Nigel Vardy attempts the 7 x 7 Mountaineering Challenge

After suffering severe frost bite on Mt. McKinley in 1999, Nigel Vardy endured 3 years of painful rehabilitation before returning to high altitude climbing in 2002 for an ascent of Island Peak in Nepal. He has since gone on to climb 6 of the 7 highest mountains on the worlds 7 largest islands. These being:

- Penny Ice Cap - Baffin Island
- Gunnbjornsfjeld - Greenland
- Mt. Fuji - Japan
- Mt. Kinabalu - Borneo
- Gunung Kerinci - Sumatra
- Carstensz Pyramid - New Guinea
- Maromokotro - Madagascar

Should he succeed he believes he will be the first British Climber to do so.

Peak 6 was conquored despite numerous obstacles, and now Nigel can gear himself up for the final ascent in this incredible challange - Maromokotro in Madagascar. All the latest news and updates can be found on the 7x7 website.

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Indonesia

I sneaked out of the office armed with my mobile phone and Lonely Planet guide to Indonesia. I was on a mission to ring Pak Subandi – a guide in the Kerinci Seblat National Park in Sumatra. Last year I had tried unsuccessfully to climb Gunung Kerinci due to a volcanic eruption, but over a surprisingly clear line I heard that the volcano was clear. It was time to plan another adventure!

Gunung Kerinci wasn’t my only peak on the trip. Carstensz Pyramid in Papua was also on the list. Standing at 4884m (16,025) high it is the tallest peak in SE Asia, and like Kerinci, another in my 7 x 7 challenge. It is notoriously difficult to reach requiring numerous small planes, and a helicopter airlift to get you into Base Camp. Late in October 2006 I left England bound for the Sumatran city of Padang.

Padang is the gateway for S-W Sumatra, and it was from here that I took the bouncing 7 hr bus journey to the small mountain village of Kersik Tua. Loud music was constantly blasted into my ears, and it was a blessed relief to get out at Pak Subandi’s house. Thick cloud covered the area, but Pak assured me that the peak was safe to climb. The next morning I set off with En, a guide I had met last year, to climb the volcano.

The lower slopes were covered in thick rainforest and high in the canopy Black Gibbons swung and hooted. Orchids lined the path, occasionally shining as a rare burst of sunlight beamed down. It was a cool and pleasant place to be, but the day was hard and long. We climbed for nine hours before making our camp at 3000m (9800ft). I was exhausted. Six hours of jetlag and three days non-stop travelling was getting the better of me. I hadn’t slept well for a week, and now I was paying the price.

I was disappointed to see so much litter on the trail, but it is something that I have got used to in this part of the world. Logging is also a problem. Mature trees are illegally felled and sawn leaving only piles of dust and bark. I was inside a National Park, but that didn’t seem to stop people. I wonder what we would think if the same were carried out in the Peak District?

Early next morning I opened my tent to see thousands of stars overhead. The cloud had gone and it looked a perfect day to climb. We left camp at 4:30am bound for the summit. The trees began to shrink until only Rhododendron bushes remained. Soil gave way to pumice and ash as the landscape became barren. Sulphur filled the air and a dull roar began to echo through the sky. Slowly the sun began to rise, illuminating the ash fields in crimson and casting towering shadows. The roar got louder and the sulphur more pungent, until at 6:30am I stood on the crater rim. Below me lay a gaping hole a mile wide and half a mile deep. The peak was surrounded by a perfect cloud inversion, stretching as far as the eye could see, and above were clear skies and sunshine. I proudly raised my Union Flag and took a breath. I had successfully climbed the 5th peak in my challenge. Technically it had been simple, with only a few roots and mud banks to negotiate, but that does not mean it is easy. A Swiss group fell into the crater a few years ago, and all perished. After returning to Kersik Tua I found that I had time on my hands and so I ventured deep into the jungle in search of the illusive Sumatran Tiger.

For the next three days I battered my way through some of the most unpleasant rainforest I had ever faced. Thick bamboo groves, thorns, leeches and swamps all lay in my path, but the evening campsites made up for everything. Beautiful lakes surrounded by Orchids and bathed in serene silence. Unfortunately I didn’t see a Tiger as I found a hunters camp nearby, but venturing into the jungles of Ladeh Pangang is something I will never forget. My time in Sumatra was done, and I began the long journey to Padang and then onto the Indonesian capital – Jakarta.

I was finding this trip difficult, not physically, but emotionally. For years I have travelled the world, but rarely had someone special in my life. My family have always been there, but now there was Tina. She had been a tower of strength and supported me in my adventures, but I felt lost without her. It is said that ‘absence makes the heart grow stronger’. Now I understand.

In Jakarta I met the climbers bound for Carstensz Pyramid. It was an international group from Japan, India, Swaziland and England. Everyone but myself had summited Everest, along with numerous other high peaks, and were heavily sponsored (one had received £37,000), and here I was, a simple Derbyshire lad having to pay his own way. Terra Nova of Alfreton have supported me on many expeditions, and Nottingham Climbing Wall help too, but the money has to come from my own pocket. Every year it gets harder to find, but at least I am not at the mercy of people demanding results. I live in the climbing world, not some shareholder driven business!

Together we flew across Indonesia to Papua, and flew small aircraft into the hinterland. Papua has intrigued me for years. Rumours of headhunting, Stone Age tribes and impassable jungle have been with me since I was a child. In the small village of Enarotli was the one important thing we needed – the Helicopter. It is the only way to Base Camp and is fickle to the weather and availability of pilots. Lady luck was with us as we managed to walk across the tarmac from our internal flight and get straight onto the helicopter. Many people wait here for weeks delayed by weather or lack of pilots, but we only needed 20 minutes. During that time the locals stared at these predominantly white, tall strangers. Many of them are descended from the Dani tribe, reputed to be one of the last hunter gathers on the island. Deep in the jungle many still live in the Stone Age.

The 40-minute helicopter ride was incredible. Miles of rainforest, jutting limestone ridges and tall waterfalls lay below us. Above us Carstensz dominated the skyline. Glaciers ran across the surrounding peaks and looked out of place above this sea of green. Suddenly the rainforest stopped to be replaced by one of the worlds largest open cast mines. The Freeport Mine extracts Copper, Gold, Silver and Nickel from the rich soil, but at a price. Thousands of trees are felled and tons of ground removed to be filtered and dumped. It is a gargantuan place, which destroys the pristine surroundings, but it is we in the west that demand such reserves. None of us are innocent.

The helicopter swung suddenly right and below us I saw a cluster of tents. It was base camp. Nestling against a small glacial lake and dominated by Carstensz, it was to be home for the next few days. We touched down in a flurry of dust and as soon as I jumped out into the open air I felt a shortness of breath. We had suddenly been transported from sea level to 3600m (12,000ft). Over the next two days we reconnoitred the route and allowed our bodies to acclimatise, ready for our summit attempt.

At 3:30am on 27th October we set off for the summit. An hour was soon lost in the darkness as we couldn’t find the start of the route, but as day broke we made quick progress up the face. The limestone was sharp and cutting, but after two hours of hard work we were on the summit ridge. It all seemed so easy, but that was about to change.

The ridge was a dragons back of abseils, leaps and rope climbing on jumars. Small distances suddenly took hours to negotiate due to their complexity and exposure. Dense cloud had rolled in which obscured our view, but bit-by-bit we made our way along the ridge. My heart was pounding with a mixture of fear and excitement and my mouth was dry. This was a highly technical route and should not be underestimated. At 11am we walked the last few steps to the summit. Suddenly I was standing on the highest point in SE Asia. There was no view, but inside I felt a great weight lift off my shoulders. The hardest peak in my challenge was done. I proudly raised my Union Flag for the summit photo, but I knew that only half the battle was over. It had taken 8 hours to climb, and all I had to do now was get down in one piece.

-Rain & hail began to fall, and the ropes jerked and grabbed as I abseiled down. My injuries made me the slowest, but I didn’t care. My hands began to suffer with the cold, but I knew that every step along the ridge was a step closer to camp. Eventually I crossed the last gap before walking off the ridge and heading down the long ropes to home. Rivers began to pour off the rock face and I just concentrated on the job of clipping myself onto the rope and put the weather out of my mind. By now my hands were scarred and my heels burning, but an hour of abseiling saw me at the bottom. Relief ran through my veins. I had climbed two peaks in two weeks and there was now only one more to go in my 7 x 7 challenge. I hobbled back to camp, peeled off my soaking kit and called it a day.

The helicopter arrived early the next morning and whisked us off for an incredible ride through the clouds back to Enarotli. By the evening I was sitting on a beach under palm trees watching the sun go down. Suddenly I was confronted with an unusual dilemma. The climbs had gone so well, that I had ten days to spare before I flew home, and no plans about what to do.

Years ago I had read about the Torajan people of South Sulawesi. Their culture seemed incredible, and they were only a flight away. I packed my climbing gear, and headed for Makassar.

Due to the inevitable flight delays I arrived late, and then took at 8hr drive to Rantepau – the capital of the Torajan Highlands. It was 2am when I arrived and I was shattered, but all this rush had been for a reason. A traditional funeral was in progress, and from what I had read it was something not to be missed. Funerals are enormous events and have changed little, even after the introduction of Christianity. Their size and duration is based on the status of the deceased, and this one was for a Government Official. All in all it lasted five days and attracted over 2000 people a day. All the family were there along with relatives and friends. Lines of mourners walked in procession as the entire guest list was read out loud. There was much dancing, singing and merriment all designed to send the spirit of the deceased to heaven. Buffalos and pigs were sacrificed to feed everyone and bullfights entertained the crowds. The whole event took on almost county show proportions, and are financially ruinous to the family concerned. Every member must do their bit and support the burden as future standing depends on it.

The Torajans are famous for their Tonkanen Longhouses. They are ornately carved and topped with great sweeping roofs which represent the ships which brought them here long ago. They stand in great numbers high on the hillsides towering over fields of rice. They can never be sold and stay in the family for generations. They are still traditionally built and lived in, so villages have not suffered the ‘just for the tourist’ look yet. That doesn’t mean there are a shortage of souvenir stalls aching to sell you carvings, trinkets and cloth! I headed back to Makassar with wonderful memories of these special people and began the last leg of my trip. I flew back to Java and arrived at the ancient Buddhist temple of Borobodur.

Built around 700AD this ornate structure was abandoned soon after completion. It became buried under volcanic ash and remained forgotten until Sir Stamford Raffles ordered the site cleared in 1815. Under the piles of dust lay a beautifully preserved temple over 380ft Square, 115ft high and containing 2 million blocks of stone. I had seen the temple on TV, but nothing could prepare me for the sheer size and beauty of it. Over 2000 intricate carvings covered the walls and rows of Buddha’s sat silently looking over the hillsides. There was another shock awaiting me – busloads of tourists. I had hardly seen one since leaving home, and suddenly there were hundreds of them. Even after the Bali bombings, Borobodur is still one of Indonesia’s most visited sites. Thankfully I didn’t have to fight through large crowds, but hawkers attacked me incessantly waving carvings, puppets and t-shirts, all at a ‘good price’. I survived the verbal battering and emptied my mind. Here was a place to contemplate my adventures, before I entered the western world once more. As the sun set over the distant horizon my journey ended. In less than four weeks I had successfully climbed two peaks, hacked through dense jungle, seen one of the most incredible cultures in the world and sat on one of its greatest monuments. Not bad for a lad from Derbyshire. I may never return here again, but I know that I have seen a great deal that Indonesia has to offer. My heart was ready for home and within hours I was asleep in my plane seat heading North West across the globe - Derbyshire bound.

Warmer Climbs…

Borneo - For many years the name has conjured up images of dense jungle, swamps, headhunters and strange wildlife. Its quite a change of destination from my recent expeditions, but it was here that I stared my trip to not only climb Mt. Kinabalu, but to also explore some of this mysterious land.

Thunderstorms lit the sky as the plane descended into the coastal town of Miri. I hoped it wasn't going to be a bad omen. I hitched a ride into town, met my Guide and set off for the famous Mulu Caves.

The caves are the largest in the world and populated by literally millions of Bats and Swiftlets. They circle the sky - one by day, one by night in search of insects, which is fine by me. The more mosquitoes they eat the better. Stalactites and stalagmites range from a few inches to over 20ft in length giving an incredible display of shadow and light. Many of the caves have multiple entrances allowing rain, sunlight and vegetation in at great depths. They are cool inside which is refreshing after the heat of the jungle, but the smell of guano is overpowering. Its a good job my sense of smell is poor! The floor literally sinks beneath your feet with it. Deer Cave has the largest entrance and can apparently hold two St. Paul's Cathedrals inside it. When you stand in the entrance and realise that your torchlight doesn't even reach the ceiling you believe it. Words however will never describe these caves enough and I can only hope that you have the opportunity to see them with your own eyes. Outside the rain poured. It was going to be one of those trips. The wet season was about to start and wasnt I going to know about it!

We moved by riverboat and on foot for the next few days to reach a remote shelter called Camp 5. A team of British cavers had set up expedition base there. The Mulu caves are still being mapped - they really are that vast. It brought back memories of Raleigh days and let a little peace settle inside me. Oh! For those days of youthful excitement. The next challenge was to climb Mt. Api and see the Pinnacles.

Mt. Api stands at 1750m and is regularly climbed by dozens of people. They dont especially go to climb the peak itself more than to gaze across at the Pinnacles - a row of limestone towers, which stand over the jungle like a line of Dragons Teeth. Some are 45m high and I suspect unclimbed. You would have to be very brave or very stupid to try them. The limestone is young and its edges are razor sharp. They look so out of place in this green landscape that you image some Hollywood producer had put them there. I descended to Camp 5 for a fitful nights sleep. The jungle was alive, snoring seems to surround me and I was still jetlagged. Other than that everything seemed fine, but that was all about to change...

The next morning rain poured like never before and I ventured out along the headhunters Trail to then travel downriver. All seemed damp, but ok as I crossed Rope Bridge looking for that Indiana Jones moment. I should not have joked.

The boat set off downstream on the Terikan River and turned into a rapid. It shot between the white water, struck something hard and began to roll. Water engulfed her and threw me and all the other passengers deep into the bubbling mass. I came up and gasped a quick breath before being sucked under again. A hand grabbed my shirt and pulled me up towards the light. I broke through the surface to hear screaming fill the air along with the sounds of fearsome and angry water. Bags and wood swirled around me. Below me the boat was jammed in the rocks and I managed to stand on its gunnels and try to make head or tail of what had happened. Suddenly there was loud scream and I looked up to see another boat round the corner and enter the rapid. It couldnt stop as the current was strong and as it accelerated I realised that it was heading straight for me. Either I would be struck or cut in two. In a split second I had stood up, grabbed the front of the boat and manhandled it away from me. It jammed on the sunken craft and came to a sudden halt. The passengers looked scared to say the least, but at least we were all still alive. With a great heave and roar I lifted the boat a few inches and she sped away to safety. My fellow passengers looked amazed at this, but I didnt have time to think. It was all over in a few seconds. If I hadnt seen the other boat in time, well I might not be writing this story. Now it was time for the aftermath. There were seven of us in the water. All shocked, soaked, shaking and with a few tears, but we were alive. All of our kit was soaked and the next few days were spent trying to rescue what we could. I lost a great deal of equipment, but that pales into insignificance when your life is on the line. I suffered nightmares for a week afterwards and never felt happy on the river again. Looking back now it was a horrific thing to go through, but in those few awful moments a common bond was formed between us, and we have remained close ever since. Once I had dried out I headed for the Orang-Utan centre at Sepilock.

Formed in 1964 to protect these wonderful primates, the centre takes in strays from villages and plantations. The Orang-Utans natural habitat is shrinking fast and places like this are the only refuge. Our demands for tropical hardwoods and palm oil are the greatest culprits. I hate having to cage animals in like this, but what else can be done? The have 40 sq km of jungle to themselves and I pray that they live the best lives they can inside it. They are fed twice a day in a kind of media circus. Crowds gather armed with camera and lens to wait the moment of arrival. Ropes begin to bounce and one after another the Orang-Utans come. They are framed more times than any Hollywood Star and it all seems a bit sad. I am not innocent by any means as I took many photos, but the ooohhhsss and aaarrrhhhsss all seemed a bit sad. Please just get me into the mountains...

Standing at 4095m (13,431ft) high Mt Kinabalu is the highest point between the Himalayas and New Guinea. She was first climbed in 1851 by Sir Hugh Low and has since become a very popular climb - 30,000 people a year attempt it. Its a two-day affair with an overnight rest at a mountain lodge before making a 3am start for the summit. The lower slopes are well-defined jungle paths strewn with steps and rest stations. The upper slopes are plain rock plateau, but easily traversed provided you hold your nerve! It's here that I'm in my element although a few people did worry me. A shady figure asked if I had any 'medicine for altitude sickness' at around 10,000ft. I didn't and the only 'medicine' as they put it is to go down, but they would have nothing of it. On their heads be it. I have seen people collapse before at altitude and it's a very scary sight. You just cannot keep going and risk oedema, but they did. I made the summit at around 5.30am and the sun rose majestically a few minutes later. Warm orange light flooded over the rock and warmed both my heart and soul. Peak No.4 had been climbed. Around me the buzz of a hundred people filled the air, but I was in my own world, if only for a few moments. Below me lay the Philippine Sea to the NE and the South Chine Sea to the NW. The infamous Lows Gulley lurked silently awaiting the next expedition to enter its depths, but that is for someone else. I happily walked down to the base of the mountain content that my first peak of the trip was done. After a short respite on the coast I headed deep inland to attempt my second peak - Mt. Trus Madi.

You won't find this mountain in many guidebooks. She was recommended to me by friends working in Brunei who said that the climb was fantastic and more importantly - quiet. I ventured deep into the Crocker Range to climb this remote peak, starting at the village of Tembunan where I picked up my guide and set off. Mt. Trus Madi is Sabah's second highest peak and stands at 2462m (8666ft) and I got incredible views of her from the summit of Kinabalu. Even to get to the base of the mountain is a challenge as you negotiate the deep rutted logging tracks in a 4WD. The path then climbs through some of the densest jungle I have ever seen. Sheer drops come at you from every side and rocky outcrops require careful climbing techniques. There were only two of us on the mountain - quite a change from Kinabalu. The carnivorous Pitcher Plant grows in abundance on the undisturbed slopes, as do fungi and flowers. Monkeys swing through the trees and birds seem unconcerned at your presence. There was one unfortunate extra though - litter. Plastic bottles and tin cans were strewn at makeshift campsites on the way. It was such a shame to see this horrible mess in such a pristine area. Surely people can carry their waste down with them? After a hard days climb we reached the summit and set up camp. Standing so high over the jungle allowed unbroken views of mountain and green until the rain came, and did it come! Lightning burst across the sky and I lay in my tent quite alarmed at the floods of light illuminated the sky. Being on top of the mountain was a bit dicey, but we were ok and next morning headed down through fields of deep glutinous mud.

Whilst heading out of the mountains I managed to see the world's largest flower in bloom. The Rafflesia only blooms for around five to seven days each year and the hills around Tembunan is one of its favourite haunts. I can only describe the flower as rubbery in texture with thick brown stamens. It is coloured brown and cream and looks rather uninspiring except for its enormous size. Mine was a small specimen at around ten inches. Some can grow to over three feet across. Not bad for a parasite. Time to head for Sumatra…

I flew from Kota Kinabalu, through Kuala Lumpur to Padang, before undergoing a seven-hour bus ride to the small village of Kersik Tua. Indonesian buses are an experience all to themselves and I recommend that should you try one please take my advice and use earplugs. You know those cars which you can hear half a mile before you see them? Well all the buses are like that - the stereos are incredible. And as for the drivers, well don't even go there. Just close your eyes…

At Kersik Tua the skyline is dominated by the giant volcano Gunung Kerinci. Sumatra's highest peak towers over lush tea plantations, which grow on its rich soils and provides a prosperous living for its inhabitants. Being a volcano has it disadvantages though. When I arrived I soon learned that I had a problem. A small eruption had started only weeks before and a mixture of ash, sulphur and carbon monoxide gas filled the summit air. The climb was off. My heart fell. I had come so far to attempt the peak, but you can't face nature when she's active and dangerous. What to do? I decided to stay local and gather what information I could about the volcano, and managed a days walk to Lake Gunung Tujuh, which is the highest volcanic lake in SE Asia, but I felt lost. Here I was with a week to go before my flight home and not sure what to do with myself. I decided to head north and revisit an old travelling haunt from years ago. I went back to Bukittingi.

I last visited this easy going hill town nine years ago and though there have been a few changes it still holds a place dear in my heart. It is the stronghold of Minangkabau culture and their sharp pointed rooftops sever the horizon. I was surprised at the lack of travelers here, usually it is packed, but people have been frightened away by the repeated bombings in Bali and last years Tsunami. It's sad to see the town quiet, but I'm sure in time things will improve. An hours bus ride from town is the idyllic Lake Maninjau, another old haunt. I decided to end my trip there before flying westward for home.

The approach road is something of an adventure in itself as you negotiate the forty-four hairpin bends down to the shore. Once again I gripped my seat in the vain hope it would keep me safe. The bus driver must have watched the Italian Job a few times as he took the corners with great speed, but eventually we made it down and I walked to the lakes immaculate edge. She is volcanic, deep blue and warm. I lay in the water and all the ills of the world seemed to disappear. My battered skin grafts breathed a sigh of relief. They hadn't seen hot humid weather before and I was surprised how well they had managed. After almost four weeks non-stop adventuring they had told me to slow down and when they talk I have to listen. Fishermen silently canoed across the evening water pulling in their nets as bats circled through the palm trees. I can't think of a much more idyllic place. Being me though I could hardly sit about and the next day I cycled the thirty miles around the lake.

The sun beat down illuminating the rice fields beautifully. Oxen tilled wooden ploughs through the paddies and distant stooped figures planted rice as they had done for centuries. Fish farms floated in the warm waters, which boiled with activity at feeding time. Silence surrounded me. It all came to an end with a sudden downpour. I raced for cover and realized my trip was over. The next day I began the long journey home.

Looking back now it's easy to think that this last trip was at times disappointing. The river accident certainly was touch and go, and I will have to return to climb Gunung Kerinci at sometime in the future. However I experienced the jungle at its best, saw fantastic wildlife and managed to climb two incredible mountains. There is no way that I can rate it against my Arctic or Himalayan exploits due to the differing nature of the climate, but to experience the Islands of Borneo and Sumatra was wonderful. The mosquito bites are slowly receding now and the jetlag has gone. All I need to do is get used to the English weather again…


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