Near Death in the Mountains by Cecil Kuhne
Author:Cecil Kuhne [Kuhne, Cecil]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-79370-6
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2011-05-17T16:00:00+00:00
While the import of his words settled upon those listening ten thousand feet below, Willi went right on:
Willi (continuing): … and we’ll probably be getting in pretty late, maybe as late as seven or eight o’clock tonight.
As Willi talked, I looked at the mountain above. The slopes looked reasonable, as far as I could see, which wasn’t very far. We sat at the base of a big wide-open amphitheatre. It looked like summits all over the place. I looked down. Descent was totally unappetizing. The rotten rock, the softening snow, the absence of even tolerable piton cracks only added to our desire to go on. Too much labour, too many sleepless nights, and too many dreams had been invested to bring us this far. We couldn’t come back for another try next weekend. To go down now, even if we could have, would be descending to a future marked by one huge question: what might have been? It would not be a matter of living with our fellow man, but simply living with ourselves, with the knowledge that we had had more to give.
I listened, only mildly absorbed in Willi’s conversation with Base, and looked past him at the convexity of rock cutting off our view of the gully we had ascended. Above—a snowfield, grey walls, then blue-black sky. We were committed. An invisible barrier sliced through the mountain beneath our feet, cutting us off from the world below. Though we could see through, all we saw was infinitely remote. The ethereal link provided by our radio only intensified our separation. My wife and children seemed suddenly close. Yet home, life itself, lay only over the top of Everest and down the other side. Suppose we fail? The thought brought no remorse, no fear. Once entertained, it hardly seemed even interesting. What now mattered most was right here: Willi and I, tied together on a rope, and the mountain, its summit not inaccessibly far above. The reason we had come was within our grasp. We belonged to the mountain and it to us. There was anxiety, to be sure, but it was all but lost in a feeling of calm, of pleasure at the joy of climbing. That we couldn’t go down only made easier that which we really wanted to do. That we might not get there was scarcely conceivable.
Willi was still talking.
Willi: Any news of Barry and Lute? Over.
Jim: I haven’t heard a word from them. Over.
Willi: How about Dingman?
Jim: No word from Dingman. We’ve heard nothing, nothing at all.
Willi: Well listen, if you do get hold of Dingman, tell him to put a light in the window because we’re headed for the summit, Jim. We can’t possibly get back to our camp now. Over.
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