Page 15 - 2013 AMA Spring

as the weight on our backs made its presence felt. I reached the fixed ropes that would help us navigate the remaining slopes below camp 2 and decided that I could take the skis no further. My pace was too slow and I was expending much more energy than I could recover from at the 6000 m of camp 2. Furtemba said he would take them, but I insisted that they were my responsibility and if I couldn’t take them they stayed put. Rather than accept this, he simply strapped them to his bag and set off – my pride was dented and I let him do what I had tried hard to avoid all trip, but I thought if I had less weight on my back for a while I could take them back off him. This was not to be. About 150 m below the small area of flat ground where camp 2 was to be, Furtemba took the skis and left them in the snow for me. I, looking up at the 55° slope between me and camp 2, decided that I was in no position to put them back on my pack and they stayed in the snow. All hope of skiing Himlung disappearing with each step that I took towards our next camp.
Camp 2 was set up and dinner cooked and eaten from the comfort of our sleeping bags. The wind had picked up as we had arrived, making all thoughts of sitting in the sunshine admiring the majesty of the Himalayas vanish and be replaced by the strong desire to be warm. Camp 2 was also the place our team reduced further to just four. Claire, who had also struggled with the weight and pace made the decision to descend back to base camp, as she felt that she could not continue. It was disappointing to lose another team member, but it was a very honourable choice, rather than potentially become a burden and endanger herself and the rest of the team above 6000 m. So, as the wind continued to gust around us, the four remaining climbers considered our chances and attempted to get some rest.
The wind was strong all night, waking us occasionally when gusts buffeted the tent sides. Getting any proper rest was difficult, not least because of some epic, sometimes unnerving, Cheyne-Stokes breathing. Morning came and the wind still roared around us. The skies were clear, but it was bitterly cold. Moving off would have risked frostbite, as we knew our pace would be too slow to effec- tively warm ourselves in the cold. With most things packed and ready, we waited in our tents, willing the wind to drop so we could be on our way. It was in this period of inactivity, I decided to fetch my skis for one last attempt at getting them to the summit. I would descend the 150 m to them, as Olan, Sandra and Ben started up to camp 3. Judging by the previous day’s timings and the addition of having an empty pack, I reckoned I would be able to get back to camp 2, pack my kit and get on my way in about an hour. It seemed like a good plan and when the wind finally calmed enough for us to consider leaving, I left the others and descended the fixed rope to the skis. The descent was straight forward and I made it in 20 minutes. Feeling strangely strong, I strapped on the skis and began to retrace my steps. It quickly dawned on me that this was going to be far from easy. Looking up the steep slope, I could see
ARMY MOUNTAINEER 13