by Bear Grylls
‘Whoa!’ James’s foot shot out from beneath him. He lurched forward and his face hit the rock. It was the only way he could stop himself from tumbling off altogether.
‘Ow.’ James’s lip had split. He probed it gingerly with his tongue. ‘The rock’s slippery.’
The rock was more than slippery. It was as wet as they were. Small streams of water ran down it. With every hand- or foothold, they had to take twice as much care.
Beck had no idea how high they had got. James was now slightly ahead of him. He took one last look down: he was pretty sure the water was closer. He wasn’t going to look down again.
James stopped. ‘Can’t go any higher,’ he called back down.
‘You have to,’ Beck shouted back. Even his good leg and his arms were throbbing with the exertion. Clinging to the rock, soaked and chilled by the rain, his fingers felt as limp as overcooked spaghetti. But they had to go on.
‘No, I mean, we can’t . . . it’s just smooth. I wouldn’t want to do this even if we had proper equipment.’
Beck came up alongside James and felt his hopes plummet. James was right. Up until now the cliff had offered handy nooks and crannies for fingers and toes. It had been steep, but manageable. Here, Beck suspected a chunk of rock must have split away, years or maybe centuries before. It had left a clean, smooth sheet of stone in its place. They couldn’t climb it – plain and simple.
‘So . . .’ James said, without much hope. ‘We could just stay here and hope it doesn’t come this high?’ He looked dubiously down at the water.
Beck tried to imagine clinging to the rock, shivering and wet, as the strength and energy drained out of them, for the hours it would take for the flood to drain away. They would fall off first.
‘Or we go sideways,’ he said roughly. ‘Find our way past it . . .’
He angled his head out past James to see if there was a way along the cliff in that direction. And then he blinked in surprise. A red, furry face with dark eyes set in a white mask gazed back at him from a few metres away. It took one look at him and abruptly withdrew.
‘There’s that red panda!’
‘Probably come to gloat,’ James muttered.
Beck nudged him. ‘Just climb along. There must be a cave there. They probably use it for shelter.’
‘They’ve got teeth,’ James reminded him as he started to shuffle along the rock face. ‘And claws.’
‘Yeah, well, I can do a really good roaring sound, remember?’
‘Oh, yeah.’ James sounded pleased. ‘Me too.’
‘Yeah, but yours was all girly.’
‘Yeah, right! Hey, look, there is a cave. Uh . . . hi, pandas?’
The cave was a deep indentation in the rock. A strong animal smell drifted out of it. It went back about three metres and was less than a metre high, but James could swing himself into it and sit bent double. A small family of red pandas crouched at the other end. One of them hissed at him.
‘Just ignore it,’ Beck shouted. The panda went quiet as James helped him into the cave.
Worn out and drenched, the boys slumped down on the rocky floor and looked out at the rain. The rain that was no longer falling on them. Just that thought on its own made them feel warmer.
‘Think the waters have stopped?’ James asked.
Beck jerked a thumb towards the back of the cave. ‘They obviously do, and they’ve been around longer. They must be used to this.’
There was no chance of a fire – even if they’d had the wherewithal, Beck wouldn’t have made one for the sake of their fellow cave mates.
And so, cold and wet, and in the company of some very wary-looking red pandas, the two boys waited for the storm to pass.
Chapter 26
The rain lasted for another hour. They passed the time by soaking some instant noodles in a cup of water and eating them cold. After that, they could only wait.
Beck sat in the cave entrance and watched the rain slowly clear. James clasped his arms around his knees, hugging himself, gazing gloomily at nothing. The red pandas watched sullenly from the back of the cave, waiting for the two big hairless apes to get out of their home.
Even when the rain stopped, the air was still full of moisture. Somewhere above the clouds, the tropical sun was beating down and turning the rain below into a steam bath. By mid-afternoon the waters had receded and the pair could think about climbing down again.
Beck peered over the edge. ‘Hasn’t got any less steep.’
James stirred. Beck noted the effort he had to make to get moving, and suddenly realized what had happened. He had allowed James to slide down into depression, and had done nothing about it. Idiot! he told himself furiously.
Ian’s death still hung in the air. Beck had left James sitting there for an hour with nothing to do but think about it. He had to get James moving – not just physically, but mentally as well. A good mental attitude was just as important to survival as a healthy body.
James looked down the cliff. ‘Well, we climbed up,’ he said dully.
‘Yeah, we did,’ Beck agreed. And the effort had been enough to make his leg shriek with pain. He really wasn’t confident about being able to climb down again. ‘We’ll have to use the rope.’
James shook his head. ‘Not enough, and nothing up here to tie it to. And can you abseil, with that leg?’
‘Didn’t say we were abseiling. I just said we’ll use the rope.’
James was absolutely right. Even with two good legs, the rope wasn’t long enough for abseiling – it needed to double up so they could pull it down after them.
Beck got the rope out of the bergen and tied one end in a large loop. ‘Come here . . . sit down . . .’
James paused for a moment, then shrugged and sat down where Beck had indicated. Beck wrapped the rope loop around his shoulders and threw the other end out of the cave. The single strand just about reached the ground.
‘You’re going to have to hold my weight,’ Beck told James. ‘I’ll climb down with the rope. Then you chuck it down and climb down on your own. Think you can do that?’
He thought back to a couple of days ago, when he had talked James down the rock face one step at a time, with a lethal drop beneath them. This should be easy, if James remembered what Beck had told him . . .
James flashed a very brief, reluctant smile. ‘Yeah, I think so.’
‘Cool. Sit with your back against the wall here, and push your legs against the other side . . .’
James did as he was told, with slightly more enthusiasm. Beck hid a smile. He had often found that when the mind just slumps into gloom, the best cure is to just do something with a sense of purpose.
With his back braced against one side of the cave and his legs against the other, James looked solid and immoveable. Beck was prepared to trust his weight to his friend.
And so that was what they did. Beck made his way cautiously over the edge and down the rope. He tried not to put too much weight on it, but sometimes he didn’t have a choice. He only had one leg that could take his weight on its own. The occasional grunt or oof from above him told him when James was feeling the strain. But he touched down safely and the rope dropped down to land at his feet.
Chapter 27
Five minutes later James was on solid ground next to him. They looked at each other.
‘This journey’s getting rough, eh?’ Beck said.
James answered with a faint smile. ‘Hey, if it was easy, anyone could do it.’
‘We walk?’
‘We walk.’ James waved up at the cliff. ‘Bye, pandas. Drop in any time.’
Mercifully, finally, the valley began to broaden out. The western side, which had been so steep and sheer, stretched out and became shallower. Trees and bushes returned, safely out of the flood zone. There would be stuff to eat, and wood to burn to make fires.
Beck called a halt and switched on the GPS. James watched silently as he got his bearings. They had made their way down this valley only because they’d been u
nable to take the route Beck wanted. How off course were they now?
Only a little, as it turned out. Nothing a good half-day’s walk couldn’t take care of. They would finally be able to leave this wretched valley – and the river that had tried to kill them. Beck opened his mouth to say as much, then thought, and closed it again.
‘What?’ James asked.
Beck looked down the river, then up the slope, then at James. He held up the GPS. The screen showed a red dot, which was them, then a black line leading from where they were, winding through valleys and over hills, and ending in a large yellow blob.
‘That’s Sangmu, whoever or whatever Sangmu is. And that’s how we reach Lumos. That’s when it gets really serious.’
Lumos! The thought that they might actually see the end of the line – even if it was just a glowing line on a screen – filled Beck with hope and energy. He could forget that he was worn out, and soaked, and had a leg that felt like it was about to fall off. Lumos!
He looked up at James again. ‘You know, this isn’t your fight, James. You don’t have to do this bit. You can follow the river downstream. You’ll soon end up back in civilization. It may take a couple of days, but you know enough to keep yourself alive.’
James expressed his opinion of that with some words that Beck hadn’t heard for a long time. Then he added: ‘And what do I say when Granddad asks where the hell I’ve been all this time?’
Beck shrugged. ‘Tell him you went off to Nepal to discover yourself, or whatever.’
‘Hey, I discovered myself a long time before Nepal. That’s why I’ve come this far and that’s why I’m sticking with you. ’Cos it is my fight. OK, they didn’t kill my parents like they did yours, but they did the next best thing. They drove my dad off . . . my mother would still be alive if they hadn’t turned her into a monster . . . and Ian would still be here if . . . if . . .’ He swallowed. ‘Look, I’m coming, OK?’
Beck bit his lip. Then: ‘Thanks,’ he whispered quietly. He threw a mock punch. ‘C’mon, then. We’ve got a hot date with Sangmu all lined up.’
Chapter 28
They walked for the rest of the day, and found a spot to camp for the night. The trunk of a pine tree had snapped about a metre from the ground. The trunk lay on the ground, still attached to the stump by a thin sliver of wood, which meant that it was held above the ground with space beneath it. It made a natural shelter for two boys to crawl into, and only a little work was needed to make it comfortable and weather-tight. There was a stream a short distance away and Beck caught them a fish for their supper. They cooked it over a crackling fire of pine needles and shreds of bark, which added a distinct tang to the fresh white meat. They threw its inedible guts and head back into the stream, away from any prowling wildlife, and went to sleep with stomachs full of warm food.
When Beck woke up, he lay there for a while and frowned up at the branches above him. Something seemed to linger inside him – a basic sense that something was unusual and out of place. He couldn’t put his finger on it. It lasted while they ate a breakfast of pine nuts and prepared to leave the camp. They had been walking for a couple of hours before it finally dawned on him. What was wrong was that . . . nothing was wrong.
They had a sense of purpose. They knew where they were going. They were in a land that would give them plenty of food and water. Just the amazing sight of the soaring mountains around them made the heart beat stronger.
In short, Beck was happy.
And that was how they spent the next couple of days. They walked, they camped, they moved on. They found nuts and berries to supplement their diet of fish. Sometimes they talked, sometimes they bickered in a good-natured way. Usually they walked in companionable silence.
The pain in Beck’s leg came and went. Occasionally it was like a third member of the group, throbbing and angry, gnawing into his bones. At those times, he would just grit his teeth and keep walking. Sometimes it went so far away he could almost forget it was there. He was used to aches and pains, and he was used to ignoring them.
He didn’t mention any of this to James. It would just worry him. So what if Beck needed medical attention? He wasn’t going to get any. They couldn’t deviate from their mission in order to go and find a doctor. And so Beck kept his pain private.
The GPS had to be left switched off to save power, so Beck had to keep track of their heading by other means. The sun was one way of doing that. It rose in the east, went round to the south and sank in the west. So, given that it was noon when the sun was at its highest, you knew exactly which way south was. If the time was halfway between noon and sunset, you could see where south-west was – and so on. And both he and James knew the trick of using their watches as a compass – aiming the small hand at the sun, and bisecting the angle between that and the twelve o’clock mark to find north.
A quicker, less precise way was just looking at the valley slopes. The south-facing ones caught the sun, the north-facing ones often spent their entire lives in shadow. So the plant life on the slopes that faced south was thicker.
Beck kept to the valleys where possible, but sometimes the high ground was impossible to avoid. Nepal mostly was high ground, after all. He just had to make sure they didn’t linger there.
It wasn’t just that it was always warmer and more sheltered down below. It meant fighting gravity less so that they had more strength for travelling. And he was acutely aware of the dangers of altitude sickness. More altitude meant less oxygen. Everyone reacted differently: some people could go up to almost 4000 metres above sea level and not be affected; some could barely make it past 2000 before keeling over. The first signs were usually shortness of breath and dizziness. Maybe with a bit of mental confusion and nausea and a headache for good measure.
Beck knew from experience that he had a good tolerance to altitude. He didn’t know how James would react, and James didn’t either. So Beck did what he could to keep them low. If they had to climb, he kept a close eye on James for signs of altitude sickness. And he made sure they dressed sensibly, even if it meant stopping several times a day to add or remove clothes, depending on how high or low they were, and whether they needed to conserve warmth or stop themselves overheating.
Neither he nor James had the clothing for really high altitudes. And unlike professional mountain climbers, they had no extra oxygen. If Sangmu was at the top of a big mountain, they were in trouble. That was a problem Beck would deal with when it arose.
The high ground still had its uses, as long as you didn’t get caught up there at night. You could get a general idea of the lie of the land, so you didn’t have to keep retracing your steps. You could keep an eye out for landmarks and judge how well you were maintaining your course. You could look down on the obstacles along your route, and make a mental map of the best way to get from A to B. And you could see the weather coming, just in case the rain had any repeat performances scheduled.
At the bottom of every valley was a stream or river, and every one had fish. They made sure to finish each day with a cooked meal. It was always fish, roasted on a stick, with something else – nuts or berries – on the side. The instant noodles were finally used up so they moved on to the soft white inner bark of pine trees, and seeds from the cones. But still they felt hungry. They were using up a lot more energy than they could replace and the hunger pangs were a constant companion.
Sometimes Beck and James discussed what food they would eat if they got out of this adventure alive. They veered between a big juicy steak, a plate of cheese, and chocolate bars. It’s funny what you crave when you’re hungry. The feeling of a stomach full of warm food was hard to beat, and it had been a while now since they’d had that.
Chapter 29
Eventually they came down off a plateau into a high valley. The sole occupants were a herd of gaur cows, which moved away grumpily as the boys came close. They were half the size again of a normal farm cow. Their skin was sleek and glossy over moving slabs of muscle, their horns curved and pointed,
maybe half a metre long. Even though the animals seemed placid, the horns made the point that they could look after themselves.
None of these cows would be called Daisy, James said with a laugh.
They grazed the grass thoughtfully, and every now and then one would twitch its tail to disturb a small cloud of buzzing flies. They kept a watchful eye on the two boys who had decided to share their valley.
A stream ran rapidly past them and then disappeared: Beck could hear the sound of a waterfall. He and James stopped and looked over the drop. The water tumbled down through a series of ledges and pools. It wasn’t steep – they could get down it easily, even with Beck’s leg, which continued to throb.
‘Lunch first,’ Beck said firmly.
They sat down and James peeled off his boots to let his feet breathe. He kept his socks on to conserve the warmth in his body, wiggling his toes underneath the wool. ‘We must really stink,’ he said happily.
Beck grinned and had to agree. Apart from their dunking in the river, it had been a long time since they’d had a proper shower.
James broke out their stored supply of pine nuts and Himalayan candy, then gave Beck a nudge. ‘Maybe it’s time for that steak?’ he quipped, nodding towards the cows.
The nearest one gazed back with a look that said, Try it, mate.
‘They’re sacred in Nepal,’ Beck said. ‘It’s illegal to kill them – unless you’re a lot more desperate than we are.’
‘Whatever. How about these?’ James got up and in socked feet went over to a clump of bushes. He appeared to have found some berries. He pulled back a branch decorated with purple flowers to let Beck see the cluster of bright red blobs.
‘We don’t know they’re not poisonous,’ Beck cautioned. Red berries came under the ‘maybe’ category. Black and blue were usually safe – they had already found some of those; white and yellow were usually not; and red – you never knew. You had to proceed carefully: first rub some of the flesh on your skin to see if there was any kind of reaction. Then wait a few hours. If there was no rash or stinging, then take a tiny bit of the juice and touch it to your lips. And so on, until finally you got to eat a bit and waited again. To do this properly could take days, and on their timescale, it wasn’t worth the risk.