After passing through the summit gate and getting our passes the group began to split up more. The more competent hikers moving forward quickly and others following a little farther behind. I was somewhere in the middle of the group. I was walking with a guide named Friendy. At about 3,800m I started to notice the altitude. I was unable to take the altitude sickness tablets due to an allergy to an ingredient, so I had looked up remedies online and had taken travel sickness pills and ibuprofen before setting off. This did nothing, however, to stop me from feeling dizzy and light-headed. Every 10 steps I was stopping and leaning forward, hands on knees trying to stop the spinning. Friendy began talking to me, we talked about why I was doing the challenge, where I came from, what my family were like and slowly but surely we zig-zagged our way up the rock and to the summit, saying over and over again "It's just one foot in front of the other". I explained to Friendy that in the previous April, when I had asked Dad if he, from his numerous mountain hiking experiences over the years, had any advise, he told me "It's just one foot in front of the other"! On home turf, walking along a coastal path in West Wales, this advise seemed pretty obvious and a bit like Dad was joking with me. At 4,000m it was the advise that got my legs moving and took me to the top!
We reached Low's Peak (Summit of 4,095m) shortly after 6am.
The sun came up, and although it was very cloudy, we were elated to have reached our goal! We took some photos, but due to the altitude our camera batteries shortly died and cameras were put away. When the cloud cleared the scenery was amazing, suddenly we were able to see the enormity of the task we had just undertook! It was extremely emotional, sitting on the top of that mountain, coming to realise what we had achieved. Sock Monkey came with me, she sat in my bag all the way to the top and had her photo taken at the summit!!
Within half an hour the headache began. A shooting pain coming from behind my right ear, through my temple and behind my right eye. My immediate comment, mellow-dramatic as it seems now, was "I need to get off this mountain. Now." Descending quickly, we had to practically absail down sheer rock faces that hadn't seemed so near vertical in the dark on the way up! It was wet and slippery. Our guides were good and told us, follow us, if we turn around, you turn around, if we hold the rope, you hold the rope. Back at around 3,800m the headache disappeared, we were getting back to a more usual altitude! We were following our guides over a particularly dangerous section of the mountain, over a ridge, we turned, held the rope and stepped backwards over the ridge onto a smooth granite surface. We were all concentrating on our own hands and our own feet when we heard someone higher up slip. We weren't near them, we were descending diagonally across the rock face, but the boy, about 18 and English had stepped over the ridge, facing forward and not holding the rope. We were all rooted to the spot. The guides in front of us, from all different groups were quickly working out how to get to him to help him back to the rope, shouting commands on how he needed to act. Then he went to try to stand up. He obviously hadn't understood the Malay accent. I shouted instinctively "DON'T STAND UP!" He stopped, looked at me. "Slide up slowly and hold onto the rope" I was repeating one of the guides. The guy was fine. Embarrassed and a little shaken more than anything and the rest of us carried on our descent peacefully. After a particularly nasty set of steep stairs we were back at base camp just after 9am.
Breakfast was a mixture of cuisines and I was very pleased to see fried eggs, toast and beans!!
Raoul from our group came to me at the breakfast table. He patted me on the back and said "Your Dad will be so proud of you". It was at this point that all of the adrenaline and emotions got the better of me. With a telling off from his wife for making me cry we smiled at each other. I had been talking with Raoul earlier on the trip. We had talked about how we started doing the activities early in life, why we liked hiking, cycling, challenges etc. I explained that ever since I can remember my parents had been taking me up mountains, in brightly coloured coats, rain and shine. I told him how I was wearing my Dad's buff from one of his numerous hikes to the top of Mt. Snowdon and how it's experiences like hiking together that make families feel like families. His words meant a lot to me.
By 10.30am we were on the move again. We were descending to Timpoon Gate, the "easier" track which we hadn't walked up. It was 6km instead of 8km but it was hard. The terrain was rocky and slippery and my legs were like jelly. I threw my ankle out 3 times and by this point I was emotionally, mentally and physically exhausted. I had no idea how I would get to the bottom. The rain started again and at 2.30pm we reached the gate. I was cold and tired, but my headache had gone!
We travelled to the gate house and had a lunch of pasta and tomatoes (and lots of it!!). We were taken to our next stay at Ceylon and were reunited with our luggage! This was not as much fun as it sounds considering that there was a plastic bag in there that contained my soggy, smelly, sweaty clothes from the cycling day! Ewwwww!
We had a group dinner, drinks and then to bed in a truely amazing setting!
No comments:
Post a Comment