Icarus in Africa

There are probably only so many times you can write about an experience. I'll try and make this my last.

For the past 8 months I had been fundraising for a charity called Hope for Children, a small charity in comparison to the ones you can name off the top of your head but all the same a brilliant cause. My challenge was to raise £2650 so that I could go on an adventure.

That adventure was to climb Mount Kilimanjaro. The Roof of Africa. 5895m.

19 Nottingham students rocked up to Heathrow on the 30th June - one only just rocking up in time - for a flight that would see us head to Dubai and then onto Nairobi. This all went swimmingly (although I'm not sure that's quite the description to use for a plane) and we touched down in Nairobi on the 1st of July and began to fill out the forms. These entry/departure visa forms followed us around everywhere we went but wouldn't you believe it we never had enough pens, so the time it took to get through any form of immigration desk doubled. Anyway! On exiting the airport we found our guide, Gibson, who was to take us to the hotel in Arusha. We later found out that Gibson (or Gilbert, to the one who only just rocked up in time) was to be taking us up the mountain too.

On arrival to our hotel we crashed in our rooms for a bit before trudging down for tea. Little was I know to just how inappropriate the word 'trudge' is here...I certainly do now. The newly formed group of 19 headed to bed for an early start which was to be the beginning of our climb up the highest point in Africa.

Our first day was spent in the rain forest. The Machame route is one of the most difficult paths to the top of Kilimanjaro but also one of the most popular; this is due to its breath taking views and diversity in environment as the climb ensues. It was certainly a beautiful route, the rain forest was clouded in mist and looked like something you would find in National Geographic.

It was a long day but our lead guide, Isaac, told us to 'respect the day' and that 'tomorrow is a new day'. These words, although excruciatingly simple, were hard to live by as our group eagerly asked about the days to come.

The Group of 19 was soon to be our world. By the end of the first day we had already forged friendships with people we had only just met but I don't think we quite realised just how close these friendships would become and just how much we would owe to each other.

I knew a few faces from before the trip: the guys from my halls, a couple of girls we'd met at a social and a lad who I knew as a banana. The majority of the group were to be new friends however and with these new companionships came a name; Ed's Eagles. Ed was our team leader and he hated, with fine vigor, the sound of..."When I say Ed's, you say Eagles...Ed's!"..."Eagles!" but I think he learnt to cope with it quite well and may have even joined in with our last one. Maybe.

The second day led us away from the rain forest and across rocky paths and coarse growth. Our destination was Shira Cave which would be the highest point of our trek so far. At 3,900m the air was beginning to noticeably thin but we were not flying too close to the sun just yet. Once again, we were treated to amazing views as we walked but the highlight was once we had reached camp. After some warm water (a pleasant surprise) to wash our faces Isaac called us over. He had assembled the whole group of porters which would take us to the top of the mountain - which was ominously overlooking proceedings - and introduced us to them in a very African manner...song. Which you can see here.



That wasn't all from Shira Cave, as sunset then proved to be the most incredible sunset I'd ever seen and in the morning it gave us a perfect view of the heights we were to scale.


Our next day, oddly, was the penultimate one up. We would be climbing to 4,600m and then back down again to 3,950. This was called 'Judgement Day'. We were to climb to a spot named Lava Tower at a slow (pole pole in Swahili) steady pace and then walk/skid/fall back down to the height we started the day at. If we made it to camp there would be a 95% chance we could make it to the top. In hindsight I am sure that this figure is pulled out of thin air, just like the timescales of our walks are but at the time we did not care; we were going to make Barranco camp and we would make it to the top.
The third day however was possibly too close to the sun for some, who were beginning to struggle. The climb down was one of the hardest parts of the trek that day; endless descent and the torture of being able to see your destination for hours made it tough going but (with a bit of vomit along the way) our group of 19 were all safely sleeping under what was my favourite view so far.

Breakfast. Not what you'd expect, rather 800 foot of rock called Barranco wall. A steep ascent, with some parts maybe being a bit close to the edge for some, which was done by early morning. The effort put in was just a precursor to the oncoming ups and downs of the valleys and streams which would bring us ever close to base camp. As we were doing a 6 day climb we walked straight through Katanga camp and soldiered on towards Barafu. The group were continually perked up by the porters and guides; 'poa kichizi com ndizi' ('crazy cool like a banana') 'no hurry no worry' both standard phrases to help us on our way and then came the uplifting voice of one of our guides... 'Shakira shakira shakira'. Okay, not quite what you'd expect up the mountain but accompanied by a fantastic smile and a booty shake this guide was instrumental in us reaching the top.

It is hard to believe just how beyond words these guides are. Running past you with your 15kg pack as well as a table, water, tents etc and all this quite often in the standard climb-a-really-high-mountain-gear of sandals and jeans...maybe even a suit. Well, why wouldn't you wear a suit when 'Kilimanjaro is [your] office'?  These guides are your life on the mountain, you may feel like you are on top of the world or that it is on top of you - depending on how altitude is treating you - but they are there propping you up. We would not have made it to the top without them but nor would we want too: they kept us smiling, laughing and became friends. Even if there was a language barrier and all they could offer was simple phrases, you never felt like you needed anything else because they were already giving you everything you needed and more.


By early afternoon we made Barafu camp. We still had everyone, with our whole troop made up just after dinner and all of us amazed at the terrain we had covered that day. Camp offered a great view back across the valley we'd just walked...which hid the one before that. All we had wanted to do was get to camp and I think for the first time Isaac's words from the first day had sunk in.  This was more useful than on any other day because by midnight we would be on our ascent, to those literal dizzy heights.



So it was. 11:30. 'Jambo...wake up time', our alarm each morning. Pitch black outside, we saw a few head-torches in the distance beginning their ascent. That was soon to be us. We left as a group and began to wind our way up the 1,200m to the summit. Not for the first time, when you looked up you were greeted with the most beautiful sight of all. We may have seen the curvature of the Earth, beautiful sunsets and been above the clouds since day one but nothing was comparable to the sky.

Stars. So many it felt like there was more of them than there was the darkness of space which surrounded them. The Milky Way too, a pale inky line stretching across the wide expanse.

'If you ever start to lose inspiration...just look up'.

After a while a few of us forged on from the group. Six and two guides, we challenged our bodies to make the summit for sunrise. Our pace was not much quicker but we stopped less and ever so gradually ate up ground. One of us dropped out and waited for the others to catch up and although we didn't want to leave him we didn't want to stop; I was almost possessed with a sense of getting to the top. I had been questioned as to whether it was wise we split from the group; how would our bodies hold up? I knew, even if my body didn't, that I would be okay. This belief stemmed from my Gran.

Less than 2 months before we left for Africa my Gran passed away. When I was in Surrey, after going to Wimbledon and staying around so it was quicker to get to Heathrow, I got a text from my mum. After going through some possessions at the house she had come across a letter. Attached was a mascot, asking whether he (Olly Owl) could be taken to the top as my Gran's legs were too short. I then had something to climb for, aside from the charity and the experience. I would have loved to have stayed with the group and to have reached the summit with them but I had a drive to get to the top and I felt, for some reason, that time was running short. I must thank our leader who was with me in that small group, he managed to calm me down as I was urging everyone to get up and carry on. The renewed level headedess probably helped me to the top as much as anything, thanks to Ed just saying; 'Look mate, there's no rush, relax'.

Four of our six reached Stella point, the marker for the summit, for sunrise. It was beautiful but short lived. We rested for 5 minutes before Gift, our guide, urged us onto Uhuru point. Legs like iron and minds slipping, one friend seeing suns wherever he looked, we trudged (this time, it is the most perfect description) towards the purpose of our climb. Uhuru.

Uhuru means freedom. On the 9th of December 1961 Tanzania gained independence from Britain and in honour of this renamed the points of Kilimanjaro. Freedom point does not just represent their independence; when you reach the Roof of Africa you forget all pain. You may be tired, you will be tired but it doesn't matter. You are free from everything as you look out onto the second largest continent in the world. Then you are overcome with incredible joy and any ills are washed away by the smile on your face. I had reached the top of Africa with eighteen others, we may have made the top at different times - with two not quite making it - but I still made the top with them all. They had been there all the way, with Gran, Olly Owl and all the sponsors who I wore on my back and it was just the most amazing experience of my life. I hope this is how everyone else felt and I think they probably did.

We did, eventually, get down. The laughter in the group rose to new levels as we had a beer at the bottom and the laughter didn't stop for the rest of our time in Africa. As was how our group worked.

I was continually amazed by our group,
at the support we so effortlessly gave each other. I knew that our group was good fun after the first day. I knew that our group was awesome after the second. By the third we were all shattered, some of us effected immensely by the altitude yet we still gave our support without thinking to spare our breath. At this point, alongside the effort of one of our crew which I think I have now lost the ability to understand, I knew that our group was incredible. But by the end of our climb we were superhuman. This can't be shown any better than by just this one photo. What it shows is Kilimanjaro, gathered by mist and clouds, taken from a seat on a plane. Uhuru point stands at 19,341' our plane was travelling at just over 18,000'. It is not often that you can claim to have stood higher than a plane flies yet we can. And still with our wings intact...just.

The climb was in aid of Hope for Children. A fantastic charity working across Africa, Asia and Europe who support: homeless, orphaned, poor and exploited children. Ed's Eagles were lucky enough to see the work they do when we visited a local project. Seeing those small, smiling faces is probably nothing new to those who read this, as they are shown constantly on charity adverts and other kind hearted people's photos. But you don't quite realise just how inspiring they are until you meet them; for all the words that I can write they come no where near the kind of words that would be fitting to those who are fighting life, yet full of it at the same time.

If you want to read about our visit you can do here: Mkombozi Visit
You can find out more about the charity here: Hope for Children

Perseus Evades Me

12th August.
Cold.
The wind whipped the face of a lone man.
Standing in the street, darkness swam all around him.
Rain hit his skin and face, as he looked up into the endless depths of the night sky.
Waiting.
The church started to strike midnight. The tower, a menacing figure on the skyline. It was ugly and knew that even if it were beautiful it would not compare with a shooting star.
For that was what he was waiting for. A glimpse of trailing light. His hope.

Every year he had done the same, and every year he failed. He did not know why he continued to try but something within him forced him to do it. His hope had turned to despair over the years. Constant ridicule from Perseus who continued to evade him.
The ground was damp. The tarmac glistened. The sound of traffic met his ears and he tried to close it from his mind; everything from his mind. Looking for peace. Tranquillity and equilibrium.

This universe is not in balance. Always shifting. A mystery of incomprehensible magnitude. Yet still we look up to the night sky, at the stars, believing we can find reason and understanding for our lives.

He waited.
Shooting stars still escaping him.
Although alone, he was not lonely. Far from it, cherishing his friends more than anything. His wish, in fact, was for one of those he loved. It was not an extravagant wish. Not for personal gain; nor of worthy acclaim. It was personal and he felt he was indebted.
A birthday wish.
Yet for all of his friends, he still lived for the moments he had alone. A time for reflection. Rarely in happiness...rarely out of depression.
But in this time he knew he would be accepted in whatever state he arrived in. When leaving his state may not be any different, sometimes it is worse but it is important all the same.
To confront the world, its misfortune and unforgiving nature. To battle the earth, sea & sky for answers.

Alone he stood.
Staring up at the sky.
For that shooting star.
To pass him by.
A wish at the tip of his tongue.

He closed his eyes, and let the entire world disappear.
Tonight was not his night, but one year he will see.
And his wish will be told. To grace the air with its words. And find their way to whom ever was the object of his hope and thinking.

London

My beginning attempts at a Sartorialistic future.
In London, on a hot day.
Loved the guys laid back demeanour, and the backdrop that fitted his clothes perfectly.

Body Lust

The summer is coming and beaches will be full of topless men; the fat, the flat, the toned and the mind bogglingly ripped guy who has just ruined your life. So why is there this craze about the perfect body? And what can be done about it?

The answer to the first question is probably not well known; Mark Wahlberg. If that name drop still leaves you lost do not fear, I shall explain.

Mark Wahlberg is known mostly for his acting career, with roles in: Boogie Nights, Planet of the Apes, The Italian Job, Max Payne and The Lovely Bones. Now none of these films scream out ‘I AM THE REASON FOR THE SIX PACK REVOLUTION’ but he is. In his youth Mark stole cars…repeatedly, on ‘TopGear’ he admitted stealing one man’s car about 14 times, and in one jail sentence decided that he would solely concentrate on working his abs and in 1992 Calvin Klein featured a billboard for their underwear which featured Mark exclusively – and so the lust for a six pack was born.
Now the ultimate body is thrown in our faces every time we enter a supermarket or newsagent, thanks to ‘Men’s Health’. However those greasy grooves and bulging biceps don’t always look like that; a possibility brought up by ‘The Times’ who recently published an article called ‘You, too, can’t have a body like this’. It goes on to talk about Daniel Martin, no stranger to a front cover shoot, who says that he has a routine that he follows before a photo-shoot; you would think that this would be 9 to 5 in the gym, protein shakes and then back to the gym yes? No. Well okay he needs to be ripped in the first place, but before the shoot he will stop exercise altogether for 48 hours and open a bottle of wine to drink alone. Then a ‘six-day carbohydrate-depletion diet, in which he eats little more than chicken and broccoli, leaves his muscles weak and his brain so starved of glycogen, its source of fuel, that he feels dizzy and disorientated when he stands up.’, leaving him barely able to walk. Martin says “I’ve been on castings for fitness magazines where there are six or seven models who are so groggy and out of it that they need to grab a chair to sit down and literally can’t speak.”
Yet all this doesn’t make much difference if you aren’t already in tip top condition.

Another masterpiece in the abdominal region was the film release of 300 in 2006, which depicted, not so truthfully but quite incredibly, Spartans in all their glory…which consists of no top and a sword. Gerard Butler was the King of Sparta in this epic film, and quite rightly as I don’t think anyone would want to mess with someone who was so unbelievably toned he scared me on screen! The casts training regime, it turns out, was quite rigorous. When I say quite – I mean like torture:

Pull-ups – 25 reps
Deadlifts with 60kg – 50 reps
Push-ups – 50 reps
24" box jumps – 50 reps
Floor wipers – 50 reps
Single-arm clean-and-press with 36lbs kettlebell – 50 reps
Pull-ups – 25 reps

It may not sound like much but you aren’t supposed to have a rest in between each exercise and these guys were completing it in less than 20 minutes. If the Spartans of old were as pumped up as the ones in the film I have no idea why the Persians tried to fight them, I think most sane people would have just let them be; all be it the Persian guy in the film is a big black man who claims he is a God – with an extremely amusing voice.

So who else is to blame? Too many to look at in detail…Diego Forlan gave us a great showing in the final and semi-final of the Europa League, other models, girls and mainly I think ourselves (because we want to impress the girls).

What can we do about it then? Well as a teenager that question varies. Many people believe that weightlifting in your teens will stunt your growth and cause damage to your bones etc. However this isn’t the case, training with weights will not stunt your growth yet it won’t be much benefit either unless you’re in the late stages of puberty. Even then though you are not at your best, as growth plates in arms and legs don’t fully fuse until about 21 so our bones are slightly weaker and more susceptible to injury…that doesn’t mean to say you will get injured though. This means that going to the gym is a viable option, but you need to be going to the gym for the right amount of time; 4 or 5 sessions a week for 2 hours are more is a definite no. A little bit everyday is likely to get you further than wasting your life in the iron room, in fact 2-3 intense sessions for approx. 45 minutes has been ‘proven’ to make you better in the sack…enough said there I think.
The next option is the supplements. ‘Maximuscle’ offer a humongous range of different shakes and powders and bars and drinks but overall which ones are best? And what are the cons?
Well ‘Maximuscle’ have done a fantastic job by saying that you need to buy something, yet you also need to buy this for after, this during, this before and this all the way through. For muscle building power though, you should know this from your Biology classes, you need protein and carbs. Lots and lots of the stuff; the recommended protein intake is 2g protein to every kg you weigh, so Protein shakes are probably the most easy obtainable and easy to use answer to your problems. You must be wary of the disadvantages though.
• Firstly, they quite often taste disgusting.
• They are also not recommended for anyone under 16 (same goes for all supplements, with age guidelines differing).
• They can cause bloating and gas
• If you don’t eat enough fibre then all that protein is going to make you run for those laxatives
• Dehydration, which can lead to kidney stones and that’s just unwanted pain
• Osteoporosis, which is weakening of bones making them more likely to be fractured and broken. So all your lifting could be doing more damage than good.
• It’s also been known to increase acne…and we do not want that.

So we have two options explored so far and to me they are the only two worth considering. Natural or supplements (in moderation). After these you get stupid options like steroids, which are banned from most sports and also I hate thought of putting anything in me that has so many disadvantages, check this website out for a list of the lovely things: http://www.musclenet.com/steroid.htm

Recently I also heard of a substance which is basically like glue, which is pumped into the muscle tissue to make it look as though it was huge. Although you wouldn’t gain strength you’d look pumped…literally! But the reason I heard about this substance was that it has been known to ‘pop’ and basically obliterate any muscle you did have. This makes me feel as though it’s another method to put aside – although reportedly it’s what our good old Governor of California, Terminator, Kindergarten Teacher Cop person used when he became; MR. UNIVERSE! You should see the photos; it’s quite disgusting most of the time.

So as I said at the beginning, the summer is coming and so many of us males are going to be made to feel inferior by the site of a peer looking like they were born to be the next John Claude Van Damme or to fight David Haye.
In my opinion, I would try and get ‘buff’ the natural way. Work intense routines that don’t last an age, do them regularly but not 24/7. We weren’t all designed to have a stomach like a Spartan, shoulders like a rugby player or pectorals like Arnie; thus we shouldn’t expect to get them. We also can’t expect to work out for a week and be too hot to trot, you need to be committed.

Remember though, not all girls’ legs quiver at the sight of a hot body and can you really be bothered to go to all the effort?!

The Question To Make A Girl Squirm

Do you masturbate?

You can immediately sense that the guy who asked is on the verge of a very immature break down. [ I say guy because a girl isn't really going to ask, is she?!] However at the same time as hoping the girl will admit that her fingers have gone- or go- exploring from time to time he also knows, although he doesn't really want to consider it, that he is unlikely going to get the response he desires; probably the most likely outcome will be along the lines of ' Eww, no!' (as a cover up to the truth, possibly) or 'What the Hell?!' which instantly puts the guy under pressure to come back with a respectable reply. If not, he can expect another thing...a slap. Two if he's in luck.

But why so defensive? If you asked a guy if he masturbates the answer is almost certainly going to be 'of course' as though it was a stupid question to ask in the first place. Which it is to be honest, but us humans can't help but be curious about the subjects we really shouldn't be curious about.
So why, then, are they defensive? well hints of shame and embarrassment I'm sure, and want for privacy too. Yet I bet that the majority (if not all) of girls who go to secondary school will have done the deed, but you never really know. Well, maybe apart from that one girl who loves the sound of her own voice and openly talks about her dildo or the rips she obtained from last weekend's booty call. Got to love that girl!

So female masturbation is a taboo currently left for the porn industry to exploit and give the horny teenage population a show, maybe even the adult one. In fact scratch that, definitely the adult one. [ Now that's another question to ask: have your parents done it? Have they spent some alone time locked away? It's a taboo I don't want to explore but another one of those things that you can't help but think about, until you shut it out of your mind forever and then...puke]
So back to the girls, why are you so quiet on the topic?

Self Respect.

That's only a theory, I mean I am a guy and I'm sure that it varies from person to person. But the shame in admitting it, a metaphorical piece of dirt that once you have acknowledged you will never scrub off, no matter how hard you try. You have to face it...you masturbate. So I guess with this shame and self-respect comes the difference between the lads and ladies. We don't really care (on the whole, there will be some exceptions) where as you girls do, which is very admirable.

However.

Maybe, just maybe, if every girl came out and said she did it then that gleam in the guy's eye would disappear. No longer finding it quite hot that a girl masturbates, just another to thing to accept in life. I mean can you girls honestly say you get turned on when you know a guy masturbates?! No, 'cause you know it happens, it's a part of life.

So I say just be done with it and say it. You might even get to see a few lads faint and that has to be some good blackmailing material for the future!

[not that I endorse that kind of thing or anything....]

So you think the world is going to end...

It is.

And apparently already has…on numerous occasions.

The second coming of Christ (this has been thought about a few times), nuclear war, large hadron collider, the end of the Mayan calendar and global warming. All of these – and many more – have been theories of how and when the world will end. Most of them, as you will know…considering you are reading this, have been absolute nonsense. Yet we are still fixated with predicting when we are going to fall into eternal doom and blackness because the world is going to implode because of some stupid reason or another.

I may make my own: that an ancient script depicted that a chicken inherited the powers of God because He had got high and thought that the human race was boring. The chicken then sneezed and blew the earth into smithereens. I think that has a good factual basis compared to most theories. In fact I may sell that to ‘The Sun’, I’m sure they’d love it; creating a really imaginative headline like: ‘Chicken to wipe out human race.’

Anyway, let’s have a look at these theories. Starting with Jesus, supposed to be a nice guy- right? Wrong. He has, apparently, ended the world 5 times (at least). Those dudes upstairs must really hate mankind; luckily their attempts have been as good as trying to get Gordon Brown to give our troops working helicopters…
I wonder how the people who came up with these ideas felt about their religion afterwards. “DAMN YOU GOD! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO KILL US ALL YESTERDAY! YOU LIED!” followed with “Sorry, sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to shout at you, please forgive me!”
One main problem with predicting the end of the world by The Rapture is that the amount of ridicule it would get is huge. Estimates are between 2-3 billion Christians world wide. So that leaves 4 billion at least of other religion or none at all and all the Christians who also think that what is being said is stupidity. Yet these crazy believers keep popping up thinking the world is going to end. I’ll feel sorry for anyone who ridicules the crazy guy who gets it right.

1665: The plague, again. This led into 1666 which people believed was the beginning of the end. For two reasons mainly: The great fire of London and because it was the year 1000 and 666 (he number of the beast) combined.
1000AD had already been a year that the end of the world had been predicted. Just because it was a magic number and also because the outbreak of heresies in France, Italy and the south west Med made some French guy think that Satan was going to unleash hell. So with this in mind, having the magic number 1000 plus the number of the beast, 1666 obviously had to be the end of the world. The great fire of London believed to be a mere insight to what Hell would entail.

In more recent times the Large Hadron Collider was put under scrutiny for the theory, from a scientist in Hawaii, that when they succeeded in creating the big bang a great big sucking black hole would eat up the world. This lead to people on the 9th of September 2008 going round saying: ‘Hey good looking. The world is going to end tomorrow…let’s have sex’. I don’t know how well it worked; I’m thinking not so well.
Like past predictions this one failed but not as badly as others. As in fact something did end…the use of the Collider- for a year- because it broke; even with its $9,000,000,000 budget.
So alas the world had still not come to an end. So it was time for a new theory to be developed and a lot of people to go get checked for STIs!

So now the most recent theory for our untimely demise is 2012. The end of the Mayan calendar. There are many thoughts surrounding this, with people believing that the worsening atmospheric state and economic decline are pre-cursors leading up to this apocalypse. An idea that a polar shift may take place, which entails north becoming south and vice versa, which apparently, is a very bad thing. Or a meteor crashing into the earth, weakening of the earth’s magnetic field or mans greed and corruption causing world war 3 which would of course be a nuclear one so no one actually had to do any fighting being the catalyst for our end.

However, I have another theory for this one. 2012 is also the date London hosts the Olympics. The government has been harassed over how we are going to create a mockery of this prestigious event and that we will never finish the construction in time and even if we do, we obviously won’t be able to compete with Beijing’s opening and closing ceremonies. And the athletes won’t be able to compete because Usain Bolt and Michael Phelps will be present. So I propose that the Olympic Committee have decided to blow the world up: so that no one else can complain, so that London can have the glory of being the last place to hold the Olympics and finally…

Because it would be the best fireworks display EVER.

My Land

I heard your voice in the dark.

Although loud and strong, it whispered to me.
You brought me from the depths of hell and torture,
I rose to the sound of the wind whirling
And of snow whitening the features of my land.
The bitter cold felt so natural,
Compared to the stench of rotting flesh of which I was caged.
My kind eyes searched for those of the warrior who saved me;

I asked of his land.
Of his home.
Of his heart.

Maybe, we are more alike than first thought.
Believing in freedom.
To roam free of this world.

I wandered the forests.
The moon like the Sun, shining through the trees of my land.

My land, taken from me.
With the fire of Gods,
The thunder that Thor's hammer blows.

That is the corruption of my land, that foreign Gods can reign my skies.
I searched with my cool breath,
For the free will of my mind,
My soul.

And to find the love I always had, with my land.