So, I made it. Just.

The whole thing was ridiculous. Kili is both beautiful and brutal.

I'd like to pretend I just waltzed up to the top without so much as a hair out of place. Buuuutttttttttt, the truth is a little messier than that. It wasn't half as bad as I thought it would be - probs mainly because I didn't spend the whole climb throwing up/with diarrhoea.

It was hella dustier than I ever imagined tho - I didn't get a tan, just layers, upon layers, upon layers of dust and dirt. My fingernails have never been so black and broken. Literally black - like I'd just come up to the surface from a coal mine. I missed flushing toilets and running water more than cake and wifi. And I have never loved and loathed hand sanitiser so much. Love because hello 99.9% of germs killed. Loathed because you know it's the remaining 0.01% that'll kill ya/give you explosive diarrhoea.

It was worth it though. Kili is beyond beautiful. And I actually miss it.

I was fortunate enough to climb with this random collection:Couldn't have asked for better and couldn't have made it without them. Nothing binds a group of strangers together like discussing how often you've been to the toilet and how long you spent in there - and given that we were sharing one toilet this was quite important intel.

And we literally couldn't have made it without our amazing 5 guides and 34 porters.

The porters are ridiculous. Not only do they carry food, tables, chairs, tents and everything else we needed for mountain life but they carry the bulk of it on their heads - that's around 15kg balanced on their head. We'd leave camp in the morning while they were still packing up and at some point in the next hour or two they'd overtake us and by the time we reached the next camp our tents were up and food was cooking. Most days I could barely walk and talk at the same time. I have never felt more privileged in all my life.

I know what you're thinking - "Rach, this is sounding like a 5 star hiking trip. Someone else carried most of your stuff, put up your tent and cooked your dinner. All you had to do was walk. How hard could it be?"

To be honest the first 6 days were ok,  hard work fo sure but manageable - just. Summit Night (aka The Dark Night of My Soul) was something else though.

I was fortunate enough to not suffer from Altitude Sickness and so my biggest worry each day was looking for suitable trees/rocks/bushes to pee behind when we weren't at camp. Which as we got higher and higher into barren rocky wasteland got harder and harder to find - and when you're trying to drink 2-3 litres of water a day this is not helpful. Maybe Freud got something right, penis envy is real.

One of the most surprising things was how quickly I adjusted to walking slower than a tourist on Oxford Street. In normal life I NEVER walk that slowly, it's physically impossible. I have places to be and I intend to get there as swiftly as possible - but on Kili it was impossible to walk any faster, you just can't do it. A lack of oxygen or something I guess.

Life back at sea level has been great.  I am still marveling/rejoicing at being able to wash my hands multiple times a day and flushing toilets also still seem like a luxury.

As ever, donations for Refugee Support Network can be made here. Thank you wonderful people!

Tune in next week for Kilimanjaro Diaries Part 1!