Mud Sweat & Tears - Bear Grylls [105]
Five hundred yards in front of us, on the exact route we were going, the whole side of the Nuptse Face was collapsing.
White thunder poured down the thousands of feet of mountain. It then rolled like an all-enveloping cloud across the glacier. We stood in silence as the avalanche swept by in front of us.
If we had left a few minutes earlier, it would have devoured and buried us. Game over.
Sometimes, being slow is good.
We waited until the mountain had stopped moving, before slowly beginning to cross the avalanche debris.
Strangely, it was then that I felt most terrified for my life. As if that small stroke of good fortune – missing the avalanche – had shaken me to my senses about the risks we were taking.
I guess the closer to the end we got, the more I realized we had almost done the impossible. We had cheated death – so far. But we were still within the mountain’s grasp, and we still had one last descent through the icefall to complete.
As we crossed each of the Western Cwm’s deep crevasses in turn, the mountain slowly began to feel more distant. I hadn’t descended below camp two now for over ten days, and I knew that I was leaving something extraordinary behind me.
We moved in silence, lost in our own thoughts.
Two hours later, and we sat on the lip of the icefall. The tumbling cascade of frozen water below seemed to beckon us in one last time. We had no choice but to oblige.
Fresh, deep, powder snow now covered the icefall, spectacularly. It had snowed almost continually here whilst we had climbed up high. The route through had also changed beyond all recognition. The ice was always on the move.
The new route snaked over these giant ice cubes, and led us under lethal overhanging blocks that would crush us like mice if they chose that moment to collapse.
With each mousetrap that we passed through, I felt a little bit more of the tension drain from me.
Each step was a step towards home.
We could see base camp below us, and my breathing was becoming more and more excited. I felt as though an entire lifetime had passed since I had last been here.
The tents shimmered in the sun as we hurried through the jumbled ice at the foot of the icefall.
At 12.05 p.m. we unclipped from the last rope, for the final time. I looked back at the tumbling broken glacier and shook my head in disbelief.
Quietly, and to myself, I thanked the mountain for letting us through. Waves of worry and tension flooded from me and I couldn’t stop crying. Again.
All I could think of was Dad. I wished he could be here right now. Beside me.
But he was.
Just like he had been all the way.
CHAPTER 98
The sun was warm on my face. I knew we were safe at last.
The vast bottle of champagne, that had sat like some Buddha at base camp for three months, was ceremoniously produced. It took four of us almost ten minutes, hacking away with ice axes, finally to get the cork out.
The party had begun.
I felt like drinking a gallon of this beautiful bubbly stuff, but my body just couldn’t. Sipping slowly was all I could manage without sneezing, and even like that I was soon feeling decidedly wobbly.
I closed my eyes and flopped against the rock wall of the mess tent – a huge smile plastered across my face.
Later on in my tent, I put on the fresh socks and thermal underwear that I had kept especially for this moment.
First change in ninety days. Heaven.
I sealed the underpants in a ziplock bag, and reminded myself to be very cautious when it came to opening the bag again back home.
Neil’s feet were still numb from the frostbite. Long exposure up high, sat waiting in the snow for all those hours at the balcony, had taken their toll. At base camp, we bandaged them up, kept them warm, and purposefully didn’t discuss the very real prospect of him losing his toes.
He didn’t need to be told that he was unlikely ever to feel them again properly.
Either way, we realized that the best option for them was to get him proper medical attention and soon.
There was no way he was going to be walking anywhere with his feet bandaged