Red Hot Poker – beautiful plant, sore head

Lamenting the fact that I left my waterproof at home by mistake, we pack our bag for the mountain and leave the rest of the kit at the hotel. The driver turns up late but by 10am we are away. Joe and our porter, a rather straggly looking man, are with us. There are other guides and their “victims” in the bus with us – including John, a slow-speaking Irish chap who will be cold if he carries on wearing his shorts.
After half an hour we reach the park gates. It is misty, overcast and cold. Although today’s walk is only 9km, it involves a height rise from 2635m at the gates to 3300m at the camp and I later realise this altitude/pressure difference is not to be underestimated. Joe carries our pack and the porter has another rucksack full of equipment and two carrier bags full of food. I’ve never been even this high up before and altitude sickness is a real problem. The walk is through forest initially, on a muddy track and seems easy enough. Nevertheless both Lizzie and I have pounding headaches when we reach the collection of huts that is Old Moses Camp at about 3pm. It offers basic accommodation and we need every bit of it – the weather is brutally cold…
Still can’t see the peak. We set up our tent – yes we’re camping – and have some much needed soup and fruit. We sleep to acclimatise and then later, at dusk, get the first view of the beautiful mountain. The sky is clear and the clouds are below us. First photos of the trip. Shivering in all the clothes I brought with me. Dinner is spent with some other tourists – some Australians and a girl from Mexico – and involves a bizarre “cookery contest” on the part of our guides, each trying to out do the other with the meals they produce. Now it really is like MasterChef. Given the equipment and conditions (over an open fire) they have available, the food is absolutely brilliant and very tasty. I am starving but Lizzie is still feeling sick.

View out of the tent, have altitude sickness

The night’s sleep is acceptable but generally uncomfortable with the cold and on lumpy ground. We are woken at 5.45am for breakfast and to start the walk higher. It is fabulously clear now and there is a beautiful sunrise. Hot, sweet tea does a good job of waking us up but my appetite has gone; Lizzie hungry. We set off on a four-hour steep climb to 4,200m. Breathing is laboured even at this altitude and the headaches of yesterday soon return – that’s why it is important to spend 4 days doing the full ascent, so the body can acclimatize. The landscape is beautiful and although it is actually cloudy when we reach the viewpoint it is satisfying to know we made it – higher than I’ve ever been. After some hot tea we return to the camp. Lizzie is actually sick this time and lunch is too much to manage for me. We rest and then head down to get off the hill before the rain sets in. In fact it beats us to the gate and by the time we get there, having seen baboons and even elephant droppings on the way, we are absolutely soaked but exhausted and happy.
We are glad we did not agree to do the full ascent – without warmer clothing and proper preparation, a night about 4000m would have simply been mind over matter survival and not particularly enjoyable. The path is now a torrent of clay and getting a lift back to Nanyuki turns out to be a sobering but finally comical experience. We get in a Landrover belonging to one of Joe’s mates and have to push start it first. Then, because it is raining so heavily – like you wouldn’t believe – the road is just a river and very rutted. We skid uncontrollably down the steep bits and spend most of the time at 30° to the track. Inside the truck it is extremely difficult to hang on and we are just thrown about from side to side, almost rolling on several occasions.
Lizzie confesses later that she considered proposing to me in the back when she thought we were about to die. I’m still not sure whether that was a compliment or not. We stall in the ruts frequently and have to get out in the rain and push. This is a laugh itself because we get drenched by the spray from the wheels and have to stand ankle deep in mud to reach. Each time it just about starts but is soon stalled at the next steep section. It becomes more and more amusing, wet and muddy. By the end we are just running behind the car, splashing through soaking clay and laughing. Bargain end to the trip and with plenty of good, thick oxygen in the air, nothing seems so bad after all.
With the nasty business of tipping out of the way (£5 for the porter and £10 for Joe who’s become a bit of a friend – quite a good earner for them, this trip) and with spare clothes on we relax back at the hotel. Later we give Joe a letter of recommendation for the business and offer him some hospitality back home because he is coming to Wales in April to work with a school he has had dealings with. He has the spring in his step, when he finally says goodbye, of a man who has earned over £100 for two days work in a country where that wouldn’t be a bad monthly paycheck.

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