Patrick Woodhead - The Cloud Maker (2010)

Luca stopped counting and looked at him impatiently.

‘Bill, the bottom line is that I really don’t care what she is doing up there. All that matters is that we’ve been shown a route up and we’re one step closer to finding the pyramid mountain.’

‘Yeah, but I don’t see the connection between . . .’

Luca stood up, pulling two climbing harnesses from the rucksack. He looked at the deep frown lines running across his friend’s forehead.

‘Come on, mate. Give it a rest. We came here for the pyramid mountain. That’s all that matters. In a few days’ time, we’ll have found a route through these mountains and be standing at its base.’

He handed a harness across to Bill.

‘Piece of piss,’ he said, the beginnings of a smile on his face.

Bill stared down at the harness for a moment before reaching forward and taking it. He went to say something more, but Luca swivelled away from him, staring out towards the distant mountains. Low on the horizon, faint wisps of cloud were gathering on the peaks.

‘We should get moving,’ he said. Then raising his voice to include Shara and Gyaltso, ‘We need to be on top of this cliff before the wind picks up.’

Shara took in the crisp morning air and clear skies. She cast a doubtful look towards Bill.

‘Trust him on this,’ Bill confirmed. ‘The weather is the one thing Luca always gets right.’

‘The one thing?’ queried Shara, an eyebrow raised.

While Bill and Luca finished preparing the ropes, the old monk led Shara away and started talking to her. They kept their backs to the men as they looked out at the mountains. Luca was in the middle of uncoiling two of the eight-millimetre ropes when he glanced over and noticed the old monk reach into the small satchel slung across his shoulder. He pulled out something wrapped in a piece of cloth. Luca only saw it for a split second before Shara slid it quickly into her own bag.

She put a hand on the old monk’s arm, seeming to reassure him about something, before walking over to where Luca was standing.

‘Are we ready?’ she asked.

‘Yeah, we’re ready.’

He studied her for a moment, impressed by how calm she appeared before the climb. She stood with her hands on her hips, the strong bones of her face emphasised by the way her hair had been pulled back in a ponytail. Instead of the dirty tunic of the previous evening, she wore a thick cream jumper with a high neck. It was pulled tight around her waist by a leather belt. The felt boots she was wearing were laced with twine, in similar fashion to the herders’ but of much better quality.

A green canvas bag with metal clasps and padded shoulder straps lay by her feet. Earlier that morning he had seen her pack a thick sheepskin jacket and several pairs of tightly knitted woollen gloves. Looking down at the bag, he wondered what it was that the old monk had given her.

‘It’s going to be a hard climb and you should travel the lightest,’ Luca said. ‘Why don’t you put some of your stuff in my pack and I’ll carry it for you?’

Shara gave him a quick smile. ‘I should be all right. It’s not too heavy,’ she said, raising the bag a little to test it.

‘Up to you,’ said Luca.

Bill walked up to them with a loose bundle of slings in his hand.

‘We didn’t have a spare harness,’ he said to Shara, ‘so I’ve rigged this up for you. It’s not pretty, but it’ll hold.’

Luca swung the ropes round, tying off two figure-of-eight knots into his own harness and then signalled to Bill to start belaying him. He was about to move on to the narrow ledge and begin climbing, when the old monk stepped up to the cliff-face and approached him. Luca stood in silence as he old man placed gnarled hands on his cheeks and began mumbling a long stream of rolling syllables. Resisting the urge to pull his head free, Luca waited until he had finished, feeling awkward with the sudden solemnity of the situation.

‘A blessing,’ Shara explained, as the old man turned and did the same to Bill. With Shara he bent forward so that their foreheads were touching and with his eyes firmly closed, repeated a silent prayer, his lips moving slowly with unspoken words.

When the old monk had finally backed away, Luca nodded to him, smiling faintly.

‘Don’t worry. We’ll take care of her.’

With that, he glanced across at Bill and moved forward on to the ledge, keeping his hips close to the rock and the top half of his body arched out, so he could see higher up. Shara watched the ropes slowly paying out to where Luca climbed in a steady rhythm, only pausing every five metres or so to clip in one of the bolts that hung in a great bunch of twisted metal from his harness. In what seemed like just a couple of minutes he was fifty feet above where they stood, his movements fluid and precise. There was an absolute confidence to the way he climbed, each grip of his hand deliberate, each foothold instinctive and self-assured.

Pausing again, he jammed down two bolts about a metre apart into an open crack in the rock. Offsetting the angle, he clipped a carabineer through each point and ran through a sling, twisting it back on itself with a flick of his wrist. Clipping the climbing ropes into a third carabineer, he screwed the locking gate closed and finally put his weight back into the seat of his harness, secure.

‘OK,’ he shouted down the face. Bill tied Shara into the same rope and then motioned her forward. He counted out ten more metres before tying himself in.

‘Just take the exact same route,’ he said. ‘And, whatever happens, don’t look down.’

Shara moved methodically, keeping her focus on the wall ahead and trying to ignore the fact that her legs felt wooden and her heart was beating in her throat. Every few meters, the ropes ahead of her would gently tug at her waist as Luca pulled in the slack from above.

Along the actual ledge, the going was not too bad. Although she was much slower than Luca, her feet moved upwards in a near-constant flow. Then, fifty feet above the ground, the ledge naturally sheared off, leaving an exposed patch of perfectly smooth rock.

Shara stopped, feeling for a handhold higher up the cliff. There was nothing above or below – just smooth, unbroken rock. All she could think to do was to press her body flat against the cliff and edge her way higher. But without a decent grip, her balance felt tenuous, as if the slightest breeze would send her toppling over the edge. She’d watched Luca climbing this part from the ground. He hadn’t even hesitated.

Looking across the gap, Shara could see where the ledge continued. It was only a metre or so away. All she had to do was lean out.

She felt her breath becoming quick and shallow as the sweat collected across her forehead. She tried to move, tried to force her heavy, unresponsive legs forward, but every instinct screamed out for her to stay where she was.

‘Come on,’ she murmured to herself. ‘Come on. Just one step . . .’

With a sudden lurch, she reached forward again, pushing out across the drop. The side of the cliff yawned out below her and, for a second, she looked down, seeing the hazy outline of the ground beneath. Then the toe of her right foot connected with a loose pebble lying on the edge and suddenly she was sliding downwards, her knee banging against the cliff and her hands clawing at the rock.

There was a sudden jolt as the ropes went tight, then a stabbing pain as the straps from the slings dug into her waist and kidneys. The heavy bag on her shoulders yanked her whole body backwards, pulling her off balance, and she frantically reached for the taut ropes ahead of her. Then everything went still. There was silence, except for the slow creaking of the ropes.

‘You OK?’

Luca’s voice wafted down to her.