The second part of the walk up to Dead Woman's Pass is harder, not because it's any more technically difficult, but because I'm really tired. The climb to the top seems to be a series of never-ending switchbacks. I constantly ask myself why I'm doing this, curse myself for not taking the train, all the time swearing loudly . Richard, the guide walking with me, is supportive and encourages me to stop for a break when I need to.
He takes my day pack and offers me his ipod to listen to. This act of kindness sets the tears rolling again. 20 minutes before I reach the pass at 4200 metres it starts bucketing down with rain, shrouding the top of the mountain in a sea of mist. A conveyor belt of brightly coloured rain ponchos slowly edge their way to the top. It's not just me who's suffering. Everyone seems to be in pain. Reaching the top should be a joyous experience but I'm soaked and feel exhausted and miserable. I have been walking uphill for five hours.
No comments:
Post a Comment