The climbers who had disappeared, exhausted, into their tents after successfully reaching the summit were a very different bunch to those who'd started on this journey a week before
t's midnight and with only our head torches to light the way, I can hear laboured breathing all around me. The sky is crisp and clear, and the stars seem close enough to touch. It's taken a while for the group to get into climbing mode. Heads down, each climber focuses on the feet of the person in front of them. As we stop for our first break, the cold bites hard. Temperatures are somewhere around -5°C, though with the wind chill it feels more like minus fifteen. Ahead and behind us, the torches of other groups strung out along the trail look like fairy lights. In an attempt to rally the group's flagging spirits, I cheerfully inform them
