“Government expeditions and collectives of alpine clubs had given up decades ago. They now watched as men such as I took leave of our day jobs and with borrowed funds and the best of gear and medicine at hand, set out to prove what was possible. The window of opportunity for a summit was but a bare sliver of a crack. Half a day at most when the fearful winds of that dizzy world slowed to a manageable gale and before the monsoons buried the rock under drifts a hundred meters deep. The problem, of... course, was in not knowing when that half day would fall. Every climber across thirteen worlds studied the weather charts like daytraders. As the season neared, predictions were logged on the net, men in their warm homes with their appetites intact and the feeling still in their fingers and toes would make guesses, watch reports from the satellites left behind by those government expeditions, and make bold claims. I had been one of those prognosticators until recently. But now, after spending a night at camp 7 beneath the Khimer Ridge, I felt as though I had graduated to one who could sneer at the antics of those at lesser heights.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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