Travels with Martina: A journey to the Roof of Africa with a tennis legend

For Martina Navratilova, the evening of December 9, 2010, was to prove an ignominious end to what had been a particularly tough year. As she lay strapped to a stretcher, breathing from an emergency oxygen supply, the winner of 18 Grand Slam titles had chance to reflect on a year that had begun with her breaking her wrist, had then seen her diagnosed with breast cancer and was now ending with her being evacuated off a mountain with a life threatening case of high altitude pulmonary oedema.

Part of a team of athletes, journalists and volunteers, raising funds for the Laureus Sport for Good Foundation, the ex-Wimbledon champion had been attempting to reach the summit of Mount Kilimanjaro, Africa’s highest peak. By day four though, just over 2000 metres short of the summit, the combination of a debilitating stomach bug and a build up of fluid in her lungs had prompted the decision to undertake an emergency night-time dash off the mountain. The next four hours saw her being carried down the mountain by a team of porters, where a vehicle was waiting to drive her to a local medical facility, to be flown on to a hospital in Nairobi.

For me though, this was just one incident in what was turning out to be one of the hardest treks I had ever done. I had been employed to help lead the team to the top, but since we had set out from Marangu four days ago we had seen nothing of Kilimanjaro’s famous snow-capped crater. Instead, we had endured days of torrential rain and driving blizzards and by the time we reached the camp at Horombo many of the team were beginning to feel the effects of both the mountain and the weather. And now I had the added problem of our major celebrity disappearing on a stretcher into the inky abyss of an African night. The team that remained behind though still included some notable personalities, including British Olympic Badminton star, Gail Emms, and Michael Teuber, a German Paralympic cyclist, who over the coming days was to prove an inspiration to many in Martina’s absence.

The morning following Martina’s sad departure we began the long hike up to Barafu Camp, the usual expansive views being replaced again by enveloping cloud and a steady driving rain, which over the course of the next 8 hours turned into a full raging blizzard. By the time we reached our summit camp many were beginning to seriously doubt their ability to make it to the top the following day and I had to admit that without some favourable intervention by the weather gods even I was doubting our chances of making it. The mess tent and the porters’ kitchen that evening took on the semblance of a Chinese laundry, as gloves, waterproofs and hats were hung from every available space in an effort to dry them out.

That night we retired to bed early, ready for a midnight attempt on the summit, and it was with some trepidation that I unzipped my tent just a few hours later to check on the weather. The sky above me though was a blaze of stars! It seems that our prayers had been answered, and as we began the long climb to the top, the valley echoed to the encouraging songs of our Tanzanian guides. As we progressed up the mountain I kept casting nervous glances to the heavens above, wondering how long the skies would remain clear, but as we approached Stella Point and the rising sun began to cast its warming glow across the landscape, it became clear that we would finally get to see Kilimanjaro in all its majestic glory.

In spite of the weather and the far from favourable condition, 18 of the team made it to the top and it was a very happy group of people that were reunited with Martina three days later at Nairobi’s Jomo Kenyatta International Airport. For many it had proven to be a far tougher challenge than they could ever have imagined and, in spite of its recent popularity amongst trekking groups, Martina Navratilova’s near fatal encounter had heralded for many a much needed reminder of the dangers of underestimating a journey to the summit of Africa’s most iconic mountain.

Copyright Trevor Gibbs 2011

On 12th January 2010 the Haitian capital of Port au Prince was devastated by an earthquake that left nearly 250,000 people dead. One year on and many of the survivors still have no hope of a stable future and probably didn't have much of a Christmas either. Its a sobering thought isn't it.

Six months after the original quake I went out to Haiti with a team of journalists from GMTV and the News of the World. Below is a link to a short BBC audio piece that followed my visit.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/local/isleofman/hi/people_and_places/newsid_8882000/8882370.stm

'Harvest'

Photographs by Phil Kneen

Words by Trevor Gibbs

On the 17th June 2010 an exhibition opens at the Villa Marina, Douglas, commemorating the tragic events that surrounded the sinking of the scallop dredger Solway Harvester 10 years ago. Through a series of photographs and interviews the story will be told by those most directly affected by the tragedy, to produce what will hopefully be a fitting and lasting tribute to the memory of the Solway Harvester and the incredible efforts made by the Isle of Man to recover the boat and its crew.

The exhibition is being held until the end of July, so please come along and support it. It is a story that has grown in the telling over the past months and one that deserves to be heard properly.

Harvest, an update...

...The Irish Sea passed the 10th anniversary of the sinking of the Solway Harvester in a tranquil mood of quiet serenity. The pounding seas of that fateful night had been replaced by a grey and sombre shroud, the silence broken only by the lofty shrieks of passing gulls and the occasional dull throbbing of a boat’s engine.

As we enter 2010 the Harvest project has embarked on a new phase, one that has seen myself and Phil photographing and interviewing some of the people who were directly involved in the search and recovery operations here on the Isle of Man. These interviews have seen us meeting up with people from the Department of Home Affairs and the RNLI, with journalists who were there when the boat made its final silent entrance into Ramsey Harbour and with fishermen who shared the anguish of the families that night: men who but for the grace of God and a fair wind, could have found themselves in the same situation as the doomed crew of the Solway Harvester.

Talking to people, it’s interesting to hear how they first got news of the tragedy. Like memories of 9/11 or the death of Princess Diane, these isolated stories are little cameos in their own right, orbiting around the bigger story like tiny satellites. Paul Caine, the mechanic on the Peel lifeboat, had spent the evening listening to the drama unfold at home, whilst Daphne Caine (no relation) from the Department of Home Affairs, who was on her honeymoon at the time, read of the sinking whilst cruising the Caribbean. Their subsequent roles in the unfolding events could not have been more different either. Just a few hours later Paul found himself searching the boiling seas for the missing trawler, whilst Daphne returned to the full glare of the world media, as she took on the task of Dudley Butt’s press liaison officer.

The tendrils of this tragedy seem to spread out like an uncontrollable virus, touching people in a myriad of different ways, evoking sadness and hope, pity and anger, but always leaving behind a story or a memory that will remain long after the boat has finally gone. I don’t think Phil or myself ever envisaged how much of an affect it would have on us when we began this project, but the more we hear of how it has touched people’s lives, the more we feel inspired to do it justice.

And this is where you out there can help. The one thing we do need help with is funding. Besides the exhibition we also want, if possible, to produce a book to accompany the event; something that will provide more meat to the bones of the story. We would also like to be able to exhibit the photos in Whithorn as well if possible, so that the families and friends of the crew can view them. If anyone feels willing or able to contribute something therefore, or indeed has any idea of possible leads we could follow up, then please let us know.

Neither Phil nor myself intend making any money from this enterprise, but we would like to be able to make it a worthy testament to both the crew of the Solway Harvester and to the incredible role played by the Isle of Man in their recovery, with any excess funds being donated to either the families, the RNLI or the Fishermen’s Mission.

© Trevor Gibbs 2010