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Bring Me Sunshine...

Submitted by An Outdoor Idiots Team Member.



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The local mountain forecast the next morning told us what we were in for. Dehydration was listed as a hazard. It was going to reach up to 32°C in the valleys. There was going to be very little wind (up to a maximum of 10mph). There was going to be no cloud. And temperatures would reach, to quote the forecast, "an exceptional 25°C at 900 metres". This really was exceptional for Snowdonia. I couldn't help thinking of Mount Kilimanjaro. Kilimanjaro, unlike Everest, is the kind of big mountain that even mere mortals can hope to straddle, if they put their mind to it. It sounds like a good trip. But I've always assumed that I wouldn't be able to hack it, on account of the temperature. The summit sounds fine, with temperatures ranging from -10°C to 20°C. That sounds like my kind of territory. But it's the start that puts me off. Until someone has the sense to move it, the bottom of Mount Kilimanjaro will remain attached to Africa, and that means it gets hot. Temperatures at the bottom average around 30°C. This was firmly in my mind as we were about to set off, in even hotter conditions.

There was some method lying somewhere among the madness. The route chosen would pass at least two reliable sources of water (fairly large lakes), including one just before the very steep ascent to the summit. And choosing to take a ridge to the summit should mean we were exposed to as much of the scarce breeze as possible. The last hour of the walk, after we had descended from the summit, would be in a forest, which would provide the shade that we would no doubt be desperate for by then. But before that, there would be no guarantee of respite from the sun's rays.

I didn't use sunblock - I gave up on that years ago. In spite of what is sometimes written on packets, I have found no sunblock that can withstand my extraordinary rate of sweating in hot weather for more than about five minutes. I was fully clothed, with a long-sleeved shirt that had huge vents and a high SPF rating, designed for days like this. I wore a hat with a fairly wide brim. I had drunk a fair amount of water before we set off. I had eaten a meal the night before with plenty of salt in it. I had eaten a good breakfast. I was carrying a lot of water. I had put a bit of thought into the route. We had even been out the day before to verify that we could handle the heat. Get me, and my cautious mountaineering know-how. Nothing could possibly go wrong. I had even refrained from alcohol for the last three days - this was the ultimate sacrifice as far as I was concerned, and was a clear sign of my determination to make things work today.

The walk began immediately with an uphill slog. I was sweating profusely within minutes of starting. Wearing a hat on a hot day when expending energy is a bit of a mixed blessing. It certainly prevents sunburn. It also prevents your head being baked by the sun. A hat is perfect if you are sitting still. But of course if you are exercising and sweating, it also hinders the evaporation of sweat, and the loss of your own body heat, from your head. It's a bit of a balancing act. What I find works tremendously well with my cotton hat, is to keep it as wet as possible. If there is no water supply available for this purpose, then I use the sweat from my head. I'll take if off, rub the top of it into my head, then put it back on again. This makes a huge difference. I presume what is happening is that a lot of the heat from the sun, and possibly from my own head, is then used up in evaporating the water in the hat. On this occasion I found I had to do this about every five minutes - the intensity of the heat causing the hat to go from wet to bone dry in that time.

Just in case the idea of a hat going from wet to bone dry in five minutes doesn't get across how hot it was, I'll mention this, too: We had reached the first lake in about an hour or so. The following conversation took place:

"Right then, we can drink as much as we like here, and I'll refill the bottles," I said.

"Okay," she said.

"Oh. Ah." I said.

I wasn't really sure what to say. I had just reached into my rucksack for the water filter, turned around, and witnessed my walking partner march straight into the lake, with her clothes on. I had noticed her looking at it lustfully as we approached it, but only now did I realise what she had in mind. It was a hot day.

A water filter is a good thing to have in the middle of a heatwave, when water sources are likely to be limited. I wouldn't have been too happy to just throw in a chlorine tablet to treat the water from that lake. It had a blanket of insects on top of it, some dead, some alive and some confused. Below the surface it was also full of visible organic gunk, and tadpoles. It was also, at that point, full of my walking partner, and she is not one to be trusted on matters of hygiene. Anything could have been happening under the surface, and I didn't like the look on her face. Filter AND chlorine for this one, I thought.

I refrained from walking into the lake myself, since I felt this was simply not the done thing for any self-respecting Englishman. I did, however, dunk my shirt and my hat in the lake before we moved on. It was a good feeling, to now be walking in cold, soaking clothes, compared to what we had been experiencing in the first hour or so. It would also hopefully give our bodies a bit of a break from having to sweat, and so should put us in a better stead for the rest of the walk. It was a great idea, for each of the eleven minutes that it lasted. Then we were back to square one, with bone dry clothes, except for the patches that our bodies were filling with sweat. Did I mention it was a hot day?

We finally reached the foot of the steep climb to the summit. We had a good rest there. The previous day, my walking partner had introduced me to the delights of tinned fruit. Tinned fruit is normally an abomination. But in the middle of that intensely hot previous day, as an escaped piece of recently-tinned pineapple entered my gullet, I had become an instant convert. It was the ideal thing for carrying in hot weather. Better than fresh fruit, even, on account of the huge amount of liquid present. So I had got some small tins for this walk. The tins had ring-pulls on, making them very convenient. The fruit was in juice, not syrup, making it much more refreshing. I had a tin as we rested. Mandarin, I chose. I'd save the Pear till later. It had been Pineapple the day before. I hope you are taking notes. I can honestly say that hot weather somehow turns a tin of Mandarin segments from being an abomination into being the best thing imaginable. I was feeling invincible by the time we set off up the ridge.









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