Rainy Day Manoeuvres

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RAINY DAY MANOEUVRES We are thirteen days into the hills and two hundred years out of civilization. I can see my breath in front of my face and begin breathing harder and faster SO that I can watch it. Its morning, early morning. We are lying in a tent pitched on a flat near a steep hill and a deep gorge. The hill and the gorge provide our only means of passing down to lower valleys and ultimately a supermarket with wall-to-wall cholestrol. We are committed totally to this aim and have unanimously agreed that we must do what we must do. But Jesus Christ, not today. From the warm comfort of my geriatric sleeping bag and nylon pillow, the world looks hostile indeed. And it's probably even worse outside the tent. I am lying on my side looking at a worms-eye view of Kerry's upright feet. That would account for my severely bruised ear. Kerry's feet aren't moving now though. He must be asleep. A conclusion borne of long and feeble thought. I concentrate hard and eventually manage to turn over. Aaaaaaargh, no! It can't be! Dave is sitting with his hands linked around his knees folded up to his chest. He is blinking and looking around him like he doesn't know quite what to do. This is the Dave that I fear the most. This is the Dave that is winding up for action. Soon he will leap from his pit-and, with grim determination and orange duvet, begin to cook breakfast and get the show on the road.

He does because nobody else will. Uh oh he's moving e Sproinng. He's clear of his pit - lie's on his knees - he's trying to open the zip, bugger, wrong end I he crawls back to the other end and knees Kerry in the eye on the way - he opens the zip - he shoves his head out the door. I get a worms-eye view of Dave's bum and an icy blast up my nose. It must be hell out there. I can just see out the door. It's a beautiful, clear day at 18,000 feet. All I can see is a solid wall of water. Wwwhhhooopppeee!!! Before beginning the arduous task of lighting a primus, Dave seeks advice. "Hey Kerry, John : . wake up - - . Hey!" "Eh, what is it?" I say, making like I just woke up. "Grunt, snort mmm." Kerry even has trouble with monosyllables before his first cigarette. "It's pissin' down. Are we going up the hill today?" "Aw shit Dave à : in this weather?" "Its not that bad." 1 "The river'll be up though." "Yeah but if we hurry we'll be able to get across before it's too far up." "Probably too far up already." "Hey Dave," " says Kerry, propped up on one elbow and reaching greedily for my tobacco, "Why don't you go out and have a look at the river and then while you're down there you can get some water for a cup of tea." "Yeah, good idea Dave." "Lazy buggers!" says Tave, as he stumbles off towards the river. d I reach for my tobacco and clumsily roll a smoke which is nard in the middle and falling out the ends. It occurs to ie that the fourth member of our trip, is still sound asleep in the corner. "Hey > Fob!" "Eh : mm : - What's the time?" he mmnbles out of his stupor. "Seven-thirty." He begins to crawl out of his pit. Rob used to be well into the cld syndrome. You know, Morning comes, Boots on, Meusli down, Pack on, Meusli up, And off we hop. Heavy pack, fast boots and big ego. Now, thanks largely to gcod training and a sense of giving the mountain a chance, he only gets his knees out into the cold béfore self-destroying and crashing back to bod. Dave arrives back. - "The river's alright, we could get across it alright - if we hurry that is." "But look at that rain though Dave." I'm looking for a locpholo.

"That snowgrass above the gorge will be really slippery," says Kerry, also scared. "But we've got to get to the other side, we're running low on jellies." "But we had a hard day yesterday, I'm still knackered." pipes in Rob. "And we've got eh..." A clap of thunder enteres the discussion and drowns Kerry's reasoning like the Proverbial F..t. "Aww come on Dave." "Jeesus!" Says Dave, exasperated, you'd have thought he'd be used to it by now. "Listen Dave" soothes Kerry, "Let's have a brew and then breakfast and then we can think about it, we don't wanna rush into anything you know." He winks at me and I take a relieved suck on my cigarette. Its as good as settled. The rain begins to die down. I feel insecure. Maybe they'll decide to go. I clutch my steaming bowl and pray but nobody seems concerned. We are lying in a tent pitched on a flat near a steep hill and a deep gorge. There's a touch of country music wafting from Kerry's harmonica, steam lifts itself gracefully from my bowl, Dave flicks another idle page over and Rob trims his toenails. You give two days good tramping a bit of spice by putting one days good piking between them. Pikers sandwich. JOHN MCMILLAN