Norma Rowlerson started to ski at 51 and holds the Guinness Book of Records as the first woman in the world to ski every continent. Her adventures led to her becoming a travel writer and author. Below is an extract from her book Downhill to the Top and tells the story of her climb through Jamaica's Blue Mountains.

I sat on some steps. Egrets perched in the trees, looking like large blooms and the bats began to swoop. Eventually a car came. A long drive followed as we made our way deep into the foothills of the Blue Mountains and the Pine Grove chalets. The lights of Kingston were ablaze below.


Rio Grande running through the Blue Mountains

A comfortable room and good food made me wish that my stay could be longer. But a very early bedtime was necessary for the 1.30 am departure. Sleep was curtailed around midnight when our driver decided that it was time to wash his vehicle.

Soon after, Lloyd, my experienced Jamaican guide and I set off. We were driven in a four-wheel drive, 12-gear Mercedes across the Yallahs River. The going was rough and we needed our sturdy vehicle. Through Hagley Gap we went and on to Whitfield Hall at 3,200 feet. Even at that early hour there were travellers afoot on the paths, making their way to market. Women carried
baskets laden with produce and there was a general bustle as the day roused itself. Laterite swirled about and there was a smell of dust and moist vegetation.

We finally stopped at the bottom of a clearing in the trees and bushes. It was the start of the climb. Distant lightning flashed as we got out of the vehicle. I noticed that Lloyd carried a large knife as well as a bag of oranges. I did not know then that he also carried a walkie-talkie. This was before the days of mobile phones.

We started the climb at 2.30 am. We had six miles to go and three hours before sunrise. The first ten minutes were up such a steep and rough path that I knew that I couldn’t possibly cover six miles of similar terrain. But Lloyd assured me that that was the worst part.

Climbing in the dark was the oddest sensation: it was difficult to balance. But I soon acquired an aid in the form of a fallen branch which I used as a stick. My little torch threw my distorted shadow onto the mountainside: I looked like a bow-legged dwarf, panting along.


View through the trees, Blue Mountain

A third of the way up we paused and Lloyd handed me the sweetest orange I had ever eaten. I sat down thankfully and wondered what I was doing there, in the middle of the night, climbing my first mountain ever. There was a strange, almost nightmarish quality in plodding on, up and up in the pitch dark. I was absurdly glad of any excuse to stop and catch my breath. The sky was blazing with stars. Venus was on the distant horizon, the Plough on its back, the North Star low in the sky. The North star and the Southern cross were visible at the same time.

Eventually we were two thirds of the way up and it was time for another stop. By now I was just daring to hope that I would make it to the top and for sunrise too. We were aware that three other climbers were behind us.

It was difficult to see where we were heading. We seemed to be going around and into the mountain range. Later, on the descent in daylight, I saw that a lot of the track was better suited to mountain goats than to humans - there was a sheer drop on one side.


The Blue Mountains

Finally we clambered up a little incline; we had arrived. Tensing and Hillary could not have felt more elation. Nor could they have presented a greater contrast. Lloyd wore big army boots and a Rasta beret. When packing in the UK, I had not known that I would be embarking on such an activity; I wore a Liberty hat and pink satin plimsolls. On relating the story to my son later, he said tongue in cheek: ‘They must have been very impressed with all your equipment.’

Soon the other climbers joined us. They were three young Canadians who had found the climb just as punishing as I had. Gasping and laughing, we pooled our resources. Cough lozenges helped to swell the feast of fruit juice and chocolate. As the sun rose, it threw our shadows on to the mist in the valley behind us, with a backdrop of John Crow Mountain. It was the most astonishing sight, akin to the Brocken Spectre, seen in the Cairngorms where it has lured climbers to their deaths.

After we had descended the mountain, we were greeted with refreshments and congratulations. It gilded the lily of a most amazing day. Man, it was good!

Downhill to the Top by Norma Rowlerson costs £7.99 and is obtainable from Amazon - just click on the advertisement on the side of this article.