It’s happened – just as we predicted. Although I was there less than five months ago when eleven tired and weary, mountain sore people sat around drinking beers after their first shower for a week, determined to never forget the pain. Ten of those (don’t forget we had Superboy doing it for fun with his mum with us) said in no uncertain terms ‘it was the hardest thing mentally and physically’ they had ever undertaken. I know because I listened to them say it and wrote notes so I wouldn’t forget later. I feel sure if you asked them now their memories of it would be softer and they would say it was ‘one of the hardest’ or ‘quite tough’ ‘it’s just a matter of really putting your mind to it’ – which is EXACTLY what all the people who we talked to beforehand who had done it told us.
Those that are yet to climb it – I will tell you here and now, there is a conspiracy by those that have gone before you, no-one tells you how hard it actually is. To be fair to them this is because unless they got back yesterday – they probably can’t actually remember. Like a lot of terrible experiences – your mind seems determined to protect you and glosses the memory to make it fuzzy and happier. I imagine this is so you don’t have some kind of post-traumatic stress situation about eating eggs where you are unable to differentiate between the ‘yolks’ and the ‘whites’ every day for a week, or wonder how there can be ‘fried chicken’ on Day 6 of a non-refrigerated trek.
Of course if I dig very very deep they are still there – the flashes of pain, exhaustion, whiffs
of the stench of sweating daily and not bathing for a week, along with the retching accompanied by a quick splash of Vicks under the nose so I could go back into the bathroom tent because it was that or the great rocky outdoors with no coverage and about 200 people I didn’t know looking on – with their cameras at the ready as this photo shows. Or the shame of the memory of being excited that the LDL was having a nose bleed so we all had to stop and rest for ten minutes and then I could manage a sip of water from my camel-bak and then face the next thirty minutes after we had been told not to ask for stops as we were simulating ‘summit day’ conditions.
My little book of notes – collated on a day to day basis while lying in the tent at night with the OAC has proved an excellent memory prompter for reliving the pain and agony and even the teary conversation we had the day before summit about handing the flag to her to photo at the top if I didn’t make it.
I promise more posts about the week that was Kili -before I tell you about what’s next as my pseudo mid-life crisis rolls into 2012.
Thanks again to all my sponsors – I now understand the South African postal service thought they would rather keep the thank you notes I posted in December (my bad doing it at Christmas time). I hope someone’s house is made much brighter by the many signed photos of me summiting they collected. I haven’t found anyone trying to sell them on eBay yet so it seems they may have worked out I wasn’t famous after all. I have more on the way – watch this space.