JOURNEY - on Mastering Ukemi (28 page)

“
Damn. Bim, thank you. Please go back outside and watch for the other gunman. Yell if you see anyone coming.”

“
Yes, Sahib.”

Christian had been standing there the whole time and I knew it would be useless to ask him to look further. “Son, find a pack and go into the kitchen and find some food and a few bottles of water.”

He looked around and reached behind one of the rebels and pulled out two things I was glad to see. One was a good sized pack and the other was my mandolinden. I’d figured it was gone forever when they had taken it earlier. Christian went around to the kitchen area and the little cook spoke to him. She spoke English and had heard. She hustled around and reached under a pantry and pulled out a case. I could not see without taking my eyes off the group, but Christian seemed pleased. He came back with a filled pack just as Curtis came up the stairs. He looked around and nodded at me. “I got everything I could. I hope it’s enough.”

“
It’s going to have to be. There’s still another gun out there.” I walked through the room and stood with my back to the door pointing the gun at the rebels. “Let’s go,” I said.

They all filed past me and out the door. Shortly we were all running, or in my case, walking fast for the bridge. Snow had begun to fall steadily and it made the path slippery. I wished we still had our hiking poles and knew it would make a huge difference later as we made our way up the mountain.

We had almost reached the bridge when I heard shots behinds us and I hit the deck. Spinning around I tried to shoot back, but could not figure out how to make the damn thing work. Some Rambo.

Chris ran back up the trail past me, stopped and fired a short burst. Then he was there helping me to my feet. “I guess that’s what a seven round burst sounds like,” he said. We hurried up to the bridge. The others were already across and waiting behind several large boulders that anchored the bridge cables. Chris and I were almost half way across when more bullets came pounding our way. I dropped to make a smaller target and exchanged guns with Chris, then threw his over the side into the river. We crouched and waited and suddenly we saw muzzle flashes and heard the pounding of machine gun bullets.

Chris stood and took careful aim. He fired a sustained burst that sprayed the river trail behind us. We took off for the other side and reached it without any more shooting.

“
God, Chris!” I struggled to catch my breath. “Do you think you got him?”

Chris laughed. “At two hundred feet, in the dark, from a swinging suspension bridge? I think I can answer with absolute certainty. No. I didn’t hit him. But I’ll bet I scared the crap out of him.”

We hurried to the others and immediately started up the trail. When we reached the first switchback I stopped the group. “Christian, keep an eye out, back there. Bim, open that pack and let’s see what we have.

We pulled out flashlights and passed them around. There was a goose down sleeping bag for each of us and perhaps as much as 100 feet of rope. Curtis had included half a dozen candles and some matches, a small khukuri knife that was about half the size of the one they had taken from me. Two wool hats, some mismatched gloves, and a small sweater rounded out our complete supplies. Not much.

”
Christian, what did you get?”

He opened his pack and I was pleased to see half a dozen military surplus MREs. “God, that’s wonderful,” I said. “They should even have sterno or heating elements in each package.” I slapped him on the shoulder and said, “Good job.”

Next we opened the sleeping bags and unzipped them. I looked for a second then swung mine over my head and folded the two sides down into a kind of monks cowl. I could pull the excess up and over my head.

“
Cut me a piece of rope, please” I asked. Curtis did and handed it to me. Once the thing was tied in place I felt instantly warm. My forearms and hands would get cold, but I could alternate putting first one inside and then the other. It would work. I helped my friends figure out how to fold and wear the bags and finally looked at Bim. He shrugged and picked up the small sweater and one of the wool hats. He seemed content with that so we picked up all the rest of the gear and stowed it in the bigger pack and Bim shrugged into it. Taking my mandolinden from me he turned and led us up the mountain.

We made slow but, steady progress for an hour until the adrenalin was finally extinguished from my body. I dropped further and further behind and Christian would not leave my side. The snow was deepening and I tried to do the math, but soon realized we were running a course we would lose. Somehow, we had left Gokyo only that morning, had climbed up to 17,000 feet and then taken a steep and steady course down. It had taken all day. We had been frightened, robbed and beaten. We had fought back and won at least a chance to survive and now had to climb, somehow, all the way back up to 17,000 feet to the porter’s shelter. It was the nearest place to get out of the blizzard and find some safety. The others could make it. They were young, strong and had the stamina needed and more important, did not suffer my problems. I could make, it, I was sure, just not very quickly. They all had to be exhausted, regardless of their youth and the truth was I was holding them back. If they tried to stay with me we would all fail. I needed to remedy that and I thought of a way to do it. It would be wrong, but they would understand.

“
Christian, did you hear that?” I slipped into a small fissure in the rock face where the snow could not penetrate. He looked back the way we had come and was clearly frightened. “Go get Chris.”

He left and in a few moments they all came back.

”
What’s up?” he said.

“
I need you to show me how to shoot the gun and then get the hell out of here. We’re being followed.”

Curtis shook his head and said no, not a chance. They were not leaving me behind.

I looked at them and said, “You don’t know how many there are, or how many guns. Curtis, you have to take the group to the top. That’s the job you agreed to. You agreed to do it if necessary and I’m saying it’s necessary. I’m holding you back. Now give me the damn gun and show me how it works!”

Chris handed it over and pointed to the safety. I’d forgotten to take off the safety.

“
I got it. Okay. Now listen, I don’t want to stumble past the shelter, when I get there, so I need you to put a flashlight on the top of it pointing at the trail. Okay? Don’t forget. I’ll be along soon. Remember I’m the only one here who was in Viet Nam and this is my job. Now get out of here.”

Curtis gave me a long, knowing look that almost changed my mind, but finally did as I asked. They turned back into the growing snowstorm and soon I could not hear them any longer. I settled down and finally sat. My knees hurt so badly I just couldn’t stand to be upright a moment longer. I just needed a half hour of rest and then I’d continue.

I pulled the magazine from the gun, and then ejected the shell from the chamber. I threw the magazine as far over the edge of the mountain as I could, then pulled the down bag around me and over my head, slipping my arms inside. I was very cold and shivering, but soon felt drowsy. Time drifted.

It seemed that there was something standing in front of me. It stood there for a very long while and then a big yellow dog emerged from the snow. For some reason I was not afraid and the dog walked right up to me. I recognized him. It was my old yellow Labrador retriever, Cohei. I was not surprised to see him and my heart filled with the joy of having him nuzzle my face and settle down on my lap. I scratched his ears and ruffled the fur at his throat. It eased how badly I missed him because he had died so many years ago…

I bolted upright. My heart beat in my throat and I struggled to get to my feet. Stupid! That had been really, really stupid. I had fallen asleep. That is the worst thing you can do up here because freezing to death is very much like going to sleep. There are two hundred bodies on Mt. Everest alone that just wanted to rest and never stood up again. Damn, I knew better. I picked up the Chinese rifle and threw it as far over the cliff as I could, but I never heard it make a sound. Turning, I started up the mountain. Somehow, still, I was so very grateful to have been able to snuggle with my old dog once again. It had almost been worth it.

I kept going; that’s all I can say. I took one step, a couple breaths, one more and more breaths. The higher I climbed the harder it got to breathe. My knees hurt so badly I could hardly bend them and my face began to throb where the rebel leader had hit me with the gun butt. And then it began to go numb, which was worse. I was just a mess, but kept going. Eventually I learned that turning my body with each step meant I didn’t have to bend my knees so much and then the pain only throbbed with the shift of weight. I felt ridiculous, like a ship at sea rolling in the waves.

Eventually the snow came so hard that it completely obliterated my companion’s tracks and for half of every switchback I had to break trail as well as climb. Then the side to side shuffle became a plow, drag, step motion that was nothing less than exhausting. Hours passed and still I climbed.

I remembered back to a trip I had taken to Key West with my boyhood friend Bill. We decided to go out to the Marquesas one beautiful day. I had a fine 23 foot inboard that was just made for these kinds of seas and we ran all the way out like we were in a big lake. After 30 miles we made the Marquesas and found the channel that takes you inside. It is a ring of coral islands that has a fantastic lagoon inside that is as still and calm as a swimming pool. We anchored, swam, built a fire of driftwood and then went out and took a Hawaiian sling and gathered a dozen lobsters which we steamed in seaweed over the coals. We drank cold beer, and ate lobster and grilled grouper; what a fantastic day that had been. But when we finally pulled anchor and came back out of the lagoon we found that the seas had risen on steadily freshening breezes from the east.

We beat our way east for nearly an hour before the first rains hit us. I was very much concerned that we would strike a coral head or rock and break the ships hull because after each wave passed we sailed right down the back side of the wave and into the trough. I kept edging us further and further south to try and keep us in deep enough water away from the patch reefs. My depth finder couldn’t work with us constantly rising and falling. This was the very same ship graveyard where the Atocha sank along with many other Spanish galleons. I had no desire to join them. I steered a compass course into a driving rain and black seas.

My friend Bill had taken ill; he never did develop a seaman’s constitution and the best he could do was just hang on. Hours seemed to pass and I began to worry about fuel. It takes a lot of power to lift 4,000 pounds up the side of a wave; far more that merely running before a following sea. We climbed and fell. We climbed and fell. Finally after hours I saw a brief glimpse of a light ahead. Was it another boat? Was it an island? Was I completely lost and completely off course?

“
Bill,’’ I hollered. “Look at the light! What is it?”

I had to wrestle the helm with every blow from the pounding waves. He looked out over the windshield for a moment and we both saw the light at the same time.

“
Sand Key!” we shouted simultaneously.

There is a wonderful old lighthouse at Sand Key, just south of Key West harbor. It will guide you into the shipping channel. We could see it and now knew we were on the right course. For another hour we pounded the waves and I kept looking at the light. It would blaze and then go black and then a few moments later blaze out into the night once again. I knew we needed to get just beyond it and then we could turn hard north and make for the shipping channel and quiet of Key West harbor and a safe berth. We pounded into the waves but seemed to go slower and slower and then miraculously we were past and turning toward Key West where the bars would still be open and the ground would not shift and…

“
Sensei! Sensei! Where are you going? We’re right here. God! You made it!”

Suddenly, then, I was back on the mountain and the Key West light became a flashlight blinking and fluttering with the driving snow. Hands found me and guided me to the shelter that was now marginally warm with the bodies and the candles burning. Hands rubbed the snow from my face and off my head and brushed down my body. I was eased onto a bunk but found I could not speak. Christian kneeled before me and worked and worked to get my boots off. They were solidly crusted with ice and snow. Once free of them he rubbed my feet to try and get the circulation to return. Eventually they eased me back and gave me some warm chocolate which I was able to sip. They all just sat and looked at me. I closed my eyes then and let the quiet and stillness take me back to a place of peace and dreamed of my old dog.

***

I awoke gasping for breath. Sleep apnea had returned, but I was startled more by the shafts of sunlight. They were arrows of light piercing the cracks in the rock. I sat up and was immediately dizzy. After a few moments my head cleared and I realized I was alone. My boots were next to my bunk and I struggled into them and pulled my sleeping bag around myself and headed for the door.

The brilliance made me stop and blink my eyes and it took a moment to orient myself. Cho Oyo stood like a giant castle looming over me, outlined by the most intense blue sky I have ever seen. Chris and Curtis were 50 yards down the trail and staring at the mountain in complete awe. Neither spoke, but Chris shook his head a time or two, and I knew he was not even aware of it. They were completely transfixed. I turned and followed the trail through the broken snow. Christian stood on a giant boulder and I walked in his direction. I stopped and looked around. It was more beautiful and majestic then I remembered. It was amazing.