The terrorist telltales of Timbuktu

                               The street in Timbucktu.

Kidnapping stories and myths have been told, seen in the movies and actually happens all over the world. This is the stuff you don't really hear about on the news. My father and I were being followed as we crossed the river Niger into the ancient legendary city of Timbuktu. I knew the risk before: the dangers and how the internet is exploded with kidnapping stories in the north of Mali. This didn't stop me, I had to tick off the destination of my lifetime travel spots. Yes the world's most dangerous places for kidnapping. Another non-climbing hero of mine is a dude called Robert Young Pelton, he has been kidnapped in Columbia, survived in a plane crash and also survived a bomb explosion in Afghanistan. He is still alive today because he was born to survive and experience the hardcore risks. Sounds like me!

                               The nail that burst our car.

Our Landie suddenly bust down and there was a huge needle sticking perfectly plotted upwards on the middle of the road. Two Arabs suddenly came out of nowhere well dressed and speaking good English trying to tell us where to stay and finding out who we are. Perhaps to report further north to their terrorist leader. 

Changing the wheel, the other Arabs that i suspect are terrorist refused to be in the photo.

These problems have dried up the tourism business in the desert. The threats originate from a disparate collection of terrorist cells, rebel groups, and smuggling gangs that have exploited Mali's vast northern desert. The lawless wild land is three times bigger than the size of France and is full of endless sand and rock. Most infamous among these groups is the one led by Mokhtar Belmokhtar, an Algerian leader of Al Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb (AQIM). The leader is known to have lost an eye fighting the Russians in Afghanistan. Dad and I believe the 'one eye' was watching us as we entered the lost city of Timbuktu. In only 6 years from 2003 to 2009 the one eye (Belemokhtar) and his men have kidnapped 47 Westerners and why the hell was I going to Timbuktu? The truth is I didn't know any of this. Okay okay okay, maybe I did, I knew that one of the British hostages who was kidnapped, Edward Dyer was beheaded after the UK refused to meet the groups demands. His body was never found. This was 6 months before I went.

Revealing myself in public, I am not scared of no terrorist!

Dad was totally laid back and never worried about a single thing. He always agreed with the lyrics of Bob Marley, "don't worry about a thing, coz every little thing is gonna be alright, gonna be alrigggghhhtttt" What a cool laid back attitude my pops has. As it got dark in the sandy city, it was like completely dark. Hardly any electricity in Timbuktu and certianly not a single white person apart from us, I wonder why?! A small child approached trying to sell a tee shirt saying "I have been to Timbucku and back" with a little picture of the city. Years ago for the tourists the city was a myth, did it really exist? It was one of those special places. So to have been to Timbuktu and back refers as the lost city. Now its more like survived from terrorism. I should I have brought it, but we were running out of cash till the next ATM.

The Malian army have tried to do something about the issue, but the one eye's men assassinated the colonel in front of his young family in the neighbourhood only 2 months before I was exploring down the same place. Nobody dare messed with Belmokhtar or Al Qaeda. 

          The manuscripts

The rich History of Timbuktu goes on forever, It is mainly famous for its manuscripts from many years ago that are still kept in the city. Only 800 AD Arab Merchants bring Islam to North Africa a small part of these evolved into Al Qaeda in 1988.

A friend of mine Ben Heason who is no stranger to hard climbing recently returned from The Hand of Fatima. The dude wouldn't want to waste time seeing the ancient city but just stay around Hombori and climb hard all day everyday. He even likes to bring a bottle of wine to the summit with him! What a dude!

                       Ben Heason and his jumping skills

I saw Ben last week at the works Party in Sheffield, I couldn't quite remember what we talked about due to alcohol. I think Ben was pretty off the hook too which represents good times we had! I remembered him mentioning about some tragedy stories and got him to email me with the story. He managed to do some new hard assents and repeat the classic climbs like the kana Tondo and Black Mamba on the Hand of Fatima. But then the news finally came. 2 French have been kidnapped from Hombori, right around the corner from the Hand of Fatima. The following morning more news came to Ben, there had been 4 more kidnappings in Timbuktu. One of whom, a German, was shot dead for trying to escape.

 

                 The works party, Ethan, me, Ed and Adam.

In the end, dad and I were very lucky, although I am very pleased to experience one of the world's deadliest countries and getting out alive.
   The on eye has eyes everywhere, he probably knows your reading my blog right now........

Two links with the kidnapping news.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-africa-15877709

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-africa-15895908

A clip of the crowd and myself running away from a snake not terrorists! 

Hand of Fatima

Almost one year since this epic trip.......

On Christmas Day 2010 I woke up feeling awful. I blamed myself for drinking too much in the local pub the night before. I even stumbled all the way home in just a tee shirt in the snow. I was at home with my family. Through breakfast mum was complaining about how she could still smell the alcohol from me. I felt so weak and could hardly keep my eyes open. Dad was already drinking a glass of champagne and it was only like 10am. The smell wasn’t helping. This was definitely not a hangover; for once in my life I felt dying. Everyone was opening their presents till mine was placed on my chest as I was lying down on the sofa. It was the size of a shoe box. I get the same shoe box every Christmas, of course, what else would I ask for? Nothing beats a new pair of Five Tennies. My family realised something was serious if I couldn’t open the Five Tens. It turned out that I had a temperature of 103F. It was Swine Flu. God I couldn’t let this ruin my upcoming climbing expedition to Mali, West Africa that I was to leave in 2 days time. I had to get better. 

Mum did everything she could to stop dad and I from going but we were too stubborn. The arguments continued. Mum sat beside me, “you don’t want to go to Africa in this state do you? Remember that tropical disease you caught from Ghana 3 years ago? Your low immunity will absorb every African disease no doubt”. Dad was looking out the window with serious thoughts whether to call off the trip or not as mum kept persuading him. He looked as if he had to make the decision of a multi million-dollar deal. I promised mum and dad I would be better tomorrow although the choice wasn’t mine.

Boxing day; one day to go. Am I dead yet? God, I was suffering as if I was having a cold turkey. All night, not a single sleep. I put on the brave fake face that I was feeling better but I wasn’t. I was still burning at 103F. Dad was still packing. Haul bag, cams, ropes, clothes and the list goes on forever. 

Hand of Fatima, a secret sandstone cliff hidden in the Sahara desert of Mali in West Africa. It’s about 600 meters high. There was tiny information on the Internet about the secret and only a few climbers in the world have been there. Todd Skinner who made the first free assent of Salathe wall in Yosemite had been to Fatima’s Hand. As I tried to find a way to contact him for more information, I realized he passed away in a climbing accident later on the Half Dome in Yosetmite.

Frenchman Arnaud Petit does countless amazing First Assents all over the world on all kinds of rock was the next dude to find, but my French is kind of poor and the communicating will be pointless. I think it’s silly for schools to teach deaf kids another language. At primary school I sometimes had to listen to French through tapes. It was all total silence in class and I thought we had to pray or something.

Petit wrote a book called ‘legendary cliffs’, which contains the world’s best routes. Dad calls it the bible. I can agree with that. 'Black mamba' was one of his routes, a multi pitch of several grade 7a+'s having a mixture of trad and bolts.

With such luck i was getting better as we crossed Europe. too bad, dad caught the Flu off me and his eyes filled with redness like the infected in the movie '28 days later'.

I have been to Africa before and I forgot how slow the everything is, TIA huh. The airport in Bamako was the worst airport ever. It was smaller than Tesco's express, in fact just slightly bigger than a local petrol station. As there was only one plane, ours from Europe it still look the local Malian's 3 hours to get the language off the plane. Dad and I were the only white people at the airport. There were no seats for waiting, so dad lay down on the floor as the locals kept walking over him. His fever was getting worse. In the end, the bags came. A crappy night in the city and off we went travelling hundreds of miles over 2 days to Fatima's Hand in the rusted old Land Cruiser. 

So much happened, so many stories to be told. But what I can tell you, is the beauty of Hombori. Fatima's Hand from the bottom and summit simply took my breath away. 

2 weeks of climbing, we both got better during the end. I thought dad and I were going to be the only climbers in Mali. But there was some of the coolest Spanish guys also out there. Alberto, Alex, Fernando, Ramon. There was also a Venezuelan dude who had cycled from Thailand to West Africa in the last 10 years called 'wild man Rom'

When the Spanish left, Leo Houlding and his wife Jess came out and they kept the fun going. 

Some pictures bellow which tells story better.

 The local villagers

 Another village, 5 miles away from the road.

 Desert life

 Timbuktu

 River Niger

 High life

Mind blowing

 Dad and Rom found a ledge on pitch 3! already miles off the ground!

 The shadow is me....

 Dad

 Dad is nearly 60, he is still hardcore.

 wooooooohhhh

 Ramon trying to free 7b+

 Wild man Rom

 Wash time

 Rest days

 When I grow up, I wanna be a rock star.

 Shadows

 Dad fell asleep in the back of the car, the window was left open!!!!

 Sweet kids

 Bolton against liverpool. I wonder if the premiership players know that people in the desert of Timbuktu are supporting the game!

 Always giving lifts to the locals

 Alberto on Petit's Black Mamba

 pitch 2!

 Leo Houlding on sighting a single pitch 7b+ climb

 Leo

 At the summit

 Gearing up

 Sport climbing!

 Dad and I

 avoiding Malaria

 Alberto!

Alberto in space

By the power of Greyskull

I always liked superheroes when I was a kid and because I haven’t quite grown up yet I was He-man, master of the rock (universe) and Ramon was the skinny demon Skeletor and his bright shinny silver annoying jacket helped represent the character.

My endless summer seemed to go on forever but eventually the time was running out, the climbing trip was nearly over. Reality was to be faced and never never land was soon to be over. My climbing days in Kalymnos always started at the crux: getting out of bed. Then Ramon and I would have a coffee and take in turns sharing the cut out water bottle in use of a bowl for our morning fruit cereal. Our room was awesome, I simply had my dirty and clean clothes all over the floor leaving the wardrobe completely empty. I found it easier so I could see where everything is, a pigsty, which gave personality to our room.

Jurassic wall is one out of many crags on the Island and is an hour walk, but kept it me fit and burnt out all the muffins I was greedily eating. I spotted an amazing route through the middle of the cave called ‘Rendez with Platon’ a soft 8b, it caught my attention. A 4-meter roof with dynamic moves to big positive holds. I had climbed 27 grade 8’s on sighting 2 of them but not yet gone from 8a+ to 8b. I have been in my comfort zone for too long.

    Dad said not long ago ‘son…you have had it far too easy for far too long’ before the trip and I wanted to prove myself I could promote. On my first go I ended up hanging under the crux being shut down not managing to get through the roof until I discovered I toe hook. After 3 sessions I kept coming off as I wasn’t delicate with my footwork, not enough force on my toe. Star Wars, the force is NOT with me. I can’t tell you how much I hate toe hooking. Since when was toe hooking part of climbing? The move was stretching on forever in my head, like an ocean of time. I had heaps and heaps of power endurance and stamina but every time I approached to the crux I just needed master Yoda to teach me a little more about the force. As my attempts went by I built up a negative issue in my head with the bloody toe hooking and then it became impossible. Ramon had such fantastic climbing philosophy, he basically looked at me in the eye like some flapping goldfish and said ‘forget the bullshit and just pull’ but it didn’t work, I was just rubbish.

In the meantime Ramon and I were still crushing on the Island until my parents flew out to see me for 3 days. My dad, my best friend, my hero, the strongest man who ever lived. He climbed the highest mountain in Antarctica with Dough Scott on a North Face expedition in 1992 and made the first ascent of the second highest mountain in the South Pole at minus 62. He even climbed Mecca at Raven Tor…….  aiding which I am embarrassed.

   My mum is the opposite, never been camping since she was a teenager, hardest walk she has ever done is the stairs at home to bed and she has only seen me climb like once indoors like on a 6c and I even fell off it like 10 years ago. This was a perfect opportunity to show mum who I am. But first of all I had a tick list to do with/show mum.

·      Get drunk with mum

·      Do a Steve Mac bat hang on one of the routes

·      Skip 3 draws and take a whoopa

·      Mum to experience on the back of a scooter with me

I failed them all apart from getting mum to walk all the way to Jurassic wall, which is an hour walk up hill. I didn’t quite explain to mum the plan but pointed at the Grotta and said it was nearby. After 10 minutes mum was out of breath and looked all dizzy, 15 minutes she asked ‘are we nearly there’, 35 minutes she claimed she had altitude sickness, 1 hour she nearly had a heart attack trying to get up the scramble and was shaking like a sewing machine after she took a peep down bellow. Eventually after 2 hours she got to the ‘summit’ and had to lie down. After one warm up I hit my project and for somehow I made it past the crux then bloody fell off afterwards. I was too shocked with excitement and lost concentrate continuing. I should have had an ipod on me listening to something like ‘breath in, breath out, breath in, breath out’ as my breathing system was completely out of rhythm. But I had forgotten I was deaf. Since the sweat from Sikati cave broke my hearing aid I was stoned deaf for the rest of this trip struggling to lip-read everyone.

My mum was impressed and my dad was disappointed! I expected a pat on the back ‘well done son, amazing effort, next time’ but instead he said in phony, overly polite voice ’very disappointing, you should have tried harder’

Another 2 hours down to the road, 50 stops on the way, a rescue from Ramon as mum wouldn’t let go whilst down climbing the gorge. I finally had a beer and swim. On my first two days of trying Rendez with Platon, I always repeated ‘I am going to climb this route’ over and over again as we walked to the crag. The very same experience as Carolyn Burnham from American Beauty continued saying ‘I will sell this house today’ as she was cleaning it. In the end she didn’t and revealed her emotions in a disturbing way. Instead I kept mine in!

I was extremely disappointed with not getting the route but I always kept a smile on. I consider myself very lucky since my experience in Africa some years ago. I remember when one of my pupils didn’t return to class after she caught malaria when I was teaching in a deaf school in Ghana. I lived with the poorest deaf family in a shantytown in Ethiopia for 2 weeks waiting for my visa to Sudan to be approved. There was no way I could let this route take over me as I have seen other climbers get low for days when they are unsuccessful.

At last I arrived back in London in my flat in Streatham, wow a fridge, hot water, bath tub, sofa! As I walked into the bedroom there was someone sleeping in my bed. I had forgotten I had a long term girlfriend. God she is beautiful, what the hell is she doing with some idiot like me I thought. I am definitely the luckiest man on Earth.

 When the Greek Gods get angry, Photo by Adam Hodgson

Photo by Adam Hodgson

 Sheffield Strongman Joe on Gaia Photo by Adam Hodgson

 Dad, 'my shoulder hurts' me 'it's okay dad, may the force be with you'

 crap footwork

 Photographed by Steve Gorton

 He-man and Skeletor

 The Grotta

 Come on mum.. come on mum.. go go go

 Ramon saves mum

 Mum managed to return from Jurassic!

 The suffer

 Ramon melting on 7c

 I always suspicious Ramon is Gay.  Photographed by Steve Gorton

Ramon's gay jacket I found in London 2 days after the trip.

 Life in Africa, instead of teaching the locals Maths, English etc I taught them most important of all... strength!