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"Watching these hard-as-nails birds gave me further inspiration in this moment of utter exhaustion..." |
Durga and Jangbu finished loading their rucksacks with broken tents, stoves, gas, and rubbish, and headed down. I got my rucksack topped off, then helped Yang heft his monster bag, which had many items strapped on the outside.
Yang protested again that he wanted to stay in Camp 2. I looked at the clouds and noted the wind seemed to be dropping a bit, along with the sun, and recalling last night's weather-terror, I said we had to descend, because the weather might get worse.
We left Camp 2 clean, but weren't able to carry any of the destroyed tent left by the other expedition. It's still up there for all we know, waiting for the winter snows to cover it and lock it in an infinitesimal time capsule of ice pack.
Just before departing, I made a radio call and was relieved to know that John Arnold was now positioned in Camp 1, and Jon Otto in the cache camp. Both were ready to provide support to us as we tried to exit the mountain most gracefully, together with Yang, and with a minimum of further mishap.
Yang and I descended, with him in the lead. During the first hour, he rested on his ice axe every four or five steps. Then we came to a steep section above a large plateau, and I decided that we should exchange rucksacks. We would never reach Camp 1 if we didn't.
Yang's pack was very heavy, loaded with tents, pickets, tent poles, shovels, ropes and bottles, all tied to the outside. I wondered what was inside. It looked like the sort of rucksack a shopping bag person who sleeps under a bridge might carry.
At the bottom of the slope, I found a less windy section behind a serac and was determined to find out the contents of this empty rucksack. I carefully unloaded it while Yang silently watched. It was filled with what looked like a collection of empty gas stove canisters from different countries and manufacturers. There was also a massive bag of instant noodles, energy bars, and dried meat, and a bottle half-filled with frozen solid urine.
I gave Yang a chocolate bar and some water, and told him he had to eat and drink. Then I proceeded to rearrange his rucksack, and removed all the empty tins.
Yang protested, "No, I collect those."
"I am sorry Yang, but you can't take all this stuff," I replied. It was already 6:30pm, the sun was setting and we had a long way to go. This heavy load was slowing us down.
Sitting there on my rucksack, Yang sobbed a bit, "We have tent and stove, just camp here, then go down in morning."
"No, Yang, it's too risky, we have to go down now," I reaffirmed.
Just then, some of Yang's voluminous pile of noodles fell down onto the snow and a couple of huge evil looking ravens swooped down to gobble them up. I watched in surprise how a massive raven eats a tiny instant noodle package.
First it stands on the package with its sinewy talons, gripping the bag as best it can, then begins to peck holes into it with its massive hammer-headed black beak. Then, because it's on a slope of hard icy snow, it begins to slide downhill, riding the noodle packet, as if it were a sleigh.
While the packet is slowly slipping across the surface of the snow, the raven is pecking and riding this flexible-edible snowboard. When the speed becomes too great, the raven puts one foot on the snow, to slow the descent, and gain stability, then continues pecking and hacking away at the packet to expose the edible contents.
After a few more pecks, it becomes bored, or distracted, and flies away, and the job is taken over by its raven mates. Watching these hard-as-nails birds gave me further inspiration in this moment of utter exhaustion, and I thought to myself, "If they can survive up here at high altitude, then so might we."
Well, much to Yang's disgust, I dumped about eight kilograms of stuff from his rucksack, like empty gas tins and heavy food, and a frozen bottle of urine, and prepared to toss it into a crevasse. I repacked the bag, carefully stowing all of his personal effects, and the rummage-sale of stuff that had been tied around the exterior, into the main body of the backpack.
He continued his protest that he was too tired to move, and I continued to assure him that we had to get out of here. A bitter wind gusted around us, and with the ravens wheeling through the spindrift, the peaks glinting through the scudding cloud-puffs, all lit by the now nearly-set golden sunlight, it provided a surreal spectacle.
As I shouldered the now orderly rucksack, and Yang hoisted my bag onto his back, I wondered how we would navigate the rappels on the ice wall section just below us. The day wasn't over yet, and we still had a very long way to go. It was now near 7:15pm.
