Vertical Limit

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Looming over me like an English rain cloud, the long awaited dawn of the expedition had arrived. Crunch time. This is where one proves ones metal, where "ones mental strength is put to the test" ! Vertical limit indeed, what on earth am I doing here?

In theory I was meant to be superfit and in shape, fine tuned to the beat of the mountains. In reality, the last two weeks were spent chomping steak and slurping wine. Nothing like a good start.

No time to pop a glove off and take a snap.

To cut yet another boring mountain story short, let´s cut to the chase. I made it. After 10 days of dust, snow & thinning air. After mutlitple and humourous medical checks and 'interesting' toilet experiences. After some group bonding & strenous hiking, summit day firmly anchored itself upon our heaving chests.

Of eleven, nine of us crept out of our frozen sleeping bags at dawn. Just as the sun curiously rose over the Andes. Treating us to what I can only describe as an unparralleled awe-inspiring view.

No time to look though. No time to glance at the enourmous shadow that the mountain is casting to the west. No time to look at the golden clouds on the horizon or the hazes of blue all around. No time to pop a glove off and take a snap. Just walk and don´t vomit. Stay focussed. Keep the little piggies moving, one foot in front of the other.

It ranks up with some of the hardest single day pushes I´ve ever been involved in. By the end, the casualty toll was four, the keen weather graciously allowing five of us to struggle breathlessly to the top. And to the highest point outside of the Himalaya.

I confess though. The overriding memory is not one of 'hurrah'. It´s one of ´that was mighty close´. It´s easy to see why so many turn back or get caught out. The air is chockingly thin and the trail is painful and relentless. Approaching the summit after eight and half hours vertical I reached my limit. I verged on collapse.

Drained, barely able to scramble to the summit cross. I later found out I´d taken pictures of people´s feet. I could barely speak, let alone think. I needed the half hour of summit time to recover. Clearly the descent was going to be trickier than I´d bargained for. Vomitting four times helped.

Four days later, after two weeks sans shower, I quickly resumed my pre-climb tactics of wine and steak. The thought of the achivement beginning to sink in. An exceptional experience and a job well done.