My friend Sashka

We spent that summer in a camp in the Caucasus, in the valley where the famous Crown was. Sashka has long wanted to climb it. Well, I knew wh. It was a beautiful mountain. At the very top, there were two smaller teeth on either side of the main peak – exactly like the crown.

It was located far from our camp – at the opposite end of the valley. It would take all the day to approach her. And who among the climbers likes to carry backpacks?

And it was cold there, up the valley, so one needed a tent. And food supply. The mountain itself was also rather big. From early morning – from three o’clock, or even earlier – one had to start climbing in order to get to the top by noon, and then still have time to return to the tent before dark.

That’s why Sashka could not find a partner willing to stomp there. And in those days, the solo climbing with strictly prohibited. If caught, one was immediately disqualified. After that, either start again with newbies, or keep climbing illegally for the rest of your life, avoiding search and rescue posts. Nevertheless, some folks – very few – did it. But these were exceptions, and they were individuals committed to the mountains and to nothing else.

– One can do a beautiful climb right along the skyline on these teeth, – Red liked to dream aloud.

– Then you don’t have time to return, – somebody present would usually object to him. – You would then need to spend the night high up and carry with you all the camping stuff.

To avoid carrying the backpacks, we often hid them in the bushes near the camp, ran up to the mountain, climbed to the top, and returned in one day, then camping for two more days until the scheduled time to return. Otherwise, without backpacks with a tent, sleeping bags and what else was needed there for two nights, we were not allowed to go on the route. So, we gamed the system, provided one can get to the summit and back in one day.

Sometimes one could get into quite funny situation. The guys would do the summiting in one day, then slip through the camp at night to the village and sit there in the bar for two days. When radio session comes, they would report where they allegedly were according the schedule and that everything was fine with them. Occasionally, the base camp would urge them:

– You have bad weather building up there. If it gets worse within the next two hours, the ascent is prohibited.

And they would respond from the bar:
– Of course, but it’s quite quiet here, so far. The weather is still holding. Maybe the cloud is passing between us. Well, we’ll watch out, and, if anything, go straight down.

But that rarely happened. Everything usually went well without any fuss. But with Crown, it could not work. It was located too far and high up from the base camp.

However, by the end of the season, when we had already climbed almost all the peaks in the valley, Beard had to go as a leader on the route of exactly the same category as on the Crown. So, Sashka went with him.

In the evening (before the morning they were leaving) Sashka and Beard studied the route description again and checked what they needed to take with them. They tried to reduce the weight, but it was already down to the minimum. I asked Sashka:

– What moves you to carry that much cargo like a burro? It is a full day of hiking one way and then back.

– You know, my friend, – Sashka replied, ¬– If you don’t realize your dreams, then why to live at all? What’s the point?

I understood him. We climbed together not one route. Sashka was a very reliable partner. I would go anywhere with him without hesitation. But on snow and ice routes my qualifications were still low and I could not go to Crown.

– Some dreams can be realized without straining, actually, – said Red, lying on his bed on top of the blanket.

He and another guy named Samson (he was very strong) were going a day later to another route, which was closer to the base camp.

– Samson and I will leave early the day after tomorrow, – Red continued. – We will climb that hill without haste and will finish the qualification that will allow us to climb even bigger mountains and unconquered peaks. But we will not do it, because our dream is more modest. We love the warm and dry rocks of Crime, which are not far from certain stimulating dingy places and the beach, where still unconquered girls are strolling.

– By the way, did you study your route? – Beard asked him.

– What to study there? – Red responded casually. – Walk to the couloir and shoot straight up. There is nowhere to turn. Right, Samson? What do you think?

– My business is to shoot, – answered Samson, who was lying on the other bed. – It’s your business to think.

Samson was known for the following story. Once we were sitting under the rocks after training, when a person from another team came up to us (they were climbing on the far end of the wall) and asked for help:

– We need one strong and not necessarily smart person, – he said.

Samson got up at once:

– I’m ready.

He was very reliable on the route, never has tired or lost his composure, was kind and strong.

Sashka and Beard started at dawn. The weather promised to be good. It was chilly from the morning fog, but after half a kilometer it even became pleasant to feel its coolness on a heated body.

They walked at a good pace, looking around with pleasure. This valley was famous for its views and abundance of flowers. From time to time, one of them would say to the other something like:

– Just look where we live!

– Yes, – answered his partner.

Sashka thought, why is this so? The surrounding beauty delights now, when we have not much time to look at it. But in the base camp, when you can do it as much as you like, we pay almost no attention to this beauty. It has something to do with the feeling of fleetingness, temporality, the need to catch the moment. When everything is given to you freely – take as much as you want – it becomes less attractive.

At about noon they stopped at the approach to the mountain, on which Red and Samson were going to climb the next day. While the tea was warming up, Sashka looked at it, remembering how he worked this route last year.

There were several long couloirs all the way to the top – a sort of huge vertical ravines, separated from each other by high ribs. Although all the couloirs looked identical, only one of them could be climbed. All the others at the very top were locked by ice cornices. Such cornices themselves are quite passable. Just take an ice ax in each hand and drive them into the ice, leaning on the front spikes of the crampoons driven into the ice too. Knock with your hand, knock with your foot, knock with the other hand, knock with the other foot – such climbing is even easier than climbing a rock.

The problem is, however, that the couloir is long, and one cannot get to the top before the sun starts heating the ice cornices, turning them into an icefall. As soon as it does, the pieces of ice the size of a big truck start coming down. In addition, from time to time such a “truck” hits the rocks and breaks so that the fragments fly in all directions as if from an exploded shell, deeply piercing the surface of the couloir. There is little chance of surviving under such shelling.

– Have you been to that pimple? – Beard asked, pointing in the opposite direction to the high spire of the peak called The Needle.

– Yes, two years ago. It’s not as difficult as it seems. There are many deep pockets in the rock, and the wind blows out the snow. Grab securely and enjoy your life. On the last rope we didn’t even belayed. Just went up, put the note in the capsule, took the one that was there, and went down.

– Did you spend the night under the mountain?

– No. We left the tent halfway. Remember the lake we passed?

– Nice place for camping.

– We stayed there for two days until the time was up. Well, should we continue?

They packed the gasoline burner, mugs, and food leftovers, put on the backpacks, and started walking up the valley again.

By the evening they reached Crown, reported on the radio about their situation, set up camp, ate again and went to bed.

Sashka felt uneasy for whatever reason. He could not understand why. He tossed and turned for a while, then managed to calm down, and fell asleep.

Being able to calm down is a very useful quality. For some it is part of the character, for others it comes with experience. Sashka’s character, in fact, was easily excitable, but early in his life – at the age of twelve – he realized that this was his weakness, began to take care of himself and learned to intercept his impulses in time. Only a spark still flickered in his eyes and he was able to react to a danger faster than many people. But in other situations, his words and actions were quite balanced and measured.

Perhaps I have some bias toward him. Sashka was my partner, and I still love and respect him very much. Even now, in difficult situations, I ask myself, what would Sashka say? And then I hear his voice: “Calm down, my friend. Whatever you do, just don’t let your hands tremble.”

Getting up at three in the morning isn’t easy. The sky is still full of stars, trickles of cold air penetrate through the collar. All you want is to get back into the sleeping bag and catch the not quite lost dream. But you know that if you do not succumb to the temptation, in half an hour you will already be working at full strength and will be very glad that you started the route early, with some time to spare. You feel on a safe side. One concern less.

– Have you noticed, – Beard asked, – that in the evening the stars look so beautiful and warm, and in the morning – prickly and cold?

– This is just poetry, – Sashka answered, tightening his backpack. – And who makes poetry?

– Who?

– Those who look at the mountains from afar. They are so beautiful at a distance. But when you are close, your attention has to be focused on what?

– What?

– You do surprise me, Beard. This is not your first time in the mountains. What are you thinking about on the route?

– About the time we return and drop that damn backpack.

– No, you are thinking about it on the way to the route. But what are you thinking about when you work on the wall?

Beard pondered a moment.

– Well, I’m thinking about my partner, – he finally said, – and about the stray rock.

– Here you go! This way, please, continue. And no poetry whatsoever! As for the stars, if they are shining clear, it’s a good thing. This means there are no clouds and the weather is still holding.

He got up, pulled a small climbing backpack on his back, gave the end of the rope to Beard, made a loop on the other end, and pushed it into a carabiner on his chest. Beard did the same. They examined each other, then looked around to see if they had forgotten anything, zipped up the tent, took ice axes and went up to where the first wall began.

They climbed, leading in turn, until the sun began to warm up, then took a break to rest and eat on a wide shelf. The valley below was still crossed by the shadows of the mountains, but the already lit snowy slopes were shining in full glory.

– Feels good, – Beard breathed out with pleasure and turned his face up to the sun, closing his eyes. – Time to use the cream.

They got out sunscreen and sunglasses.

– Now there will be only snow and ice, –Sashka said, pulling out the second ice ax.

Beard also took out a second ice ax, several snow ice screws and security loops for them.

– From now on, there is no beauty around, – Sashka said. – Only your partner and danger. Got it?

– Sure. Like the text book teaches.

When the water started bubbling, they made tea, ate half a can of canned fish with bread, cleaned and packed everything, and went on, cutting into firn (dense snow) and ice with ice axes.

On the second pitch Sashka lost his breath, and noticed that Beard was breathing heavily too. He slowed down a little. Breathing improved. Beard seemed felt better also.

But that pace was too low. They could get out of the schedule. So, after a couple of pitches Sashka picked up the speed again. This time the body has adjusted. Breathing became heavier, but was going steady. That was sustainable.

Finally, by noon the summit has appeared.

– Almost there, huh? – Beard gasped, drawing in air.

– Yah–h. Just a bit longer to endure, – also gasping for air, Sashka answered.

But it took them another hour to climb to the very top. I know from my own experience how exhaustingly deceiving the proximity of the summit can be. Here it is, in short reach, but you are walking, walking, and it is not getting closer. Only with experience one learns to understand what the “older” folks had already told you for a long time: the summit is close only when you step on it. Before that, it is still far away.

It can cause serious trouble for novices. You start relaxing too early, while there is still a lot of hard work ahead. You are trying to pull yourself together again, but it takes so much energy that you step on the top without any pleasure, and during the descent your legs give way, which is really bad. The descent is when most troubles occur.

But Sashka and Beard learned these things long time ago and worked steady the last stretch. Only somewhere in the very corner of the brain sometimes flashed a reassuring thought that “we made it, it seems” and that soon it would be possible to breathe freely. You just need to endure a little longer.

The view from the top was, as usual, not as beautiful as from below. Snowy peaks around and that’s it. There is no such a great variety of colors as when you look up from the valley. Only the fact that very few people saw this panorama makes it so interesting.

Beard was unusually quiet. Sashka looked at him:

– What? Got perspired a bit?

– Yah–h, feel … not exactly great. Let’s go down. It will get better, I think.

– Relax a bit.

Sashka himself handled the notes and changed the equipment for the descent. They started walking down. Sashka belayed Beard. The rope was fixed by the ice screw. When the rope was stretched full length, Beard screwed in another ice screw, and Sashka walked down using ice axes.

This arrangement slowed them down, so at the radio communication time they were still on the wall, far from the tent. Sashka reported on their location and condition. Then the head of the camp rescue team took the microphone and asked if they had noticed Red’s group on the route.

– No, – Sashka said. – Something happened?

– They missed the radio call. We kept our radio in reception mode all the time, but nothing came from them. Another group passed by their route. They scanned the couloir, but saw no one. I think they have gone up the wrong couloir, and the rescue work is in order.

– Is the rescue team already on the way?

– Yes, but not in this direction. The girl disappeared in the village. Everyone is there, combing the mountains. We called for help from a nearby camp, but they will only come tomorrow. The guys from your team have already left. They will get there in the morning.

Beard and Sashka looked at each other.

– How many other groups are in the valley right now? – asked Sashka.

– Only you and Red. The one that passed them, went to the neighboring valley.

Sashka looked at Beard without turning on the microphone.

– I can’t, – he replied.

Sashka thought for a few seconds.

– Can you get to the tent on your own? – he asked.

– Come on! Are you going to do it alone?

Sashka looked at the microphone and said nothing.

– I’ll get to the tent fine, – said Beard. – No problem. It is not as steep anymore.

Sasha turned on the microphone:

– Beard does not feel well, but he can get to the tent without help. And I can traverse to the top, where Red was supposed to go. I’ll try to find them from above.

– It will be difficult to guess where they are, – said the chief of the rescue team.

– Either to the left or to the right, I think. I’ll shout there.

– If they will hear or can answer.

– I’ll figure it out.

– Just don’t go under the icefall yourself. There is already enough rescue work.

– I’ll figure something out. I’ve been there before.

They agreed on a communication schedule and ended the session. Sashka began to sort out the equipment.

– Is it okey, if I take all the ice screws and ropes? – he asked Beard.

– Take it. Fine. I don’t need them already.

Sashka began to pack the backpack.

– It’s all Red’s fault, – said Beard. – I bet, hasn’t even looked at the route description.

Sashka agreed with him, but did not answer. He had known Red for a long time. They climbed together as teenagers. And it was not matter how much Red was guilty. Sasha simply had to do everything he could to help him. And Samson was there, also a childhood friend.

– Well, that’s it. Take care, – Sashka got up and threw his backpack behind his back, picked up ice axes and began a traverse – a horizontal route across the slope – in order to reach the ridge, along which he could, he hoped, get to the summit, which Red was supposed to ascend.

He had to move quickly if he wanted to get to the ridge before dark. On the ridge, there will be light from the moon, while here on the slope below, one cannot see anything in the shade.

Now that he was alone, Sashka worked twice as fast. He didn’t think about being tired. All his thoughts and actions were focused on his plan. He walked and walked, driving ice axes and crampons into the ice, automatically watching for the sound with which they entered the ice. Is there enough depth? Was the blade stopped by a rock? Is the ice breaking?

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. He walked in a steady rhythm and thought of nothing else.

He got to the ridge on time – there was enough day light yet – and immediately started walking on the top of it, around false and real peaks and rocks that blocked the passage. Sometimes he had to climb sideways with a long vertical drop under him. But the climbing was not difficult, although he tried to protect the crampons. He would need them very much if he had to go down the ice wall.

At about midnight, he realized that he had come to the right place. He adjusted his bearings. At the exit of one of the couloirs, he drove an ice drill into the ice in a horizontal crack, fastened a rope to it and, holding on to it, hung over the ice cornice, shouting down a few times: “Red! Samson!” He did not hear an answer.

In general, shouting down the mountain is quite difficult. The sound goes up and all other directions. Shouting up the mountain is another matter. The sound then bounces off the walls and concentrates. “If they heard me,” thought Sashka, “then I would definitely hear them.”

He repeated the same at the second and at the third couloir. Then he returned to the first one. This time it seemed to him that there was some kind of sound. He hung even lower from the ice cornice and shouted as loudly as he could. In response, he clearly heard Red’s voice:

– Sashka?!

– Yes! – Sashka answered loudly. – How are you?

– Fine!

– Anybody wounded?!

– No!

“Thank God!” Sashka thought.

– We have lost all the gear! – Red shouted. – And the radio!

Sashka looked at his watch. It was about one in the morning. “Better to wait at least until two for the icefall to freeze harder,” he thought.

– I’m leaving in an hour! – he shouted down.

– Got it! Are you alone?

– Yes! Alone!

Sashka returned to the summit, collected the rope, found a less windy place and sat down on the rope. He pulled a down jacket from his backpack and put it on over the climbing jacket. Now his small stature gave the advantage that he could almost completely pull himself inside the jacket, along with his legs, knees pressed to his chest.

At one in the morning, as agreed, he radioed the base camp, said that he had found Red and told everything he knew about their situation.

– A group of your team is on the way, – said the rescue squad leader. – In two hours they may arrive to the wall. What is the plan?
– In an hour I’ll start the descent and asses the situation. Then I’ll let you know.

– Don’t take unnecessary risk. Better to sit in the snow for a day hungry than to lie on the marble table and feel nothing.

– Sure.

He turned off the radio and looked around. It was cold, but bearable. The stars hung as juicy drops, so close that one may hit one with an ice axe.

“What is it now? Evening or morning?” he asked himself. “Beard said the stars are kinder in the evening. So, it’s still evening. Well, everything depends on the attitude. Depends on the person. It’s your choice to be miserable or happy. Not happy happy, but okey happy, ready to do things.”

He tried not to think about himself and how he felt. He knew that as soon as he began to listen to the needs of his body, he may start feeling sorry for himself and get weaker. To pull yourself together afterward takes time and energy, and he needed every ounce of energy for the task at hand.

In general, and especially in critical situations, Sashka tried to treat his body as if looking at it from outside – the way he treated his car or his dog. If you can give it what it needs, do it. Don’t give it more than was needed too much. Not needed means not needed. Everything extra may be harmful. If you can’t give anything or not enough, let it endure. If it can’t do without, so be it. What else can you do? If possible to repair it later, do it. If not possible, then, well, deal with that.

He pulled out a handful of nuts mixed with raisins and a chocolate bar. Slowly chewing the mixture, he thought of Red. Without emotions, as objectively as about anything else.

“Red is a good guy, in principle. Smart, for sure. But with some kind of crack in him. Once in a while it shows and pushes him off balance like nobody else. His own abilities probably cause the problem. One feels a resentment in him, a disappointment that people do not recognize him enough. His father was treated unfairly under Stalin. Many people were. Why does Red fuels this insult? He could study well and apply his brains. What’s the point in blaming everything on Soviet system? It just costs you more and more every time. Well, there are grievances that are difficult to forget.”

He began to recall his difficult childhood, but immediately stopped himself and tried to think about something else.

“Red said they had lost their gear. This means my gear is what we have. Not much for three climbers in this condition. And we need to go down quickly, to get down before the ice starts falling. We start at two, so we need to get down in three hours. Three hours is not enough probably. The rescue squad lead said that our team would approach the beginning of the route at night. In the worst case, we can dig niche in the wall and sit there until the next morning.”

He went through all the possible options until two. Then he got up and started looking for a way down through the ice cornice and on to the wall. There was no time to waste, and he acted with “maximally reasonable” risk, as we called this method of action, when you move in one breath, feeling with all five senses everything that is happening around, continuously calculating all possible unexpected turns. Where to hide your head if a stone or ice comes from above? What if one hand or leg loses support? And if a hand and a leg lose support at the same time? You can’t keep track of everything, but at least one hand and one leg should hold securely.

Sashka got through the cornice onto the wall and shouted down:

– Coming down! Watch out there! Ice may come down!

– You won’t scare us with ice anymore, – Red’s voice came quite clearly. – Such locomotives flew by all day yesterday. You will not find that big ones on the railway.

Sashka, cautiously, but quickly began to descend, occasionally calling out to Red for orientation. One leg down – knock, one hand follow – knock, the other leg– knock, the other hand – knock. Sometimes he didn’t like the sound of the “knock.” In such case, he would pull the thorns of a crampon or an ice ax out of the ice and hammered it into the ice in again – knock – that sounded better!

An hour later, he reached them, pushed an ice screw into the ice, buckled up, hung on the harness and allowed himself to relax a little. Now he wanted calmly assess the situation. There was no room for any mistake.

Red and Samson sat in a shallow niche carved into the ice, fastened to ice screws screwed into the ice. In the dark, Sashka could not assess their condition. But they sounded cheerful, although they were obviously tired.

– What happened? – asked Sashka.

– The ice started bombing, – answered Red. – We huddled into this niche, and left the backpack hanging on the hook. Then the train car came from above and took the backpack down. All the gear was in it, and the radio, and the food … It was our luck it did not pick up us, too. It was very close call.

Sashka rummaged in his pocket and pulled out the last handful of the mixture of nuts and raisins, divided it into two. They began to chew slowly. Sashka looked closely. Samson appeared all right. Red betrayed a little lack of coordination, he seemed to be fussing too much.

“Maybe he’s just nervous,” Sashka has thought. “Feels guilty, I guess.”

– The ice axes have gone, too? – he clarified, although he already knew the answer.

– Everything was there, on the same hook.

For a short moment Sasha got angry – at Red, at Samson, at an icefall, at his tired body. But he did not let the feeling grow, and redirected its energy into the muscles. His energy has surged.

– Okay, let’s move, – he said. – We don’t have much time. The crampons you did not removed. That’s good. Let’s do the following. Samson with two ice screws descends the full rope length and makes a reception point. He secures himself with one ice screw, and the rope with the other. It would nice to put in an intermediate ice screw at half rope, but time is short. We need to work as carefully as possible. Red, do you understand me?

– I am fine. What are you …

Sashka interrupted him:

– Okey. Samson, how are you?

– All is clear.

– Let’s go then.

Sashka checked everyone’s safety harness on the chest, made a loop on his rope and clicked it into the carabiner on his ice screw, the other end – with a loop at the end too – clicked into the carbine on Samson’s chest, gave him an ice screw and pulled out all the slack in the rope.

– Unscrew your screw and go down, – he told Samson.

The latter hung down on the rope that Sashka was holding, quickly unscrewed his ice screw and began to descend, resting the crampons against the wall as Sashka released the rope.

Having descended to the full length, he screwed both ice screws into the ice, fastened himself with a safety loop to one, the rope through – to the other, and pulled out the slack.

– Ready! – he shouted.

Sashka tugged at the rope, made sure that Samson picked up the slack, took out an ascender (a device that helps to descend or ascend the rope) and handed it to Red:

– Here you go.

He unfastened him from his ice screw, and Red began to descend, holding on to the rope with the ascender. While he was descending, Sashka pulled out his ice screw.

– Ready! – Samson shouted again.

This meant that Red had already reached him and was fastened to one of the ice screws, and Samson was ready to secure Sashka.

– Are you holding it? – Sashka specified.

– Holding, – Samson answered.

– Just don’t pull, – Sashka clarified again.

He drove both ice axes into the ice, pulled out the ice screw with one hand, and began to go down. Samson carefully pulled out the rope. If Sashka falls down, he will fly by him, and he will catch him on his ice screw. If the screw will stay in. Should stay. The ice was good and the screw was all the way in.

Having reached them, Sashka fastened to the carbine on one of the screws, and they repeated the same sequence again. And again. And again.

They tried to move gingerly, but quickly, yet did not reach the ground before the sunrise. At about five in the morning, as on schedule, the first piece of ice passed by. It was still cold below, and the sun had already warmed up the ice cornice.

Now Samson, who was looking up all the time, warned everybody if he noticed a falling block, and all three of them pressed against the wall until the ice rustled past them. Because of this, the descent speed decreased.

On the next rope, just before Sashka released Red to go down, a gift from the sky hit the side of the couloir and partially split. One very small, apparently, piece of ice, like a bullet scribbled Red’s head just under the edge of the helmet and splashed bright red color on the blue ice. Red’s head limply leaned against the wall.

Sashka felt something has snapped inside.

“We are done,” he thought.

Several moments dragged on for a very long time.

“I had time to think and weigh carefully all options,” – he told me later. “I can roll these seconds in my memory like a slow motion movie. I remember everything, down to the minute details.”

Then his many years of training as a rescuer kicked in. With one hand, one finger actually, he pressed the wound. With his other hand, he managed to pull the emergency kit out of his backpack, opened it, pressing it with his body against the wall. Holding the first-aid kit by the edge with his teeth, so as not to let it fall down, he pulled out and pressed into the wound a sterile hemostatic tampon. Then, with both hands, he wrapped it tightly with a bandage around the head. Then – all this almost in one breath – pulled out the syringe and pushed the anti-shock injection into Red’s thigh right through his pants. Red moaned and raised his head. Sashka sighed with relief, rested his helmet against the wall and closed his eyes for a couple of seconds.

– How is he? – Samson asked from below.

– Baby holds the head, – muttered Sashka, still resting against the wall, looking at Red sideways.

– Will live, – Samson concluded.

– An anti-shock injection is a good, – he added, confidently.

Sashka got back to work. He unfastened the rope end from his chest and clicked it into the carbine on the Red’s, who muttered something weakly and tried to move. Sashka shouted to Samson: “Hold!” Samson pulled out the slack, so that the rope went taut, going from Samson through the carbine on the upper ice screw to Red.

Sashka unhooked Red from the screw and told him, articulating every word:

– Let’s go down slowly. Put your feet up against the wall. Can you?

– Why can’t you? Can do it in my sleep, – muttered Red, not quite yet recovered from the pain shock.

Sasha examined the bandage on the wound again and packed the first-aid kit. He was grateful to Red for his trying to break through the fog of his condition. Well, maybe the word “grateful” didn’t quite accurately describe his attitude. It would probably be more correct to say that he appreciated the fact that Red was trying, and did not hang like a sack, as he most likely wanted.

– Come on! Move your feet, – Sashka added gently.

– Give it out little by little! – he shouted to Samson.

The latter began to release the rope. Red, hanging now on it, began to lean back, but then collected his legs and slowly started walking down the wall.

– Come on, come on! – Samson encouraged him from below. – Move those limbs!

By the time Red got to the level with Samson, he has almost completely recovered. He just did everything slower than usual, and muttered something from time to time.

– Be quiet, – Samson would sometimes tell him. – Save your breath. You will tell us everything at home.

And so they moved, almost paying no attention to the falling ice. Sashka tried not to think that at any moment another piece of ice could bounce off and cut the rope. Why think about it? One cannot do anything about it. What will be will be. Gradually, he threw these thoughts out of his head, too.

The ground approached slowly. And as it grew closer, the energy was draining. On the last few pitches, Sashka had stopped pulling the ice screws, leave even carbines in them, including his favorite one. There was just no strength to do it. Later he was sorry he left the gears. Well, nothing can be done anymore.

When they were on the last pitch, we walked along the wall, avoiding the icefall, and grabbed Red. At first, he waved his arms and did not want to lie on the stretcher. But Fedot gave him an injection to relax, and he collapsed into a stretcher like an elephant after being put to sleep by the rangers in Africa.

– What’s that? – another friend asked Sashka, pointing to his forehead.

A horizontal swelling has formed above Sashka’s eyebrows, sticking two centimeters forward. Everyone crowded around him.

– Frontit, probably, – concluded another guy.

– The good news is that now you can look at the sun without protecting your eyes with your palm, – the third guy said triumphantly.

Everybody laughed.

– I can inject you too, – Fedot offered Sashka quietly. – Just like a small bee bites

– Thanks. No need, – Sashka waved his hand wearily. – I’ll manage.

And we went to the camp.

Beard came to the camp only in the evening. We have forgotten about him completely.