On cloud nine

Imagine standing on the top of Mount Uhuru, as Kilimanjaro's summit is more properly called. Imagine having spent well over Lm2,000 to get there, having trained intensely and excruciatingly for months, having climbed for almost a week in constant rain. Imagine dragging yourself to the top one painful and belaboured step at a time.

And then fainting.

The two people with Joanna * looked at each other and stood on either side of her unconscious frame, propping her up, with goggles on, and took a photo of her near the "Congratulations!" sign that greets you at the summit. They then ran down with her to lower altitudes.

She doesn't remember anything about getting there but at least she has a photo to prove that she made it.

These are the kinds of story that make Kilimanjaro Challenge 3 (KC3) a little bit more than just another fundraising event. It is not easy to raise Lm45,000 but there are easier ways of doing it than climbing a mountain.

Maria Vella-Galea admits that there were times when she wondered why she was putting herself through such an ordeal.

"But failure was not an option. I would have been so disappointed if I had not made it to the top. And I do not regret one moment, no matter how good or bad that moment was!"

KC3 started off with 28 people interested, including Alec Sultana, who had to drop out for work reasons.

Eighteen of them eventually flew into Kilimanjaro airport and on to their hotel at the base of the mountain, where they were joined by nine guides as well as porters and cooks. The group numbered 56 when it eventually set off. Stephen, the lead guide, had already been in charge of KC2.

Things did not start well and according to some of the participants earlier this week, they went downhill from there. The first setback was finding out that three people had died on the mountain that same day, driving home the reality of the danger they might face.

They set off in a truck to their departure point but had to stop because the rain had churned the road into mud. Their first steps were taken in a constant and demoralising drizzle. They were told it was a half-hour walk. Three-and-a-half hours later, when they finally arrived at their first camp, they were cold, wet, hungry and tired.

The morning was not much better. They began to realise what it meant to live in tents, being given a bowl of lukewarm water every morning to share between two. They washed quickly, worried that the porters might walk in at any time, ready to hurry them up and get ready.

"There were other groups doing the climb at the same time, so the porters were always anxious to get going early so that they could get the best camping grounds," Ian Cremona, at 22, the youngest of the group, said.

The toilet was a hole in the ground and the pills they were taking to counteract altitude sickness made them want to pee several times a night. They soon realised that it was easier to use a cut water bottle than to get dressed and leave the tent.

"It was really smelly too but the view was great," Adele Muscat laughed, showing some of the spirit that kept them all going.

The food was fabulous, especially given the conditions. In spite of the fact that the porters had to carry everything - and without any refrigeration - they were served meat every day.

"It is probably better not to think about how they kept it all fresh!" Adele said.

Eggs were packed in straw and carried in a tin and sausages and bacon ensured a good start to the day's trek.

"We were ravenous. They actually had to send the porters back for more food. I think we were all so careful about what we ate while we were training that we made up for it," Maria smiled.

"You are supposed to lose your appetite at that altitude. Not us," Adele added.

Some of them took treats with them - Twistees predominated - but found that they did not get through the chocolate they took along to boost their energy.

"I think that this is quite common as once we got back to the bottom, there were children everywhere waiting for us with hands outstretched, knowing that we would give it to them!" Maria laughed.

They celebrated New Year's Eve at camp, wearing decorated chenille hats that they then gave to the porters.

"There we were, having spent hundreds of liri on equipment and shoes and clothing - and the porters were wearing the sort of thing you pick up from the monti!" Carmel Hili said. By the end, some of the group had resorted to wearing plastic bags outside their socks in a desperate attempt to keep their feet dry.

Morale picked up, despite the rain. Ian recalls the Barranco Wall, a vertical cliff face.

"Some of us were a bit concerned, especially those who were afraid of heights. But it all went very well. It was simply unforgettable to see some 100 people from various groups, zig-zagging up, like colourful ants," he said.

They had to sign in at each camp and the lads started adding their own comments. The girls' professions were given a twist.

"They wrote that we were undertakers! And strippers for the blind!" Maria and Adele giggled.

By then, however, the altitude was turning even simple things like getting undressed into an effort.

"The guides would tell us to tread slowly - 'Pole! Pole!' - but to be honest, we did not have any choice..." Adele said.

The weather only broke for short periods. Ian, who was the keenest photographer of the group, remembers one brief period when the city below could be seen.

"The moon came out; it was a great photo!"

Mostly, though, it rained. A blizzard the next day terrified them all. The wind howled outside the mess tent as the porters struggled to pitch the rest of the tents with the snow swirling around them.

By the last day, every single member of the group was suffering from altitude-related ailments, ranging from headaches and stomach complaints to the diuretic side-effects of the tablets they were taking. John Paul Tabone, a doctor, was kept busy all the time, doling out advice.

Adele remembers that she could hardly breathe and that her head was so swollen that she was virtually unrecognisable.

"I knew that it was marginal as to whether the guide would allow me to go to the summit or not. We were told to ask ourselves the question: 'What colour is an orange?' If it still made sense then we were OK. But I knew that I would push myself to the limit."

One of the team did not have any choice. She had to turn back just 895m from the summit.

"We all hugged her and cried with her. We all realised that it could have happened to any of us," they all agreed.

By then, the porters were left behind and only the guides and the rest of the Maltese team set off from the base camp. Team leader Natal Falzon was amazing, they all said repeatedly. Alec Sultana sent SMS from Malta to urge them on.

They were advised to nap at 5.30 p.m. but few of them were able to do so, emotionally charged for the summit attempt.

"We had so many things to think about. And we were all praying!" Adele said.

They set off just after midnight, fortified by tea and biscuits.

"In the dark you are not really aware of what lies ahead," Maria recalled. "Which is probably just as well!"

By now, they were focussing on being able to take just one step at a time, each digging deep into their psyche for the motivation to keep going. Some wanted to send an SMS from the summit (the highest point for GSM reception in the world!). Many wanted to pose for a photo at the top.

By 7.30 a.m. the first group made it; some managed to linger for almost an hour; others turned back almost straight away. Some cried; some prayed; some kissed the ground.

It was the moment they had all worked so hard for. The SMSs were sent out: "Just did it!", "On the roof of Africa!", "On the summit!".

Getting down proved to be easier: They sat down on the snow and slid all the way back.

"In two hours I was back at base camp!" Ian said.

By then, they were exhausted but sleep at that altitude can be very dangerous and they had to keep going to the next camp. The camp sells beer and coke and the group could finally celebrate.

"We did not have to take the altitude pills so we did not have to keep getting up through the night. It was the first uninterrupted night we had had for over a week!" Carmel said.

The next thing to look forward to was a hot, never ending shower. But the celebrations were tinged with sadness. It was over.

"When we returned to Malta we met up with the KC2 people. Climbing Kili is a very special bond we have in common," Marisa said. Their fund-raising work is not yet over. They are still Lm15,000 short and there is plenty of work ahead.

A few are considering going back; others are contemplating a new challenge in Argentina. None of them think it is their last trip.

These are not ordinary people. These are people who have stood on Kilimanjaro, who did what the rest of us can only dream about.

• Name has been changed as person concerned asked not to be identified.