We're gonna need a bigger boat.

In theory I have everything now:
  Boots x 2, Crampons, Sleeping Bag, Down Jacket, Weatherproof Jacket, Windproof fleece, Windproof tousers, Sunglasses x 3, Gloves x 6, Ice Axe, Medical Kit, Antibiotics, Diamox, Camera, Tape Slings, Prussic Loops, Harness, Sunblock, Hat, Tickets, Visa, Water bottles, Knife, Duct tape, Dry sacks, Clothes, Socks, Foot powder, Hydration salts, Energy Gels, Karabiners, Goggles, Balaclava x 2 + some other bits and pieces

There just remains one minor problem. How the hell is it going to fit into my bag? The current solution would appear to involve me being the Doctor. They say packing is an art form but they didn't tell me I need to be Michaelangelo to participate in this trip. And I have some things to help - can highly recommend taking a selection of dry sacks because it saves your gear getting waterlogged but also allows you to group it together which makes for speedier location of objects and quicker repacking  every morning when you de-camp.

Tearaway Thomas

Something which makes you realise that you're getting older is wondering whether your friends from childhood are still alive. The subject of retro games came up today which led me to thinking about Tearaway Thomas written by two good friends of mine (one of whom I haven't heard from in a while)

Dave was/is a programming genius who wrote his own operating system and assembler/disassembler for that game. Nick is now plying his trade as a graphic designer and learning about parenthood. Last time I spoke to Dave he was in remission from a brain tumour. Which is a sobering thought. I can remember those days as we ceased to be teenagers. But now it feels like someone else remembering them and is only an echo of that part of my life. I do remember Dave being an inspirational kind of friend to have. He certainly made me a better programmer.

How do you write someone an email saying "Hi" without sounding like you're saying "Hi, just wondering if you're still alive?"

Hollow

I was always a big fan of the phrase "everyone wants their shot at the champ" and thought it universally applicable and followed. So I was somewhat saddened to discover that this is not the case. I am about to lose my company champion title at foosball without ever kicking a ball for they're running the championship whilst I'm in Nepal. This reminds me of the Cold War where the United States and Soviet Union refused to participate in each others' Olympics leading to a series of gold medals being awarded which were, at best, hollow. I suppose I'll have to make do with returning to oust whichever upstart has claimed the empty championship and re-establish the natural ordering of things. Though, for the life of me, I can't see past Al and Jesse for the crown.

In other news I have abandoned Operation: Sombrero as unworkable as Google only shows me novelty items and will not allow me to purchase an authentic and useful version. Therefore it's back to the trusty old Tilley Original which, on second thought, is an entirely appropriate piece of headgear for the would-be gentleman adventurer.

The last thing I need right now..

Is respiratory problems. So imagine my joy when the new building we've moved to at work is giving me exactly that. Sore throat. Dry hacking cough. Constricted throat. So, time to take a laptop back over the road and spend as little time here as possible.

Sombrero

I know it sounds crazy and should probably not be on my list of priorities right now. But I want one. Last night I was in a Mexican restaurant and realised that the thing that is going to totally complete my photo collection from Nepal is me wearing a sombrero. Don't fail me now Google Product Search.

Lumix GF1 take 2

This time with the 20mm pancake lens:

Hai to you. Lumix GF1

After a conversation with Nick my umming and aahing over cameras came to an end. So, rather than taking the new GF1 with 20mm lens and my Canon 400D with the 24-105mm lens I got an extra lens for the GF1 instead. Net result - about 2-3kg of weight saved from my gear. Now I just need to get used to the GF1. Immediate first impressions are generally positive. It's going to take some getting used to the lack of viewfinder. From a handling perspective it feels harder to take photos because I'm having to hold it away from me and look at the screen. The manual controls seem pretty well thought out and it's obvious when you've got the right lighting settings. This is important because I know, from last time, that snowy mountains do no favours to photographers so being able to easily tweak shutter speed and aperture are important.

Other than that - the proof is, as they say, in the pudding so here are some shots courtesy of Panasonic and a lovely Spring evening in Winchester:

None too shabby. The other thing that's going to take some getting used to is the 45-200mm lens. It's going to be awesome for framing long shots and giving me options but it does mean the days of walking up to something to get it framed properly are going to be fewer.

12 Names

Got home to find a letter from the nice people at Jagged Globe containing flight details and also the names of the 12 people I'll be spending a large part of April with. Amongst whom is Mungo Ross who is leading the expedition. Mungo is awesome - he taught the winter skills course I did in 2008. Full of good humour and experience and freakishly fast over icy or broken ground. At least when compared to my own bumbling efforts anyway.

As for the other 12: I gave in to the inevitable urge to Google them and found out precisely nothing. I really hope I don't let any of them down.

One piece of good news is that we're not flying via Bahrain this time around but via Delhi instead. So no chance of getting caught up in the troubles in that part of the world.

15 days, one less decision and my "rest day"

Holy moly. It's two weeks tomorrow. This has officially passed into the realm of being very real.

The TODO list went down by one item today as I figured out a camera worthy of the summit attempt which I hopefully won't resent the size and weight of during it. Step forwards the Panasonic GF1 with an appropriate nod to the forum thread on which camera to take to altitude.

However still to do:

1. Visa. This should take a couple of days. I'll need to get passport photos this weekend.
   
2. Flesh out my kit list. The risky items are sorted now (boots, sleeping bag, crampons, ice axe, rucksack) so now it's into getting numerous pairs of gloves (chances are I will lose at least one pair and they aren't much use when they're wet), carabiners, prussic loops, dry bags and various bits and pieces that will make it harder and harder to make the 20kg weight limit.

This is the bit where I am plagued by my pathological need to over prepare and be ready for every emergency and tormented by my inability to do so within the weight constraints I am under. But, as Barbie says, shopping is fun and it's a chance to buy cool toys.

As a side note: today, I came into work and it was one of those days where I was very proud of my employer. It was one of those occasions where you get to do the right thing and feel good about it. It was also the day where I was supposed to take it easy in the gym as penance for the exuberance of the previous two days. What I did not expect was doing 10km on the rowing machine (albeit 6 mins shy of my record).

"Rest" day

More injections so I figured I would just go and blow the cobwebs off. Net result - shaving 5 seconds per 500m split from my rowing from yesterday. It's still pitiful at 2'01" for 500m but edging towards sub 2m respectability. The constant burning pain I remember from my rowing days is still there like an old friend welcoming me back. Now I just have to sit and wait for my left arm to go dead from the jabs.

Over-compensation

Good news everyone. They've got a rowing machine in the gym. So, upon arriving at my new desk full of guilt from yesterday's self pity and comfort eating I may have gone a little bit too far. First mistake was doing the ballistics and then going straight onto the rowing machine with my arms not working. Second mistake was thinking I was the same person who clocked 18'52" for 5km back in the day.

So, on the plus side, I'm no longer feeling guilty. And I have a rowing machine to pit myself against. Even if it may be a few months before I can think about registering on the concept2 site again. Trying not to think of the long list of things undone and the fact there is only 17 days left before I fly out...

Timely reminders, anticipation and facing up to what I'm really afraid of

If ever I needed a reminder of the good cause I'm raising money for I got one today. The trip to the consultant with dad. Once someone tells you "it's inevitable that the tumor will become resistant to the treatment" it's pretty much impossible not to have one or two difficult thoughts before each visit. The good news, it's still responding. After a brief rise in PSA levels they have gone back down again and are still within reasonable bounds. TL:DR the drugs are still working.

Amongst all that - the hardest part is knowing that my father, the invincible larger than life figure of my childhood, is afraid. And is bottling it all up. I guess this feeling sums up what cancer means to me. The wave of despair that comes from time to time which has to be endured and transformed into a re-appreciation of what's important in life. When the wave is at its peak it's hard to remember that it will be followed by a new determination to make every moment count. Right now it just feels like I'm about to drown in it.

It reminds me of something my uncle said to me once. He said that modern medical science was a curse because it allows us to keep people alive long past the point it serves any useful purpose. Our "morality" means we keep people suffering longer than we should because we're afraid to say goodbye while something remains of the person they once were.

Tomorrow, I'll shake this feeling off and concentrate on living again.

Breaking in

Time to get down to the serious business of breaking in (or was that being broken in) by my boots. The walk to work is only 1.2km but long enough to feel that I need to get better at adjusting them. Currently heel is moving up and down too much and I'm not placing the whole of the foot down when I walk. Both of these things are bad - one means blisters and pain - the other means improper balance and increased likelihood of falling over when it matters.

However - this gives me valuable practice at walking, donning and adjusting - all of which are going to stand me in good stead (hopefully).

Coughing up a lung

So, time for Vertical Rush again and the early trek over to Tower 42 in London for a race up 920 stairs. Last year I made the mistake of walking 6km there. This time I braved the much-hated London Underground. The first difference I noted was that, starting at the back, I overtook a lot of people which is nice because it appeals to the competitive animal inside. The downside is that overtaking people is hard work and costs a lot of energy. The freezing cold air coming into the stairwell did me no favours either and I spent some lovely moments coughing like a madman in an effort to find out what my lungs taste like. Anyways - times are in and I was 1m33s faster than last year. Which is a 15% improvement. Most surprising. I thought I might be 30s quicker. Now if I could just learn to breathe again...

Moar needlez

Only two injections this time with 2 more to go. And unlike last week it doesn't feel like someone punched me in the arm... yet. The day is yet young though.

On the plus side. I'm not Charlie Sheen: