Only a few hundred feet from the summit of the world's highest freestanding mountain, I watched in awe as the African dawn rose in front of me. I was close to Uhuru Peak - the summit of Mount Kilimanjaro. But there were questions I, and undoubtedly the other 13 people in the party were asking - 'What the hell am I doing here? Why did I leave the comfort of a warm four-season sleeping bag? Why did I leave it at 11pm to start walking at midnight? All this to then take on the challenge of climbing a one-in-two scree slope for 4000ft in temperatures of minus 16 degrees Celsius, when all I could see in front was my rapidly fading torch light and the next persons feet. Every step I took I asked the question 'Why?'

To see the amazing sunrise over the opposite peak of Mawenzi was certainly one reason. Surely there must be another one. Forgetting ambition, there isn't another reason. I am still to this day asking myself why I did it and I still don't know. Strange as it may seem though, there were reasons for attempting this peak in such ludicrous conditions. The first being that leaving at midnight enabled us to walk on the scree while it was frozen and avoid taking two steps only to fall back three. However, the most demoralizing part of the entire climb was that we took three steps and fell two. The second was that if I could have seen what lay ahead in the daylight I would never have surfaced from my sleeping bag.

This may seem like torture to some people and it certainly was for me. In fact it was the most arduous and soul-destroying task that I had ever undertaken to that date. But all I had to think was that no-one I knew had ever done this before and I would be the one to achieve the goal and tell them all about it when I returned. No-one I knew had ever walked for four and a half days, risen 16,500ft just to reach the base of a hill, and then climbed another 4000ft to reach the summit on a crater rim. Reaching the top was an emotional time for me, and getting there had been enjoyable until the last day.

As I walked around the crater rim to the summit I recalled the treks through rainforests littered with flora and fauna that I had never seen before in my life, through the heather moorlands of the mid-mountain and the alpine desert of the upper slopes. Each day had become harder and harder as the oxygen levels decreased with every step until finally there I was. On top of Africa. Done. Mission accomplished. Never again. Hallelujah! The emotion between everyone in the party was indescribable. Never have I known a group of people gel together so closely and help each other along so much. Even though there were four members of the group who did not make it to the top, they were there with us.

I was in a party of fourteen climbers. Fourteen tourists that should be as not one of us were a bone fide adventurer/explorer/climber. There were only two experienced members of the group - a lady in her fifties who had a lot of walking experience and myself who had walking and mountaineering under my belt from many an excursion with the Rovers. The rest were just everyday people from electricians to scientists. But this was not all the group. With porters, cooks and guides swelling to group size to approximately 50, we were positively pampered.

The first day was like a stroll in the park. Gaining 4000ft in tropical temperatures it was easier than Ben Nevis in summer. We made our first overnight stop at an altitude of 9000ft in Mandara Huts where we shared four to a hut. After such an easy day we felt as though we could relax, have a shower in freezing cold water and sink a few beers. The huts have a reputation for being smelly and dirty, but in fact they are exactly the opposite - looked after by a warden, your stay is made as enjoyable as possible not only by him but by the cooks. They are worshipped like gods. The food they cook is remarkable. Cramming you with all the necessary proteins carbohydrates and vitamins to replenish what you lost during the day and stoking the boiler for the day ahead, it is a small heaven at the start and finish of each day. I'm sure this led to the regular chorus of snoring and the cacophony of the male alimentary system (known as Jamba in Swahili) each night.

A more amazing concept to consider is how all these necessary items have come to be at your table and how all your belongings are by your bedside just when they are needed. The porters - an amazing breed of people who will carry everything including the kitchen sink with them on the mountain for your benefit. They can turn a six hour trek into a three or four hour sprint and have everything waiting in lieu for your arrival.

The guides, however, were idols. They had climbed this mountain literally hundreds of times before and so you listened to what they had to say. Even if you don't agree with an opinion or a decision it is vital that you stick to it and don't argue - they know best. The most important order they give is 'Pole Pole' or 'Slowly Slowly'. Each day was six hours long if you went at the correct speed - they gauge the distances in hours and not miles so that the correct speed can be obtained. Another important order is that you must eat like a pig and drink like a fish. Our group made Desperate Dan look anorexic and the Atlantic like a puddle in comparison to what we consumed.

The next three days consisted of six hours walking each day. Two nights were spent at Horombo huts at 12,340ft where the entire group slept in a dormitory above the dining hut. Here we had an acclimatization day, which was an ascent to about 15,000ft and then a night spent at Horombo. On the way to 15,000ft there is a rock face that has the name Zebra Rock as it has black and white stripes caused by the little amount of water on the mountain running through and leaving deposits (Swahili for zebra is Pundamlia). The end of our acclimatization day resulted in looking over the saddle between the two peaks of Mawenzi and Kilimanjaro - that is where we would be walking tomorrow.

On the third day it was possible to tell that the air was becoming thinner and thinner. If you moved too fast or exerted yourself too much when doing something then a splitting heading would knock you back. Only for a matter of seconds but even while resting or walking slowly there would always be a small throbbing at the back of the head to let you know that altitude sickness was going to be rife. The third night or can it be really called a night as it only consisted of one hours sleep and six hours rest in the early evening at the 16,650ft Kibo Hut.

And so, back to that soul destroying summit day. After conquering the near vertical scree slope the next challenge was to clamber over a large boulder field to reach Gillman's point, only a few hundred feet from the summit. It had take seven hours just to reach this point and already one of our guides had descended due to altitude sickness, making us wonder how we would cope. After half an hours rest it was time to complete the two hour trek around the ancient crater and glacier to the summit. Ten out of fourteen members reached the summit at 09 30 on the morning of Thursday 24th February 2000. With a splitting headache due to altitude sickness and a desire to throw up all over the summit we made our jubilant way back down to Horombo Huts. On arrival the entire group dove into their sleeping bags for a well earned rest. But not me. I couldn't sleep. I was awake for twenty-two hours that day with the summit still in my mind, sad to be leaving, but looking forward to the two nights of celebration to come!