For all of you waiting with bated breath... WE MADE IT!
All four of us reached the 'roof of Africa' on Saturday, 17 Feb at 8.45 a.m.
We're all in different stages of recovery right now... Updates when we reach home.
P.S. thanks for all your wishes, prayers, helpful tips and crossed fingers...
Showing posts with label Kileemanjaro. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kileemanjaro. Show all posts
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Friday, January 18, 2008
Breaking in the new hiking shoes...
...on the slopes of Jebel Jenas in Ras Al Khaimah. It's a moderately difficult 5-hour trek, say the good folks at Mountain Extreme.
Moderate or difficult, we'll find out tomorrow.
Update: The trek was both moderate and difficult. I could swear the incline was 75 degrees in places. And in places, following a goat track at the edge of the precipice was thrilling. But best was the silence, where you could hear even the flapping of a bird's wings... Pics and update will follow.
Moderate or difficult, we'll find out tomorrow.
Update: The trek was both moderate and difficult. I could swear the incline was 75 degrees in places. And in places, following a goat track at the edge of the precipice was thrilling. But best was the silence, where you could hear even the flapping of a bird's wings... Pics and update will follow.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Gear and now
Also posted at The Kilimanjaro Blog
Mountain of caravans, mountain of greatness, shining mountain - no one quite agrees on the real interpretation of 'Kilimanjaro'. But among the multiple meanings ascribed to it, my personal favourite is 'little white hill'.
Little, indeed.
But Kilimanjaro may well turn out to be a molehill as compared to the bigger problem I'm facing now - gear shopping. There are hardly any outdoor outfitters in Dubai, and the only two I've found - Columbia and Timberland - seem woefully inadequate.
Sample conversation:
Me: Do you have fleece jackets?
Salesman: Yes, ma'am. Right here... (points to a row of sleeveless jackets)
Me: Don't you have jackets with sleeves??
Salesman: Ok, look in the children's section. You might get your size.
If he didn't get advanced hypothermia from the look I gave him, I would be very surprised.
It doesn't get easier when it comes to shopping for the right pair of boots. "Walk down a ramp to check that your toes don't get crushed," suggested Alpha.
Not only were there no ramps in the store I went to, but even options were hard to come by. One pair of tenacious leather boots which would've shredded any toe that fell under it, and one pair of boots with Gore-tex fabric, which didn't inspire much confidence.
All's not lost though. It turns out there's a store right down my street which stocks ski gear at almost throwaway prices. I've never understood their business model, but I'm not complaining right now. I've managed to get a few pairs of gloves and socks, and a fleece jacket or two.
My final resort is to order gear from Alpha's friendly neighbourhood REI and get/request /implore/beseech Alpha to lug it to Nairobi.
Mountain of caravans, mountain of greatness, shining mountain - no one quite agrees on the real interpretation of 'Kilimanjaro'. But among the multiple meanings ascribed to it, my personal favourite is 'little white hill'.
Little, indeed.
But Kilimanjaro may well turn out to be a molehill as compared to the bigger problem I'm facing now - gear shopping. There are hardly any outdoor outfitters in Dubai, and the only two I've found - Columbia and Timberland - seem woefully inadequate.
Sample conversation:
Me: Do you have fleece jackets?
Salesman: Yes, ma'am. Right here... (points to a row of sleeveless jackets)
Me: Don't you have jackets with sleeves??
Salesman: Ok, look in the children's section. You might get your size.
If he didn't get advanced hypothermia from the look I gave him, I would be very surprised.
It doesn't get easier when it comes to shopping for the right pair of boots. "Walk down a ramp to check that your toes don't get crushed," suggested Alpha.
Not only were there no ramps in the store I went to, but even options were hard to come by. One pair of tenacious leather boots which would've shredded any toe that fell under it, and one pair of boots with Gore-tex fabric, which didn't inspire much confidence.
All's not lost though. It turns out there's a store right down my street which stocks ski gear at almost throwaway prices. I've never understood their business model, but I'm not complaining right now. I've managed to get a few pairs of gloves and socks, and a fleece jacket or two.
My final resort is to order gear from Alpha's friendly neighbourhood REI and get/request /implore/beseech Alpha to lug it to Nairobi.
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
Tying a shoelace is like Kilimanjaro, sometimes
Until a few months ago, Kilimanjaro was a personal goal. Having been out of the trekking circuit for close to 3 years, it was a challenge to get back in shape to be able to do a high-altitude trek. But once the training got underway, an opportunity was presented to do more than achieve a personal milestone. And that was to raise awareness and funding for a cause that's close to my heart - Rheumatoid Arthritis.
As some of you might know, my sister, Preeti, had Rheumatoid Arthritis for 7 long and painful years, until she succumbed to complications arising out of the illness almost three years ago. She was 32 years old. The last few years of her life saw her struggle to maintain her familar smiling face even as her joints got swollen and stiff, and her normal stride turned into an awkward limp. Activities that most of us do without even a second thought like jumping aboard a train or sitting cross legged or even raising an arm, fell under the list of movements deemed 'next to impossible' for her. Once, I watched with mounting dismay as it took her a full five minutes to take off a T-shirt and by then, she was panting and staggering with the effort.
Rheumatoid Arthritis is like that. It's also chronic and indiscriminate, striking without any precedent. There's 7-year-old Mazhar*, I've come to know through the Emirates Arthritis Foundation, who's had Rheumatoid Arthritis for the past 2 years. Initially, when it took him almost an hour to get out of bed in the morning, his parents attributed it to laziness. It was only when he cried incessantly and complained of pain even when his mother hugged him, did they suspect something was amiss. Now, the 7-year old, with large, curious eyes, has to sit in the sidelines and watch as his friends play football. Some days it takes him an hour just to wear his shoes. He misses school frequently, and his parents fret that he's unusually moody and silent.
Dr. Humeira Badshah, a rheumatologist with the Emirates Arthritis Foundation asserts that there are treatments that can control the disease, enabling patients like Mazhar to lead a life that's as normal as possible. Most patients respond well to the new treatments, and in time are able to return to school or to their jobs. The main deterrent however, is the cost.
My goal is to raise Dhs. 40,000 (USD 11,000 approx.) for Mazhar's treatment. It's a steep figure, but then, at 19,340 feet, so is Kilimanjaro. In aspiring to one, I'm hoping this other goal will be accomplished as well.
So here's a earnest plea to all of you reading this - if you can contribute a small amount, any amount, for Mazhar's treatment, it would be a huge help. If you can pass on this appeal to family or friends, it would help even more.
You can contribute in cash, cheque or wire transfer. The team at Emirates Arthritis Foundation is also trying to set up an online payment option. Until then, if you would like to contribute, simply write to me - absoluteleela {at} gmail {dot} com. Or to Cathy Leibman, Director-Operations, Emirates Arthritis Foundation - cathy {at} arthritis {dot} ae
I look forward to your generous support for Mazhar. Because a 7-year deserves to be in the playground, not on the sidelines.
* name changed on request
As some of you might know, my sister, Preeti, had Rheumatoid Arthritis for 7 long and painful years, until she succumbed to complications arising out of the illness almost three years ago. She was 32 years old. The last few years of her life saw her struggle to maintain her familar smiling face even as her joints got swollen and stiff, and her normal stride turned into an awkward limp. Activities that most of us do without even a second thought like jumping aboard a train or sitting cross legged or even raising an arm, fell under the list of movements deemed 'next to impossible' for her. Once, I watched with mounting dismay as it took her a full five minutes to take off a T-shirt and by then, she was panting and staggering with the effort.
Rheumatoid Arthritis is like that. It's also chronic and indiscriminate, striking without any precedent. There's 7-year-old Mazhar*, I've come to know through the Emirates Arthritis Foundation, who's had Rheumatoid Arthritis for the past 2 years. Initially, when it took him almost an hour to get out of bed in the morning, his parents attributed it to laziness. It was only when he cried incessantly and complained of pain even when his mother hugged him, did they suspect something was amiss. Now, the 7-year old, with large, curious eyes, has to sit in the sidelines and watch as his friends play football. Some days it takes him an hour just to wear his shoes. He misses school frequently, and his parents fret that he's unusually moody and silent.
Dr. Humeira Badshah, a rheumatologist with the Emirates Arthritis Foundation asserts that there are treatments that can control the disease, enabling patients like Mazhar to lead a life that's as normal as possible. Most patients respond well to the new treatments, and in time are able to return to school or to their jobs. The main deterrent however, is the cost.
My goal is to raise Dhs. 40,000 (USD 11,000 approx.) for Mazhar's treatment. It's a steep figure, but then, at 19,340 feet, so is Kilimanjaro. In aspiring to one, I'm hoping this other goal will be accomplished as well.
So here's a earnest plea to all of you reading this - if you can contribute a small amount, any amount, for Mazhar's treatment, it would be a huge help. If you can pass on this appeal to family or friends, it would help even more.
You can contribute in cash, cheque or wire transfer. The team at Emirates Arthritis Foundation is also trying to set up an online payment option. Until then, if you would like to contribute, simply write to me - absoluteleela {at} gmail {dot} com. Or to Cathy Leibman, Director-Operations, Emirates Arthritis Foundation - cathy {at} arthritis {dot} ae
I look forward to your generous support for Mazhar. Because a 7-year deserves to be in the playground, not on the sidelines.
* name changed on request
Saturday, December 22, 2007
The highest blogger meet in the world
Also posted at The Kilimanjaro Blog
In the last four years that we’ve known each other (virtually, of course), Alpha and I have tried to meet up a few times. It’s a bit tricky getting the co-ordinates right when you’re on two different continents separated by a couple of oceans, but she was in Bombay once, and I was almost in Bangalore, another time. And then, last year, she planned Europe, while I considered Australia… It’s not a small world, after all.
Just when I was beginning to imagine a dotage blogger meet, the tectonic plates shifted somewhere, and our agendas and venues came together. I suggested Kilimanjaro, since it had been on my wishlist for a while. A mountain lover herself, she not only got fired up by the idea, but also got Pi and half of Pittsburgh interested. She then scouted around for tour operators, decided the route, sent off a flurry of mails, started raising funds for charity, packed and repacked her bags, started the blog, and if Pi tells me she’s already at the airport waiting for the flight due in February, I’d believe him.
Jokes aside, I totally credit Alpha for this trip coming together so far. I’ve had a lot on my mind the last few months to focus on this trip, and I’m grateful for Alpha’s determination. When you set out to reach the peak of the highest free-standing mountain in the world, it’s exactly that kind of focus you need. And hopefully, the rest of us will match up in the coming weeks.
If not, I've full faith that Alpha will sling us over a shoulder and saunter all the way to the top.
In the last four years that we’ve known each other (virtually, of course), Alpha and I have tried to meet up a few times. It’s a bit tricky getting the co-ordinates right when you’re on two different continents separated by a couple of oceans, but she was in Bombay once, and I was almost in Bangalore, another time. And then, last year, she planned Europe, while I considered Australia… It’s not a small world, after all.
Just when I was beginning to imagine a dotage blogger meet, the tectonic plates shifted somewhere, and our agendas and venues came together. I suggested Kilimanjaro, since it had been on my wishlist for a while. A mountain lover herself, she not only got fired up by the idea, but also got Pi and half of Pittsburgh interested. She then scouted around for tour operators, decided the route, sent off a flurry of mails, started raising funds for charity, packed and repacked her bags, started the blog, and if Pi tells me she’s already at the airport waiting for the flight due in February, I’d believe him.
Jokes aside, I totally credit Alpha for this trip coming together so far. I’ve had a lot on my mind the last few months to focus on this trip, and I’m grateful for Alpha’s determination. When you set out to reach the peak of the highest free-standing mountain in the world, it’s exactly that kind of focus you need. And hopefully, the rest of us will match up in the coming weeks.
If not, I've full faith that Alpha will sling us over a shoulder and saunter all the way to the top.
Climb every mountain
I cannot remember how and when the idea of climbing Kilimanjaro took hold. It might have begun as a vague thought sometime this year, but it’s a dream that’s been taking shape for the last few years, ever since I did the high-altitude trek in Ladakh in August 2003. That was the start of the mountain madness, and the weekend treks in the mountains on the outskirts of Bombay only fuelled the mania. Moving to Dubai in 2005 put paid to that obsession, but only for a while. And now, Kilimanjaro beckons.
There couldn’t be a more curious bunch than the four of us who are doing this trip. Alpha and I have known each other for close to 4 years, through our blogs, then through emails and then the surprisingly lengthy phone calls. We’ve never met, although we’ve been in the same city on one occasion, and in the same country, another time. She’s tried her match-making skills on me a few times, unsuccessfully, I might add, and I’ve asked her for recipes a few times, which she still hasn’t parted with.
I know Pi, her husband, only through her (expectedly biased) posts, and I don’t know much about Nai, the 4th member of our troupe, other than the fact that he was Alpha’s classmate, and of good character - as I was repeatedly assured by Alpha when she tried to book us into the same room. The last ditch attempt at match-making might just have borne fruit, except that Nai’s wife wouldn’t hear of it. So separate rooms it is.
We still have about 7 weeks to go before we meet up for the first time in Nairobi. And a busy 7 weeks it’s going to be, with training, gear shopping, and of course, regular blog updates at The Kilimanjaro Blog. Your comments and encouragement, are welcome as always.
There couldn’t be a more curious bunch than the four of us who are doing this trip. Alpha and I have known each other for close to 4 years, through our blogs, then through emails and then the surprisingly lengthy phone calls. We’ve never met, although we’ve been in the same city on one occasion, and in the same country, another time. She’s tried her match-making skills on me a few times, unsuccessfully, I might add, and I’ve asked her for recipes a few times, which she still hasn’t parted with.
I know Pi, her husband, only through her (expectedly biased) posts, and I don’t know much about Nai, the 4th member of our troupe, other than the fact that he was Alpha’s classmate, and of good character - as I was repeatedly assured by Alpha when she tried to book us into the same room. The last ditch attempt at match-making might just have borne fruit, except that Nai’s wife wouldn’t hear of it. So separate rooms it is.
We still have about 7 weeks to go before we meet up for the first time in Nairobi. And a busy 7 weeks it’s going to be, with training, gear shopping, and of course, regular blog updates at The Kilimanjaro Blog. Your comments and encouragement, are welcome as always.
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