tent and took off a layer on both the top and the bottom. Following this I raced back to the meeting tent to have hot tea and biscuits with the crew before we set off for the summit. As I entered the tent I was greeted with hysterical laughter from Debs. She gestured for me to turn around. I soon realised the source of her laughter - my silk sleeping bag liner was tucked into the back of my pants! Mortified I ran back to the tent to change. I didn't care that all this running was depleting me of energy - I was too embarrassed!

I arrived back into the meeting tent to the sound of Ingwe once again speaking his mantra. In the most authoritative voice that I could conjure up I decided to speak my mind, 'Ingwe Justus. If during this summit climb you are within earshot of me when you say 'There is no pain. There is no mountain' I shall promptly slap you. There is pain and there is a bloody mountain.' Ingwe looked at me surprised before joining the rest of us in laughter. I hoped he got the point.

We gathered to leave soon after. It was at this time that I had the cheesiest epiphany. Although I had not been able to contact anyone at home and although I felt that this next challenge would be one that in many ways I had to face alone, I realised that I was wearing clothing contributions from so many friends. It was though I were taking Jenny, Catherine, Rebecca, Justin, Fiona and others with me. The thought was an encouragement to me as we formed a line to be led into the night.

Headlamps on, tramping poles in hand and with an eerie silence covering the group we began what would be a long tramp up to the summit. We were surrounded in total darkness with only the occassional light from other trampers' headlamps disturbing the dark. I preoccupied my mind with our WV community visit a week previous. I knew this would keep my mind off what was in front of me. I thought of the following points:

1. Those in poverty are not in need of rescuing, they are in need of the provision of opportunities - choices. This truth hit home for me as we interacted with the many occupants of the Magugu community. I realised how dangerous it is to approach poverty from a patronising angle or a paternalistic approach. Those in the Magugu community are passionate about their traditions, their families, their futures. They are enormously resilient and well resourced with ideas regarding how their community can be improved.

2. The provision of safe water - such a fundamental right - should not be a right withheld from so many. Put simply, children should not be praying for safe water. It was overhelming how grateful the Magugu community were to our challenge team for making the inclusion of a shallow well a reality for their community. A shallow well would mean the reduction of water bourne disease, less traveling time to obtain safe water and of course of higher quality of life for many in the Magugu community.

These thoughts kept me preoccupied for the first section of our summit climb. I was pleasantly surprised to get to our first rest stop within what felt like a relatively short amount of time. We had all maintained an extremely slow pace and had kept our consistency of pace.

It was during the next section of climb that we once again began to feel the all consuming effects of high altitude. I slowed my pace further and looked up to see several of my team mates vomitting to the side of the track. The guides were fantastic - they were so quick to assign themselves to several of us at once. Debs, Cushla and I had the wonderful August watching closely over us. The importance of our guides on this section of climb could not be emphasised more. They had the very important job of monitoring all climbers for signs of altitude sickness (especially for any sign that such symptoms were getting worse) and for encouraging us to continue on despite every fibre in our beings screaming for us to turn back.

The temperature seemed to drop, the steepness seemed to increase and the length of time between rests seemed to elongate. My lungs were screaming for air and yet each breathe I took did little to address my need for oxygen. The next few hours were quite simply torture. My hands began to freeze despite being covered in several layers of gloves. Poor Debs experienced this affliction to a greater degree. She lost all feeling in her hands and spoke of feeling as though she may not be able to go on. Remembering our promise to each other - to encourage each other on should we become discouraged, I had her take her hands out of her gloves so I could rub them warm. It seemed to help a little, enough to continue on for a time. August was quite simply brilliant in his consistency of support. He made sure we were drinking enough water and not stopping for extended periods. He also took our day packs, making the climb just a little more bearable. He was our rock.

Hours past. It took every piece of stubborn determination that I could find to keep placing one foot in front of the next. It is safe to say that pride and stubborness played a pivotal role here! The halfway point to the summit had been passed some time before. It was as though this second section of climb was simply an elimination game - who would actually make it to the summit? It was an episode of Survivor gone horribly wrong.

August continued with his encouragement. Calling me 'Glory' and Debs 'Duck'. We did not have the heart or the inclination to correct him. He stepped up his insistance that we continue on, prodding us with his tramping pole. We were convinced that he was lying to us concerning how much further we had to go on however we would continue on regardless. Six long hours had passed. It was bitterly cold. We were running short of both mental and physical reserves to continue. I had resorted to speaking to myself in a rather bossy tone. I no longer needed sweet encouragement. I needed the stern, shout of my inner trainer demanding that I continue. The summit better be near.

It was about the time that I realised that I was now scrapping the bottom of the barrell that I heard screams coming from just over the large rocks we were climbing. The leaders of our team had reached Gilman's Point - the 5685m mark - the summit! At the realisation of being so close I began to cry. I immediately silenced my tears - I couldn't afford to begin to lose control now. Thrusting my body over the obstacles in front of me and pressing through the pain felt deep down in my lungs I set my goal at that point just over the rocks. Climbing over the last rock and falling upon the base of the Gilman's Pont sign I promptly began to sob - hard. I was hysterical. I could not even find the energy to look up at my fellow team mates - also quite hysterical. August came and wrapped his arms around me, 'You did it Glory. You did it!' I was overwhelmed with euphoria. My challenge team mates promptly began a round of elated hugs. Our team could not have felt more united. I could not believe that all but one of us had made it to this point. I could not believe that I had pressed through and was now at the summit. Adrenaline pulsed through my veins. August looked me in the eye and asked 'You want to go to Uhuru Point Glory?' Realising that this would mean ascending a further 300m I looked at him through streams of tears and nodded. Bring on Uhuru Point!