We awoke bright eyed and as close to bushy tailed as we could muster. As I poked my head out of my tent a member of our group saw how awful I felt and gave me some of his anti-altitude pills. I am eternally grateful.
The Lunar desert was long. Really, really long. I think it being called a Lunar desert is quite apt. But to me it was as though we were walking on the bottom of a great ocean void of all its life giving water.
Roughly a 3rd of the way into our day we came across the wreckage of a plane. It was hugely surreal, just metres from the track we traversed. The pilot and passengers flew too low whilst taking pictures and crashed into the mountain. A terrible tragedy.
From about three fifths of the way, after hours of picking one foot up and placing it in front of the other, we could see tents on the horizon. What was a comfort at other parts of our journey, seeing camp, became a taunt to us. From our place in that Lunar landscape those tents came no closer. Step after step, no closer. Until finally we were minutes away. I'm not ashamed to say on our final shuffle up the last slope to camp tears sprung from my eyes. The last camp. We made it. Sleep, please sleep.
After a short nap I felt brand new. I could breathe, my head was clear, I was ready! After our final briefing we prepared ourselves for one last sleep before our final ascent at midnight.
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