Climb Every Mountain

Here's a little nugget of self-awareness I've learnt this year: I'm no mountaineer.

Actually, I already knew that (some of you may remember the Ben Lomond incident) but I thought I couldn't get on the plane without having tried it all. Given it my all. Left no stone unturned. Pushed myself.

So I did. I agreed to climb 2,000m to the Mulange Plateaux. I knew it would be tough physically and it was, but I managed (just). But it was my fear that was the biggest problem. I don't like heights. I hadn't realised how much I don't like heights until I was nearly vomiting with fear having walked across a slippery waterfall 1m from the precipice. I knew my reaction wasn't normal when I looked up and saw my friends happily posing for photos on the other side.

A cajoled me the rest of the way and the views from the top were superb. The rats, the drop toilet and the shower (a room with a bucket) not so lovely. But fabulous evening with pals, sausages and marshmallows.

The way down was worse. I'd been awake half the night worrying about it, listening to the rain and wondering how full the rivers and waterfalls would now be. Very, it turns out. A didn't leave my side and our pal Arjan, who could see the tension in my jaw, was a trooper, walking behind me, grabbing and heaving as necessary.

I spent most of the decent on my bum, sliding and slipping over the rocks. I got back across the waterfall (now a raging torrent, I exaggerate not) very inelegantly clinging to the rocks, shaking my head and being heaved out of the water. A then pointed out that I had ripped my trousers and my backside was 'hingin oot'. I cared not a jot. That's how much I was consumed with getting down in one piece. "Everyone can stare at my grazed bum all they want, so long as I get off this bloody mountain" were, I believe, my exact words.

It was my first real case of one step at a time, don't think about it, mind over matter. People do this for fun at the weekends, it's really not that bad but for me it was a big deal. I see it as this year in miniature, breathing, keeping calm, carrying on, relying on others.

And now I'm back. I can barely walk and still want to cry when I think about it, but I did it. There, done.

F x