Makalu's South Ridge

Then it was 5 45 am and there had been no Dawa. At first light it was a dull, unpromising day with a heavy coating of snow on the ground. Doubtless Dawa had decided that we would not be going up today and had let us sleep on. Our chance of viewing Mount Everest's Kangshung face from the south ridge had surely gone.

I busied myself inside my tent by starting a complete repacking. I heard Tim outside. He was still excited about the idea of going up.

Steve and James could also be heard. Apparently the mist had lifted and you could see snow peaks all around. I was too disappointed to react quickly to the news.

Eventually, I poked my head out of the tent. Dawa had arrived and he Tim, Steve and James were setting off on the climb up to the ridge. The fact that the other three were eager and waiting had led him to believe that they were the only ones interested in going up on the ridge. 'Wait a minute', I shouted, but they were already on their way.

I had one trouser-leg on and one off.

As my mind battled to think what I might need, my tent-mate Pat, that most independent of men, started shouting into the tent with requests:

'I've got my boots on, so I can't come in. Could you get my cream? It's in the green bag?'

Had I become some part of a French farce? I was desperately trying to get ready to catch up on the others and I was trapped inside my tent by a stream of 'fetch' requests.

Of course, what had happened was that Pat had changed his mind and had decided to follow the others up on the ridge, hence his urgent requests for gloves and suntan cream.

At last my mind could return to thinking out what I needed. It was, by all accounts, only an hour's stroll up on the ridge, so no need of a rucksack. But it was freezing, so on with the down jacket and gloves in the pocket: balaclava; dark glasses; waterproof jacket; snow gaiters. No time to zip up the gaiters, I'll just use the sticky bits. No time to think about anything else.

Dendi and I set off together. The snow was slippery and quite deep in places. More than once, my trekking poles went right into it, plunging my hands into the snow. Despite my gloves, I could not get my hands warm at all after that. How long did it take for frostbite to set in?

I was still fuming at being left behind, but the anger drove me on. As we crossed from the local slope onto the main ridge we met Pat coming down. He had had enough and was going back down.

I soon lost one of my gaiters. I glared at the other gaiter so hard that it discreetly fell off as soon as it could.

In a strange way, the steepness of the slope, the awkwardness of the snow, and the fact that Pat had given up, tended to spur me on. I began to enjoy climbing with Dendi; it was as if there was an invisible rope connecting us.

The views of Makalu improved the higher on the ridge we progressed. After various false crests, I began to see a 'summit' to the ridge, before it flattened out and veered off to the right (where we would get our view of the Kangshung face of Everest).

About halfway down, I ran out of energy. I am slow and clumsy in negotiating steep downward snow slopes. Much of my energy had been used up in the excitement of the ascent and I grew increasingly dismayed by my apparent lack of progress.

Then the sun came out and the freezing temperature turned into fierce sunshine. I had no sunscreen with me; in about 30 minutes I got so badly burned in the nose and brows that the zigzag 'Harry Potter' style burn could still be seen on me over a month later.

When I did get down I told Dawa that I was exhausted and wanted a couple of hours rest before tackling the walk back down to Yangle Kharka.

Dawa would only give me 30 minutes (now I can see he was right). He allocated Pemba to stay behind and look after me. We were going to be on our own for the day, probably until we got to our final destination, Yangle Kharka. We would need some nourishment; all I had left was a Power Bar and a muesli bar of nuts and fruit. These and my litre of water would have to last us for the day.

Yesterday's walk from there had taken 8 1/2 hours , so it was going to be no easy stroll. Knowledge of the challenge helped give me back resolve.

Snowstorms accompanied us the whole way. Perversely, this was inspiring . The first bit was fairly flat, and then we began to lose some height. After 2 or 3 hours we stopped and shared out my food at an abandoned hut. We had hardly got back into our rhythm when we met Dawa waiting for us at a lodge (probably Yak Kharka) with tea and biscuits for us.

Despite the weather, the second half of the journey went really well. Crossing the big rocks on snow was much easier when we could use sure-footed Dawa's footprints. Losing height meant that one felt stronger and stronger. When I got to the last bit, an almost flat section of scrub and loose woodland with a good path, I was almost running. It had taken perhaps 6 1/2 hours to do the descent to Yangle Kharka.

In recognition of our efforts, Dawa decreed that we could sleep in until 8 30 am.

Of course we woke at dawn just the same.

Next Down the Barun River Valley Back Slippers Before The Snows