This time next week, we’ll be most of the way through a day that takes us up to Kikilewa Caves, an altitude of 3,450m and a temperature of about 10 degrees Celsius. Hopefully, the terrain will be kind to our feet and we’ll get to this point feeling nicely energized for the next stage, the climb up into the really thin air and cold temperature, and on the shale rocks!
I can’t tell you how excited we all are, and after a great weekend of strategizing, planning, messing about, we are itching to go! I’d be lying if I said I was not also very anxious about the cold, the terrain and the altitude. It’s my “job” to manage those risks and it’s three things that keep me up at night. I explained these potential problems a little in my previous post, and most of the last week has been spent finalizing the plans of how to conquer each one.
Cold: Not an endurance test
It’s the cold that is the biggest challenge. As someone has said, “Cold is not an endurance test, it is physiology”. And my personal story, in this last week, has been the realization of this brutal truth. Endurance athletes are used to pushing through their “limits”, of toughing it out. When it comes to the cold, pushing through is dangerous, pure and simple, as I discovered last week…
An adventure in frostbite
Let me start at the beginning…and perhaps give you some insight into the process of preparation, the way my mind is working through the problems, and the “scientific experiment” that this trip will become for all of us!
My involvement with the team is that of a scientist. My job, I guess you could say, is to figure out all the reasons we might fail, and then figure out how to eliminate and overcome them! It was in November that I sat down with Matt to discuss the possibility of coming on the trip, and it was then that the wheels in my head began turning. Firstly, I was going to do it in shoes, given that I’d have only 6 weeks to get my feet ready. However, I want to “FEEL” this trip, not just think about it, and so I decided to see if it’s possible to do it barefoot myself. A personal challenge.
But my priority remains the team, and getting the first barefoot climber to Africa’s highest point. That’s clear and so I’ll pull shoes on immediately if my feet threaten to compromise my role with this team. The first thought, for most people, is that it’s impossible. Mine is exactly the opposite – my first thought was “This is doable”, and then I start thinking of why it WON’T succeed! Once you know this, then you can work on plans to avoid them, and so the biggest issue that has concerned me in the last month is working out a schedule of how long we can be exposed to the cold temperatures before we have to stop, warm our feet and continue. So these are the questions:
1. What is the temperature on Kili – how low, and for how long?
2. What is the likely time of exposure each day?
3. How do we break up this time into safe walking periods? How long can we walk, how long does it take to warm up, and what’s the best way to warm up our feet?
So, answer time…
We know that the temperature at the bottom will be very mild – around 20oC, and it drops progressively as we climb (those of you who did high school geography will recall the Environmental Lapse Rate of 0.65oC per 100m of ascent). So we cool as we climb. The temperature hits freezing at about 4,800m, and drop to about -5oC at the summit. Factoring in wind chill, we are in frostbite territory from about 4200m upwards. Frostbite, meanwhile, is nothing to mess around with. It begins as frostnip, which is superficial and doesn’t involve actual freezing of the tissues, but just ice crystals on the skin. This is pretty harmless – not very pleasant, but if you warm up soon enough, the skin is back to normal, and the worst you get is a feeling a lot like chilblains.
If frostnip is not nipped in the bud (or toe, so to speak), then it progresses to first degree frostbite, where the tissue freezes. More on this later…! This is followed by Stage 2 frost-bite, where blisters form as a result of frozen superficial tissue. Then comes Stage 3 and 4 frostbite, which you’ve probably seen in horror pictures where tissue turns black as a result of cell death. If you get there, it’s a bad day out, and so really, it is essential that we stay at the frost-nip stage as an absolute worst-case scenario.
So now comes the “How”? As I mentioned in my last post, the folks at Cape Union Mart have allowed us access to their cold room, and that’s where I’ve been heading three times a week to test myself, and see what is doable. The first time I went, I spent 45 minutes at -18 degrees. Unbelievably cold, but it was doable if I stopped every 5 minutes and warmed my feet up for a few minutes. I also found that every 10 or so paces, I had to stop and rub each foot against my pants (we’ll call this move the “Flamingo rub”). It was very uncomfortable at this cold temperature, and I would not want to do that for 7 hours (which is what will be needed), and nor is it possible. However, this was at -18, much colder than Kilimanjaro. An encouraging start.
The next visit, I had the room at -10 degrees, and spent an hour, this time walking for 10 minutes and warming for 5 minutes. That too was doable, with no risk. The thing that worried me at this stage was that I was walking on cardboard that had been laid on the floor. But then last Thursday, I got into my head that the key factor that will determine success or failure on this trip is going to be the ground temperature, and not actually the air temperature. That’s because we lose far more heat as a result of direct contact with a solid surface than because of air flow – to conceptualize this, imagine holding your hand above a hot plate, and then think about touching it – which is worse? Heat transfer from solid to solid is huge, and so in terms of our feet, the ground temperature is going to be critical.
So then I start thinking “what if the cardboard is too warm? What if the ground on Kili is colder, then our testing is not realistic?” I needed to test this on a colder surface. So the next morning, I headed back and tried to spend 40 minutes walking around on the steel floor at -5 degrees. The ground was unbelievably cold, and though I actually felt fairly comfortable, the damage had been done. I came out of the chamber, and inspected the bottom of my feet, and saw waxy white patches where direct ground-foot contact had been made. That’s a sign of frostbite, and the circulation wasn’t returning despite warming. Another 30 minutes later, the pain began as the blood flow returned, and the skin was beginning to blister. Warm water, warm blankets, everything was done to re-warm the tissues, but I was too late, and I’d developed first to second degree frostbite. A doctor’s assessment, two days of bed rest, a world of pain later, and I’ve now finally, I’m pleased to say, I have discovered the limit and seen firsthand what frostbite looks like!
The important (and potentially scary) lessons
I’d love to tell you that I did it to “take one for the team”. And yes, there is a silver lining to all this, as I’ll explain. But the reality is that I crossed the line by accident, and discovered not only what frostbite looks like, but how it feels. The most startling thing for me in this was that I didn’t feel it coming. On my first three testing days, I had formulated a plan that was based on pain and tolerance – at those very cold temperatures walking on cardboard, the pain of the cold was an early enough signal to force me to warm my feet up. Therefore, if I just listened to my body, I’d warm up BEFORE I ever entered danger areas.
But on this occasion, that signal never arrived. In fact, I felt great on the steel floor. I even had feeling in my feet and could feel the uneven patches and textures on the floor. Meanwhile, I was developing mild frostbite. So that’s a wake-up call, and it compels us to rely on frequent visual observation rather than perception. It was also a stark reminder that any frost-bite means the end of the expedition, for two reasons – one is that once you develop frostbite, you can’t thaw the tissue if there is any risk of it freezing again. So if you get it, you have to descend to warmer temperatures and then stay there. Secondly, the pain I experienced in the 48 hours after this occurred was so severe that I couldn’t walk normally. In fact, for the first 24 hours, I had to crawl to get around, I could not put any weight on my feet. If that happens at 5,200m and we’re 30km from home, it’s a bad day out for everyone.
So the alarm bell has been rung, and I’m now wiser about the steps that need to be taken to avoid this. In that sense, then, last Friday may prove to be a crucial day for our expedition. That plan now consists of the following: 7 minutes of walking, followed by a 3-minute “warming period”. We have tested this at colder temperatures, on a colder surface than the mountain, and it is doable. 7 minutes seems to be short enough to allow rapid re-warming, but it’s also long enough that we can cover ground, because we can’t afford to be hiking for 13 hours to cover 7km! These 10 minute blocks are repeated 6 times, taking an hour, which is followed by a 15 minute rest to fully re-warm the feet. The idea is that when we start again after this 15 min break, we are back at “baseline”. I’m confident that this will work – we’ve tested it on all the team members, I found it worked at -10 degrees, I know that we can stay below the limit that causes problems, all of which I can trace it back to my own experiences on Friday 13th!
As for what this means for me, my feet have almost recovered, five days later. I lost a valuable few days of training, and so my feet, which were not quite ready to begin with, didn’t get what they needed this week. Also, the areas where the skin was “bitten” by the cold have been burned off a little, so my skin is now much thinner. I’m now worried a little about the surface, and blisters on my “baby feet”. But that is a problem that I’ll only learn about on the mountain, one week from now. In terms of the cold, though, I’m about as happy as I can be about our plan. It’s a great unknown, and all we can do is plan for the worst, and hope for the best. As I say, perhaps THE key factor is going to be the temperature of the ground. If the African sun can work its magic, and get that ground temperature to above 0 degrees, then our job, at least from the cold perspective, becomes much, much easier! Time will tell! We’re all extremely excited, and thank you all for your great support.
Don’t forget to donate to the Red Cross Children’s Hospital cause! And believe in the impossible!
Greg Morton
Great article! My friend and I are following this story closely, and frost-bite was a major topic this past weekend as we discussed your team’s chances of success. I hope your experience helps put the team in the position you all need to be in to stay safe. Getting up the mountain is only half the battle, getting down is the important part. Much luck, and stay safe!!
Lizelle Steyn
Another great article, Ross. Thanks for all the scientific and interesting insights that you have shared so far. Will be thinking of you guys a lot next week!
Hedley Young
Ross what a legend! So chuffed you will be on the slopes with us in this adventure – articles like this give me the added confidence one needs on a trip of this nature
John Fleming
Good luck with your climb, in a most noble cause. There is, however, a saying, that one should respect all mountains; and I’m not sure that attempting to climb Kili barefoot is either respectful or sensible. So take special care. Unless there is a real point to the risk of messing up the rest of your life – such as one of a scientific nature – then let me suggest that there are very real risks involved, and ignored at your peril.
I have climbed Kili twice. On the first trip, three pairs of rugby socks and a pair of army boots were totally inadequate foot protection against the cold. You could have driven a steamroller over my feet, and I would have felt nothing, they were so frozen. My father climbed Kili three times. On his second climb, he painfully lost all his toenails due to the extreme cold.
In my experience, I believe you may be underestimating both the temperature, and the effect of high altitude exertion. On my second trip – properly dressed – I measured the temperature constantly, and unless global waming has changed things drastically since 1992, the temperature from the top hut to the summit at 5895m during the whole of the final ascent was in the -15C to -20C range. Re-check your temperature calculation using the summit height of 5895m, and I think you will come to a temperature of about -18.3C. before wind chill, which can be a major factor, as strong winds are not uncommon towards the summit. A water bottle left in front of a fire the night of the final ascent, was a solid block of ice within 60 minutes of climbing. It is questionable as to whether you will have the energy at high altitude to stop and do the feet warm ups you describe, as the oxygen available will be almost half that of sea-level, and its effect may not have been factored into your training stints and calculations. It is questionable as to whether your numbed feet will be able to feel any damage that might be done to them by the volcanic ash rocks, in their numbed or frozen state. It must also be borne in mind that high altitude and the resulting lack of oxygen can sometimes causes people to act irrationally, and to enter a state of denial. Failure to do what your guides tell you is right, could be fatal. They are experienced in reading warning signs of the state of well-being of their climbers.
I hope the above comments – intended constructively – will assist your thinking, and I will follow your climb with interest.
Ross T
Hi John
THank you for the comments. I take them as you intend them. HOwever, I would disagree that it’s disrespectful to the mountain to attempt this. I mean, when you write “ignore risks at your peril”, nothing could be further from the truth. We’ve done all we can from this side to minimize them, we’re aware of them, and we’ll avoid them. If it doesn’t work out, we’ll just put shoes on and finish the expedition that way.
I think had the team never bothered to test the cold, never spent 6 months training barefoot to toughen their feet up, then fine, they’re being reckless. But we have South Africa’s best and most experienced Mountaineer leading the trip and acting as a guide. At the risk of being presumptuous, they asked me to get involved from a scientific point of view, and not to throw my CV out here, but I did part of my PhD on exercise in extreme environments (specifically heat), but I was a physiologist on the South African Everest summit for Alex Harris, and also worked as the physiologist for Lewis Pugh’s first polar swim, so when it comes to cold and extreme altitude, I’m very, very aware of the problems associated with altitude and cold. I remember with Alex Harris, we simulated an ascent and got him up to 9000m, oxygen sats of about 58% and then he fainted. It was a startling lesson, similar to the one I learned about frostbite, because he had no idea he was in “danger”. So that lesson kind of stayed with me, and I know that by the time we hit 4000m, we’ll have some big decisions to make, and we’ll know what can or can’t be done. It’s not a blind insistence on reaching the summit!
As this post reveals, I’ve even experienced the problems for myself. So I’m aware of all that you’ve written – the altitude, the mental function, the cold. We know about the terrain and the sharp rocks, and we feel that we are prepared for that. At this stage, I’d describe myself as “confidently anxious”, because I feel that we’ve done all that we can to isolate the “failure factors” and to overcome them. But of course, we’ll never really know what we will face until we face it. THere is much cause for optimism, however. I’ve written a lengthy article on my website describing the three problems you described, and some of the reasons why I am optimistic in the face of the challenge: http://www.sportsscientists.com/2012/01/barefoot-kilimanjaro-challenge.html
Just on the temperature, I aprpeciate your experience (I’ve heard many testimonies like yours). But just to respond: I’m not making a “temperature calculation” when I say it’s -5 at the top. That’s what it is. It has been for the last month, I’ve been tracking the weather reports since mid December. So it’s not a calculation, it’s a measurement. If you did want to do a calculation, then you can use the Environmental Lapse Rate of 0.65deg/100m, and the fact that it’s 30 degrees at the bottom in Moshi, and estimate that it’ll be -6 at the top. But as I say, why calculate it when you have a measurement? Maybe it’s a time of year thing, I don’t know.
Also, if you go onto YouTube and find videos of summits done in Jan and Feb, you’ll see that about one-third of the climbers DON’T wear gloves on the summit. Similarly, Google earth has pictures at 4500m and higher, and maybe instances are notable for the lack of gloves being worn. For example, check this video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MjZH6CfKLxE The guy runs up, wearing shorts and a single long-sleeved top. No head covering, no gloves. And yes, he’s running and so generating enormous heat, but I’ve run and exercised at -10 and -15 degrees celsius, and the extremities get incredibly cold regardless of how fast you run. Yet he doesn’t wear covering, and he doesn’t cover himself up at the summit. It just cannot be -18C in this case. Neither do his support team, who are waiting at the summit for him. This says to me that the addition of sunlight makes it much, much warmer. You’ll also notice the complete lack of ice on the ground. So I’m quite confident that the temperature may be -5 or even -10 with the wind, but if the sun heats the ground, and if we’re able to keep our metabolic rates high, then I do think it is doable.
Also, re the altitude, you’re right, and it will be difficult. But “difficult” is not a synonym for “impossible” and we’re all very, very aware of what we’re faced with. I’m certainly not under-estimating the challenge – I would point out that I even got frostbite testing the limits, so serious am I about making sure that we are clear on the mountain. I will spend every ounce of energy, even to the point that I’ll compromise the success of my own summit, to make sure that I do not see a case of frostbite. It’s all about prevention, not treatment, and that’s the goal.
I guess the bottom line is that we’re going to do our best, but if we fail, then fine. We’ll put shoes on and go on. The guides are good, everyone is very respectful of what we face, and so now we just have to give it our best shot. And maybe, just maybe, one person at least will succeed. Or maybe all of us. We’ll only know this after Jan 29th (summit day)
But your testimony is welcome, and it’s valuable as a reminder not to get ahead of ourselves. We are all optimistic, but not naive, thanks to these kinds of “warnings”, which I can only assure you we can enormous heed of! So thanks very much, for the information and for the support, and let’s hope for the African sun to burn us warm and for great weather, smooth paths and no altitude sickness!
Ross
John Fleming
Hi Ross,
I am relieved to hear that the expedition is in such good hands, and sorry if any disrespect was shown to your CV, as none was intended. Both of my climbs were done in July (not winter on the Equator, but similar to January except for the possibility of January rains ?). My first climb was in 1959, but only one of our party of 21 reached Uhuru Peak. Young and fit as I was, I climbed too quickly each day, and went down with altitude sickness on the final ascent, but I also became only too aware that I was totally under-dressed for the extreme cold. I was determined to rectify that failure, but it took me 33 years to do so.
In 1992, immediately following the lifting of travel bans, I became the first South African (by one day) to travel to Tanzania to climb Kili. At that time, there was no-one around to arrange a tour from South Africa, and I went on my own, determined not to make any of the mistakes made 33 years earlier. Pole, pole (slowly, slowly), lots of water, and the best and warmest of clothing and footwear. It snowed from 4500m on the afternoon of the 3rd day, and the winds were very strong. I lost a glove on the final ascent, blown away by the wind, but fortunately it was recovered by my guide. There is no doubt that I was minutes away from aborting the climb when that happened, the temperature being close to -20C at the time. The route between Gillman’s Point and Uhuru Peak was completely and in places deeply covered in snow, as was just about all of the crater floor, unlike photos today, which hardly ever seem to show any snow. That alone, would have been a whole new problem for barefoot climbers. However, the moment that the sun rises, one’s whole mental approach changes. One can see where one is going, and one does indeed warm up very quickly.
There is no question that sunlight makes an enormous temperature difference on Kili, but on a normal ascent, one usually commences the final ascent at or before midnight with the intention of arriving at the summit in time for sunrise. So it does not surprise me to see a runner in the middle of a sunny day arriving without gloves. It does surprise me that he had no head gear, as one can get extremely burnt at altitude.
In any event, my best wishes to you and your team for a safe and enjoyable climb.
John
Ross T
Hi John
Please, no need to apologize, the more information we have going into this, the better. Knowledge is power, and so testimonies like this are very valuable to the success of the trip.
From the reading, it seems that your two attempts were in the coldest part of the year – I have no doubt that if this was mid-June or July, then our ambition would indeed be impossible. The summit in Jan and Feb has very little snow on it, and it’s certainly much warmer than it was for your two trips. As I say, if it snows, we’re pretty much doomed as far as going barefoot goes.
The altitude and speed of ascent are the other things that you’ve mentioned that I’ll take particular heed of. It’s going to be tough – the guys are young and competitive and will charge on ahead, but we’ll have to be very disciplined about this.
The two differences with your trip, to allay both those concerns, are:
1) Matt and Sean designed a route that gives us an additional day of acclimatization PLUS a day where the altitude changes by only 400m. So on Day 3, we arrive at Mawenzi Tarn, and Day 4 takes to Kibo, which is only 400m higher. So this is basically a “buffer” day. THen day 5 is a rest day, where we will put shoes on and walk up as high as we can, both to help us adapt to altitude, and also to scout the climb for the next day, before returning to Kibo. So these 2 days should hopefully help us adapt, because that final day is going to take a monster effort of fitness (and performance), so we really do need to be sharp and healthy for it.
2) We will not begin our summit at night. We’ve planned to leave Kibo at around 9am, to allow the sun to heat the ground a little.
With luck (that is, good weather), those two factors will help us on summit day.
In terms of the ground, the speed of walking is also crucial. I’ve been doing a great deal of walking barefoot in forests with gravel paths, and walking at a speed of 2 min per 100m is very, very difficult. Walking at 3 min per 100m is doable, and walking at 5 min per 100m is more of a mental challenge than a physical one.
On Kili, that final day is probably done at around 7 to 9 min per 100, and that means that (hopefully) the effect of those sharp stones will be minimized. This is perhaps my biggest concern, along with the cold, but really, there are 3 things, and each one is “waiting” to get us. If we manage ourselves very carefully, show great discipline and stay focused on the plan we’ve set up, then I think it’s possible to do this. But as I say, I’m “confidently anxious”.
Thanks for your thoughts and ideas, and for your support! Let’s hope for the best!
Ross
John Fleming
Hi Ross,
To expand a little further on points raised by you.
I would have expected the January and July temperatures to be almost identical, as the sun would be almost identically overhead on the equator at this time of year. The extra rest day is a huge bonus. Most people don’t have that luxury, due to the costs involved. However, where it was included, it was normally taken at about the Horombo hut height, with an excursion towards Mawenzi and back on the rest day. I mentioned that only 1 of our party of 21 reached Uhuru in 1959. I was first in at the camp site each day (recipe for disaster); and the only one of our party to reach Uhuru, moaned all the way, and was the last one to reach camp each day. (There’s a lesson here somewhere, which I eventually learnt!)
Kibo is the height at which the big headaches and nausea can start kicking in, and to be honest, one does not readily look to do any unnecessary activity. Sleeping and breathing don’t come easily, and one’s desire to eat is lacking. The final ascent from Kibo to the crater rim could be likened to climbing on roller bearings at an angle of 45 degrees, rather than a regular path; and I am utterly amazed at the 9.00am start, other than for the reason of the warmer ground temperatures. Very often the weather deteriorates later in the day, and the guides are known to be wary of this. For this reason, they refused to take my father from Gillman’s to Uhuru on his second attempt, even though it was only 8.00am. I can’t really comment on the speed, as everyone may well have a different speed , depending on how they are feeling, and how they are coping with the altitude. At one stage of my 1992 trip, I could only manage 10 paces with a minute stop in between to get enough oxygen back into the blood. That day lasted 21 hours and was the most exhausting of my life.
I hope you make it, and by the way, if you do – give my regards to my father. I scattered his ashes on the summit; so he in fact went up 4 times and not 3.
John