From the 30th of January, to the 3rd of February grade 9 went to climb Mt Kenya for our Intercultural trip.
The bus ride was about four hours long, and everyone slept and chatted on the way. We stopped briefly at a petrol station.
When we arrived the guides gave us a briefing and we all got our bags and organized them. The first walk took around four hours or so, and we slept at Old Moses for the night. The food wasn't very good, and the beds were uncomfortable. To make matters worse the night was freezing cold, and we huddled in shivering packs up on the cliff. I also lost my retainer, and spent a while scouring the ground for the clear plastic object. I found it just before it went dark. On the top of the cliff. In a crack in the rock. Needless to say, I wanted to go home.
We were woken up at around 6:30, and headed off on our 8-9 hour walk to Shipton. This was definitely the worst day for me. My bag was horribly heavy, and I had huge blisters on the backs of my feet already. We stopped for lunch at the top of a tall hill, with a view of the peak. Then we made our descent down, and walked through the valley, in the shadows of the mountain. Everyone was unbelievably happy when we saw the little green shacks! We stayed at Shiptons for the night, right under the peak! It looked so near, and yet I was soon to find out just how far we'd have to go to reach the top.
I got an awful nights sleep at Shiptons, and in the morning I could barely walk with my shoes on, my blisters were so bad. We all wrapped up in wooly hats and jumpers, and started up the mountain to pt lenana. We scrabbled up a ginormous hill, with the sun blinding us, and the silt making us slip with every step. When I reached the top I looked down and saw my three closest friends, Hannah, Lucie and Sofiya, heading back to the camp. I was on my own. I felt even more homesick.
When we reached the top everyone posed for photos, and I sat down and ate some chocolate. The chocolate made everything better.
The way down was steep and lots of people slipped. We stopped for lunch at the bottom and then walked for a while more until we reached the camp. I spent the night getting my blisters wrapped up with masking tape and padding, and anticipating my return to civilization.
The next day my blisters were so bad that a porter carried my bag. We walked for what seemed like ages, through burnt wastelands and lush forests and reached the next camp. This one was reasonably more pleasant than the others had been.
On the last day I was desperate to get home. My nerves were strained, and all I wanted was to get away from the stupid mountain once and for all. We walked for around 3 hours or so, and arrived at the buses. It was a amazing moment, everyone saw the three big blue buses and sprinted towards them. We dumped the rucksacks on the bus and lay on the grass cheering and eager to be going home.
The bus ride back was loud, and we stopped at a scenic river for lunch. But I was happy when we left, I wanted to see my dog, family and bed again as soon as possible.
Mt Kenya was one of the worst experiences I have ever had in my entire life. I am never going back to that mountain again, and as far as I'm concerned, never going on another hike. Yes, I learned a lot about determination and courage, but it was at extreme costs. I found out a lot about the environment of Kenya and how height affects you, etc. I will never forget doing this, but I'm still not sure if this is a good or bad thing....
