Part 2. Himalayan Diary, 22 Nov 2009.

It didn't take long to get used to the imposed security of my crampons as we traversed our way round the left of a large icy embankment. By now the sun was beginning to rise and the previously hidden magnificence of the Khumbu Himalaya was laid out before us. Stunning enough to hinder my pace to a fault quickly realised by the tug of the rope attaching my harnesses to Mindu in front; who hadn't stopped to admire the view.

Lurched onward I matched his pace round the ridge and over a very precarious looking crevasse off to the right. Easily seen was the disappearance into the void of the path that used to be passable. Had the path fallen through last year, yesterday or ten minutes ago? I asked myself as I passed within two feet of the crevasses opening still creeping its way toward the very path our feet now trod.

From there we made our way onto a magnificent upwardly sloped plain of ice and snow that extended for about five hundred metres before disappearing over an edge. It was as I admired this landscape that I noticed the pain. My right thumb was screaming in agony. My bargain bin gloves from Albury had just a few days ago been the victim of an attempt to dry them on a yak-poo-powered space heater. Of course a whole was melted partly through on the right thumb section. A section now become blazingly important. More stressful was the fact that the excruciating pain in my thumb was beginning to fade to numbness, a sure sign of frostbite. The only option at the time was to remove my thumb from its ineffective covering and place it fist like into the undamaged palm section. All this while trudging along attached to three others people. Not thinking that it could get any worse the rewarming pain came on like fire and I felt a blister form, another sign that frost bite had occurred. Thankfully I got my thumb back at full capacity not long after. I think it was more a frost-nip than a bite.

Screaming high into the sky on our left was the ridge leading to the summit of Imja Tse (Island Peak - of the Everest Massif) Mindu pointed out the sheer cliff face further on that climbers were already ascending and indicated with a grin that we would be following. Either the thought of that climb triggered Matt's fear flight response or it was working its way out all morning but he suddenly declared in thick Italiano, "ai av to sheet!". Removing himself from the safety of our link-line he wondered into the open-for-all-to-see ice field and copped his squat. As his deposit melted into an unknowable abyss he returned, all smiles and fearless relief, to our roped and connected safety.

Detaching himself from the line and handing over control to the camp cook, Dawa, Mindu went ahead and seemed to simply walk up the cliff he had just indicated. Thankfully he was checking the secureness and safety of the frequently used fixed line. This line, in complete opposition to everything I understand about safety and precaution was a simple nine or ten millimeter nylon rope. The kind one might use to tie down garden clippings on the way to the tip! In any case I'd come this far and wasn't about to let a bit of western-eastern disparity get in the way of me and my photo.

Continued, part 3...