What's His Passion 2 - Climbing the Savage Mountain (13 page)

He waited until High had gotten the group with him attached to the line. Jensen pulled his camera out of his pack then turned around to snap a picture of Base Camp at the bottom of the Icefall. It seemed strange that all those colorful tents could be swept away if an avalanche came down at just the right angle. After tucking his camera away, Jensen took as deep a breath as he could, hooked himself to the rope before heading off after the others.

The Khumbu Icefall was a mess of ice and snow, jagged like shark teeth. There were crevasses hidden by layers of snow no one knew about until someone took a wrong step and disappeared. Hopefully if that happened, the ropes would hold until others could get there and pull them out. Also the ropes were there to keep climbers on the safest path the Sherpas and guides had found while traversing the South Col.

It was a beautiful sunny day, though the wind bit as it nipped around the edges of Jensen’s jacket and hat. He was glad for his sunglasses, because the light reflecting off the white ice could’ve blinded him within minutes. Snow blindness was a real problem on the side of the mountain if he wasn’t properly attired. He unzipped his coat, hoping not to overheat. The farther up Everest they went, the closer to the sun they got and the atmosphere thinned enough that solar radiation could become an issue as well, which was why he did his best to stay covered. Well, radiation and frostbite. No matter how warm he grew from struggling through the snow and ice, he could still die of exposure within minutes if he wasn’t careful.

Little pieces of snow and ice carried by the wind struck his exposed skin, almost as though Everest chose to attack those who thought to climb her. He’d even had small cuts from where they’d hit him by the time he’d reached his tent for the night. There were sudden strong gusts that threatened to steal his breath or to freeze his lungs with the bitter chill they carried. Jensen trudged along, trying not to be captivated by the dancing eddies blown here and there by the wind. The spirits were alive and well on the ice, tempting the climbers to follow them where they lead.

As he moved along steadily but cautiously, he spotted Rodney’s team in the lead farther up the Icefall. They would slow down once they got to the ladders crossing the different crevasses.

“Looks like the Brits are heading out as well,” High called back to Jensen.

Jensen checked over his shoulder to see the A team for the British expedition had reached the crampon point and was attaching them while their B team was making their way from Base Camp.

“There’s going to be a line up at some of these ladders,” he told High, knowing that the best climbers the Brits had would soon overtake them.

“Yeah. It’s all right. As long as everyone takes their turn and no one rushes, we’ll all get to the same place without losing anyone.” High went back to talking softly to Evans.

There was something going on with the man, but Jensen wasn’t close enough to hear or see. He just hoped High either got it figured out or sent him back down to Base Camp. Taking out his camera, Jensen began to snap some more photos of all the different forms and shapes the ice took around him.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Hubert, the lorry driver, said from just in front of Jensen.

They’d never climbed together during the days while going up and down from camp to camp, so Jensen had never gotten a chance to really talk to him.

“It’s breathtaking, isn’t it?”

Hubert turned to glance at him and Jensen took a picture. “I’d like a copy of that when we all get back to our homes.”

“Of course. I have a Flickr account where I’ll post all the pictures I take here. Before we split up, I’ll get your email address and send you a link. You can let me know which ones you want and I’ll send you the high res files for them.” Jensen grinned.

“Right. I have no idea what you said.” Hubert chuckled. “My son’s the electronics guy in the family. He’ll get me set up.”

“What brings you out here? If you don’t mind me saying this, Everest is a long way from Manchester and being a lorry driver.” Jensen hoped Hubert wasn’t offended by his question.

Hubert laughed again. “Aye, it is, but ever since my dad told me the story of Hillary’s conquering Everest, I always was intrigued by the mountain and the men who dared to climb it. I swore that one day I was going to try.”

“Try? Didn’t you dream of standing at the summit?”

“Not really. I guess I don’t dream big dreams. My wish was to travel to Nepal and come to Base Camp. I think I was pretty sure that by the time I got here, I wasn’t going to be in any shape to even think about climbing Everest.” Hubert swept his hand in a wide gesture, encompassing everything around them. “All the rest of this is icing on my cake and getting to the summit will be the biggest present I’ve ever gotten—aside from my wife and kids.”

Jensen couldn’t help himself. He took another picture of Hubert, wanting to capture the expression of utter joy on the man’s face as he looked out over the white peaks and valleys around them.

While Hubert had said he didn’t dream big dreams, Jensen wasn’t sure that was right. Hubert’s dream was just the right size for him. At the time he came up with it, the edges seemed to end at the base of the mountain. Yet like all dreams, Hubert’s had grown until it covered everything to the very summit.

That was the nature of a dream. It started out small then each tiny step taken toward fulfillment caused the dream to expand a little farther and a little farther until it included mountains—until it contained all the love, hope, joy and promise a person could wish for.

Loving Toby had been Jensen’s Everest dream. He’d done everything in his power to obtain it. Yet now that he had, the dream had morphed into something bigger than before. Like Hubert’s, Jensen’s had become more than a simple dream. It had become the greatest gift he could ever hope to receive.

* * * *

“Jensen’s fine, Mom.” Toby smiled as he spoke to his mom over the phone. “I heard from him yesterday. They’d gotten back from Camp Three and were going to take a rest day today before going back up there for a night.”

“How did he sound? He’s not exhausting himself, is he?”

“He sounded tired, but he’d just finished up a pretty strenuous climb.” He assumed it was exhausting, no matter how cautious Jensen was. The thin air and the effort of carrying a thirty-pound backpack while trying to watch every step, had to wear out even the strongest of men.

“I bet he isn’t sleeping well either, and there was another storm up there.”

Closing his eyes, Toby pinched the bridge of his nose. After he’d confessed to Simpson that he was checking the weather reports for Everest every few minutes, his friend had forbidden him to do it. He had no idea how many storms they might have had since then. He didn’t need his mom telling him about it, because it would only add to his own worries.

“Well, Mom, it’s cold and windy up there. No matter how warm his sleeping bag is, I’m pretty sure it’s not that comfortable, even at Base Camp.” He wandered over to the French doors leading into the backyard.

A soft April shower had begun when Mom had called and Toby wanted to go sit under the large maple tree and listen to the drops on the leaves. But he couldn’t hang up on her, not when she was babbling about weather and Jensen and too much snow.

Finally Dad took the phone. “I’m sorry, Toby. I’ve told her to stop checking the weather and the news reports. They’re only going to give her an ulcer. How are you doing?”

He chuckled. “I’m fine, Dad. Simpson made me promise not to check any of that stuff too. He said if something happened, someone would call me and there wasn’t any point in getting worked up over stuff I can’t do anything about.”

“I always thought Simpson was a smart man. I know your mother wanted to ask you, but she got distracted. Are you going to visit this weekend?” He cleared his throat. “You know how she loves having all her children home for Easter.”

At some point in their family line, a Jewish ancestor must have converted or something, because while their last name might have been Schwartzel, they didn’t practice Judaism. They were Methodists.

“Yes. I plan on heading up after work on Thursday. Abramson closed the office for Good Friday.” He rested his head against the cool windowpane. “It’ll be nice to see all of you,” he admitted.

With Jensen gone, Toby was beginning to see how much he enjoyed having family and friends around. Simpson and several of Toby’s friends had started to come out for dinner and cards on Friday nights. It was a tradition he was going to keep when Jensen returned. His other friends all liked Jensen and he was sure—with time—Simpson would as well.

“Your sisters are excited to have you visiting. They all want to discuss the wedding and reception with you.” Dad sounds confused. “I’m not sure what anything they’ve talked to your mother is, but I’ve warned you.”

“Thanks. I wish Jensen were here so that he could bear the brunt of their questioning on this.” He sighed. “Oh well. I guess that’s what I get for having a family that loves me.”

“Honey,” his mom took over the conversation again. “Shouldn’t we try getting in touch with Jensen’s parents? I know how I’d feel if I missed your wedding.”

Toby gritted his teeth for a moment before saying, “No, Mom. Remember? We’ve talked about this like a million times. Jensen doesn’t want any contact with his parents. We’re not going against his wishes.”

She huffed. “I just feel so bad that they don’t know what a wonderful son they have.”

“And apparently it was their choice. It wasn’t like he’d changed his last name or something before we got married. He even went to Harvard like his dad wanted him to. At any time they could’ve reached out to him, but they chose not to. Besides, Mom, we are his family now. He sees you and Dad as his parents. Kelly and Wendy are his sisters.” Toby’s eyes filled with tears. “I think we got the better end of the deal when he agreed to become a part of our family.”

“So true, honey.” Mom sniffed. “All right. Well, I’ll let you go. I’m sure you need to eat something then head to bed. You work too much.”

He accepted her usual admonishment to eat and not work too hard then told her he loved her. After ending the call, he put his phone in his pocket, slipped on a zippered sweater before walking outside.

Toby sat on the wooden bench Jensen had built and placed under the huge maple tree. He’d done it as a surprise for Toby after he’d mentioned that the tree was one of the reasons why he bought the place. Toby had imagined them sitting under it at twilight, watching fireflies dance through the grass and flowers.

The night Jensen had revealed the bench, they’d done just as Toby had envisioned and it had been perfect.

Chapter Twelve

We will stomp to the top with the wind in our teeth.

—Sir George Mallory

Jensen tried not to grip his ice pick too hard as he stared at the openings between the rungs of the ladder he was walking on.
Why did I ever think climbing this stupid mountain would be fun? I mean really? What possessed me to say yes?

“Just one more rung, Schwartzel,” High told him. He did what he’d done for the others crossing the crevasse. He’d encouraged them every step of the way, even Evans, who’d frozen halfway across and had to be forced to finish the rest of the distance.

He didn’t know what had made it different this time for Evans. They’d taken those ladders up and down for the last two weeks on their way up to the other camps. Hell, they’d even gotten all the way up to Camp Three. None of those trips had been an issue for the Frenchman, yet there had been something bothering him all day and Jensen didn’t know if he was going to be able to complete the climb.

Jensen couldn’t worry about someone else at the moment. He still needed to take one more step then he’d be off the ladder and they could move on to Camp Three at the base of Lhotse Face. They’d spend the night before heading back down to Camp Two in the morning. They’d spend the night there then head down to Base Camp.

High had one more climb up to Camp Three planned then they would make the summit bid. The weather had been rough the last couple of days, with high winds and snow falling in unpredictable patterns. Nothing Jensen couldn’t deal with, but for some reason, that day he’d been having trouble with the heat as they climbed through the Western Cwm.

Once he got off the ladder, he crouched to the side, letting the others head on without him for a moment. He took one breath, filling his lungs as best he could then exhaling before inhaling again.

“Solar radiation is a bitch,” Rodney said from where he stood, waiting for Jensen.

“Yeah.” Jensen straightened. “All right. Let’s go.”

“Good on ya’, mate.” Rodney hooked his jamar to the rope and started to ratchet himself up along the fixed line.

Closing his eyes, Jensen cleared his fogged mind as best he could before following Rodney up. Once getting into Camp Three, he took a bottle of Gatorade from one of the Sherpas who’d come up before them. After thanking him, Jensen drank down the entire thing.

Jigger and Cat had been in camp at least an hour, having started out earlier than Jensen. They were melting water for them to drink. All of the tents for his expedition were pitched on platforms the Sherpas had carved out of the ice on the side of the mountain, and the Brits who were coming up behind them were settled a little higher up.

“We have some water for you to drink,” Cat called to Jensen, who ended up not being the last one in.

High had stayed with Evans and Baylor, both of whom were struggling that day. Rodney had trudged in with Jensen then went back down to help High when a radio call had come in.

“Is everything all right with Evans and Baylor?” Jensen asked Hubert, who’d trailed in a few minutes after Rodney had left.

“I’m not sure. I passed them about halfway down and High seemed to be really talking to Evans. Couldn’t hear what he was saying. Baylor just sat on a block of ice and didn’t seem interested in moving either.” Hubert rubbed his hand over his face and sighed.