'If I'd known what I know now, maybe I wouldn't have tried it'

Now back home on Teesside, he tells of the difficulties he encountered.

BEFORE the main climb, we had a practice run to test the effects of altitude up to 5,000 metres and back down. It was OK. The next day was a beast as we walked to The Saddle, the base camp of Kilimanjaro.

We were climbing from vegetation, to jungle, to barren land. The next day we walked across The Saddle, a very open area towards Kieo camp, climbing up 600 metres in doing that.

It was a gradual gradient.

I really struggled for breath and started to drop to the back of our pack.

We had a 20-year-old, Rachel from Scotland, who had been ill beforehand and she was struggling, really struggling. Chris Kamara and Steve Gibson took her backpack and carried it for her and I got quite emotional to see them helping her.

The spirit throughout was brilliant. When you went into the tent on the evening for your meal, 15 seats down each side. You get in and there was no grouping, no this is my bit, that is yours; you sat next to the first person where there was a seat and ate with them.

It was the same walking, the amount of random conversations we all had was frightening as we interchanged.

Then the porters would come through carrying all sorts of food and equipment, so you would step aside. Then you would get out of sync, drop by someone else and start a new conversation.

The doctor and trek leader helped me when I struggled. In the camp before we started the final assault I was in pieces, blowing out of my backside.

Even walking through the tent to the toilet, I was really having to concentrate at a snail’s pace even just to do the simple things. I had real doubts about going on.

Some people had to drop out. As we walked across the saddle, Eileen Trew fainted twice and was taken back down.

WE got there for lunchtime, had a bite to eat. Went to sleep, woke up at six, more food, then another sleep until 11pm.

It was six hours from there to the summit.

It was an hour walk, a stop each hour, and we were increasing layers each time to combat the cold. We set off very regimented, I was behind Brendan Rodgers and struggled, I really did, to the extent that in our first break I confided in him that I was having doubts.

He was struggling himself, he had been for days with an upset stomach, he was weak and vulnerable. Lots of the camp had diarrhoea and it passed around.

Hygiene within the camp and the group wasn’t great because of the conditions and environment.

It was steep and rocky and I had a pep talk from Brendan – winners never quit, quitters never win.

Barnet’s groundsman dropped out at the second stage as his lungs were filling up with all sorts.

A woman called Shona, Rachel’s mum, fell away.

But when someone dropped out, and this may sound cynical, you weren’t really aware of it. You are so in the groove, you just have to get on with it.

That’s the rules.

I was the worst affected by altitude sickness attempting to reach the summit. You try to sip from your water bottle and that causes problems, your breathing goes out of sync.

We got to between four and five hours away and I was all over the place. I had a big heavy coat on, ski mits, the works. You can’t walk straight up, you go up in zig zags, gradually. It wasn’t a marked path, physically demanding, and I had to stop.

I pulled out of line, sat down and the guide told me not to.

People encouraged me as they went past. I needed to get to a corner, something to focus on.

The doc had a look at me and, being honest, my motivation was to raise money for charity.

It was only ego leading me to the summit of the world’s biggest freestanding mountain.

I said this to the leader, Chris, and said I didn’t want to take resources away from the group. He looked at me and said I was struggling but I’d not lost my marbles so he was getting me up there.

He took me step by step.

I was kind of doing the Madness dance – One Step Beyond.

As the group were pulling out, one girl from Marie Curie had cystitis.

She was constantly needing the toilet and was simply asking us to look away as she went on the climb.

A Bristol Rovers fan was struggling. I shouted at him to get on the end of the line and we all shuffled along.

We went over Jamaica Rock, a scramble to get to the top. I couldn’t have any more sweets to get my energy boost, it brought on the sickness instead.

Somehow, somehow I got to the top. Then some of the party moved to another stage, a higher point. The first face I saw was Brendan and he called it a day at that point.

It was carnage. One of the group, Lucy, had blood running from her nose.

We had a quick moment to congratulate each other.

The sun came up, we saw the snow-topped mountain, a sight to behold. I was delirious. Utterly delirious.

IT was over 1,000 metres to get back down. I was with Steve Gibson and I’ve never been so frightened in all my life. We scrambled down while being dehydrated.

The doctor was setting me target points to reach before I could drink. I couldn’t make them.

A lot of people chance it and run down, I was thinking I was faking being wobbly. I wasn’t. I was wobbly.

Steve was on one leg and he was carrying me.

It went on and on and on and on and on.

For every 100 metres you drop you get one per cent better air back. Somehow we made it back.

In normal circumstances, the height and altitude would mean oxygen masks.

We did it unaided.

We walked back another 500 metres to find a camp and slowly and surely I started to feel better. At camp I felt OK, slept and we had six more hours the next day before we were out through the gates.

The shop sold beer.

Happy days.

ME, the Gibson brothers, the Kamaras, all bought beer, three each before we left.

Back on the bus, two hours of singing. The tour guide was dressed like Indiana Jones – every time he spoke we piped up with the tune. Kamara was banging out some obscure Drifters songs. Me and Steve were shouting out Pigbag.

We stopped for more beer, it was euphoric. A shower was heaven. Meal superb. Last ones to bed at 3am!

I’m not sure I’d do it again and if I’d known what I know now, maybe I wouldn’t have tried it.

One person dies up there every three weeks. A frightening thought.

There’s no vehicle access if you are injured. I’ve had the most frightening 12 hours of my life.

But it was worth every minute.

We have raised around £150,000. Fantastic.

We will all keep in touch, the bond we formed was special, the spirit phenomenal.