My mind slips back to my previous ascents. I allow myself this privilege as I am about to summit for the 50^th time and this experience proves once again to be very exciting. In fact every single ascent of this mountain has in some way proven to be memorable for not only is this mountain the highest peak on the continent of Africa and therefore qualifies as one of the coveted seven summits but it is also the highest free-standing mountain on the planet. And at nearly 6,000m this never is an ascent to take lightly.

My first time on top was with my good mate Dave: I remember him for not remembering him: he was almost transparent as he had puked himself window-pane-clear. A quick high five from a hand popping out of nowhere is what remains as my first memory of this mighty summit.

Next came a succession of summiteers. Team after team stretching out over 100’s of meters as they struggled up those bastard false summits from Stella Point to get that initial glance of that elusive summit sign. People bending over their poles, people being held up by the local crew, people spraying the multi-coloured yawns, people being placed so far outside their comfort zone, people so tired that they couldn’t take another step after having reached the top.

Ah, so much fun! To see my clients give this thing their all, to dig deep and to keep going no matter what: a professional boxer cry his heart out as the experience is so tough; a grandmother of 5 determinedly shuffling to the top, a huge grin on her face as the summit sign gets closer and closer; a hell’s angel biker wanting to hold hands and skip along the summit rim; an 82 year old priest propped up by 2 local crew crying with joy as he reaches the summit sign; and a 16 year old teenager beside herself waving her scarf into the wind never having had the chance to feel so wild and free, on top of a huge mountain the wind howling like a beast.

Yep that is what a summit day is like. The ultimate chance to go beyond every discomfort you have ever felt and to stand and marvel as the sun rises in a huge festival of colours over the endless African plains. And then once back on planet earth to be able to look into the mirror and to say to yourself: I did it! And what a thing to have achieved!

But I am neglecting the most important people on every ascent: the Chagga people who live on the slopes of Kilimanjaro. It is these men and women who formed my crews and without them every ascent would have been very difficult and for many impossible.

There’s the cook holding court amongst a troop of helpers chopping veggies creating hugely varied, fresh and filling meals not only for us but for the porter crew who support us. The local guides who despite trudging the slopes as their day job never fail to feel passionate as we approach the top of their volcano. The porters who carry huge loads balanced carefully on their heads and who once in camp begin pitching tents and scouring the hills for water. They go about their jobs not only to provide income for their families but with unceasing enthusiasm.

It is these guys that over time have become close friends and allow me to do the job I do with renewed gusto every ascent. Any job is so much better when done with great friends!

But the star of the show is of course the mountain itself. At times the mountain seems malevolent and taunts all comers from her lofty position in the sky, challenging those who dare to reach her summit. Other times she seems friendly and inviting. Sometimes she is shy and hides in the clouds but always it is magnificent. The journey to the summit is one of immense contrast. Not only does the adventurer travel through a huge variety of biologically and geographically diverse landscapes but each day brings about a small surprise that is immensely memorable.

A chameleon trying hard to blend in with the vegetation, a troop of Colobus swinging in the forest canopy above you, sometimes a buffalo glaring menacingly from the bushes, and on one occasion a bush-baby peering out from a tree-hollow. Then there are lava tunnels, lava towers and lava boulders to explore and wonder at.

Yep, it has always been a privilege to come back to Kilimanjaro, to meet the crew, to encourage my clients and to be part of such a unique adventure. I hope to be climbing it for a long time to come!

Fun facts!

- I have spent over 365 days actually on the slopes of Kilimanjaro –

- I have taken over 735 people to the top – and by doing so helped raise over £1.8m.

- I can hold my own in Swahili and am known as Kaka Raffi by most of the local boys over there. It sure feels like home from home.

If you too want to join me on this Mountain of Greatness then check out 360 Expeditions. www.360-expeditions.com

Our next Kilimanjaro expedition heads out on the 17^th October. http://www.360-expeditions.com/Africa/Tanzania/Mt-Kilimanjaro-Rongai-Route alternatively if you have already headed out on this peak and wish for some new ideas check out our website – my suggestion is Aconcagua in November (with me leading). Aco is another fantastic peak which is part of the 7 summits,  http://www.360-expeditions.com/South-America/Argentina/aconcagua_climb or why not try something in the Himalayas such as Mera peak or Island peak teamed with Everest base camp.

So much to do, such little time –

Adios Rolfe.

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It’s our 3’rd attempt in as many hours to nail the lingering 250 or so meters to the summit of the uber iconic Ama Dablam. (6812m). We have cracked all the technical climbing and it’s only the hands in the pocket snow-slope that lies between us and this goal we have so long been looking up at.

Mother Nature has different ideas. And the mountain does not give itself easily. It doesn’t care about our efforts over the last 3 days to drag our loads up its steep ridges and faces. Secretly I can hear it laugh as we are denied the prize.

“It’s over mate…” I yell at Simon through the howling wind… I know he realises it but he still shakes his head in dis-believe… I know what he is thinking: “All this f*****g effort”…

Simon has taken this thing seriously. He trained hard and over the years has gained enough experience with us to climb this mountain on its own terms.  Filling in his insurance form he had to list previous alpine experience. Seems that in order to attempt Ama Dablam the requirements are very different from the Nepali trekking peaks. With pride he had  filled in the column: Mt. Blanc, 2 routes on the Matterhorn, many grade 5 ice routes in the Pyrenees, North face Mt Kenya, Pt. John, Aconcagua, Island peak,  Kilimanjaro. Yup… he knew steep and he knew altitude. He had been ready for this beast.

However In order to get the most out of the Himalayas and to acclimatise to the very best of his ability he had joined our Everest base camp and Island peak groups. The notion of sitting at Alma’s basecamp, trudging 4 times to camp one and hoping that the weather god gives you a chance at the month’s end was not for him..  He had felt that our trekking itinerary would allow him to gain fitness, acclimatise and to see a fantastic part of the planet. And he had proven to be a key team member setting the pace for the ladies fundraising for charity and sharing his tent with a despondent Jerry when his best mate Chris needed to be choppered out from Island peak base camp with chest problems. Simon had been patient and taken the whole build up to Ama Dablam happily  in his stride. Un-selfishly his highlight had been summiting with 65 year old Jerry on Island peak and reaching Kala Patar with the charity ladies. He was that kind of a guy.

But the alpinist hunger always gnaws at your guts when the objective looms like a spectre above every single move you make. When you are in the khumbu valley there is no ignoring a certain mountain. Ama Dablam; It’s always there drawing the eye. Throwing down the gauntlet.

For anyone taking on a challenge like doing 12 rounds with Tyson or climbing  Ama Dablam Alpine style,  the preparation needs to be something more than just logistical and physical.  Sometimes there is the need to cover all the bets and I for one felt better for having seen a Buddhist Lama before we committed to the climb.  Ang Pholba, Simon and I were granted a special audience with the Phanboche Lama… the old man had given us each a postcard to leave on the summit for the deities that reside there and we’d each received a fist full of rice to throw at any rock-fall or avalanche that might thunder our way. Thus armed we crossed the bridge over the Khumbu River to start up the trail to Alma’s base camp. We were fit, acclimatised and mentally cool; we knew that the summit was going to be ours.

The forecast had fore-told our lot: no stuffing about, move from BC to C1 and then up to C2 and C3 and top out. The weather will hold. Clear but cold.

On arrival to BC we met other teams who had trudged the relentless scree to Camp 1 four times. These guys had now been here for a month and had just been given the news to take another rest day. This wasn’t an option for us, we had scrutinised the forecast carefully and knew it was now or never. The season was dragging on and climbing in the end of November means you need to make the most of the meagre offering the weather god throws your way. Another days rest would mean summiting in 125 kph winds and -38c temps: imagine the wind-chill factor on that baby!!

After a fantastic breakfast of tuna and boiled potatoes we begin to put our plan into action.       Camp one: Easy climbing although Simon suffers from a bug and the heavy loads.  I climb ahead to melt ice and get a brew on before he gets to camp. The brew is cold when he gets to there.

Camp two: Simon having slept well is feeling a million bucks. Up we go tackling surprisingly good rock on a great ridge and the hugely exposed yellow tower: at least all the holds are there! Hey, it doesn’t have to be fun to be fun… We make the most of a vacant tent and crash into the half on half off jobbie. I get the half on bit as Simon the suffer-machine wraps himself around a rock and spends the night holding on for dear life. Bless him.

Camp C2.7:   camp three is not used nowadays: it got wiped out in 2006 and continues to be wiped out by blocks of ice breaking from the huge serac looming above it. The climb to Camp 2.7 is a heavy duty climbing day. Neither Simon or myself trust the shitty fixed line; we are accustomed to Alpine style climbing and know bad tat when we see it. We just free-climb the golden rock and steep snow and slide the jumar up behind us, a token bit of pro.

Ang Pholba with his rucksack and pockets stuffed with blessed rice scoffs at our struggles and swings like Tarzan from fixed rope to fixed rope.  Pity the un-believers.  Super exposed ice-arêtes and Jesus what a camp site!! Then after a long night at C2.7 listening to the impending end from the over-hanging ice that is cracking and straining above you, the home run to the summit.

But Noooo!! Mother Nature changes her mind…. My God from the sound of it Mother Nature is out of her mind!! I shout to Simon… It had all gone so well but we have no choice but to descent. Simon knows the score. I hold up my mitten, thumb firmly pointing down. It begins to sink in. Tonight we’ll be down-climbing in the dark to camp one. We’ll have to ruefully answer the questions about summiting with a shrug and excuse about having done the hardest bit.

We both understood that nobody will get this… Once while hitch-hiking in New Zealand I got asked by the driver if I had climbed Mt.Cook after a hugely successful season where I had climbed everything but. I had told him no and got an in-comprehendible silence for my season’s worth of effort and now will  I expect the same. Ama Dablam gave us the tough stuff but not the cherry in the pie. But I know that Simon can be happy by what we have achieved. This guy climbed the mountain on its own terms. Maximum respect to him I shout, even if everyone else has missed the point.

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For more on Rolfe and what hes up too check out the 360 expeditions facebook page or log onto the main 360 Expeditions website.

For those who are looking for a big adventure led by Rolfe here are some tempting options:

Elbrus (part of the 7 summits) July 2013: http://www.360-expeditions.com/Europe/Ukraine/Elbrus-North-to-South-Traverse

Aconcagua (part of the 7 summits) November 2013: http://www.360-expeditions.com/South-America/Argentina/aconcagua_climb

Or if you are ready to tackle the 8000m peaks and wanting to prepare for Everest then Rolfe will also leading a Manaslu expedition in August 2013 – http://www.360-expeditions.com/Asia/Nepal/Manaslu This is naturally a huge expedition and much previous experience is needed.

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For outdoor clothing from Berghaus including men’s waterproof jackets, women’s rucksacks and more then please visit our online store.
You can find a wide range of gear for climbing, hill walking, mountain biking and other activities.

The place you have been taken to spend your first night is like something out of “Arabian Nights”, a traditional riad with magnificent arched windows and Korana verse beautifully engraved on the colorful tapestries that adorn the walls of your surreal bedroom. A welcome mint tea is poured from a great height from an elegant long snout silver tea pot into tiny glasses - you have arrived!

AND this is only a three hour flight away by Easyjet. To come to Morocco for a mission to climb is never just a mission to climb. It’s a mission that gets soon swept away by the exhilarating experience that is Morocco itself.

My great “True Berber” friend Lahcen is in his element. We are going to be climbing in his homeland: the mighty Atlas Mountains and to start we are going to visit his home village Imlil. Lachen has been away from home for almost a year busy getting married and making a life in the UK with his lovely Essex wife. His home-coming is akin to being part of a presidential election as people literally flock the streets to shake his hand, the offers of tea or coffee on everyone’s lips and with all the excitement it is not long before we have a mule team organised to take our kit bags to the high refuge.

The great thing about knowing the Berbers is that they can’t help but charm their way into every part of the adventure. My three clients – friends of many missions – are soon commenting on how different things feel here and how they are simply overwhelmed by a Muslim’s generosity. The invites for tea, bread, and walnuts follow us up to the refuge and even here we are given an open-armed welcome and told that we can have an entire 32 bed dorm just for ourselves. Our generous hosts serve up feast after feast and offer to wake us up “especially” early to take us up our first mission: Jebel Uonkrim – a 4,080m peak that looms a two hour walk away.

With Lahcen in the lead clapping his hands to Mohammed’s singing and me taking up the rear to document the adventure on video we depart in the darkness. As the sun creeps over the jagged horizon we get to understand the uniqueness of this mountain range. Tall, dark red, and deep brown barren rocky crags and spires link ridge after ridge. Ancient glacial valleys have carved terrific smooth uber-climbable rock into this landscape wherever you look.

Our objective is a peak pronounced “one-cream, not ice-cream stupid” does not shun from providing a bit of excitement itself. We follow a rugged but surprisingly solid narrow ridge climbing finger like pinnacles and smooth slabs to gain a huge hanging valley which we cross to climb a loose scree slope to the summit. We are alone up there. From a huge distance we can see that the upper slopes of tomorrow’s mission, the highest mountain in the Atlas (as well as North Africa) – the shapely Jebel Toubkal, is crawling with people. Our perspective reached through a bit of hard yakka is well earned and we feel privileged to be seeing the Atlas from a viewpoint that nobody seems to bother to reach.

After a traditional Berber “on-the-hoof lunch” we set off down into the valley to once again savor the refuge’s special hospitality and another round of Berber delicacies.

The next morning we get woken up especially early again and begin the climb up Jebel Toubkal (4,180m) in the company of many other head-torches trying to pick their way through the large boulder fields. A phrase remembered from an old climbing magazine springs to mind: “just because it’s the biggest mountain doesn’t mean it’s the best mountain”.

We welcome the sunrise and welcome the trekkers around us. At first we feel a bit grumpy about having to share “our mountains” but soon the Berbers and the Atlas begin to weave their magic. The colors change through every conceivable spectrum of red as the sun creeps over the eastern ridge. Looking up we see surreal silhouettes of trekkers climbing high above us. The Berbers begin their clapping and singing and as we reach the high ridge ourselves an incredible views open up before us: jagged peaks blend into more jagged peaks and if you look carefully you can see the mighty Sahara reach deep into the hazy horizon.

The summit is reached and shared with a lot of people: Spanish, French, German, Swiss and of course my little group of Brits. It’s almost a complete European Union and you know the thought occurs to me that under the guidance from our great hosts perhaps this mountain top might not be a bad place to stage an international meeting. In a place like this it isn’t too much of an effort to smile and say a heartfelt well done to a fellow climber, even if he is a German.

Pleasantries over and done with we focus on our next mission: the mighty Sahara! We make our way back down the valley towards civilisation and another great Riad where we are once again blown away by the mystical beauty of this amazing country. Then the next morning, shunting our way through countless people wanting to shake Lahcen’s hand we find a vehicle that will drive us across this land through the spectacular Tagine shaped mountain pass which proudly announces that we have arrived in the Sahara desert.

It is here also that we pick a group of folk representing the TREKSTOCK charity: four very nice girls and a cameraman who will relieve me from my amateur efforts and film the journey from here.

The Sahara Desert defies a simple man’s attempt at description. A picture will tell a million words but it is perhaps important to mention that for us capable Alpine folk who think we have met a challenge or two in our careers, a dip into this super-heated, sandy world will feel as alien as being thrown into the deep end of the pool as a toddler and being told to do the perfect breast stroke.

Apart from our steadfast Berbers our support came from three surprisingly mellow camels that carried our luggage. The days, straight out of “Lawrence” melted into each other as the temperatures reached 55 Degrees Celsius. We climbed massive sand dunes. Descended massive sand dunes. Crossed salt-flats, were battered by sandstorms and even a flood! We slept in Nomad tents at night and crashed under the shade of casurina and palms as the midday temperatures soared to unimaginable highs. The Berbers provided excellent company for whom nothing was too much and the group was fantastic. How nice it was to exchange bearded porridge eating mountain types for young hyper-energetic sand trekkers who were as entranced by the landscape and experience as I was.

When you are on the road as much as I am it becomes difficult to find a single highlight within a year. However this experience in terms of contrast must rate up there as one of the best. I am now of to climb 4 x 6,000m peaks in the Himalayas. I know I am going to enjoy this expedition. It will feel familiar and will undoubtably bring me huge rewards but I know that in the back of my mind will be a memory of standing on top of a huge sand dune and watching the sun set as a huge fiery ball into an endless dusty red horizon whilst behind me three camels can be heard slobbering as my proud Berber friends busy themselves feeding them.

I urge you all to get in touch with 360 Expeditions, my company (www.360-expeditions.com) and see what adventure we can offer you. If you want to experience all that I have on this expedition then you are also in luck as we have another running this time next year.  If you have specific dates: “no worries” we can tailor make any trip to your preferred dates.

Adios

Rolfe.

That is until his lovely wife Helen decided to give it to him as a birthday present and I got the phone call to partner him up on it.

We spent an afternoon climbing to the Maupas hut from which the peak (amongst many others) can be climbed. The warden kissed his rosary when we told him our plans and told us he’d pray for us. We took his dramatics with a pinch of salt but did get the hint that a full traverse is rarely achieved and that we’d be in for an interesting adventure.

An Alpine start saw us with head-torches on, climbing the enormous slabs leading up to the ridge. A frost had locked away a tiny stream that I had counted on being there and in the back of my mind a nag began to form about where we were going to fill up with water. Still, I had a litre and so did Ian. And as is always the case these things appear trivial when the day has only begun.

We geared up under the ridge, the plan was to simul-climb as much as possible, with me leading and Ian coming second and retrieving any pro I could get in. This plan sounded fine over a beer in the hut but as we actually climbed to the top of the ridge we found that the thing was razor sharp. It literally was a case of holding the very edge of the ridge and doing arm over arm moves whilst our legs skated about on insignificant holds, the rope dangling useless between us.

Still, this nonsense didn’t last and soon the ridge became wider and we could get in pro to set up proper belays. Then we encountered a large pinnacle too smooth to climb and hold-less to move around. I set up an abseil with the aim of dropping below this thing to get onto a ledge below and traverse underneath it. I watched Ian descend first and disappear below an overhang, his shout of “ok!” Indicating things were cool for me to do the same. I leant back weighed the rope and began to descend then heard a loud crash above me and to my horror saw that the rope had flicked off a huge block from the ridge, and was hurtling towards me. I managed to give a yelp and duck out the way. It splintered into a hundred pieces just above where Ian was hiding below the overhang.

The only damage was that it had cut the rope at 15 meters. I got down to Ian and removed the first aid kit from my rucksack. “You ok man?” he said as the dust cleared and the sharp smell of cordite dissipated. “Not for me mate… it’s the rope” and Ian looked on astonished as I put a neat Band-Aid over the severed rope. Still this is what alpinism is all about, right?

We traversed and regained the ridge which had once again become seriously hairy. An enormous north face on one side… and an enormous south face on the other… literally separating France and Spain. We shuffled, tight-rope walked, slid on our backsides, down-climbed, re-climbed, bouldered and moved hand over hand across this most amazing feature…

Then at around the mid-point a chopper appeared and hovered meters away. The pilot and a passenger waving madly and us not being able to wave back in fear of letting go of the ridge. It seemed that word had got out that there were climbers on the ridge and they had come to check it out. “So much for our wilderness experience” we laughed but enjoyed the attention.

The climb finished all too soon and as we abseiled and down climbed from the western summit we naturally began to plan for another trip. This little mission had certainly opened our eyes to the huge climbing potential this area has. It is regrettable that with our hectic lives an opportunity to push the boat out that little bit further comes along so infrequently. Still as long as we are planning, there’s hope and I know that from Ian’s lofty vantage point he will soon be eyeing up another peak: I just hope that phone will ring sooner rather than later!

For information about all the expeditions I head out on see www.360-expeditions.com. I am always up for a challenge so if you can’t see something there then ping me or the office an email. The next expedition in the Pyrenees will be the winter skills course.
Adios. Rolfe.

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Even for my clients the expedition was in every way much more than they were expecting. And they were Africans themselves! A group of South African ex-military with their gorgeous wives and of course a token Aussie. As the days passed, forgotten was the acclimatisation process which made them feel ill, forgotten was the fact that we were camping and living rough. And in flowed the unexpectedness:  the enormous troop of colobus monkeys, the deep lava tunnel, always being high above the clouds, watching the vastness of the Kenyan savannah spread before us, seeing the sun set over a distant Kibo peak, climbing into the rugged crater of Mawanzi and clinging to the edge of an enormous canyon as mist swirled all around us.

Then the cold of climbing into a hurricane force wind at Gilman point, pushing on to the summit, the sky changing into a brilliant spectacle of colours as the sun crept over the distant horizon, the camaraderie of seeing the slow ones still pushing on, everyone supporting each other as if their friends summiting meant more than their own. A long tough summit day digging deep to take the last steps then triumphantly standing for a moment on the highest point on the mighty continent of Africa!

This group knew the meaning of hard work but even so Kilimanjaro outlived their expectations. Once back in the high camp everyone collapsed. “Toughest thing I have ever done” as spoken by everyone, and huge grins of deep satisfaction.

Kilimanjaro had weaved its magic once again: a long tough struggle to conquer the summit, an endeavour so obscure when you think about it but totally living up to the cliché of transforming one’s life. Everyone stood on top and everyone will be seeing themselves in the mirror knowing that they are capable of something that before seemed impossible.

And here lies Kilimanjaro’s gift: It does make those who have reached the top realise that us puny humans are indeed capable of doing the incredible ourselves!

For those that are yet to climb this beast we have another Kili expedition heading out the door on the 8^th February http://www.360-expeditions.com/Mt_Kilimanjaro_-_Rongai_Route and for those who have and are looking for the next challenge we highly recommend Mera peak http://www.360-expeditions.com/Mera_Peak or Island peak – which is combined with Everest Base Camp. http://www.360-expeditions.com/Island_Peak_and_Everest_Base_Camp

Both expeditions’ head out the door in April 2013.

Alternatively if you just want a week’s fun in the snow, check out the winter skills course. http://www.360-expeditions.com/Winter_Skills_Course. A great week in the Pyrenees climbing peaks while learning and developing your alpine skills. £450 for a week’s guiding! A total bargain.

For all expeditions check out: www.360-expeditions.com

Jeff, an old mate, is waiting at the airport. He hasn’t changed much since the time we were living the climbing scene here all those years ago. The only distinction that sets him apart from then is that now he is officially a Bolivian rather than the Aussie he used to be.

While my clients head down the notoriously famous biking track “the death road” I headed out with Jeff to get the final preparations for this three week Amazon venture sorted. “A real mission, mate!” he promises as we push our trolleys piled high through the supermarket and of course like always I will learn that he is “dead right, mate”.

The trend for following guidebooks has travellers visiting Bolivia neatly confined to a few must-do destinations. The lack of scope in these books has naturally produced the sacrificial lambs where a watered down experience can be found, but jump left or right of the gringo trail and you will soon learn that what you read in the accounts of the early explorers is still out there, totally unchanged, waiting for you to experience it in all it’s terrible form.

Think the “Death Road” mountain bike descentwas hairy? Try your luck climbing the single tracks of the Cordillera Apolobamba aboard a top-heavy Nissan Patrol with Carlos the driver sweating and bug-eyed with fear behind the wheel.

Think Rurrenabaque is the jungle?  Try descending into the remote Madidi National Park following rarely seen, 600 year old Inca trails, all the while knowing that only a dozen or so kilometres away three different tribes all still roam the forest as they always have hunting and gathering.

I had done a few missions to this neck of the woods before and was thrilled that these ventures are still very much off the “gringo trail”.

The Altiplano beyond the creaking mass of El Alto is still inhabited by the creatures of the airport poster and even the total looks of bewilderment at the sight of two groaning four wheel drives passing by are undoubtedly the same as those received by the Conquistadors on horseback. Ladies wearing bowler hats are still holding llama’s, sitting beside farm stalls and huddled together gossiping. Ruddy faced men, short but stocky and powerful are still stuffing their cheeks with coca leaves and eking out an existence in this tough country with unimaginable persistence and ingenuity.

Bespoke is what it says on the tin though: Clients want jungle with no gringo influence then we can provide it.  The request to lead a raw jungle expedition had stirred my old memories of the Bolivian Amazonas and so the opportunity to return involved little hesitation.

Initially we came inspired by the accounts of Col. Percy Fawcett of the 1910’s and today he would find nothing much different; Our team of mules and muleteers creaking under the strain, left the remote ramshackle village perched on the edge of the great wilderness, at sunrise. A foot journey of seven days lay ahead;  a high Andean pass and mile long traverses over barren ridges rising high above the dark forest, then steeply descending deep into the vegetation tunnels and the kingdom of the unimaginable. Often we hacked our way into and out of steep ravines knowing that every step we took brought us that one step further from everything we find comfortable and safe.

The local guides we took on our expedition didn’t speak our combined languages of English and Australian but made themselves noticed by being embarrassingly handy and practical the entire time. Fire magically came from the rain drenched moss, bamboo lean to’s popped up in the most inhabitable places that then quickly became home for the night and thirst quenching water was found deep in the bogs. These guys certainly know how to live side by side with the jungle.

Camps were at unexpected clearings in the forest, relief came from the dissipating clouds as the afternoon rains finally dried up and the cool moist air fell back down into the deep valley below. Stars emerging to the nocturnal howls of monkeys and the crescendo of the jungle beat, spirits revived with a hot fire, barbecued steak and a glass of wine. Yep, Percy would have recognised it well.

Finally we reached the Tuichi. It was again here that I was reminded how incredibly at home these guides really are in this network of vines trees valley and rivers. You need a cool head whilst plunging down grade four rapids on a rubber tyre raft held together with ropes and branches, and a cool head is exactly what they had – along with a hand-carved wooden oar, beaming smiles and endless banter.

The 5 day raft descent down the San Pedro canyon on the Tuichi River, was made famous by Yossi Ginsberg “Lost in the Jungle”. His account of a near-tragedy on this river literally comes alive as you hurl over the same rapids he survived and plunge down the one he nearly didn’t. The Colonel would have loved it. As for our clients, the journey was as tough as they’d expected, if not tougher. And the stories get better with every time that they are re told. After three weeks in Bolivia its good to be home but one thing is for sure I want to go back.

If you too want a bespoke venture, get in touch with 360 Expeditions (www.360-expeditions.com) and let us tailor make one just for you. Alternatively jump on an expedition that is already running and enjoy where it takes you.

Rolfe.

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This thought struck me as being particularly true for mountains I climb a lot, like Kilimanjaro or my Local Pico de Aneto which at 3,404m is the highest summit in the rugged Pyrenean range.

There’s always something or someone that makes the experience unique and keeps the dreaded ground-hog day blues at bay.

This June’s first climb to Aneto’s lofty summit was made unusual by having the crazy Alex Ledger of Sky School Flight Centre along. Alex never travels without his paraglider and this climb was no exception. I have only heard of a few cases where madmen had flown from the summit but have never seen it done so was keen to watch the spectacle! Also along was Mike, our new chalet manager who is now running our 360 base here in the Pyrenees. (www.papilio-luchon.com)  A fine chef by trade but a chain smoker and a total novice mountaineer. A perfect candidate to entice into my world of ice axes and crampons.

We walked into the Rencluse refuge looking like drowned rats. A huge thunderstorm had made our climb up quite interesting and made Alex worry about the prospects for his flights the next day. His doubts were further fuelled once we got talking to a few mountain guides (one of whom had flown from Aconcagua) about the next day’s wind direction: “totally not do-able, man, suicidal”.

As we packed our stuff the next day I suggested not taking the giant green paraglider bag at all and just to climb the peak instead. But Alex wouldn’t hear of it and hoisted the monster onto his back.

On the climb Alex watched the sky like a hawk and was continuously throwing snow into the air to test wind direction. It never stopped blowing from the wrong direction. I am not one to tempt fate so didn’t mention my doubts but was glad that we made it to the summit without too much drama and was looking forward to getting back down to the pub for a beer.

Suddenly just below the top Alex got frantic. His keen senses had picked up a tiny waft of wind coming from the desired direction and before I could blink he had his big green wing out and was airborne! It was sensational to see him zoom into the sky and quickly disappear amongst the towering peaks.

Less sensational was the fact that Mike and I still had to trudge 4 hours through wet snow to get to the car – a journey Alex did in less than 8 minutes.

Here is a great short video of this climb and fly adventure:

Click here to view the embedded video.

A few days later I was back again. This time with  Irish John, a crusty bearded sea-captain and Matt, an aspiring mountain leader who will make a great outdoorsman and for whom (unbeknown to him) I have lined up a number of challenging Alpine routes on which he’ll get to lead the crux pitches.

John Matt and I took a different route in this time approaching the mountain from France taking in a spectacular peak called the Savourgard on the way.

It seemed were we in a blizzard for the first 24 hours reaching the summit of Aneto in unusually cool summer temperatures! A balmy -12 C that was nicely recorded on my watch. That night back at the refuge the now familiar managers plied us with beers enjoying the fact that they were hanging out with a true Ozzie who’s climbers seem to always be a bit more crazy than the usual visitors. Just the thing they needed to spice up their jobs. What a great few days once again spent in my own back yard.

If you are looking for an adventure along the lines of Kilimanjaro – Aneto Peak – Aconcagua – Elbrus – Mera Peak or Everest Base Camp in the Himalayas - etc, do get in touch with the office at www.360-expeditions.com as we are rolling with all such expeditions with many more tempting ones on line.

See you in the hills.

Berghaus Store

For outdoor clothing from Berghaus including men’s waterproof jackets, women’s rucksacks and more then please visit our online store.
You can find a wide range of gear for climbing, hill walking, mountain biking and other activities.

This 360 Expeditions Spring Mera Peak team (Peter, Emma, Sarah, Richard, Ian, Melanie and Sandra) reached the base camp, Khare (5,000m) via the remote jungle route. A forest dominated by many species of flowering Rhododendron and pock-marked by clearings where Sherpa people live growing crops and children.

For the first seven days we had seen no other trekking groups and enjoyed Nepal raw and real. Our descent into the Hinku Valley led us to encounter other people with the same objective and it was good to meet like-minded folk and to have a few giggles amongst ourselves about those funny national quirks other teams seem to have. In the Hinku valley the Himalayas make themselves known. Looming over everything is the huge north face of Mera and the rarely climbed Kussum Khanguru (6,300m) and Kyashar (6,770m).

Standing out from our like-minded ideals was the Polish “deepest scuba dive in the world” record team who unlike us aimed to do some diving before attempting the summit. Their porters were unique in that they, in addition to carrying 40kg of food and camping kit were burdened by scuba tanks, dry-suits and flippers. The Poles’ challenge had been made additionally tough by the fact that their thick neoprene hoods had been pinched from their bags at Delhi airport, a short-coming they had improvised upon by using plastic bags and gaffer tape. The dudes certainly lived up to their country’s alpine reputation for being hard-core but also were responsible for a few sniggers from us.

The trekking is through an area that sees few western visitors and, unlike the Khumbu, to stop for a beer or apple pie every hour or so is not possible. And even though there is ample time to chill and acclimatise you are still camping, enduring the weather and gaining altitude. The base camp (Khare 5,000m) is a lot higher then Mt .Blanc, the summit another mile above this.

Far from being short of hardcore ourselves we had remained healthy and fit. The high camp (5,780m) was reached by all but the unfortunate Melanie who although strong enough developed a chest problem just short of stepping on the glacier. She was helped down to the lower village of Tagnac (4,200m) for a little immersion into Sherpa hospitality and we met up again a couple of days later after our summit bid.

The midnight weather check from the tent at high camp is a moment I never look forward to. What I see outside determines if we will attempt to summit or not. This morning I opened the door and thought about the crushed ladybirds. It is snowing. In fact it hasn’t stopped snowing for 12 hrs. The snow build-up had piled thick on the tents and muffled the sound of the wind blasting the stuff around the camp. A quick satellite phonecall to HQ:  forecast for next two days beginning to deteriorate.

Hmmm.. I still have two porters needing to come down from camp one. I have ordered 4 more to come up to clear the high camp for our descent. The glacier is now covered with at least a foot of snow. A radio hook-up with the Nepal crew determines that the avalanche hazard is not worth the risk.  It’s a no-go for my team, we are coming back down to base-camp.

It hits us hard to realise that we probably will not be making another attempt. The hard work seems to have been for nothing. Bad luck and a bit of weather have stopped us reaching the summit. The team prepare for the trek out. Still not easy when we need to put in some big days of ascent and a monster day of descent to get back to Lukla,  the gateway to the delights of Kathmandu.

During the return walk we cross the rivers where we spot huge boulders sticking high up in trees, up the valley we see a huge hole blown out of the moraine wall by a lake formed by the rapidly melting glacier, another avalanche big enough to consume a village roars down the northern flanks, it begins to snow and the path ahead disappears high up into the swirling mist. Yep, we are still in the Himalayas where mother nature calls the shots and amid this very vivid display of power the talk soon turns to how lucky we are to experience what we are seeing and doing. And it is not long after that we are reflecting on what a fantastic place the hidden Hinku Valley of Nepal is to have found ourselves for a short period of time.

If you too want to head out to Mera peak with 360 Expeditions then head to the website where you will find the full details. The next expedition to Mera is in October 2012 (however this is fully booked) so why not jump on to the April 2013 one.

Mera Peak Jackets

For Berghaus Mera Peak Jackets and outdoor clothing from Berghaus including waterproof jackets, women’s rucksacks and more then please visit our online store.
You can find a wide range of gear for climbing, hill walking, mountain biking and other activities.

My group of 6 trekkers affectionately called themselves the Punjabi brothers as the Punjab was their heritage but even this background did little to prepare them for  trekking to the base camp of the highest mountain in the world. The experience baffled, delighted, frustrated, filled them with wonderment and tested them to the limit. Sometimes all at the same time. For a group used to 5 star holidays this would certainly shape up to be an experience so much more real then they could imagine. It is always a pleasure to show people my side of life and a journey into the Khumbu valley never fails to disappoint. This kinda makes my life easy in a way.

First of all there is a day sightseeing around the city: monkey temples, huge Buddhas , a heady mix of Hinduism and Buddhism, open-air cremations, massive stupas, hectic traffic, beggars and amazingly tranquil squares that make you feel what nirvana must be like compared to the heaving crazy mass of humanity going about their business just outside the gate.

Then it’s off to the airport for the 40 minute flight to Lukla, the start of the trek. This tiny airstrip has the distinction of being listed as the world’s most dangerous airport and it is always a bumpy ride as the aircraft sneaks its way carefully over high mountain passes, to a tyre-screeching landing. Still, as long as the weather gods are smiling the experience is always a highlight: Alton Towers has nothing on this!

Now you are through the gateway to the Himalayas and before you lies the greatest show on earth. The contrast to the craziness of Kathmandu could not be bigger. Now you are in the land of the Sherpa, a land of huge mountains, fluttering prayer-flags, calm villages where people still live a traditional life,  yak bells, rich smells of wood and yak dung fires and milk butter tea.

The combined age of my trekkers was exactly 360 years which I took to be a good omen and with the weather being kind and the city’s craziness behind us, the trek promised to be rewarding for all of us. This time of year is particularly exciting as you share the trail with teams large and small making their way to have a stab at climbing mount Everest. Not only do you get swept up in their excitement as you meet up at the Sherpa tea houses but you get to sit around the table each night with some of mountaineering’s greatest superstars. How often would a golfer have the chance to have a beer and a natter with Tiger Woods?

The worlds most impressive mountains roll past as we near our objective. Kussum Kanguru, Kantega, Ama Dablam, Makalu, Tawoche, Cholatse, Nuptse, Lhotse and rising above them all the summit of Mt Everest with its distinct summit plume. Mix these geological monsters with a huge glacial landscape dotted with Sherpa villages where their traditional culture still thrives and you have an unbeatable trekking experience.

Still it is hard work at times. My trekkers found the Himalayan notion of what goes down must come up particularly disheartening at times. Sometimes a tea-house would have no water as the pipes had frozen up and the loo’s were at times rather interesting. But then again we quickly learned to take these things in our stride and compared to the culture, local kindness and natural beauty around us they didn’t seem to matter.

Eventually we made it to the Base Camp of the highest mountain in the world. The glacier was dotted with the tents of hundreds of people aiming their sights at the summit still more then three vertical kilometres above them. The scale of things was hard to grasp and we stood in wonderment, pleased with our achievement and sad to be now turning tail and leaving this magical valley behind.

My team, a group of 24 executives stare in awe as the clouds part to reveal the freshly snow-covered summit dome rise up before them. Turning round to address the group it’s almost comical, as all but one or two were now staring in awe at the beast while inevitably thinking “holy shit, I’ve gotta get to the top of that thing!”

The bus taking us to the gate is the local special with extra loud speakers blaring new-age reggae into the still morning air. We wind our way through colourful local villages and waving kids to the park gate. This is where it starts. Amongst the hustle of porters being piled up with huge loads, rangers checking off your name and guides doing the last minute gear briefs, from here you will commence on a journey which is promising to be an experience of a lifetime.

The mountain is best taken in bite sized chunks: for most the overall picture promised by some of the planet’s longest altitude gains is, for most, too overwhelming to take on board. The guides advise a day-to-day approach. It is almost as if we are hunting the summit and sneaking up on it in a week’s time to finally dash to the top.

For now we are going to start off by climbing into the rainforest which forms a huge skirt around the mountain’s base. Before long the group is absorbed in the huge variety of living forms that are on display. Having taken the first step, all doubts cast earlier are forgotten.

All routes winding their way up the peak traverse first through rainforest and then move into heathland, moorland and finally the high altitude desert. It is as if in a week you experience at close hand the world’s grooviest habitats!

The daily scenery is ever-changing and no photo will ever do justice to the variety of landscapes and breathtaking sunsets that we are treated to each day. Barren moorland from which sprout huge Dalek-like plants, and volcanic rocks contorted into formations that would impress any surrealist, form a landscape where we are both physically challenged and mentally rewarded. And it is all too soon that we reach the high camp from where we will launch our summit attempt.

To put into perspective what we have to achieve on summit night: we will climb to the summit of a near 6,000m peak starting from the height of Mt. Blanc. That’s the entire height of Ben Nevis from sea level in altitude gain and climbing the steepest, roughest and rockiest terrain yet encountered on this trek. And to top it off we will do it in pitch darkness and into thinner and thinner air.

The team gathers for the final brief and nervously try to get their heads down for a few hours rest. The wake-up call will come soon enough.

It’s summit time and the combined lights of the group’s head torches and a sickle moon illuminate the way through the rough terrain encountered to the summit rim. The hours pass and ice builds on our rucksacks as the temperature drops steadily the higher we creep. It is still dark when we reach Stella Point, the summit rim of the volcano and after a quick cup of tea from the Thermoses we continue our ascent to the summit, still about an hour away. Gradually the sun brightens the eastern sky in a spectacular display of colours. For the team this is becoming an experience that is living up to be far beyond anything they could ever imagine. The summit, reached together, is of course the bonus but even though this is my 47^th ascent of this proud mountain I still am the one who counts my blessings most of all!

For this ascent I used the following Berghaus equipment:

Mount Asgard pro shell jacket

Baffin Island wind-stopper soft shell

Active thermal long sleeve. zip neck tee

Argentium short sleeve Tee-shirt

Tarazed Goretex boots

Jurra Down jacket