Lost in their thoughts, they follow the Rio Horcones for several kilometers now. The first passed without glancing to it. The last felt the presence of its mass and stop one last time to contemplate it.
The monster seems to crush them from the immensity of its Southern face and to laugh at their failure. Could they have overcome it without this wind? Were there any other solutions than this precipitated descent? Could have they held on one day, one night more to wait until this storm ceases? 
In spite of their bitterness, all know that there was only one decision to take. One of them however, victim of his inexperience and his thoughlessness, the face burned , striated by scabs, lips bursted, the eyes purulent, is perhaps the only one who is living the 36 kilometers of descent like a relief.
At the bottom of himself, in the moments of clearness the attacks of fever leave to him, he can measure the distance separating his pretension to the humility this mountain inspires with.
Then he looks in front of him those guides (*), small points in the middle of this stones vastness. He cannot help admiring them, them who will make 5 times more during the season this effort that appeared to him so inhuman. Them, who already overcame tens of time this mountain. Them, who never complain and who attend to everything, "those conquerors of useless... " (end of the history of an expedition among so much others )(*) To Adrian, Matias, to the 2 Diegos, to Cedric...
To Catherine, Tony, Kevin and José
1 comment:
I like very much this pictures.
Cool blog.
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