into the sun
Three days later, as I crashed back into the hotel bubbling with the enthusiasm of success, Colin was being helped onto the overnight bus to Lima. He grinned weakly.
Talking hurriedly, we sorted out details of how and where and when, hiding the emotions we both felt at this parting. And then the bus was gone in a swirl of dust out into the dying light.
On my bed was the letter he had left.
What a shambles …
This isn’t easy, I’m sure you understand. It does leave the responsibility with you but I have all faith in you. I’m just envious.
I’ve doubled the dose of Penicillin. If this doesn’t kill it in four to five days I’ll have to switch to something more powerful.
By now the side effects of the drugs are making me feel lousy, fever, diarrhoea, headache, vomiting … great, so I must go to Lima to see what they say. But if it looks complicated or drawn out I’ve decided to head for home.
What conflicting emotions he left with me: loneliness, fear, ambition and guilt.
Part of me wanted to return with him, but part of me wouldn’t leave what we had come out to do. The sacrifices we had made to get this far were too much just to leave it now.
Ashi, a Swiss climber who was paying for floor space at the hotel suggested that we climb together on Chopicalqui, a fantastically beautiful mountain of 21,000ft.
I said yes without thinking.
That was nine days ago, nine days of pain and joy leading to this solitary bivouac between the North and South summits of Huascaran.
The settlement of Mancos lies in the shadows, two days away. An altimeter would read between twenty and twenty one thousand feet but distance and time are now measured in days, not hours and feet.