Mud Sweat & Tears - Bear Grylls [95]
My next few days revolved around the midday radio call from base camp, when they would give me the forecast. I desperately longed for news that the typhoon was moving away.
The first day it was reported to be stationary. The next was the same. So I agreed to wait even longer.
The next day’s call would be vital.
Then at 12.02 p.m., the radio came to life.
‘Bear at camp two, it’s Neil. All OK?’
I heard the voice loud and clear.
‘Hungry for news,’ I replied, smiling. He knew exactly what I meant.
‘Now listen, I’ve got a forecast and an email that’s come through for you from your family. Do you want to hear the good news or the bad news first?’
‘Go on, then, let’s get the bad news over with,’ I replied.
‘Well, the weather’s still lousy. The typhoon is now on the move again, and heading this way. If it’s still on course tomorrow you’ve got to get down, and fast. Sorry.’
‘And the good news?’ I asked hopefully.
‘Your mother sent a message via the weather guys. She says all the animals at home are well.’
Click.
‘Well, go on, that can’t be it. What else?’
‘Well, they think you’re still at base camp. Probably best that way. I’ll speak to you tomorrow.’
‘Thanks, buddy. Oh, and pray for change. It will be our last chance.’
‘Roger that, Bear. Don’t start talking to yourself. Out.’
I had another twenty-four hours to wait. It was hell. Knowingly feeling my body get weaker and weaker in the vain hope of a shot at the top.
I was beginning to doubt both myself and my decision to stay so high.
I crept outside long before dawn. It was 4.30 a.m. I sat huddled, waiting for the sun to rise while sitting in the porch of my tent.
My mind wandered to being up there – up higher on this unforgiving mountain of attrition.
Would I ever get a shot at climbing in that deathly land above camp three?
By 10 a.m. I was ready on the radio. This time, though, they called early.
‘Bear, your God is shining on you. It’s come!’ Henry’s voice was excited. ‘The cyclone has spun off to the east. We’ve got a break. A small break. They say the jet-stream winds are lifting again in two days. How do you think you feel? Do you have any strength left?’
‘We’re rocking, yeah, good, I mean fine. I can’t believe it.’
I leapt to my feet, tripped over the tent’s guy ropes, and let out a squeal of sheer joy.
These last five days had been the longest of my life.
CHAPTER 87
I have always loved the quote from John F. Kennedy: ‘When written in Chinese, the word “crisis” is composed of two characters. One represents danger and the other represents opportunity.’
Looking back on my life, I can see that I have never had a crisis that didn’t make me stronger. And here was all that I loved before me: great risk, but also great opportunity.
I had never felt so excited.
Neil was already preparing to come back up. Mick, so fortunate to be alive, was staying firmly, and wisely, at base camp.
But for me, my time had come.
That evening, camp two was again full of friends. Neil and Geoffrey were there along with Michael and Graham, Karla and Alan. But the weariness of coming back up to camp two again oozed painfully from Karla’s gaunt face.
She was utterly exhausted, and you could see it.
Who wouldn’t be after three months on Everest, and having got within four hundred feet of the summit only days earlier?
Tomorrow the biggest battle of our lives would begin.
That night, the tent that I had been alone in for so long was suddenly heaving with bodies, and piles of rope and kit – with Neil, Geoffrey and Graham squeezed in beside me.
I tried to drink as much boiled water as I could get down. I knew that I would need to be as hydrated as I could possibly be to tackle what lay ahead. So I drank and I peed. But still my pee was dark brown.
It was almost impossible to hydrate at this altitude.
The ritual of peeing into a water-bottle had become second nature to us all, even in the dark, and even with someone’s head inches away from the bottle. We each had