Well, of the thirteen members of our team, eleven reached the summit. I was one of those who did not quite make it, because I got acute mountain sickness and went slightly out of my head at the final camp, Karanga, having climbed the Barranca Wall which was quite a struggle for me, and for Karin and Martin Pickles who chose to stay with me and to support me as I made my way at a snail's pace ever upwards. They could have gone on ahead with the younger part of the team but did not, and I thank them for that.
As it is we stragglers got caught in a heavy hail storm and as all our heavy thermal kit, jackets and gloves had all been taken on ahead by the porters, it was pretty tough going.
The following morning was summit day, but the guides quickly spotted that I was not myself, and our mountaineer team leader Mike Laing noted the sound of my irregular if not erratic footfall from within his tent.
I considered the options as rationally as I could and concluded that if I insisted on trying to make the summit, then I would certainly have prevented one or more of those that could make it, from making it, so I bowed out as gracefully as I could.
The team went onwards and upwards, I went downhill (literally!) with a guide to the next camp and met up with the heroic summiteers later that day.
And so we are all home again, all well save for a few bumps and scrapes.
C'est tout!
