Perseverance

Summit view at Mount Kenya

This was my mantra for the past week:  "Left, right, left, right... Don't stop. Don't stop."

I'm just back from five gruelling days climbing Mount Kenya to raise much needed funds for the Alekii school. I was there to reach Lenana point which stands at almost 5,000 metres, the second tallest mountain in Africa after Kilimanjaro.

The mountain has a special significance in Kenya's tribal culture and political history. Kikuyu (the largest tribe in Kenya) believe that God came down to earth here, and that Mount Kenya is the throne on which he would sit. Across the region, most huts are built with the front door opening out towards the mountain, and graves are positioned so that the dead lie facing the peaks.

In the 1950's and early 1960's, during Kenya's state of Emergency towards the end of colonial rule, freedom fighters supporting the movement for independence ran to the mountain to avoid capture by the British. Tough men, they stayed in brutal conditions in caves, yet only survived because of the women in the local towns who would bravely supply them with food and supplies. When Kenya achieved independence in 1963, the national flag was raised at the top of the mountain as a gesture to those who had fought and died in the struggle.

My journey started on Monday where I met my "crew" - porter James, cook Charles and mountain guide Sammy who would accompany me to Lenana. Like all of the men from the local area working on the mountain, they are weathered and incredibly strong. Without their knowledge, perseverance and drive tourists like me would not be make the journey with a week's supply of food and equipment.

After some Colin McRae-esque (RIP) driving along muddy roads, we reach the Sirimon gate to the mountain which stands at 2,600m. By this point I could already feel the air thinning as we set off for the first camp, Old Moses. It was night when we finally arrived, and the combination of my uncomfortable hired hiking boots, wet gear and the onset on altitude sickness made me rethink what a significant challenge this was really going to be. Paracetemol and Imodium were to become two of my best new friends over the course of the week.

Over the next two days, as we climbed higher to the summit approach camp, Shipton, we would walk up to seven hours a day through the cold and rain. At night temperatures would fall well below freezing and the huts had no heating or electricity so it was impossible to properly dry out your gear before getting back into it the next morning.

On Thursday, the summit climb began at 3am, and a group of around ten set out with head torches looking like a gang of miners. This part of the expedition is the most dangerous, and just a few months back a girl had lost her footing and fallen over a ledge and sadly died. Later Sammy would tell me that someone dies every year at this part of the climb.

The ascent was extremely steep, at first on loose scree and then onto snow and ice as the temperature dropped rapidly. After two hours I had lost the feeling in both my hands and the cold burned my nose. My head torch began to flicker on and off as we rounded ledges with intimidating drops.

As the sun began to rise just before six we began our final approach to the summit. The rocks became steeper and it took all our concentration to remain on the path.

The feeling of exhausted, drunken euphoria is hard to convey in words, but even on an overcast day reaching the view from the roof of Africa was simply awe inspiring. I don't think I've ever seen anything as beautiful. At one point, just for a moment, the rising sun caught the tip of the neighbouring peak which shone like a beacon across the morning sky.

In all over five days we walked the equivalent of around one and a half marathons in freezing wet conditions. I'd climbed Mount Kinabalu a few years back so thought I knew what I was getting myself in for, but this was really on another level.

With lots of time to think over the week, I began to question the perseverance of the climbers. What was their drive? Why did they choose to do this?

For the tourists I think they came under one of two camps. There were the (mostly German) outdoor enthusiasts who were there just to be among nature, pure and simple. There were also tourists who wanted a unique badge to take home to their friends and families, to say proudly  that they'd conquered the mountain and show off their pictures.

For the locals, porters and cooks carrying enormous bags and heavy equipment, this was their livelihood. Their families depended on them to make it through to put food on the table or pay for their children's schooling.

In a similar way for the freedom fighters, persevering on the mountain was survival. Both for them as individuals and for a movement to Independence, which not only their families but their whole country depended on.

For me, this was definitely a challenge to raise money for the school. I thought about some of the kids that I'd spent time with on Rusinga at times when I wanted to give up. To get to the top was the aim, nothing more and nothing less.

As we left the gate on the final day, Sammy said to me that you go up the mountain one person, and another one comes down. I think this is certainly true in part, for everyone learns about themselves by testing how much they can endure. We grow in confidence and stature as we find out that we are capable of so much. And we realise that in life, things that are hard to achieve are worth our determination because they make us bigger people.

I like this quote which opens the door to all possibilities. "With ordinary talent and extraordinary perseverance, all things are attainable." We should take this view and continually challenge ourselves. 

PS - HUGE Thank you to everyone who has already pledged to donate towards Alekii's new school building. So far we have raised over £1,500 which is fantastic, but there is still so much more to do. If you can, please pledge a donation at the bottom of the blog. Much love. Dave x