"Day One. This Isn't So Bad."

I owe everyone an apology. I spent twelve weeks catastrophising about this mountain and I am here to tell you that day one of the Lemosho Route is, and I say this with genuine affection, absolutely gorgeous.

We entered the rainforest at Londorossi Gate and I want to be clear: this is not hiking. This is walking through one of the most extraordinarily beautiful places on earth, at a pace so gentle it barely qualifies as exercise, surrounded by enormous trees draped in moss, whilst birds call from somewhere above the canopy and your only job is to put one foot in front of the other and not trip over a root.

Pole pole, the guides say. Slowly slowly. It is the Kilimanjaro mantra and on day one it feels almost comically unnecessary. I wanted to stride out. To make progress. To demonstrate to the mountain that the twelve weeks of training had produced a capable, efficient hiking machine.

Zidane watched me with the patient expression of a man who has seen this before. 'Pole pole,' he said again, gently, and fell back into the easy rhythm that I would come to understand is not laziness but wisdom.

The porters passed us on the trail carrying loads that made my 12kg pack feel embarrassing. They moved with an ease and efficiency that was genuinely humbling. I got one of them to sign my water bottle. He found this very funny. I don't care. I am keeping the bottle forever.

Camp that evening was extraordinary. Tents pitched on a ridge, cloud below us, the world gone quiet in that particular way that only happens when you are properly, genuinely away from everything.

Someone made tea. Someone else produced biscuits. We sat in comfortable silence and watched the light change on the mountain above us.

Day one. I am fine. More than fine. I am, quietly and unexpectedly, completely happy. Don't tell my partner I'm enjoying myself this much. She'll never let me book another one.

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