He waived his right hand and simultaneously shouted to his partner who was about 50 metres in front. “You go ahead; I will join you at the base camp.” He knew the sound would be barely audible above the roar of the flowing stream, but a nod followed by a raised hand made him sure the point was made.
Once his partner was out of sight he took a deep breath and scanned the scenery around him. To the west and east rose gargantuan mountains, the ones to the west gentler at the bottom but rising fiercely to the top. The east ones were black as death, their sheer walls intimidating for any mountain climber, the summits covered in permanent snow and lit on fire by the light radiated by a huge ball active some 150 million kilometres from the planet. He knew the scale of everything around him was massive and yet his eyes deceived distances here, he had realised this a while ago — a fact he highly respected. To his north was a solid cover of debris, rocks big and small, beyond which was a relatively flat expanse of land on which their base camp was situated. For a moment he looked back in hope of seeing snow or ice which they had crossed earlier during the day. Nothing, just boulders and patches of mud. With a huge grin on his face, he took out his camera, holding it gently yet firmly.
Earlier during the day they had taken an arduous trek from the base camp up to the glacier, a distance of 6 km, when the leader of the group had decided to return. The battery running the Differential GPS had died and it was useless to proceed — they would have to return tomorrow. Now when everybody was gone and there was not the rush to move forward or hold scientific equipment, he was at peace with himself and with the surroundings. The gush of the flowing meltwater from the snout of the glacier above blended into the background and everything turned amazingly surreal, just too beautiful to believe. He broke into a huge smile. This was life as he wanted to live.
A few steps forward and he felt a burden inside his brain, a slight headache. It was alright — he was at 3,900 metres, oxygen was less than three quarters of sea level, and headache was normal unless clubbed with other symptoms, in which case it could take a deadly shape. He didn’t wish to think about it any longer. With one eye in the viewfinder he bent down to take a picture of the beautiful sun-coloured flowers against the backdrop of the mountains. “Ok, I should bend a little further.” And for that slight moment he uttered a shrill cry as his head throbbed and pinged. “Argh,” he groaned. His head felt rigid, the pain not spreading but intensifying in the centre. He got up slowly and immediately found relief. “What was that?” he muttered to himself.
With a few shots of the adjacent region he moved forward, trying to remember the direction his partner had taken sometime earlier. He felt tiny drops of liquid wet his shirt, glanced above and then at his surroundings. It was beginning to drizzle. Not good, he thought, as he packed his camera back into the bag and took out his raincoat. The intensity of light had decreased considerably, rain and wind starting to pick up. For a moment a chill ran down his spine. Instinct and knowledge made him quicken his pace.
It was becoming more difficult to trace the path. He knew the camp was straight ahead but huge boulders had blocked the way and it was important to follow an easy path, or else his energy would be drained. The rain was making the rocks slippery and he used all fours to jump and navigate through this never-ending labyrinth of stonework. He tried to picture how they might have reached here, for he took great interest in speculating about the ancestral forces that had shaped this present landscape. Huge pieces of ice, the glacier, flowing through this part of the region, grinding the mountains on its side, beating down everything in its path. Massive stones being dragged to new places, some being ground into bits. The lateral moraines had formed. That piece of action must have left the lower part of the mountains weak, and erosive forces at work for millions of years had eventually brought a small part of the mass of the mountain down in its path.
With the passing of time and each small slip on the rock he felt the helplessness inside. He was struggling, and he knew that. “Why?” He thought, and for a moment that question evoked a sense of peace, of understanding and knowing. “Yes, I have lost my way, but I know the camp is ahead, perhaps 2 km or more. I know it is there. I can take my time, walk slowly. I have water, food and warm clothing. If conditions worsen I can take shelter under a rock. If even something happens, people will come and look for me. It’s all under control.” He smiled again, almost breaking into a laugh. Where had that sudden fear erupted from?
He wedged himself through two huge pieces of rock and clambered on top of another. The camp was still hidden from view. He pressed his mind to remember the path they had taken while going up, but here everything looked the same. The rain fell down to a drizzle but now the headache started to grow and he was weary. He took more frequent breaks and breathed deeply, using the time to find passages where there were smaller rocks and even land. Every time he thought he had chosen the right track, massive boulders hampered his path, closing on him like a cage. They challenged him to grab and jump or simply find a new way. The pain in the head increased to huge proportions and instinctively he pressed his hand hard on his skull, wishing it would go away. He lurched forward, trying to overpower his fatigue and shoo away the thoughts that he knew could paralyse him. They were only thoughts but they had the power.
From the beginning, when he knew he had lost the way, he thought it best to follow the stream — but he tried to remember if they had taken the path closer to the stream or high up. Yes, high up. In that fix he had stayed somewhere in the middle. Suddenly he saw a tiny pond ahead. Oh God, he thought, this was not there while they were coming up. He yelled, half in anger and half in fear. The throbbing in his head blocked all signs of calmness or patience. There was nothing but this never-ending expanse of rock, staring at him, mocking him, telling him to give up. He wondered how something so picturesque, so extraordinary at one time could seem like a deadly trap now.
With one final move he decided to climb up the mountain. It would drain him immensely but would give him a sight of the camp. He climbed up tardily, finding way through rocks, until he gained enough height that he thought to head straight forward. And then it came — the sight of that small blue dot far ahead. It was the camp. There should have been the feeling of relief, of joy, but there was none. The camp still seemed miles ahead and the chain of boulders still continued a long way before breaking into even land.
Wiping the sweat on his face with his sleeve he began the descent, ever watchful of the rocks. One unintended move and he could twist his ankle or slip and hurt his head or in fact any part of the body. One could not walk casually here — concentration was needed. He travelled for another 30 minutes and finally hit the even patch of land. He glanced up at the blue tent, which was larger now, and saw a hand waving. In spite of the exhaustion he hoisted his hands high up and began running, overflowing with joy and relief.
The leader of the expedition was standing near the tent and greeted him. “It took you a lot of time — we saw you coming the wrong way, up from the mountain.”
“Yeah, just lost my way,” he replied casually.
“Food is ready and you must be hungry. Rest well tonight — tomorrow we head straight up to the advanced base camp at 4,800 metres.”
“I am all set,” were his excited words.
He had found strength. He had passed the test.