Mud Sweat & Tears - Bear Grylls [104]
They were coming from somewhere deep inside me.
Eventually, too tired even to feel any relief, I made it. I slumped on the ground next to the tanks we had cached at the balcony on the way up.
I feasted on the fresh oxygen. I breathed it in gulps. Both warmth and clarity flooded back into my body.
I knew we could make it now. If we went steady, we would soon be back at the col.
The distant tents began to grow as we came carefully down the ice.
1 Years later, Shara and I christened our three boys with this snow water from Everest’s summit. Life moments.
CHAPTER 97
At the col it was strange not to feel ice or snow beneath me any longer. The teeth of my crampons scraped and yawned as they slid over the stones.
I leant on my axe to steady myself for those last few metres.
For eighteen hours we had neither drunk nor eaten anything. My body and mind both felt strangely distant. Both were aching for some relief.
In the porch of our tiny single-skinned tent, I reached out to hug Neil, again. Then – unceremoniously – I collapsed.
‘Bear, come on, buddy. You’ve got to get inside the tent properly. Bear, can you hear me?’ Michael’s voice brought me round. He had been waiting for us at the col – hoping.
I shuffled backwards into the tent. My head was pounding. I needed to drink. I hadn’t peed for over twenty-four hours.
Neil and Alan were slowly shedding their harnesses. Neither had the energy to speak. Michael passed me a warm drink from the stove. I was so happy to see him and Geoffrey in one piece.
As the afternoon turned to evening we talked.
I hadn’t really known fully why Michael and Geoffrey had retreated. They told their story. Of the impending storm and their growing fatigue, as they struggled in the deep snow and thin air. Their retreat had been a decision based on sound mountain judgement.
A good call. Hence they were alive.
We, though, had kept going. That decision had been based on an element of recklessness. But we got lucky, and that storm never came.
Daring had won out – this time.
It doesn’t always.
Knowing when to be reckless and when to be safe is the great mountaineering game. I knew that.
Michael turned to me later as we were getting ready for our last night in the Death Zone. He told me something that I have never forgotten. It was the voice of twenty years’ climbing experience in the wild Rockies of Canada.
‘Bear, do you realize the risk you guys were taking up there? It was more recklessness than good judgement, in my opinion.’ He smiled and looked right at me.
‘My advice: from now on in your life, rein it back a fraction – and you will go far. You’ve survived this time – now go use that good fortune.’
I have never forgotten those words.
The next day, coming down the Lhotse Face seemed to take as long as going up it.
But finally, after six long, slow hours, Neil and I shuffled those last few metres into camp two, on the glacier.
That night, I did not move an inch for twelve straight hours – until just before dawn, when Neil started shuffling around.
‘Bear, let’s just get going, eh? It’s the last leg. I can’t sleep when it’s this close,’ Neil said excitedly in the chilly air, condensation pouring from his mouth.
My eyelids felt like they were sealed shut. I had to prise them open.
We didn’t bother to eat before leaving, in anticipation of the fresh omelette we had been promised over the radio from base camp. Instead we just got ready hurriedly.
But I was still slow, and I kept the others waiting as I moved laboriously from rucksack to tent to crampon. All remnants of any strength had long since gone.
My backpack seemed to weigh a ton, now that I was bringing all my stuff off the mountain. We started moving, and together we shuffled steadily along the glacier.
An hour along the route, we were stopped suddenly in our tracks.
The mountain around us roared violently, and the sound of an echoing crack shook through the place. We crouched,