7 August 1999

After spending an uncomfortable night in our bivvy, we woke with first light stiff and cold. The prospect of getting to the summit got us moving and by 06:30 we were on our way again. We assumed we were close to the summit of Batian as we could see glimpses through the mist. What we hadn't counted on was the extremely undulating terrain which we would have to cover on our way there. Several secondary peaks cropped up unexpectedly and we finally gave up on predicting which peak would be the summit. After a particularly long and for us, very tricky section, we finaly reached the summit of Batian at 11:11 am. Not a particularly impressive peak save for the glorious views, we duly took the obligatory pictures and set off in the mist for Point Nelion.

The terrain here is potentially dangerous and progress is very calculated and slow. A prominent obstacle enroute to Nelion is the Gate of the Mists, the connection between Batian and Nelion. It was just after the Gate where both Dawie and myself experienced the first taste of the dangers of Mt. Kenya. Having had snow for two successive days, the slopes leading up to Nelion were treacherous and several safe looking boulders were found to be no more than false stepping stones, giving way to the first indication of weight being put on them. The terrain around Gate of the Mists should be described in slightly more detail. When crossing from Batian to Nelion, a narrow bridge connects the two peaks. The bridge is no more than 50 cm wide and a misstep either way, will result in a drop to certain death of around 500m. The mere perception of danger creates danger and I found the best way to cross was to concentrate simply on the next step, not looking left or right.

The actual crossing was very uneventfull and my first sigh of relief came the second I took the last step across the Gate. Then, the mountain decided to extract some due respect. A loose boulder, suitably disguised as a solid stepping stone gave way and I found myself slipping down into the northern chasm. I recall absolutely no sound or self-rescue action, except the almost instantaneous jerking tight of my safety rope, held by the trustworthy Simon. I was shown the gates of the hereafter and was luckily shown away again. Thereafter I made very sure of every move, mindfull of my close call. Dawie had almost a mirror experience in exactly the same spot. It was as if the mountain was ready to cash in and we were at the front of the cue.

After that, getting to Nelion was a rather subdued affair and we decided to mark our arrival by brewing a cup of tea for the three of us. Adrenalin has a way of giving you superhuman strength for a few moments and then dropping you into a state of physical helplessnes minutes later. We were at that low stage of alertness while sitting at Nelion. By 15:20, we had to make the decision of whether to descend or biviouac a second night. Having not planned a second bivvy, we were loathe to choose the latter option and decided to descend. We were also anxcious to get off the mountain, fast. It was to be the worst possible decision.

Due to the very high and unseasonal snowfalls, the descent route down Nelion was completely different from the one we had prepared ourselves for. From the moment we started descending, I realised that we were getting into something a lot bigger than the actual ascent. By the time we had descended just two pitches, we had crossed an invisible, but very tangible point of no return. We could not turn back and the only way forward was to go down, right down. The slow progress of our descent was mainly due to the hazardous conditions brought about by the snow. By now it was getting darker and together with our experience so far in the day, all factors conspired to make us very worried. It had also been snowing for most of the day and our core body temperatures were in serious danger of dropping too low. Soon it was dark and we had barely made progress. We were descending via the south eastern slopes of Nelion and the gaping Darwin Glacier seemed to draw us down with every glance. At night, the only discernable features are the bare rocks against pale white snow. We were precariously hanging onto narrow ledges against an almost 80 degree slope, the fear of falling forcing us to persevere. Our guide searched feverishly for the bolts which supposedly mark the route. These bolts are crucial in any descent and were now our only real chance of getting down safely. However, due to the snow, most bolts were hidden under snow and ice and we could simply not find most of them. To make matters worse was the fact that each ledge we were to position ourselves on, was too small for one person to stand on comfortably. Dawie and I soon learnt the technique of standing on only one foot and balancing our bodies by the angle at which we leant against the cliff face. Any mistakes here and once again it could be a fall into oblivion, halted by the pale ice of the Darwin Glacier hundreds of meters below.

Simon at times dissappeared into the darkness, leaving the two of us hanging on for dear life, not knowing what to expect. He was desperately searching for bolts onto which we could attach ourselves. Even he had been caught unawares by the volume of snow on the south face. In most cases, no bolts were found and we were forced to sacrifice our very precious supply of slings, an alternative way of fixing a safe station. By around 22:00, Dawie and I were ready to curl in for the night. We had been climbing for almost 15 hours without a meal or an opportunity to generate some lost body heat. Our situation was precarious. With no option of going back up, we were left with the cruel reality of going down further. However, with nothing but shear drops to contemplate, our spirits were soon reduced to doubtfull starters. Fortunately, the fresh snow created pockets where one could kick your feet in for a better foothold. This resulted in a more secure stance, but instantly frozen feet. We had not come prepared for this and our standard hiking boots were no match for the wet, cold snow. By midnight, we were still in no-man's land and had progressed very little. We simply could not descend far enough and the secure positions were very few and far between. In order to handle our safety gear, it was necessary to first remove our gloves. This resulted in our already cold and tired bodies becoming colder by the second, something we could not afford.

It was now midnight and our position was as dangerous as ever. We were still positioned high above the Darwin Glacier and our systems were simply running out of reserves. I for one was ready to quit and go home. The cruelty of it was that the option was not ours to excercise. We were stuck on the side of a rock with no guarantee of safely getting down it. I caught myself repeatedly falling asleep on my feet and was only woken by the sound of Dawie's calls to Simon in the darkness. He was out ahead, looking desperately for bolts. By 02:00 this morning, I realised that we were hanging literally by a thread. We had not slept for over 19 hours, climbing the whole day and not eating anything. Our bodies were ready to surrender and I wasn't sure if we would get off the mountain alive. I started picturing my family in my head, desperately trying to hold on to strong memories. Eventually, even that wasn't enough to keep me awake. I drifted off into sleep and awoke only when I sensed my legs starting to collapse beneath me. It was getting desperate. Dawie and I realised that our survival depended on a supreme intervention. After shouting into the wind for what seemed like minutes, Simon finally responded from about 50m to our right and a few meters above our position. I couldn't believe my eyes. He had started descending from where we were positioned and now sat secure way off to our right! He must have called up every spare ounce of energy and willpower to get to where he was. With our lifeline attached to him, he managed to traverse a 50 meter section across lethally slippery ice and gained a secure position on a ridge. He shouted across that we should follow one-by-one. Dawie was first to go. With no cramp-ons and a horizontal traverse over ice, only a miracle would see him through to the other side and safety. Several times I could here his breath catch as he negotiated a dangerous patch. In our condition, every move was dangerous. In the pitch black darkness, one's senses are super alert. Every sound is amplified and every emotion increased. I started rolling my fondest memories over and over in my head. My immediate future would determine survival or otherwise. Finally, I could here Dawie's excited words with Simon. He had made it across! It was now my turn. My cold hands were clumsy in getting myself tied into the rope. My headlamp, long ago rendered useless by the extreme cold was now only a dead weight under my helmet. I repeated every safety move about 5 times. Caribiner locked. Prussick tied. Safety rope released. I shout "climbing" into the night. I faintly wonder if that would make any difference should I fall. Even though there's safety gear placed along the traverse, a fall would result in me going down the face of the cliff with very little hope of immediate recovery. None of us had any strength to hold on to someone, let alone pull him up the side of a mountain! I give my first step. I slip and fall, grabbing desperately for the rock to which I was attached seconds before. My fingertips catch the sharp ridge and I pull myself up again. I rest for a few seconds, now shivering so much as to make my static position dangerous. I decide to go again, kicking into the soft snow as hard as I can. A foothold forms and I am underway. Descending for the first few meters lulls me into a false sense of security. Pretty soon I must turn right and start the horizontal traverse. Then the moment arrives, cruelly. Dawie sees my silhouette aganst the snow and shouts that I should turn towards him immediately. I squint in the darkness and quietly wonder if he has any idea where I am. I realise my groundless anger and gingerly give my first step across. I sense my feet beginning to slip and start looking feverishly for any sign of darkness against the pale snow. A rock now is the only way I can stay where I am. I slip down and suddenly my left foot catches a rock. I kick feverishly into the snow above the rock and feel my foot slowly sinking into the snow. I shift my weight and I find my balance. My first step successfull. Recovering my composure, I feel around with my foot for more footholds. I find one and place my right foot. It holds. I search again but find only frozen snow. I again call up my memories. From somewhere I get energy and I stretch my right arm out high above me. The third hold is a handhold and I swing across the next section. What seems like an hour passes and I can feel the energy leaving me. Then Dawie talks to me in a normal voice and I look up at him where he's sitting safely locked in on a rock. I had made it in another consciousness and my body had joined me. I climb up the rock and find Simon beaming at me. He had found a biviouac and was indicating that we should descend immediately. I feel like hugging him, but the restraints of my position and my insecure foothold prevent it. I take in his instructions and follow in the dark. We abseil to the top of the hut and then swing into the door from above. There is a drop of around two hundred meters directly in front of the door and we have no choice but to dive in as soon as the gap looms up in the dark. There is no standing around the front door and knocking politely. By 03:00 we're all safely inside and I start making tea. Sometime earlier I had promised to make everyone tea if we arrived safely at the biviouac site. A subconscious urge guides me through the motions of lighting up the stove and melting the snow and ice from inside the hut. We fall into unconsciousness and by 04:00, the bivvy is once again quiet.