8 August 1999

Start:
Emergency Biviouac
Nelion - Mt. Kenya
8 August 1999

End :
McKinder's Camp

I surface slowly from a troubled sleep. I sense something is wrong, but
can't pinpoint the cause. I look toward my right where Dawie had earlier
fallen asleep, but see only a dark shadow. He's fast asleep and oblivious of
my predicament. I feel a damp cold seeping from below and suddenly it dawns
on me. The ice we had been sleeping on was beginning to melt and was seeping
into the sleeping bag. Not good news at sub zero temperatures! I wrack my
tired brain for a solution and eventually give up, deciding I can survive
the wet as long as I can get some more sleep.

By seven o'clock, after 3 hours of sleep, Simon stirs in the furthest corner
of the bivvy. I can hear from his voice that he is anxcious to get going. I
look out into the cold morning sky, but it's misty with very bad visibility.
The urge to stay where I am is overpowering and it takes Simon a few more
calls before he gets me going. The memory of swinging into the door earlier
in the night hangs like a cloud over my enthusiasm and I grudgingly crawl
out of my sleeping bag. I start going through our routine procedure of
checking my safety gear and within minutes, it's my turn to clip onto the
rope and climb out of the bivvy. I pull myself up onto the roof of the hut
and sit for a second looking down onto the Lewis Glacier. It shines briefly
and then dissappears behind the rolling mist. "It's not going to be much fun
getting down in this": I mumble to myself. I wry sense of humour seems to
have taken hold of me.

We're halfway down with our first abseil of the morning before it starts
snowing. Ice crystals roll down the back of my neck and my mood takes a
further nosedive. As one drop-off after the next sees our slow descent,
Dawie and I begin to realise that our sojourn on Mt. Kenya will soon come to
an end. I'm unsure of whether to be relieved, happy or sad. I decide to
concentrate for a few more hours and to see us safely off the cliff face
first.

Later, as if in a slow-motion miracle, I watch as Dawie glides down his last
metre, touching down onto the snow to unclip his rope. We're both on safe
ground and our support crew has come to meet us with hot chocolate. I watch
everybody smile and can see relief on the faces around me. It's cold and
snowing, but no-one cares. I notice the background and it feels like we're
on a movie set. The sounds and movements seem toned down. Nothing appears
prominent and I focus on nothing in particular. We pack away our gear, shake
the accumilated snow off our jackets and turn away from the mountain.

It's just over three hours to McKinder's camp, but we walk it on cushions of
air, bouyed by our own glory. We'd been tolerated by a kind mountain spirit.

LOOKING BACK !