Acclimatized to the thin air and way of life. Slowly been hiking further for longer, carrying heavier. Its nice in the mountain, simple, quite. To give some idea of height Snowden is 1085m, Ben Nevis is 1343m and Europes highest mountain, Mont Blanc 4807m. I am living at 3050m.
This is about the longest trek to date. No villages, nor shops, pack my bag with four days food, something to cook on and a little tent.
I find the tent quickly drives me nuts. Its coffin sized, just a little wider and longer than I,but not big enough to sit up. With some skill and flexibility I can curl up and allow enough space to boil some water on the stove. Probably not safe, but it is minus zillions outside, so I am not opening the flap. The cooking pot proves handy in the middle of the night as well, cup of herbal tea any body?
I do the hike solo, don't know why, I have read a lot about solo climbers, maybe it is to understand them, maybe its to find something about myself or just to have that freedom of choice.
The rucksack is heavy, 20kg possibly, but bearable. I am hiking up a long valley, some 20km with endless vertical sides, when the path turns to a jumble of boulders my heart sinks, no flat surfaces, have to think where to place every foot step, it strains the ankles. The worst is hard packed mud with stones like marbles skidding under foot. You know you are gonna slip, but the stressful anticipation is worse than the jarring of joints when it happens. Camp under the stars, but with two hours till sunset the sun disappears and the temperature plummets. By 6pm I am asleep, this is good, as I can have eight hours sleep before it gets really cold. I am warm and snug in my sleeping bag, pulling the drawstring tight around my face. At 2am the air space is filled with biting frozen vapour, burning any exposed skin. I pull my woolly hat low over my face leaving my lips exposed and feel them slowly chap in the frozen air. I wait patiently for the sun. This brings its own problems. The frozen condensation melts, dripping icy plops on my face.
Bad water, too heavy to carry much, so drink from the stream, not happy with it, its too low, too many live stock around, but what other choice. In the morning I feel sick, twice to the toilet, I feel like retching. I pack up, cold, ill, the rhythm of walking helps, the sun clears my head, if I am sick I will go back. I find a glacial stream it tastes cool and clean.
Walk for hours, the scenery so gradually changing, following the only track. Its dull, little wildlife, scrubby scenery, dusty, hot, few things to engage the mind.
I see mountain guides occasionally, they smile and say hello. They seem to show some respect for the solo climber. It raises my spirits, when the going gets tough.
I am constantly shouldered by steep walls. The path always goes up. I walk for several hours, by 10 am make a definite decision not to spent another night in the valley and go for the high pass. How high, 4800m. By now I am alone have been for many hours, the air grows colder, the mountains draw closer, I can see the pillars of ice, occasionally hear, or is that feel them, as the growl and moan as they grind together. Have I made the right decision, weighs on my mind. When the sun goes its going to be exposed up here alone. The weight of the rucksack grows, slowing my steps. Eventually I see the gap in the ring of ice covered mountains. Its way, way up, much further than I expected and what a path, its a steep rocky ascent, at least another 500 meters vertically.
I don't stop to take it in or take photos, to do so would acknowledge its existence. Instead I focus on doing 25m at a time, count my steps when it gets hard, 1-2-3-4, not too fast, don't want to go dizzy with the thin air, but cant go too slow. Constantly look behind. Where I camped this morning is a blur on the horizon. Tell myself if I have done this today the next 25m is childs play. Occasionally I think, why am I doing this, to what purpose does it achieve, but alone up here is not a place for negative thoughts. Distract myself by making a goal of the next turn and the next, and the next, does not matter how slow, all I have to do is put one foot in front of another I will get there. I rarely stop, but I sip from my slowly disappearing water and view nothing but ice up here. Suck from a sachet of jam. Red liquid energy. The sugar ups my spirit, I continue begrudgingly upwards.
Need not have concerned myself, make the pass with plenty of daylight to spare, felt foolish with the nagging doubts, but all kinds of stuff goes through your head. Do another 6km on the otherside and find a nice spot by a stream. No justice, pitch my tent in a sheltered valley to rest and watch the sun go down to be attacked by clouds of midges. Not fair, just tens minutes of relaxing is all I wanted.
After this did another hike and then went to mountaineering school, camping high on a glacier at 5000m for a few days, but that is another story.
