Kili Climb Day Three AKA Day of Horror

(a bit of frost in the morning of Day 3, Shira Camp 2)

So today we were going high. We were going to walk 12.5 kilometres and climb from our camp (3820 m) up to a rock formation called 'Lava Tower' (4640 m!) before descending to camp at Barranco Camp at 3972 metres. So up another 800 metres or so. We would head to our camp skirting around the base of the Peak, which should have some good views. So up we went, past the odd solitary fat bird, in sunshine. At least it was sunny for a bit then rain and fog as we moved through increasingly desolate and volcanic rock littered emptiness.

We kept stopping for water and toilet breaks...we were the slowest pair ever. It was dragging...praying a rosary in my head made the time pass for this Catholic boy somewhat.

We crawled into the lunch camp, an hour or so after everyone else. It was raining and cold as we ate our vegetable stew. We heard a jaunty Spaniard we had met was feeling really ill and heading to a lower down camp to rest. After lunch, the rest of us trudged towards a cloud and rain covered Peak and the distant rock formation of 'Lava Tower'.

(wife meet Lava Tower)
I found it increasingly hard to pull in air at 4640 metres. My lungs were cramping like anything. I'd had no asthma or lung problems at all in Africa for 10 months until I got into the low pressure, cold, water heavy air on Kili, gargh! We headed down from the tower and on the long, cold trudge to the camp site for the night.

Only... Franatee getting increasingly out of it. As we clambered down a frozen stream bed, over ice and rocks and as the snow started to fall in earnest...I noticed with increasing concern how unresponsive my wife was becoming. Normally she loves my incessant banter and witty observations...now there was nothing. And she was getting slower. We slowly trudged round past the peak, getting slower and slower. A lot of snow was falling now. My headache was splitting.

(we are both not feeling that well at the moment)

I was starting to hate it all I must say. Finally, as Franatee dragged more and more back, I barked at our guide 'my wife is not well!' Our Guide and another porter (drafted in as assistant guide for work experience) relieved Franatee of her backpack. Still we trudged slowly. We headed down out of the snow and ice and more into a valley of weird alien looking trees, rivers and rocks.

I began to think it was all over, to be honest. We felt worse going down than going up! I felt horrible, my head was in agony and the wife, well she looked done. Another wife would be hard to find, can't afford to lose this one. I'd heard that the 4th day is supposed to bigger than this day ie you heard to Base Camp and then the midnight of the 5th day you attack the summit...I just thought, there's no way. No way.

As we got into Barranco Camp hours after everyone else, I asked the Guide if he thought it was all over...he thought a moment and recommended we added an extra day. 6 days is the minimum you need to climb the Machame Route, but 7 he said was better for people struggling to acclimate. Husband and wife conferred with due regards to safety and we agreed to keep going and add an extra (pricey) day. Thus cutting the
4th day into two and summiting on the 6th day.

It was nice, now that the day's walking was done- as the Camp was lower than how high we went today-being able to breathe a bit better. Then we saw the Wall. Urk.

(Camp and Wall)

Behind the Camp, the monstrous height of the Barranco Wall loomed. It looked impassable...We would have to tackle that sheer climb tomorrow morning. I hoped I could find a Gollum to help lead two Hobbits up a secret, winding way...

('We're coming for ya, wall!!')

To Be Continued