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Tagne 2001 |
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Dan's DiaryDay 19 - Monday 16th July 2001
I awoke to the sound of tent zips being opened. I checked my watch; it read 4:45am. I had either slept over my 4:30am alarm or not heard it go off. I hadn't heard Jon's alarm either. There was no time to discover why. I hurriedly got dressed as the morning chill tried to eat into my body and then finished back from the previous evening. Jon woke at 4:55am and went through the same rushed procedures as me. We had intended to leave at 5am but no one was ready. Sonam brought us breakfast and lunch along with the twenty four roti we had asked for. I hadn't expected them to get our request right after the trouble we'd had explaining what we wanted but they proved me wrong. Andy, Alan, Jon and Steve left Base Camp at 5:20am as the skies began to lighten. Ten minutes later, Narinder and I left, making our way up to Upstairs with our heavy rucksacks on our backs. Narinder's fast pace carried me along and before long we had caught up with the others. We reached Upstairs at 5:55am and collected our ice axes, crampons and stiff boots. I was persuaded to wear my plastic boots rather than carry them, so I left my walking boots behind. We started our slow ascent of the rocky staircase at 6:10pm. On reaching approaching the top we traversed along the cairned rocky ledges. Alan and I were last across not wanting to tire ourselves too early on. Before long we came to the three gullies. I had confidence now I knew I could cross (and had crossed) them. They seemed easier than the first time. My large rucksack would every so often get caught or brush against the rocks, unbalancing me and reminding me of the fall that awaited me if I slipped. Jon and Narinder were always a gully ahead of Alan and me, and Steve and Andy were somewhere in between. I arrived to join the others at the shepherds' shelter at 7:40am, having crossed all three gullies safely. I sat on a rock and felt my shoulder sigh as I took my rucksack off. I had a drink of water. The water was very cold, so cold I could feel it running down my throat and into my stomach. As I took my water bottle away from my mouth I discovered that the top wasn't on properly and it was dripping. I looked down at my chest. My thermal top was wet. I then realised the cold water that I felt going through my body was actually just running down my chest. The others got up and continued on along the side of the valley while I finished packing my things away. It started to spit with rain so I put my waterproof on before getting up and following on after the others. We crossed the open gullies and scree following trails of sheep poo where the path vanished. I had my plastic boots half-undone so I could bend my ankles, making walking easier. While crossing a patch of scree I scuffed my ankles together. The eyelids from one boot caught on the laces of the other causing me to trip. I fell down landing heavily on my knees and hands, my heavy rucksack not helping. I cursed my boots and stood back up before inspecting the damage. I had put a hole in my new Ron Hills. This was their first outing and I had put a hole in them already. I cursed myself again.
By the time I had reached the place where we had stashed our mountain food and equipment, the others had crossed the river with the extra gear. I descended the loose river valley side and shouted at Jon, above the noise of the river, who was on the other side, where the best place to cross was. He pointed to a place and I crossed gingerly, taking care not to overbalance and get my feet wet. Safely on the other side, I started to ascend the damp dust and screes that formed the river valley sides. Near the top Andy was struggling so I took the dry bag off him and carried it to the shepherds hut across my shoulders. It was covered with wet dirt where it had been laid on the ground. Before long the dirt was all over my hands and coat. Our rucksacks and other bags were dropped on the damp grass as we reached the shepherds' shelter exhausted. I arrived at the shelter dirty and with neck ache from carrying the dry bag. The shepherds had goats as well as sheep, donkeys and dogs. The goats stood all together in the shade of a small cliff behind the shepherd shelter looking at us as we rested. The donkeys roamed down-slope on the main valley nibbling the thin grass while the dogs sat watching us at close quarters, ready to pounce at any time. The shepherd who had come down and crossed the river to talk to us when we were load-ferrying, had come down to the river again and carried the large cargo duffel bag up the valley side for us. We nicknamed him Jimi, after his resemblance to Jimi Hendrix. The shepherds gave us cups of tea, which we drank in the morning drizzle while eating our packed breakfast. Narinder had persuaded Jimi to carry the cargo duffel bag up the valley for us. This just left the dry bag, which I attached to the back of my rucksack with a karabiner. I struggled to get my rucksack on with this extra weight attached to it. Jon helped take some of the weight as I slipped my second arm under the strap and fastened the buckles around my waist. I looked at my watch. It read 10:30am. I knew I wouldn't be able to carry the load I had on my back far. I set myself a challenge of carrying it until 12pm and set off from the shepherds' shelter at a fast pace to try and cover as much distance as possible in that hour and a half.
The easy grassy slope became scattered with boulders and rocks slowing the pace a little. We followed the shepherd along the valley and soon came to a steep sided valley with a raging stream in the bottom. We descended down into a tributary valley, half-sliding, taking dirt and scree down with us. Jimi went to fetch his donkeys from a nearby patch of grass and after a lot of encouragement they descended down the scree to the stream. I thought for a moment that he was going to put our rucksacks on them, but this was wishful thinking, he was just taking them across the stream valley to a new patch of grass. I staggered across the first tributary stream like a clumsy fool. The 35 litre dry bag was pulling back my 80 litre rucksack, which was trying to pull me backwards, while my feet slipped on the wobbling rocks. We walked down the riverbank to the main stream and searched for a place to cross. The river was high as it was late in the morning. I walked downstream a bit and found a suitable spot. I took some paces back and took some deep breaths. Then fully laden I ran forward and leapt in the air. I landed on some shingle in the middle of the river, which sank as my weight was imposed on it. I planted my walking pole and steadied myself, so that I wouldn't topple forward or fall backwards into the river. On any other day the jump would have been easily doable but the weight on my back had made me a bit apprehensive as to whether I would make it. Andy followed me and landed on the same patch of scree, splashing me as he landed. The rest of the river was shallow and could be forded easily. We walked up the other side of the river back to where the others were putting their boots and socks back on after having waded through. I struggled slowly up the scree sided valley, stopping after every couple of steps for a breather. When I arrived at the top, the others were sitting down resting. I sat on a boulder and let it take the weight of my rucksack and dry bag off my shoulders.
Before long we were on the move again along the valley side. The shepherd left the donkeys on the thin patches of grass, which covered the side of the valley and were nice to walk over. They soon gave way to nasty steep screes, which continued along the valley as far as the eye could see. I was beginning to feel tired and my pace slowed dramatically. I dropped back from the others and soon lost sight of Jimi and Narinder as they disappeared over the minor undulations in the valley side. My rucksack seemed heavier than ever. The dry bag had slipped over to one side and was unbalancing me. It contributed to me slipping on a loose bit of scree, falling on my backside. I tried to stand up but the scree beneath me was unstable and I hadn't got the initial energy needed to stand up with such a weight on my back. I sat there resting. When I had built up enough energy I rolled onto my front and stood up facing the slope. I continue on slowly watching each step and using my walking pole to arrest and slides. Every fifty metres or so I would stop and sit on a large rock so I could relieve my shoulders of the weight they bore. Alan and Jon had waited for me. They said Steve and Andy had gone on to help set up camp. I told Jon and Alan to go on for I knew they would only get cold hanging around. I had another rest as soon as they were out of sight. Shortly afterwards the scree got steeper. As I trod out on to the slope the scree gave way under my feet. I slipped on to my side and hung to the side of a larger rock as I watched the rocks I'd dislodged rolling and bouncing down the slope below me. With no foothold I couldn't stand up, let alone push myself up the slope. Every time I tried more rocks would cascade down the scree slope. My heavy rucksack was causing my arms to ache and was pulling me downslope. I had no other option but to take off my rucksack. I undid the straps and it lurched from my back, in a downward direction. I caught hold of a strap and held on tightly to stop it rolling down the scree slope after the boulders. With the weight off my back I was able to stand up and drag my rucksack behind the large rock, which stopped it rolling down the side of the valley. With my rucksack off my back there was no way I had the strength to get it back on my back on such a precarious slope. I had no option but to undo the dry bag. Now I could only carry the dry bag or the rucksack. I thought about taking one and then every fifty metres returning for the second bag and set about doing the first fifty metres with the dry bag. However with no straps and no handle it was impossibly heavy to carry in both hands on such an insecure slope. I knew then that my only option was to take one bag and return for the second once I'd reached Base Camp. There was no way I was going to carry one bag fifty metres and then return for the second because I would have to empty my rucksack every time I had to carry the dry bag. I put my rucksack on my back, made sure the dry bag was in a safe but visible position and tried to memorise where I was leaving it.
I continued on the traverse of the steep screes at 12:38am. I could see the bright red coat of someone in amongst a pile of moraine in the distance: they appeared to be either resting or having lunch. I went up and down over the minor undulations frequently slipping and sending rocks tumbling down-slope. My rucksack was now a manageable weight and I no longer had to keep pausing to take the weight off my shoulders. After half an hour I dropped down the scree slope and came to the front of the moraines. I struggled up the shattered rock and around the huge boulders. I reached the place where the others had been sitting but there was no one in sight. I clambered up a second pile of moraine in the hope that they were there. I looked around the boulders but there was no one. I wanted to shout out to see if anyone was there but somehow I knew that if they were I would have seen them by then. I sat on a rock and looked up the valley. It split in three, a mass of glacial boulders blocking the entrance to each one. There was no way I was going to wander aimlessly up anyone of the valleys in search of the others, for the chances of finding them would be slim and I didn't have the energy to do anything uncertain. I started to feel annoyed that no one had returned to help me. The very least they could have done is waited for me so I could follow them. I started to think about having to spend the night where I was and realised that I wasn't too bad off. I had my bivi bag and sleeping bag in my rucksack, so the idea didn't worry me. Then just beyond the next pile of scree I saw Alan washing his hands by the river. I felt happy once again and put my rucksack on my back. I descended to moraine pile and followed the river upstream. The bank turned steep and began to give way as I trod on it. I looked up the bank. There was a flat stable plateau of scree not more than five metres away. I didn't feel like climbing the bank, it would have been too tiring so I took my chances and walked fast along the steep bank. I was at river level so I wouldn't fall far but the river was waist deep and I didn't fancy an early bath. The stones tumbled down as I passed over them splashing into the water. I looked back and there was no way you could follow me, the whole slope had cascaded down into the river leaving a shear scree cliff. I was pleased to still have dry feet and continued onwards. Around a scree spur I could see three half-erected yellow and grey tents. I didn't think tents could be so pleasing but boy was I happy to see them. I crossed a small stream and walked along the boulder-covered flood plain and up onto an old pebbly river terrace. Jon had just started to come and see where I had got to and how I was doing as I walked into advanced Base Camp at 1:45pm. There was a brew on and the shepherd was being forcibly paid for the great help he'd been. I sat down, dumping my rucksack on the floor. I took my "plackys" off to relieve the toe cramps and heel rubbing that I'd been suffering from for the past hour or so. I ate my packed lunch, which consisted of rotis filled with cheese spread or spam, nuts and dried fruit and a chocolate bar.
By 2:30pm I felt revitalised and ready to do anything. Jon and I went back with empty rucksacks to collect the dry bag. Jimi, the shepherd, headed back to his shelter with us. As soon as we got to the scree we started to drop back as he was noticeably quicker. I crossed the screes walking like a drunken adolescent. Images of the police turning up and asking me to accompany them to the station ran through my mind. Wild rhubarb grew here and there giving some colour to the grey world of scree and boulders. I told Jon the blue dry bag was over the next lip, but when we got there nothing could be seen. I said it must be the next one but again nothing was seen. We pressed on over the screes and I was beginning to wonder if we'd find it when we came to the top of a small undulation and there was the blue bag sitting behind a rocky some thirty metres away. The contents were split between our rucksacks and we returned to Advanced Base Camp over the crumbling scree slopes. We arrived at Advanced Base Camp at 3:40pm where we immediately took another rest before sorting our things out. We then retreated to our tent to lie down. Narinder came over at 4:40pm and started talking to Jon and I. I got the hint that he was hungry and so at 5pm I reluctantly got up and started to sort out tea. Andy, Jon and Narinder all lent a hand while Steve and Alan recovered from the days exertions in their tent. Tomato and Golden vegetable soup with rice and tuna was on the menu. The MSR stoves took several attempts to get going, and even more attempts to prime while the Primus kept going out. There were no such problems with the gas stove. The rice took ages to cook, which we later discovered was because we were cooking the rice in the soup. It threatened to rain, enough to force me to take off my down jacket and put on my waterproofs. Thus needless to say the dark grey water-laden clouds passed harmlessly overhead without dropping their load. Tea was eaten at 6:30pm and was soon devoured. After tea the pots and pans were washed in the river and those to which food had stuck fast were left overnight to soak. I sorted out the lunches for the coming days and ensured everyone received their quota. We decided to make each lunch bag last three days not two with the addition of the breakfast supplies we'd bought in Manali and because we hadn't catered for Narinder. This way we could still have twelve days away from Base Camp. We talked about what we would do the following day in the fading light and increasing cold before retreating to our tents and the warmth of our down sleeping bags. "Are you awake in there?" a voice from the darkness said at 8pm. It was Alan. "Yep," I replied. "Can I have some group bog roll, I've forgotten mine." Frightened of what might happen if I refused, I told him where he could find some and returned to writing my diary. Thirty minutes later and I was asleep.
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© Copyright Steve Jolly 2001. |
