On the equator the days are short. It was now 5pm and the way ahead looked hard. We were at a reasonable ledge so we decided to bivvy although we were not as far as we’d hoped. Chris battled ineptly with the stove for over an hour to give us each a cup of water. We then settled down - Ed and I had a three foot wide, outward-sloping ledge with the gear we were anchored to below us. I didn’t sleep a wink, but the sunrise was good.
The ropes were frozen solid in the morning so we had to use a body belay. Leading off, the bold 4c moves felt quite exciting with a 20 pound pack and no breakfast. Two easier pitches brought us over the Grand Gendarme to the crux 50 foot wall. The climbing was easy - the sack hauling much harder. Beyond, a jagged knife edge curved gracefully up and right towards Batian. Exciting exposed scrambling led to Shipton’s Notch. A short abseil down and the summit looked tantalisingly close. One pitch, maybe two?
Every move was hard now at nearly 17,000 feet. The views were amazing - rock falling steeply away for 3,000 feet and then very gentle rocky and forested slopes down to the dusty, brown plains far below. My mind wandered, thinking of the elephants, lions and zebra we had seen and remembering that I was in fact in Africa. But the clouds were welling up and soon my world once again became the rock immediately ahead of me. Finally, after three pitches, I joined Robin a few yards below the summit. We scrambled together the last few feet to a small platform with a little cairn and shook each other by the hand. It was exactly midday.
The mountain, of course, is Mt. Kenya, and Phil was there this summer with Operation Raleigh. The party descended with one further bivouac and no real mishaps except sticking abseil ropes.