Summit in sight

The morning didn't start too well, with two of the boys informing us at the very last minute that they didn't have waterproof boots, one boy had lost his coat, and another had left his boots outside in the rain all night. Poor Matt had to get in the van and drive the 50 mile round trip to center to pick up new equipment, resulting in a very delayed departure.

Thanks to this, I was assigned to the slow group. Not my favorite, as you have to spend all of your time encouraging children rather than walking. Yeah, I guess that my job, really, but still, if you have a choice, I'd much rather not.

I could tell it was going to be a slow one when the kid at the back had a pace similar to a pet rock. Each of his steps moving him forward about 20cm, and this was before we'd even got much more than a few meters from the camp site.

By the time the other groups had caught up with us we were on the flanks of the South Ridge, and the wind was really picking up. The leader, Pete, told them how to brace themselves against the wind, and a good job he did - soon a gust came along and took out the group in front, giving us a few seconds warning before we got hit. Hats and gloves went flying, spelling out the next few hours climb.

The guy at the back got worse and worse, until he was practically walking backwards, and collapsing with (fat)igue every 200m or so. We decided to serve up an ultimatum - keep up for the next 10 minutes, or turn around and go home. We also gave him a big bandage on his leg, which he'd been complaining about, to act as a huge placebo. The combination of the two seemed to work, but it was still very slow going.

The rain never arrived; or rather, arrived as hail. The wind was so strong that it came horizontally, and stung like mad when it hit your face. A few boys were unlucky enough to take one to the eye. As we got to about 800m it was settling, so that the ground was white, and covered in little balls of ice. The cloud had frozen to the grass, the world turned a frosty stray from another season.

We reached the summit in a record 5 hours, the longest it had ever taken. Stopped for 20 minutes in the summit cafe - a first (and last?) for me, and then, after a few photos on the very top, went down the Watkin. This was less painfully slow, but painful on the ears, as the lad at the back had now gained so much in spirit that he wouldn't shut up, and talked such amazing drivel that we had to take shifts at the back to make sure that each of us stayed sane.

3 hour later, we were back in camp, and the lad's knee hadn't been mentioned once, and didn't seem to crop up at all, even when he was jumping on a log with all his might to break it for the fire.

A few beers for the staff once the children were in their tents, and then bed ourselves. I had to share the tent, but I was so tired that I was asleep as soon as my eyes were closed.